Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie (McCutcheon)

by Caroline Fyffe

“I-I can help you with whatever needs doing. Many hands make light work. Whatever needs doing will be finished in half the time.”

  Chance straightened and looked around, avoiding her gaze.

  He must think her forward and uncouth. Or, too, he was remembering her reaction to the creepy daddy longlegs and was having second thoughts about his prissy wife. How could she make him understand she wasn’t a shrinking violet about anything—except spiders? She liked to work.

  “Nope. Not today, Evie, and most likely not tomorrow either. I ran into a small hitch in my schedule, but plan to remedy that soon.”

  “Schedule?”

  He tipped her chin up with a finger. “You’ll be much more comfortable here at the hotel where you can rest properly, meet some of the ladies in town, socialize a little.”

  “But, Chance…”

  His expression said she’d not sweet-talk him into anything. Or change his mind. “I—I don’t want to socialize. I want to help you.”

  With an outstretched arm, he opened the door and let her precede him through. “Mr. Simpson, I’ll be back later for the smelling salts,” he called over her head. “That’s nice of you, Evie, but I’m putting my foot down on this. A few days in town will be a treat.”

  Chapter Twelve

  HOLY SMOKES saints alive! When Evie took aim with her pleading baby blues, his insides crumbled and his breath came fast. He’d have to be made of stronger stuff than this to resist her for long. Hold fast to his ideals and not sway to her doing.

  It was best. The house would be finished, come heck or high water, before he carried her over the threshold—just like I promised. He was a man of his word. The roof would be on and the bedroom door in place before she hung her HOME SWEET HOME plate above the soon-to-be river rock mantel.

  “This way,” he said, leading her across the dusty road. He paused to avoid a wagon, then hurried her along as two horses passed behind. They made their way toward the Biscuit Barrel amid looks from the good citizens. “We’ll stop in here and eat.” Her lips were just so darn kissable. Ever since this morning at their wedding, kissing her again was practically all he could think about. He took a quick glance down to find her gazing up at him.

  “Chance? Please.”

  “It’s for the best, Evie. Nothing you can say will change my mind.” Is this our first disagreement?

  They were past the Hitching Post Saloon when the clank of a door closing sounded behind them. “Well, I’ll be a blue bunny,” a sexy voice said teasingly. “If it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Holcomb in the flesh.”

  “Fancy!” Evie exclaimed.

  That sultry purr belonged to one woman alone. Chance turned.

  “I’m delighted to see you,” Evie said, hurrying to her side. “Chance and I got married this morning in the church.”

  “Congratulations,” Fancy Aubrey said, flicking her saucy gaze to him. “That little gold band did catch my eye.”

  Fancy’s light green dress molded to her body like a calf’s hide after a rainstorm. Her plunging neckline was so low, he had to look everywhere but at her breasts spilling out over the top.

  Evie held her hand out, admiring the ring, apparently oblivious to the look of envy on the older woman’s face. Evie lowered her hand, then looked through the window of the saloon as if just now realizing where her friend had come from. Her confused expression brought a soft chuckle from Fancy.

  “Yes, it’s true, sugar. I’m a saloon girl. For shame, for shame.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize when we—”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. Most women won’t walk on the same side of the street as me if they know who I am, let alone have a nice, down-home conversation. They don’t like me. Always afraid I’m gonna try to steal their men.” She batted her eyelashes at Chance.

  He didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed. This woman is trouble in one form or another. “Have you settled in, Miss Aubrey?” he asked, trying to change the subject. Several men could be seen through the saloon window, lined up against the bar as Abe poured another round. It was only ten in the morning.

  She smiled. “Call me Fancy.”

  She wasn’t making this easy.

  “Not walk down the street with you? Why, that’s ridiculous!” Evie exclaimed. She straightened and tipped her head angrily. “You wouldn’t steal someone’s husband. Everyone has to have a job, and it shouldn’t define who you are. A saloon is as good as place as any to work. Some people can be so small-minded.”

  Was Evie so naive as to think whisky pouring and card shuffling were all Fancy Aubrey did to earn her pay?

  “Why, Chance and I would be delighted if you came out to our house for—”

  “Evie,” Chance said quickly, cutting her off. “If I don’t get something into my belly soon, I won’t be fit company.” He gave Fancy a don’t-fool-with-my-wife look and took Evie’s arm. Evie would be cut off completely from Y Knot society if she opened her home to the town’s new lady of the night. It was a sad fact. But fact it was. If he could change the world, he would. But as things stood, good, respectable women didn’t associate with saloon girls. Period. Nor did they befriend other women who did associate with them.

  “But, Chance.”

  “You go on, sugar, before Mr. Holcomb faints away,” Miss Aubrey said before he could respond. She backed toward the swinging doors. “I wouldn’t want to be the cause of making you a widow so soon after your wedding.”

  “But…”

  Hurt welled up in Evie’s eyes. Chance knew his wife didn’t understand what he was doing, just that he was treating her new friend like the other closed-minded citizens Evie had just been bemoaning. Well, better hurt and confused now, than ostracized later. He’d explain it all to her when they had more time, and knew each other a little better.

  ***

  After a satisfying meal followed by pie at the Biscuit Barrel, Chance walked Evie back to her hotel room and unlocked the door. Not even the apple cobbler she’d eaten could quiet the butterflies now fluttering inside her. This was their first time alone, in a room, since becoming man and wife. Would Chance kiss her? A real kiss? One that stopped the rain or changed the course of a river? He looked a little nervous as he walked over to the window, opened it, and looked out.

  He turned to face her. “The day is still young and I need to ride out to the ranch and check on the cattle. Have one calf born, with nine to go. I need to see how they’re doing.”

  She hurried to his side. “Can’t I go too, Chance? I’m anxious to see the place, put my things away.” She glanced to her carpetbag, a little embarrassed she didn’t have more to offer. “I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

  He shifted his weight, and his brows drew down over his eyes. “Not today, Evie. Remember what I said about me putting the place to right. I’m just not quite ready for you yet. Soon, though.”

  When she opened her mouth, he shushed her with a soft touch of a finger to her lips. “My mind’s made up. You won’t change it.”

  Disappointment crushed her. The morning had been beautiful, then the time spent with Chance at the restaurant after the wedding was one of the best times she could remember. He’d had her laughing at the silliest things. Who knew a cowboy could be so funny?

  Fidgeting with the sash of her dress, she said, “Fine. I guess I understand.” Why hadn’t he tried to kiss her, hold her? Did he find her attractive at all? It was so hard to know what to do.

  “Evie,” he said, his tone contrite.

  She willed away tears. “Was it something I said?”

  “You know it’s not. I told you why. A few things out at the—” A shadow crossed his face. “Aww, don’t cry.”

  When he enfolded her in his embrace, she melted against his chest. Her heart galloped as his scent drew her deeper. She wrapped her arms around his waist and they stood motionless, the sounds of the street drifting in through the window.

  He pulled back. Gazed into her eyes. Lowered his face to hers.

  Whe
n his lips finally touched hers, her eyes drifted closed, but not for long. The kiss was soft, short, and all too soon moved to her forehead where he placed a brief caress before pulling away.

  “I’ll try to be back tomorrow afternoon, but don’t panic if I’m not. Just means I’m involved with the cattle. I’ve arranged for the room until, well, until—” He paused.

  She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I got emotional. I don’t want to make things harder for you. I’m supposed to be a help, not a hindrance. Just know that, I’ll be here until you come for me. You needn’t worry about getting back quickly. Just take care of what you need to do.”

  A gunshot blast rattled the wall from across the street in the saloon and she leapt instinctively back into his arms. Raucous laughter sounded through the open window.

  With a twinge of embarrassment, she pulled away. “I know. Just the men letting off steam since the sheriff is gone.” She looked up into his eyes. “I’ll get used to it soon enough.”

  But she wondered if her words were true. She’d been brought up in St. Louis, with the Victorian house—the agency—being the center of her world. She rarely left the premises, except to go to the farmers market twice a week, and then for a walk to the library now and then on her day off. Before her death, her mother had schooled Evie. She knew little of a wild Western town, except what she’d read from dime novels. She chanced a look out. “Do they ever do more than let off steam?”

  “Not usually. But I’ll have a talk with Deputy Jones before I leave town. If you venture out, best you stay on this side of the street.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  FIDDLESTICKS! WEARING her brown dress, Evie walked past the mercantile again, the poster above the postal desk drawing her gaze like a magnet. If she closed her eyes, she could probably recall every last item displayed in the store’s window. She’d been up and down this street so many times she’d lost count. She was bored. True to his word, and to her disappointment, Chance had not shown up this morning. Whatever it was he had to do out at the ranch must be important.

  Maybe she should go back to the hotel and have a cup of tea. That would pass a good half hour. Tea. That exciting thought made her think of Mrs. Klinkner, and her invitation. What if she walked over to her house for a visit right now? The woman had been insistent with her offer. Evie looked left, then right. Where was Creek Street? Couldn’t be that hard to find. She tapped her chin.

  After asking directions, Evie found herself on Creek Street. The rural road wound down a slight incline and through some trees toward an open area. Instead of horses neighing and the rumble of wagon wheels, or even gun blasts, she heard the happy chirping of birds in the trees, the trickling of water, the swoosh of the wind as it rocked the high boughs of a nearby grove of pine trees. There were a few houses set back off the road, but by and large, the street was more country lane than town, and a delightful change.

  A team of black horses pulling a lone wagon came in her direction. The horses slowed from a trot to a walk, then stopped a few feet from where she stood. Evie was now painfully aware of how secluded she felt.

  “’Scuse me,” the middle-aged man said. He wore a bright red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. “You need a ride or somethin’?”

  She pointed to herself and then looked around. “Me, sir?”

  “You the only one here that I see.”

  Uncertain, she took a tiny step away. “No, thank you. I’m headed to the lumber mill.”

  “In that case, just keep on going straight. You’re almost there. I don’t usually see anyone out this way ’cept Mrs. Klinkner, is why I asked.”

  She kicked out her skittering nerves and smiled. “Thank you. That was kind.”

  He doffed his hat. “Good day.” He slapped the reins and his horses started off.

  She’d been so deep in thought, dreaming about Chance and enjoying nature everywhere she looked, that she hadn’t noticed how remote this street really was. She’d do well to keep her wits about her in the future. This was Montana, not the busy streets of St. Louis. The lack of traffic and hustle and bustle had relaxed her. She’d let down her guard. She needed to start thinking like a Westerner. Maybe there were wolves or bears just beyond, lurking in the trees. She hastened her step.

  The buzzing sound of a saw chased away her apprehension. She picked up her pace when the mill and a quaint two-story house across the road from it, came into view.

  Relieved, she patted her drooping hair and straightened her skirt. Taking a breath for courage, she strode up the walkway and knocked on the door. A few moments passed before it opened and a mouthwatering aroma spilled out.

  “Why, Evie, hello,” Mrs. Klinkner said in surprise. “It’s wonderful to see you, dear.” She looked out the door, then over to the lumber mill. “Did you get married? Is Chance with you?”

  Evie laughed. “Yes and no. We got married yesterday morning.” She held out her ring proudly. “But Chance had some things to do at the ranch, so while he’s working, I thought I’d pay a social call. I hope you don’t mind my coming unannounced.”

  Mrs. Klinkner swooped Evie into a tight hug. “Of course not, child. Things in Montana are a lot less formal than St. Louis, I’d guess. Nobody sends calling cards here—we just drop in when we find time between chores.” She stepped away, motioning for Evie to enter. “And I’m delighted you did. In the hotel, I practically begged you to come out. I’m so happy you took the invitation to heart. Now, let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on. I was just about to take a cake out of the oven.”

  Evie followed behind, taking in the loveliness of the house. The parlor was beautiful. Finely carved shelves and hutches were everywhere, each filled with colorful knickknacks. Dusting and polishing must take hours! Long, lovely drapes, done in cheerful blue and lavender, adorned the tall parlor windows. Oh, to have a home like this.

  “Here we are,” the woman said as they entered a cozy room toward the back of the house. It was half the size of the kitchen she was used to, but had all the amenities a woman could need. Pleasant yellow walls were decorated with plants and keepsakes, and a bank of windows filled the room with light. Evie stopped to admire everything before her eyes.

  “Just pull up a chair and I’ll get this started. What have you been doing since we last talked?”

  “Mostly just strolling up and down the street,” Evie said, settling herself in a chair by the window. “When I thought about having a cup of tea in the restaurant, I thought of you, Mrs. Klinkner.”

  “I’m happy you did—but first, you must call me Ina, I insist. Did you walk?”

  “Yes. Wasn’t that far.”

  “I do it all the time. It’s good for my health and gives me time to think. Sometimes it’s the only solitude I have, with the customers coming and going at the lumber mill all day long.”

  Evie nodded. The woman moved about with efficiency. Taking potholders, she slid two brimming round pans out of the oven, and placed them on a cooling rack on the counter by the window. “There.”

  “Beautiful,” Evie said, getting up and coming close. “Smells delicious. I noticed the aroma first thing when I walked through the door.” A new idea took hold in her mind. Would Mrs. Klinkner teach her how to bake a cake? If so, could she be proficient in three weeks’ time?

  A soft grinding noise sounded above the sink, and then a small wooden bird popped out of the cuckoo clock’s tiny red door, announcing the hour. Mrs. Klinkner looked up, surprised. “Oh, the men will be here momentarily.”

  “Are they working on Saturday?”

  “Oh, yes. When you own a business, you have to make hay while the sun shines, as they say.”

  “I’ll go then,” Evie said, sad to leave this cheerful place.

  “Oh, no. We haven’t had our tea yet. Just let me set out their meal and then we’ll have our visit.”

  Torn, Evie didn’t know what to say. The book on etiquette said when making a call it was n
ot proper to stay more than twenty minutes or less than ten. It had already been thirteen since her arrival, and if she stayed until the men came, then had tea, surely it would be more like an hour. The last thing she wanted to be was a bother to her new friend. “Only if you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely. Now, you just get comfortable and I’ll have this out in no time.”

  The woman was a whirlwind of movement. Right before Evie’s eyes, the table took shape; platters of cooked meat, sliced bread, and cut vegetables were set out. She poured two cups of coffee and set them by the plates. Finished, she took a deep breath. “There. I eat after the men are gone, taking time to enjoy myself. They are usually in and out in fifteen minutes.”

  “Mr. Klinkner and your son Hayden?”

  The woman’s smile brightened. “Why, yes. That’s right. You have a good memory.”

  Evie heard the sound of voices and the front door opened.

  Mr. Klinkner came in, followed by a young man broad of shoulder and with a thick head of yellow hair. Stubble covered his jaw almost as completely as sawdust covered his shoulders. Mr. Klinkner wore denim overalls, but Hayden wore pants so tight she thought they must be uncomfortable. Heat from within blazed Evie’s face. Both men pulled up short when they saw her.

  “Hello,” Hayden said. A small dimple dotted his left cheek as his lips pulled up in an enticing, but devilish, smile.

  “This is the gal I told you about yesterday,” Mr. Klinkner said, giving her a face-splitting smile. “The delightful young woman from St. Louis we met in the restaurant.” He looked smaller in his work garments, different from when she’d seen him in his fancy dinner clothes. A kerchief replaced the bow tie and his face was sweaty from work. “I’m glad you’ve come to visit us, Miss Davenport.”

  “It’s Mrs. Holcomb now.” Mrs. Klinkner hurried over and placed a warm hand on each of Evie’s shoulders. “Chance and Evie married up yesterday.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Hayden said slowly. His brows arched over his piercing blue eyes and his lips curled up even more. He bowed showily and Evie didn’t know how to respond. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’d say Chance is one lucky cowboy, much more so than he deserves.”