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

by Caroline Fyffe

She took a deep breath. “Good. Now go on and get changed. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  He nodded and his expression softened, his gaze dropping to her mouth. He kept it there so long she thought she might faint right away. “I am,” he said, the words slow, ripe with meaning.

  She swallowed and felt the color rising in her face. Without another word, and much to her relief, he disappeared into the bedroom, Dexter following behind.

  She dashed into action, scooping the potatoes into her hands and dropping them into the hot skillet. She jumped back when they popped and splattered. A warm, buttery scent filled the air. Not wanting them to burn, she pushed the hot pan over the flat-top to a spot of the stove that wasn’t directly above the flame. Quickly, she unwrapped the chicken pieces from last night and stirred them into the potatoes, figuring cooking them again couldn’t hurt. Cooking was a welcome challenge now. One she didn’t fear. And, what else? What else did she have to experiment with?

  ***

  Chance stepped out of the bedroom with one thought on his mind. As hungry as he was, even the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the stove couldn’t divert his ravenous need for his wife.

  She stood with her back to him. Didn’t hear as he crossed the room in his bare feet. A squeal of surprise issued from her lips when he scooped her up into his arms, at the same time scooting whatever was cooking off the stove. Her eyes opened wide, and the tip of her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips—a good sign! She circled his neck with her arms, adding fuel to the inferno burning inside him.

  He lowered his lips. Took his time to caress her lips, make his intentions known. He hoped she would say yes. Forget the waiting. Two weeks living with Evie was enough to test any man’s mettle. Her lips, sweeter than any wine he’d ever tasted, were velvety soft. He ventured to her ear and neck.

  She whimpered softly, wriggled, pulled him closer.

  “Evie,” he whispered next to her ear. “I want to make love to you. Hold you in my arms until the moon crosses the sky and the morning comes. Sweetheart, do you know what I’m asking?”

  She looked up into his face with passion-filled eyes. She nodded. “Yes, I understand. I love you, Chance. I want to be your wife in every way.”

  She looked so achingly beautiful, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Two weeks ago, he’d once thought meeting Evie at the stage was the most important moment in his life. Now he knew different.

  “Fine then, me too.” He took two strides and stopped under the doorframe. “Look up.”

  She did. They stood in the doorway to their bedroom, rain and wind buffeting the windows, lightning outside giving them a show. “I didn’t get to carry you over the threshold when you first came out. Last night I did, but you were sad, and so was I. Therefore, I’m doing it again now. For good luck. And until the end of time. I’m the luckiest man in the world since the day you came into my life.”

  ***

  Evie scrunched her face, then twitched her nose. A persistent tickle above her upper lip made her give a soft snort. Still drowsy with sleep, she slid her hand from under the warm blankets and rubbed her nose vigorously. Stretching, she rolled to her side and opened her eyes.

  Chance! Smiling into her face.

  With excruciatingly slowness, her actions of the previous night seeped into her sleep-deprived brain, heating her face. His wily expression said he was enjoying her discomfort very much. She buried her face into her pillow to escape him.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Holcomb. It’s about time you woke up.”

  She dared a glance to the window. It was daylight. At least midmorning. “Oh, no!”

  He chuckled, and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Doesn’t matter at all. No clocks here on the Holcomb ranch.”

  Evie rolled to her back, making sure her blankets were pulled all the way up to her chin. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt as if she was totally naked underneath.

  “Everyone came through the storm just fine,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and making it dip.

  Her overfilled heart fluttered softly.

  “Just in case you were wondering, that is. The barn and windmill are still standing, and every calf is accounted for. In addition, we have a new bull calf. I named him Holcomb’s Thunder. Really good conformation. We may keep him.”

  She’d never seen his face so relaxed and happy. His smile was doing funny things to her insides again, so she tried to distract herself thinking of something—anything—but that was useless. “And I have a pot of coffee all perked and ready to be enjoyed. Can you smell it?”

  She could. Her mouth watered, and then her stomach rumbled grumpily for being left empty for so long. But coffee would do for starters. It was just what she needed to clear the cobwebs and wake up her cotton-filled head. “Yes. That sounds wonderful. Would you mind stepping out so I can—”

  “Not quite so fast, missy.” He leaned over again and began kissing her neck, a spot he’d found last night that she couldn’t endure for long before melting completely.

  She tried to push him away. “Chance, the coffee…”

  “Coffee has the patience of Job here on the Holcomb ranch. It’ll be there waiting when we’re ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  AS EVIE washed up from the morning meal, she marveled that since they’d become a real husband and wife, four days had come and gone in a blink. She never dreamed she could be so happy, so alive, secluded miles away from anyone, just her and Chance at the base of a Montana mountain range. Being a wife, especially to a man like her husband, was more than she’d ever dreamed. She felt like a queen, pampered and loved.

  Only one thing marred her happiness. She hadn’t told him yet about her past, and how she’d come to have his letters. She’d tried. Two or three times. But every time she began, vowing to trust his love, her courage crumbled. She was desperate not to lose what they’d found. What could one more day hurt? She didn’t want to break the spell of such happiness.

  Taking the coffeepot from the stove, she poured out the last cold remains, then swished the insides with water. Imagine, he’d brought her coffee in bed every morning, even though she insisted he stop. Last night he mentioned building an indoor room for bathing. He even sat out on a blanket as the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the stars came out one by one—although, the stars were hardly what he was interested in. Her face heated. How he affected her! Chance wasn’t anything like the cowboys she’d read about while growing up in St. Louis. He kept her laughing and loving and blessing God for her life.

  Each day, after she was finished with her chores, she assisted Chance in whatever he was doing. If it was building, she would hold the tools. If going out to check the cattle, she would ride along—slowly, of course, on Skip, the other saddle horse. Chance always kept her tethered to him with a lead line.

  Surprisingly, he’d never complained even once that she’d served him potatoes, in one form or another, every day since. Mashed, fried, baked, mixed with eggs, or made into a sort of sloppy pancake. He brought out venison or beef, adding to the fare, but she needed inspiration. Some new ideas. Tomorrow was the day she and Ina planned for her next cooking lesson, but she dreaded bringing up the touchy subject.

  With everything ready, she slipped into their room and took Trudy’s most recent post, the one Chance had retrieved yesterday in Y Knot. She’d skimmed it earlier, but wanted to take this time to re-read and savor Trudy’s news.

  Dear Evie,

  Well, I have done it! I am married and am now Mrs. Seth Flanigan. Seth is handsome, tall, with good shoulders and a trim waist. I love his unusual eyes. They are stormy gray with a dark ring around the irises. Very dramatic and attractive.

  Although Seth was nonplussed by my descending on him with all my worldly goods, including the piano, he took everything in stride. However, the house is now overflowing with boxes and furniture. Much has also been stored in the barn!

  Upon my arrival in Sweetwater Springs, I met some very congenial ladies—t
he doctor’s wife, the wife of the minister, and a rancher’s wife. I feel as if I have made new friends, although none as dear as you, Evie. I feel we are heart sisters, even though we knew each other such a short time.

  We had a beautiful ceremony with red roses provided by Mrs. Cameron, the doctor’s wife. Everyone followed us to the farm, where (thank goodness) Seth had stocked up on enough provisions to feed everyone without my having to whip up supper in a strange kitchen with limited supplies.

  I will confide in you, Evie, that I am disappointed in Seth’s home. I thought I had prepared myself for a simple dwelling, but the starkness caught me by surprise. In the midst of such beautiful surroundings, there are no trees, flowers, or bushes near the house, barn, and outbuildings. Once the kitchen garden is in, I will turn my attention to remedying the situation. However, the beauty of the distant mountains almost makes up for the ugliness of my immediate surroundings. I could gaze upon their grandeur all day.

  So far, Seth has been kind and attentive. He has a sense of humor, and I have high hopes for our future. I hope Chance is treating you in a similar manner. But you must write me and satisfy my curiosity!

  Trudy Flanigan

  (It feels too strange to formally sign myself as Mrs. Seth Flanigan to you.)

  Evie sighed. By now, Trudy would have received her letter of distress, the two posts crossing in the mail. She must be worried to death. These last four days with Chance had made her forget everything except him. She needed to write a quick note, even if it was only a line or two, and calm her fears.

  “You ’bout ready?” Chance came through the door and went to the table, picked up his coffee mug from the morning meal, and gulped down the last of it. His red plaid shirt looked nice with his light chestnut hair. To her, he was the most handsome man in the world. He looked at her. “What’s that?”

  “Trudy’s last letter. I didn’t get to take it all in.” Finished, Evie folded it and put it back in the envelope. “I’ll just go and get my hat.”

  She was dressed in her dungarees and ready to work. They were taking the buckboard and going over to a place thick with tall, still-green hay. Now that Chance had a herd, he was eager to get some hay stored for the long winter months.

  “I’m taking the picnic basket out, Evie,” he called when she went into the bedroom. “I’ll meet you out front.”

  At the mirror, she placed Chance’s old cowboy hat on her head. It was a tad big, but it worked to keep the sun off her face in the long days outside. Remembering that she was going to be sweating, she opened her top drawer for a handkerchief and rummaged around.

  Her feather duster.

  Right there before her eyes.

  She picked it up, remembering its comfortable weight and feel. Instead of her usual dread, a soft sentiment of love whispered into her heart. Those times at the agency had been good days, too. As much as she’d never trade what she had now, she missed her mama and Mrs. Seymour, and being with the brides. The feather duster used to haunt her. Now her heart smiled and she held it to her chest, closing her eyes.

  At the sound of a throat clearing, she turned quickly.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude on a special moment, but I started to get worried when you didn’t come out. Everything all right?”

  She whipped the duster behind her back, feeling guilty of a transgression. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m looking for my handkerchief. It’ll be warm. You, ah, you have the lunch?”

  “Sure do. And the blanket.”

  Her face warmed.

  “Well, let’s get movin’, cowboy,” she drawled as she passed him in the doorway. “The sunlight’s a-wastin’.”

  He chuckled at her imitation of him, and followed behind.

  Out in the yard, Chance lowered the tailgate and Dexter jumped into the back of the buckboard. The dog sniffed around for a moment before making himself comfortable for the short ride into the back pasture.

  ***

  Within the hour, Evie was ready for a break. Her arms ached from the weight of the scythe, and she knew her sides were going to be sore tomorrow. She laid the long instrument down in the grass and went over by Chance to watch him work.

  “Why is it you want the dew still on the grass when you cut it?” It was something he’d mentioned at breakfast.

  He stopped and looked at her, a healthy sheen on his face. “Good question. It’s what my father used to tell us. He’d say, ‘Nate and Chance, we need to get out to the field before the dew is gone.’” He shrugged. “Maybe it was just his way to get my brother and me moving early.”

  She laughed, loving him so much she thought she might just up and float away.

  He took a long drink from his canteen, then slipped its strap back over his shoulders. “Tired?”

  “I am. I’m not much help.”

  “Let’s take a break.”

  “We just got here. I don’t want to slow you down.” She gestured to the pasture. “You said we need to get this cut by noon, and raked into rows so it could dry before we have to turn it over before leaving. That’s a lot of work yet to do.”

  He dropped his scythe and captured her wrist. As they walked through the tall green grass, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, smiling into her eyes. “You’re right. Ranching ain’t easy. But you’d never slow me down. I enjoy your company.”

  “I will if I take you away from what you’re doing.”

  “Hush. I want to show you something.”

  He stopped and hunkered down.

  ***

  Being this close to Evie was all he ever wanted. He didn’t need anything but her, a roof over his head, and food. All the rest was extra. The last few days had been more than he’d ever expected marriage to be. Plus, she’d surprised him with what a hard worker she was. She was not only his lover, but also his friend, helper, and all-around best companion in the world. His wife could have him laughing or burning with desire from merely a look. He loved her mightily. Until she came into his life, he hadn’t known how lonely he really was.

  “Look,” he said quietly.

  “What,” she whispered. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Look closer. It’s a mama whippoorwill. Her eggs must be hatchin’ or else she’d hop away. Try and lure us away from the nest by bending her wing and pretending to be hurt.”

  Evie gasped softly. “I see her. She’s cute. I like her little white speckles.”

  He thought the bird looked grumpy as all get-out. “Come on. We don’t want to disturb her too much.”

  They slowly turned, then headed back to the hay.

  Four hours later, with the tall grass cut and raked into long rows drying in the sun, Chance went to the wagon for the blanket and food, and found Dexter asleep in the back. Like Evie, he looked worn out from the day’s activities.

  He’d left his wife collapsed in the grass, exhausted. When he’d casually mentioned that there might be a bug or two, she waved him away with a sigh and buckled to the earth. Her hair drooped out from beneath her hat and she’d unbuttoned the collar of her shirt to cool her heated skin.

  “Here we go.” He shook out the blanket and spread it on the grass.

  She didn’t move.

  “That bad?”

  “I won’t be able to move for a week. My arms feel like jelly.”

  “Mmm, jelly sounds good. What do we have packed in the basket?” He rummaged around and came up with two plates of potatoes, some potato salad, and the leftover venison roast.

  “I’m sorry, Chance.”

  “Don’t be sorry, it looks good.” It was just a small white lie. He needed to get her into town, so she could go shopping. Maybe pick up another chicken to fry and some more canned goods. His mouth watered remembering the chicken, golden and spiced to perfection.

  “I have an idea that I’ve been tossing around for a day or two. Tomorrow, let’s spend the whole day in Y Knot. Do it up right. We can pick up some supplies at Lichtenstein’s. You can look at fabric at Berta May’s
and see if there’s anything that catches your eye and, well, we can do whatever you want. The Soap Suds, a barbershop quartet, will be performing in the town square gazebo. They come over once a month from Pine Grove on the last Tuesday of each month.” He watched as she lifted a forkful of potatoes to her mouth. “What do you say, Evie? We can even have dinner at the hotel. Make it special. I think we’ve earned a day off.”

  Her hand stilled midair. Her chewing stopped and her face was turning white.

  “Evie?”

  She just looked at him, her eyes wide with—distress?

  “Evie! Say something! Are you choking?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  CHANCE LUNGED over the food basket and sent it rolling. He wrapped Evie in his arms, intending to shake the potato—or whatever is was clogging her throat—out before it killed her. He wrestled her up, feet toward the sky, and began shaking her with all his might.

  “Chance! Stop!” Breathless squeals popped out of her mouth. “Put me down!”

  It took a moment for her words to sink into his panic-filled brain. He stopped and, still breathing hard, looked down into her red, annoyed face.

  “Are you all right?”

  She stretched her arms to the ground as he lowered her body. “I will be when you stop this nonsense. What’s come over you?”

  He felt his face growing hot. “When you didn’t answer, I thought you were choking. Did you have something in your throat?”

  “Yes, my lunch. But I wasn’t in any danger of dying—except from the tiresome fare.”

  Relieved, but still feeling stupid, he chuckled and sat back down next to her. “Well, if we go into Lichtenstein’s, you can stock up on more supplies. My kitchen wasn’t prepared for you. We need to change that. Then you’ll be able to cook to your heart’s content.”

  There it was again. That look. The one he’d mistaken for fear. What was going on in that head of hers? “Evie?”