Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie (McCutcheon)
Page 18
“You!”
She straightened her shoulders and looked at him uncertainly.
“And don’t you remember me asking at our wedding if you were already married? If you had killed anyone? Or were running from the law?”
She nodded. “Of course I do. I was running from—”
He waved her off. “Don’t be silly! I don’t care about any of that. You’re my wife and no one is taking you anywhere. That woman even has said the same.”
“There’s more.”
Relieved and exasperated at the same time, he sighed. “Go on. I feel like this is going to take a while.” He was kidding her, but the look on her face said she didn’t think it was amusing at all. “I’m waiting.”
“You know the girls from the agency are said to be of good moral standing?”
He wanted to roll his eyes. He was hungry. Wanted to get this conversation over with so they could get to the sweet blueberry pie he’d promised her at the Biscuit Barrel.
“Yes.”
“I never had a father.”
He couldn’t help another chuckle from slipping out.
“Chance, this is important. I can’t believe you’re laughing again.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Sounds like you are.”
“I’m laughing at your sweetness. Of course you had a father, Evie. Everyone has a father! You’re not that special.”
“I’m trying to tell you I’m an illegitimate child! A bastard! I don’t want any more secrets between us. Everything comes out right now.”
He could tell this really meant a lot to her. He had to tread carefully. Say what she needed to hear. “You’re not a bastard. You’re my sweet wife. Never call yourself that again.”
She looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“I’m sorry, Evie, that you never knew who your pa was, or that you had a hard life. I truly am. But, darlin’, I love you.” He paused to let that sink in. “Your background doesn’t make a lick of difference to me. I swear I’ll make it up to you, though, if you’ll let me. I’ll love you for me and him both. You’ll see. Life will be good. I’ll make darn sure of it.”
Her lashes dropped over her eyes and she crawled into his arms.
“By the way,” Chance whispered into her ear as he held her firmly against his heart. “Since we’re having it all out tonight—who’s Ernie?”
Chapter Thirty-One
EVIE STRAIGHTENED Chance’s string tie, his pained expression making her smile. She’d never get used to how handsome he was, or how just a glance from him could steal her breath.
“Tell me again why we had to come to the Klinkners’ for my birthday dinner,” Chance hissed through clenched teeth. “I was more than happy just to stay at home. You know how I feel about Hayden.”
“You hush. It’s going to be fine. I couldn’t possibly turn Ina down after all she’s done for me. You should be thankful, too, for all the things I’ve learned to prepare.”
The door opened to both Norman and Ina.
“Come in! We’re so happy to have you.” Evie followed her friend, pulling a reluctant Chance along behind. Such a stubborn man! Why couldn’t he see the night would be over in the blink of an eye.
Hayden, sitting in the parlor with a book open on his lap, stood when they came into the room.
“Chance, Mrs. Holcomb, good to see you,” he said, giving Evie a smile.
She felt Chance stiffen.
“Good evening, Mr. Klinkner,” she said. She gave Chance’s arm a little shake.
“Klinkner.”
Evie’s nose went up, taking in all the aromas from the dinner she’d prepared with Ina’s coaching. Cooking was becoming so much easier, and enjoyable. She’d spent the whole day here, her sense of accomplishment growing with each successful dish. When she was finished with the preparations, Norman had given her a ride to the hotel, where she’d had two whole hours to get ready for Chance, as well as enjoy a good long soak in a hot bath.
After that, Chance picked her up right on time, unlike her first night in town. Around her neck she wore her mother’s beautiful drop sapphire necklace. She ran her fingers down the front of the lovely pink floral dress Chance had insisted she buy just for tonight, amazed at its softness. She felt like a princess.
“Dinner is ready,” Ina said, bustling them into the dining room. The large round table was draped with a white tablecloth and beautifully set with all of Ina’s best china. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat in the center.
“Looks mighty pretty,” Chance whispered into her ear. “I hope I don’t break anything.”
Evie had been gone since early morning and the look in Chance’s eyes said he appreciated her effort to make this night perfect. With great care, she’d set the table according to her etiquette book, leaving substantial room for each dish without crowding. She’d arranged the flowers with love, making sure the height wouldn’t cut off anyone’s ability to converse easily. As the book instructed, she held her head high, in ladylike deportment, and smiled her greeting to the group.
This was Evie’s gift to Chance, along with a beautiful woolen dress coat she had wrapped and stashed, hidden away behind the sofa. Her mother’s inheritance, that Mrs. Seymour had brought with her, had helped her purchase the present, as well as order a few large pieces of furniture for the ranch house. An overstuffed canary-yellow settee was her favorite acquisition; there was also a brown wing-backed chair for Chance, which he thought much too fancy for a man, and a wardrobe for the bedroom. Oh, and she’d also gotten a butter churn. The remainder of the money she’d put into the bank for a rainy day.
Mrs. Seymour, whose visage now shone with love as she watched Evie play hostess, had surprised them with the beautiful grandfather clock from the parlor of the Victorian. A perfect wedding present that brought back wonderful memories every time it chimed.
***
Evie’s pretty face glowed as she brought out a roasted goose on a large white platter. Carrots, onions, and squash surrounded the bird.
Chance’s mouth watered. He could hardly wait to dig in.
After setting it in the middle of the table, Evie hurried back into the kitchen for a bowl of dark brown stuffing with little black things that looked like raisins and nuts. Two boats of darn good-looking gravy followed, and lastly—and almost forgotten—she came back with a small serving dish of huckleberry jelly. It was hard to believe she’d done this all for him. Best of all, there wasn’t a potato in sight.
All seated, they bowed their heads for a blessing spoken by Norman.
Eating commenced. “This is the best I’ve ever tasted, Evie,” Hayden said, just as Chance opened his mouth to give her the same compliment. “Darn good.” Hayden sat directly across from Evie.
“Thank you.”
His wife was blushing. “It sure is,” he chipped in, then reached over and squeezed her hand, running his thumb along the inside of her palm for a fleeting moment. Her eyes widened. “Everything is perfect,” he went on. “Matter of fact, I’ll have some more of that gravy, if you don’t mind.”
Chance ate until he’d thought he’d bust. After supper, they sat in the parlor talking and laughing, him enjoying the feel of his wife by his side. Conversation was lively, with Mrs. Seymour asking a hundred questions about Y Knot and Evie’s life here. Evie basked in her attention. He was thankful the woman had made the trip in search of her. Evie’s smile hadn’t disappeared since after the morning in the hotel.
Every once in a while, Chance thought he noted a wistful expression in Hayden’s eyes, almost a sadness. It surprised Chance. That it wasn’t in character for the Hayden he knew. Or thought he knew. Maybe in spite of all his irritating ways, Hayden longed for a sweet wife like his.
“I’ll be right back.” Evie excused herself, followed by Ina. The two returned, singing “Happy Birthday” at the tops of their voices, as Evie carried in a beautiful chocolate cake covered in tiny white candles.
She held it out to him. “Make
a wish, Chance.”
There wasn’t anything to wish for, except many, many more years with his wife by his side.
He gathered his breath and blew and, for Evie’s sake, made sure every single candle was out. Everyone cheered and laughed.
“My wife has really outdone herself again. I’ve never seen a chocolate cake like this.”
The room went quiet. Evie looked away for a moment, then began to laugh softly, followed by the others. What was the secret?
“I’m sorry, Chance,” Evie said. “I had to share with the others how from the day we married I’ve been feeding you potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes. You’ve been very kind about—though getting a mite tired of them. And now, I hate to inform you, but this chocolate confection is really a potato cake!”
***
An hour later, in the buckboard on their way home in the moonlight, Evie basked in the memories of the perfect evening she’d given her husband. Chance had one arm around her and held the reins with the other. The love she felt for him was indescribable, so strong and good, and larger than the mountains she loved to gaze at throughout her day.
“Oops, I almost forgot.”
She looked up.
He took a letter from his pocket. “I picked this up at the store. From your friend, Mrs. Flanigan.”
He pulled the team to a halt and reached back for the lantern. “I’m sure you’ll want to read it now, right?” he said, striking a match and lighting the wick.
“Yes, thank you.” With eager hands, she carefully opened the envelope and took out the sheet of paper, holding it close to the light. She giggled in a few places. After that came a sniff, a laugh, and a nod.
“Well? You’re not going to keep what’s making you chuckle all to yourself, are you?”
“All right, here goes. Just keep in mind I wrote to her the night we came home from the Klinkners’. The night I thought my marriage was over. The night you broke my heart into a thousand pieces.”
“And the night you stuck your tongue out at me?”
She gasped. “You saw that?”
His arched brow emphasized his no-nonsense look. “You bet I did.”
She laughed, then cleared her throat and began reading, moonlight all around, Chance’s arm still holding her close.
Dearest Evie,
It was with surprise and shock that I read your letter telling me of your difficulties with Chance. I am so sorry to hear of his coldness toward you. I wish I were there, so I could give you a heartfelt embrace and more closely question you as to the circumstances of what might have happened, because I sincerely doubt Chance does not want to be married to you.
Forgive me, Evie, for writing what may already be known to you. But I know you’ve grown up without a father or brothers (not that I had brothers) and have little experience with the male sex. Men have the most annoying habit of withdrawing when something is on their mind, and not offering two words about what is wrong.
Evie poked him in the side. “That’s totally true! You can be so exasperating when you’re like that!”
“Go on.”
I remember once when my father had a particularly difficult case, he did not speak to Anna or me for nearly a whole week! Nor, when I taxed him about his silence, would he admit anything was out of the ordinary about his behavior!
I also know when I would push him on such matters, to my great dismay, my usually even-tempered Papa would often turn surly. Thus I learned to leave him be and go about my regular activities with a cheerful demeanor. Sooner or later he’d return to his normal self.
Therefore, Evie, whatever is on Chance’s mind, you must stop questioning him about it. Perhaps matrimony is a greater jolt to his system than he expected, and you must give him time to adjust. He will talk when he’s ready. So don’t hover over him.
It was his turn to nudge her, hard enough to stop her from reading.
“See. You’re supposed to leave me alone when I don’t feel like talking. Not go on and on like a chipmunk gone mad.”
“Do I go on and on like a chipmunk?” She gave him you-better-take-it-back look.
“No. Now that I think about it, I’m sure that was someone else.”
“You’d better say that!”
Instead, focus your mental and physical efforts on making a good home and being the best wife (short of becoming a doormat) that you can be. But also cultivate other activities that bring you pleasure.
Chance interrupted her again when he leaned over and kissed her neck.
“Chance!”
“I can think of a physical effort I’d like to partake in right now that would bring a whole lot of pleasure,” he whispered, sending a bolt of desire coursing through her.
“Chance!”
I am glad you’re making a new friend. I also advise you to seek out some friendships with ladies who are not so close to your husband.
I must go. I have just prepared my very first dinner for my husband, and I dare not let it burn!
All my love,
Trudy
Chance broke out in a heartfelt bellow, laughing so hard he had to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. “Ladies who are not so close to your husband? Honey, you’re the only woman I’m close with.”
“Stop that right now, Chance. I meant I couldn’t confide in Mrs. Klinkner because you knew her well. This is a touching letter. Trudy is my best friend. There isn’t anyone else who knows me as well, or understands me the way she does.”
His eyes turned serious. He gathered her to him, and with the coyotes in the background serenading them from the hills, kissed her until her breath caught and her heart fluttered.
“You sure about that, darlin’?”
She ran her hands over his shoulders, loving the feel of him. “Well,” she began, “perhaps I spoke a bit too hastily. I guess I’d have to say Trudy knows me second best.”
With a feather-light touch, she traced his lips with the tip of her finger and watched as his eyes darkened with passion. She wished they were already home. “You know my heart like your own, Chance, and I’m so glad you do.”
To read about Trudy Bauer’s mail-order marriage to Seth Flanigan in Debra Holland’s companion story, order Mail-Order Brides of the West: Trudy today!
More Books by Caroline Fyffe
Prairie Hearts Series
In Order:
Where The Wind Blows
Before The Larkspur Blooms
~~~*~~~
McCutcheon Family Series
In Order:
Montana Dawn
Texas Twilight
Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie
~~~*~~~
Stand Alone Western Historical
Sourdough Creek
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Stand Alone Contemporary Women’s Fiction
Three And A Half Minutes
~~~*~~~
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Caroline Fyffe was born in Waco, Texas, the first of many towns she would call home during her father’s career with the US Air Force. A horse aficionado from an early age, she earned a Bachelor of Arts in communications from California State University-Chico before launching what would become a twenty-year career as an equine photographer. She began writing fiction to pass the time during long days in the show arena, channeling her love of horses and the Old West into a series of Western historicals. Her debut novel, Where the Wind Blows, won the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart Award as well as the Wisconsin RWA’s Write Touch Readers’ Award. She and her husband have two grown sons and live in the Pacific Northwest.
BONUS READ!
MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF THE WEST: TRUDY
By
Debra Holl
and
1886
SIX YEARS BEFORE
WILD MONTANA SKY TAKES PLACE
CHAPTER ONE
St. Louis
AT LAST, I’m free! Trudy Bauer stood in the parlor of her father’s home, watching her younger sister Anna and her groom Martin Ramsey accept the congratulations of their family and friends. Anna glowed with joy, and her lanky young husband, who’d just graduated from divinity school, gazed at her with pride. Anna had chosen not to wear white, opting for a more practical wedding gown in slate blue that matched her eyes, with only a hint of a bustle. Her future as a minister’s wife meant she was destined to wear subdued dresses for the rest of her life.
The first white roses of spring decorated the mantle of the fireplace and matched the bouquet held by the bride and the single blossom pinned to the groom’s lapel. The veil tucked back over Anna’s face dimmed her dark red hair and almost matched her porcelain complexion.
Trudy didn’t envy her sister’s married state, but she did feel some twinges about the couple’s plans to travel to Africa as missionaries. A sigh escaped. In her favorite novel, Jane Eyre, St. John had died as a missionary in Africa. Even though she knew the man was a fictional character, his death stood as an illustration of all the dangers Anna would be undertaking.
She glanced out the window at the street of Queen Anne houses, planning how soon she could escape St. Louis and embark on her own adventure. She was so tired of residing in the city and longed to live in nature—to see glorious vistas every day.
At the end of the week, she promised herself, thinking of the advertisement locked away in her desk drawer. As soon as the rest of the family returns home.
Her father’s booming voice brought her back to the present. Tall and auburn-haired, white streaking his beard, Carl Bauer stood with Mrs. Minerva Breckenridge, the woman he’d been courting for the last four years, and gave his son-in-law, Martin, a friendly buffet on the shoulder. “You take care of my little girl, hear!”