Chevonne_Bride of Oklahoma

by Leighann Dobbs

  “That would be fine.” Chevonne peered out one of the screened bedroom windows. Being on the second floor, the room had a lovely view of the distant mountains. Another advantage of being upstairs on her own, she realized, was that Trey wouldn’t have any need to come up here. Still, she wanted to be assured of her privacy. “Do I get a key for my room?”

  He frowned. “Why do you want that?”

  Chevonne shrugged. “Well, you have one for yours and I just figured with the ranch hands and all ...”

  “Oh, right. That’s a good idea. The other keys are in a drawer in the kitchen. I’ll set it out for you.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Chevonne said as she walked over to the other window and glanced out.

  “Well, I’ll let you get settled in. I have business around the ranch to tend to.” He started for the stairs.

  “Perfect.” Her stomach grumbled loudly. That reminded her of what she wanted to offer. Chevonne called out, “I can cook our breakfasts and suppers, if you’d like. Dinner you can have midday with the hands.”

  Trey returned to her bedroom doorway, a wide smile on his face. “That would be wonderful, but I don’t expect you to be a servant here.”

  “I have to cook for myself, so it makes no difference to me to cook for two instead of one.”

  “That reminds me. My sister brought over a cold supper for you, for your first evening in Oklahoma, she said, so you wouldn’t have to cook. It’s in the pantry. I’ll get it.”

  “That was very kind of her. Is your kitchen well-stocked?”

  He smiled his easy smile again. “I have some provisions, but tomorrow you can have Luke take you into town, and you can get whatever is wanting, and your sewing machine.” Trey pressed his lips together then spit out what seemed to be bothering him, “Tomorrow night we’ll be dining in town with my parents and my sister and her husband. I have to appease my mother who was rather put out that I insisted on getting married without her arranging a big to-do.”

  “I assumed I would meet your family sooner rather than later. Better to get it out of the way,” Chevonne said. “Will your mother be very angry?”

  “She’ll get over it, but it would help if we appeared to be happily married. I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could pretend ...” His voice trailed off.

  “Of course. I’d be happy to.” The last thing Chevonne needed was a hostile mother-in-law butting in. She knew that making it look like they were happy with their lot was to her advantage.

  Trey said with relief as he headed out of the room, “Great. You know, I think this little arrangement is going to work out perfectly.”

  Chevonne smiled, her heart lifting. She’d survived the trip to the Oklahoma Territory and getting married. Any fears about Trey not being a gentleman had been laid to rest. Best of all, it seemed like he wanted as little to do with her as she did with him.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  * * *

  Trey stood back from the stairs as his oldest ranch hand, Luke, and the youngest ranch hand, Dustin, carried one of Chevonne’s trunks up to her room. Then he went into the kitchen and retrieved the key to Chevonne’s room from a drawer and set it on the tray of food his sister had put in the pantry. By the time he returned to the hallway, Luke and Dustin were coming downstairs.

  “For my bride.” Trey handed the dinner tray to Luke.

  The old man eyed the tray warily, his gaze resting on the key. “Get the other trunk, Dustin,” Luke commanded in his gravelly twang. The young man went outside. Luke didn’t move.

  “Something you want to say?” Trey asked. He knew Luke, who was more family than hired hand, was a man of few words, choice ones, but few, and Trey expected one or two now.

  When Dustin returned with the second trunk on his back, Luke looked Trey in the eye and drawled, “Nope.”

  Trey lingered in the main hall until the men had made their deliveries, come back down and departed in silence. Then he lingered a bit longer until he heard Chevonne lock her door. Finally alone and safe from prying eyes, he headed for his study.

  As he unlocked the door, he chided himself for acting so strange about his locked study. The less attention he brought to the room, the better. All his hopes and dreams were tied up in there. His secret project that had consumed all of his spare time for two years was finally about to come to fruition, and the less Chevonne--or anyone--knew about it, the better.

  He tried to settle down to some work but found his mind wandering. Thinking of his new bride and her shining but tired green eyes, he realized he should’ve been a little more personable to her, probably asking her about her grandma, for example. Chevonne had obviously cared a great deal for the woman, judging by the way she clutched that bag like it was a lifeline.

  Was he being insensitive? Oh, what did it matter? Chevonne knew this was just a marriage of convenience and she seemed to be more than okay with it. He didn’t think she expected him to be sociable. But since they lived in the same house, he could at least make an attempt at friendliness.

  Near as he could tell, he was getting the good end of the bargain. In fact, he was even getting a bonus because she was willing to cook. That was something his mother would be more than pleased to hear. She’d said a bride from an east coast city was sure to be useless on a ranch.

  The fact that Chevonne was willing to pretend they were happily married was beyond his expectations. When he’d sent for a bride, he’d feared he would get someone who wanted a real marriage--companionship, making a home together ... maybe even children. But Chevonne didn’t seem to want anything to do with any of that, oddly for a woman.

  Trey was relieved. Though, if she wasn’t looking for a regular marriage, then why did she come out here as a mail-order bride? Why would a beauty like her need to advertise for a husband? Was she up to no good? He shook his head. His imagination was working overtime and his own secret activities were making him suspicious of everyone.

  He already knew from her letters that she had nowhere to go and she saw traveling west as a new start. She was probably just happy to have a home, and she sure seemed to like the home he’d made here. She’d not have to worry about supporting herself. He was fairly well off. This arrangement was as good for a young woman like her as it was for him.

  She was probably eager to do as he wished so she could keep her place at the ranch. He had to remember not to abuse that. It wouldn’t be right. And, he had to admit, she was as easy on the eyes as she seemed to be to get along with.

  Trey could see this working out quite well as long as he didn’t let his overactive imagination become too suspicious of her obviously innocent motives.

  But even as he pushed his suspicions away, he cautioned himself about getting too comfortable around her. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know about his future plans. At least not just yet.

  Chapter 5

  Chevonne stretched under the sheets and felt that her body was still sore from the lengthy train journey. She rolled over and looked out the window, marveling at the expansive view of the Oklahoma countryside that was now splashed with the pinks and oranges of the sunrise.

  The Oklahoma countryside was much more scenic than Massachusetts city life. She decided right then and there that she never wanted curtains to block the view from her window. She was on the second floor and, unlike in crowded Lawrence, there was no one outside to see in.

  She sat up and swung her feet down onto the wooden floor. Chevonne padded over to the sash window and slid it up as high as possible so she could smell the fresh morning air, another rarity in the mill town she’d lived in her whole life. And unlike the city, with its bustle of activity, Oklahoma was quiet. The ranch was far away from any neighbors and the only sounds consisted of birds chirping and cows mooing.

  All the anxiety and uncertainty of the previous day had fallen by the wayside as she slept. Oklahoma was going to be good for her. She felt it in her aching bones.

  Chevonne dressed quickly, then hid her g
randmother’s bag under the low skirt of the dressing table, before heading down to the kitchen. She locked the room with the key the old ranch hand Luke had delivered to her, silently, along with her dinner tray the night before. He was clearly one of those strong silent types every easterner imagined peopled the west.

  Working in the textile mill had made Chevonne an early riser, but this morning she had slept later than usual, probably because she was tired from the trip. She didn’t know if Trey slept late, but she assumed that running a ranch involved getting up early. She’d heard the ranch hands outside before dawn, and she figured her new husband was on the same schedule.

  Downstairs, she noticed once again how empty the house looked. Maybe when she went to town for her sewing machine, she could look for more furniture. Her eye drifted around the house, her mind visualizing what items to add to make the place more homey. She caught up her thoughts before she had the whole place decorated. She wasn’t even sure how long this arrangement would last, so no sense in making any long term decisions, especially when they involved spending someone else’s money.

  She found Trey in the kitchen. He’d lit a fire in the range and a kettle of water was heating atop it. He stood at the sink, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the window light. His long hair was messy as if he’d just run his fingers through it. He turned toward her, the light from the window highlighting the angles of his strong featured face and turning his grey eyes to a stunning slate blue. “Mornin’.” His face spread into a lazy grin.

  Chevonne’s heart leapt to her throat. It was an unfamiliar feeling and it caused her to pause in the doorway. He really was far more handsome than any city fellow she’d ever encountered. City fellows always seemed to looked careworn, sloped shouldered and dirty. Oklahoma sure did make some handsome, healthy men.

  “Are you okay?” His face grew serious with concern.

  “Yes. Sorry.” Chevonne waved her hand in the air. “I just have a little lightheadedness after the long journey. Would you like breakfast?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I get up with the hands and have coffee and bread with them before sunup. But a big breakfast is what they’re having now, and what I thought we could have together.”

  Chevonne made a quick inventory of the kitchen under Trey’s watchful eye. The icebox had a full cream pot, milk jug, butter pot, drinking water pitcher and some vegetables. There were no yeast cakes, however. She’d have to see if the druggist in town sold them.

  The egg-tree on the counter was full. The spice rack was stocked and even included flavoring essences. Under the sink she found a good stock of soap, vinegar, scrubbing brushes and cleaning supplies from alum and ammonia to Water of Javelle and zinc. There was a slop bucket too.

  “Luke delivers that each evening to the pigs,” Trey informed her. “And he restocks the wood and coal, and cleans the stove of ash. He’ll bring over meat, milk, eggs and cheese regularly from the farm stock.”

  Chevonne nodded and smiled in happy surprise at how convenient it was to live on a ranch, then she continued her survey. There were plenty of kitchen towels, cheese cloth, string, silverware, utensils, sturdy crockery, glassware, a teapot and even a stock of fine teas.

  She entered the pantry and saw that it was well-stocked with salt pork and bacon protected in muslin sacks. There were coffee beans and a grinder, an assortment of dried beans and peas, bread flour, graham flour, Indian cornmeal, oatmeal, hominy grits, rice, potatoes, salt, sugar, molasses and onions, and much more.

  On a pantry shelf she found a stock of baking soda, cream of tartar, baking powder and hop cakes. There was a good supply of lard for frying, and suet for baking and basting. There were mixing bowls, big roasting pans, graters, grinders, beaters, scrapers and knives of all sizes.

  She had never in her life seen such a well-equipped and well-stocked kitchen. The surprise must have registered on her face, because she heard Trey chuckling.

  On a pantry shelf was a basket covered in a red gingham cloth. She lifted the cloth to reveal golden brown bread.

  Trey looked in the pantry door. “My sister, Celia, brought that over yesterday.”

  “Perfect. I’ll use it for toast. I can bake more bread after I get some fresh yeast cakes.”

  “The druggist’s in town will have them.” Trey seated himself at the pine table and watched his new wife work.

  She set two cast-iron skillets on the stove, then got out an array of kitchen utensils. Chevonne tied on an apron she’d spotted in a drawer, and hummed happily while she worked.

  First she set to grinding some coffee beans and putting them in the coffee pot to boil with some of the pump water that smelled and looked crystal clean. The oatmeal she set to cook in a double boiler. Then she sliced bacon strips and put them in one of the skillets, adding sliced potatoes after the grease built up.

  She cracked eggs into the other skillet that she’d greased well with bacon fat from the fat pot. She flipped the eggs over expertly, all the while keeping an eye on the slices of bread she had inside the oven to toast. Throughout it all, she adjusted the fuel to keep all the temperatures just right under each burner and for the oven.

  It wasn’t long before Chevonne was bringing the coffee, bacon, potatoes, oatmeal, eggs and toast to the table, which Trey had set for them both, even with a table cloth and napkins, and sugar and salt from the pantry.

  She got the cream, milk and butter from the icebox and set them on the table, then studied the result of her efforts. Not a bad spread for a new bride.

  “This looks and smells great,” Trey said. “I’m not much of a cook so I’ve had to settle for the hash slung by the cook out with the ranch hands.”

  She sat down across from him. “Well, I’m no blue ribbon cook, but I hope you like it.” Chevonne worked her knife around the yolks of her eggs. She didn’t like yolks and preferred to just have a piece of toast with the whites on top, which she bit into heartily.

  Trey frowned down at her plate. “You don’t eat the yolks?”

  Chevonne shook her head.

  “Well, I don’t like the whites. Want to trade?”

  She glanced at his plate. He had cut the yolks out and placed them on his slices of toast. “Sure.”

  “I hate wasting any food, but honestly, those whites are tasteless. It’s good that you’re here now and we won’t have to waste a thing,” he teased.

  Chevonne lifted her plate toward Trey. Their fingers brushed as he maneuvered the plate so that he could slide her yolks onto his toast. She felt a flutter in her stomach and Chevonne wondered if the eggs were bad. Otherwise, why did her stomach feel so funny?

  But Trey must have been feeling fine. He shoved a big piece of yolk-soaked toast into his mouth. “After breakfast I’ve got to ride the ranch. I make it a point to personally check the fencing and the stock daily. I know you want a sewing machine and supplies for the kitchen. Luke can show you the stores where I have accounts. Can you drive a buggy?”

  She and Gram couldn’t afford a buggy back home. She’d ridden in plenty, but never had an opportunity to drive one. “I’ve never driven one, but I would love to learn. I think a woman needs to be self-sufficient out here, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do.” He nodded approvingly. “Luke can teach you to handle the buggy on the way into town. I’m sure you’ll take to it in no time.”

  “That would be nice.” Chevonne was delighted that Trey was giving her a lot of freedom. The more freedom she had, the quicker she would be able to accomplish her goals.

  “Is there anything else you need?” Trey asked.

  An uncustomary surge of shyness bubbled up inside Chevonne. “There is one thing ... it was a long train ride and I’d love a bath. Where do you ...?”

  Trey thrust his chin toward the screen door. “The tub is on the back porch.”

  Chevonne’s brows flew up in shock. On the porch? Where everyone could see?

  “It’s closed in a bit.” Trey frowned in thought. “Though I suppose that might not be id
eal for a lady.”

  “It’s fine,” Chevonne cut him off. She didn’t want to cause a disruption and she realized the back porch was the easiest place to have the tub since it was next to the kitchen and that’s where the hot water would come from, and they could dump the used water off the porch. She’d just have to pick a time when no one was around. “I don’t have time today, anyway.”

  Another sponge bath would have to do, and perhaps she’d wash her hair in the sink, just like Gram used to do once a week. It wouldn’t do to meet Trey’s family not looking her best.

  After breakfast, she cleaned up the kitchen. Then she washed her hair in the sink, using the hot water from the kettle to take off the chill of the pump water. By the time she was changed for town her hair was dry so she pinned it up, settled a hat on her head and pinned it in place, then went downstairs to ring the bell for Luke. She was careful not to forget to lock her room.

  The bell wasn’t necessary. Luke was waiting in a rocking chair on the porch. A buggy was at the foot of the house steps, harnessed to a single powerful looking horse. Without a word, the old ranch hand offered his knee for Chevonne to climb aboard. She stepped gently on his knee and sat down on the buggy’s seat.

  Luke boarded the buggy and rumbled, “Watch close what I do.”

  He flicked the reins so they tapped the horse’s rump, and he made a clicking noise with his tongue. That was enough to set the horse going. Chevonne paid attention all the way into town, and marveled at how much Luke taught her without saying more than a word or two the whole way.

  Chevonne quickly made her purchases at the Gilpin and Frick store, where Luke brought her first, then she purchased the other items she thought she could use at several stores Luke brought her to when she explained what she was looking for.

  At each shop she followed laconic old Luke’s lead and ignored all the curious stares and whispers directed her way, presumably because she charged everything to Trey Garner’s accounts. They probably thought she was his housekeeper, unless the saying was true, that the two fastest forms of communication were telegraph and tell-a-woman, which meant that Sarah Perkins had been very busy.