Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46)

by Leighann Dobbs

  As the buggy approached Main Street, Trey glanced sideways at Chevonne. For one quick second, he had an irresistible urge to tell her everything about his secret project. Before he could open his mouth, he was distracted by the sight of Phinneas Gulch hawking his potions on the sidewalk. Maybe it was better to wait until he was absolutely sure of her.

  “You can drop me at the mercantile for the fabric, while you go pick up those roller blinds for the house. We can get the gelatin together, after.”

  “Huh?” Trey’s attention turned away from Gulch. “Oh, sure.”

  He stopped the buggy before the mercantile store. Chevonne climbed down. The moment to tell her about his project had passed, but Trey felt oddly close to her now. Something had happened on the ride to town. It was as if a door had opened between them and all he had to do was step through it.

  Did she feel it, too?

  * * *

  Chevonne said a silent prayer of thanks that the post office was just beyond the mercantile and that Trey’s destination was in the opposite direction.

  As she hurried toward the building on North Broadway, the conversation she’d had with Trey in the buggy played back in her head. Her heart kicked with excitement--Trey was as interested in new improvements as she was and, unlike most men, he didn’t seem adverse to women taking part in new things.

  Would he embrace Gram’s ideas? She glanced down at the envelope she took from her bag as she pushed the post office door open. Maybe it was better to wait until she heard back from the Patent Office. Chevonne was glad the post office lobby was empty. She didn’t want anyone to know her business.

  The bespectacled clerk behind the counter shot a look at her from underneath drawn eyebrows. “You’re too late. The mail train’s already come and gone.”

  “I want to get this in now to go out tomorrow.” Chevonne stepped up to the counter and slid the envelope across to him.

  He frowned down at it. “Ain’t got no address.”

  “I’d like to send it to the United States Patent Office, but I don’t know the address. I was hoping you could look it up.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “What do I look like, a librarian?”

  “Well ... no ... It’s just I thought you had a directory of government offices.”

  “A directory, you say?” The man made a harrumphing noise, then bent down, pulled out a thick book and slapped it onto the counter. “Yep. We got a directory. Now, what office did you say you wanted to send this to?”

  “The United States Patent Office,” Chevonne said clearly, since she suspected the ornery man was slightly deaf.

  The man pushed his spectacles up on his nose, opened the book, licked his index finger and started turning the pages very slowly.

  The book was over two inches thick. If he was going to go through it that slowly, Chevonne feared she’d be there for a week.

  “Patent Office ... Let’s see now ... “ He frowned at the book and flipped pages back and forth.

  Chevonne tapped her foot, anxiety ratcheting up inside her with each passing second as the clerk thumbed through pages. She glanced out the large window onto the street. What would she say if Trey caught her in here?

  “Here it is.” The clerk spun the book around and pointed at an address, then shoved a pen and ink pot across to her.

  Relief flooding through her, Chevonne quickly addressed the envelope and paid for the postage. Spinning away from the counter in a hurry to get out, she bumped into someone who had come up silently behind her. “Oh, excuse me.” Her heart nearly stopped beating when she saw who she’d bumped into: Sarah Perkins.

  “Well, if it isn’t Trey Garner’s mail-order bride.” Sarah spoke the words loudly, prompting a raised eyebrow from the clerk.

  A prickle of annoyance rose up in Chevonne. “Sarah, how lovely to see you again.” Chevonne added a fake smile to her sarcasm and moved to the right to get past the annoying woman.

  Sarah stepped to the right, blocking any escape. “What brings you in here?”

  “I mailed a letter.” Chevonne darted left, brushing quickly past Sarah and out the building.

  Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach roiled with nerves as she ran to the mercantile. She dashed down the store’s aisle to the fabric section and sought out the sheer curtain fabrics. She didn’t lose much time selecting one, since the selection was rather meager. She calculated how much she needed for all the windows in the ranch house, based on Trey’s numbers.

  When a clerk came to gather up the amount of bolts she needed, she requested the white canvas, the precise sizes of canvas sheets Trey’s paper specified. It wasn’t long before she and all the packages of fabric were delivered by the store’s clerk to the walkway before the store to await Trey.

  Chevonne glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sarah Perkins wasn’t around. She wasn’t sure how long Sarah had been standing behind her at the post office. Had she overheard the destination of Chevonne’s letter or seen the address? And if she had, would the gossipmonger tattle to Trey?

  Chapter 10

  Later that night, Chevonne unwrapped the packages of curtain fabric in her bedroom. Her list of sewing projects was growing. She opened the top drawer of her bureau and ran her fingers lightly over the beautiful lace and silk ribbons she’d collected to use for bows and decorations on her new undergarments.

  First double checking that her bedroom door was locked, she retrieved her grandmother’s lace bag from under the dressing table and spread the contents out on the bed. They were all her grandmother’s sketches--designs for a revolutionary line of undergarments, frilly, lacy, matching undergarments the likes of which no one had ever seen.

  Even though they were making these new undergarments for women, Chevonne had a sneaking suspicion that men might appreciate them, too, when they saw the change in their wives when they had them on. Women would be much more comfortable, stand straighter and even be more agreeable, not to mention look more womanly.

  Would Trey appreciate these undergarments?

  The stray thought of him seeing her in her undergarments caused a flood of warmth to crash through Chevonne. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

  She ran her fingers lightly over the designs, her heart tugging with longing for her grandmother. She missed her terribly, but she was on a new adventure now and she would keep her grandmother alive through these designs.

  Chevonne’s eyes drifted to the window. Bright stars twinkled around the slice of moon in the dark sky. The sky looked so much bigger here than in Lawrence. She was glad she’d come to this new, untamed area.

  She pushed the window open to breathe in the cool prairie night air. Outside she could hear insects buzzing. An owl hooted. The smell of the countryside filled her senses. It was so much better than the smell of wood smoke and coal dust that she knew from Lawrence. And the night sounds of a city were frightening: drunks, fights, police whistles.

  She put the designs safely away then undressed and tugged her thin linen chemise over her head. She turned down the lamp and snuggled into bed under the crisp sheet. It had been a good day. She’d enjoyed her trips into town, with Celia and later with Trey. After they’d returned from town, she’d set to making the ribbon jelly, and baking the bread, and roasting the meat and potatoes for supper. She made gravy with the meat juices.

  The fried eggplant came last, and it was the best of all eaten with a sauce she made, Mrs. Gillette’s Tartare Sauce. They’d ended supper with cheese she’d creamed and sweetened to spread on slices of the molasses fruit cake.

  Trey had spent the afternoon installing all the roller shades around the house. She’d accompanied him to her room and watched him do the work on her bedroom windows. The shades made the house cooler than the previous evening.

  The fussy ribbon jelly would be ready the next day. The layers of jelly and Blanc Mange, with varied colors and flavors, had to set well in drinking glasses in the icebox. She’d shown them proudly to Trey, and he’d laughed and calle
d them rainbow jelly.

  She’d sensed he’d been on the verge of asking or telling her something important just then, but he never did. Several times over supper she’d almost blurted out everything about her secret project, but each time she’d stopped herself. She just couldn’t risk it.

  Chevonne nestled her head deep into her feather pillow and was just drifting to sleep when she heard a noise outside. Was someone out there? The noise was coming from just under her window. Why would someone be there?

  She could only think of one reason. It was Phinneas Gulch there to steal her designs. She glanced at the bedroom door. She’d been diligent about keeping the door locked, so the only way to get a look at her designs would be to climb up and look in the window.

  Scratch. Scratch.

  Someone was out there directly below her window. She ran to the open window and tried to look down but hit her head on the screen. Anger surged inside her. She was not going to let anyone steal anything.

  Chevonne silently unlocked her door then padded into the hall in her bare feet. She ran down the steps as quietly and quickly as she could. Chevonne was already at the bottom of the stairs when she realized she was in just her chemise, and without a weapon or slippers. The urgency to protect her grandmother’s precious designs was more important than her modesty, and she knew where she could find something to use as a weapon.

  She made her way into the kitchen and grabbed a weighty cast iron skillet off the range. Silently unlocking and opening the back door, she crept around the porch to the front of the house. Chevonne wanted to catch the intruder off guard, leaping around the corner and planting the cast iron skillet where it would do the most harm.

  She had to traverse the front of the house and come around the corner near Trey’s study. Didn’t he hear the noise? He must be a deep sleeper. Chevonne came to the corner and raised the cast-iron pan up, then took a deep breath and sprang around the corner.

  Crash! Smash!

  The loud sound of metal clanking against metal assaulted her ears just as thick ropes snagged at her ankles, coiling around them, throwing her off balance.

  Chevonne pitched forward, the skillet flying out of her hands, landing on the ground with a thud.

  The last sound she heard was the twang of brass symbols clashing together as she fell face first into the dirt.

  Chapter 11

  Trey shot awake and out of bed as soon as he heard the clamor outside. His trap had worked! He grabbed a shotgun he had at the ready and ran out the front door. He was fully dressed since he’d fallen asleep while lying down to muse over a problem with his adhesive.

  Would he find Phinneas Gulch ensnared in the ropes he’d woven into a trap?

  He skidded around the corner, the shotgun braced against his shoulder. “Hold it right there!” His heart plummeted at what he saw.

  Chevonne lay in the dirt, her legs tangled in the ropes. She was twisted in an unnatural way. His chest tightened when he noticed she was wearing only a flimsy linen chemise. Beside her sat a cast iron frying pan.

  What in the world?

  As he stared at her, she wriggled up into a sitting position and looked at him, her eyes growing big with fear when she saw the gun pointed right at her.

  Trey set the shotgun down and went to her. “What are you doing here?”

  Chevonne struggled to get free of the tangle of ropes. “I heard someone outside and I came out to catch him.”

  Trey frowned at her. “In your nightdress with a frying pan?” He looked in surprise at her bare feet, so silky and well-formed.

  Chevonne glanced down at her state of undress. Her cheeks turned crimson. “I was more concerned that there was an intruder.”

  Trey freed her ankles of the ropes, pausing to admire how slim and smooth her ankles were. “Are you injured?”

  “I’m not sure.” She grimaced as she wiggled her left ankle. “Maybe. What is all this?” She gestured towards the metal cans and ropes.

  “Sorry. I probably should’ve told you. It’s an alarm of sorts. You know, in case anyone tries to break in the house.”

  Chevonne frowned at the various things on the ground then her eyes lit up. “You mean you are testing an alarm invention?”

  Trey hadn’t really thought of it that way. But now that she mentioned it, a home alarm would make a good invention. Of course he’d have to refine the design, but with some thought, he might be able to come up with something workable.

  “Yes. That’s it.”

  “What a great idea. Too bad we didn’t catch the intruder.”

  Trey looked around. “That’s right. Who was out here? Did you see someone?”

  “I didn’t see anyone, but I heard scratching and ...”

  Scratch. Scratch.

  Chevonne pointed in the direction of a clump of wild flowers from where the sound was coming. “Like that!”

  Trey stifled a laugh. He picked up a rock and tossed it at the flowers. A fat raccoon scurried out and lumbered off toward the barn.

  “You mean it was just a raccoon?” Chevonne struggled onto her feet, swaying as she tried to put weight on her ankle.

  “Yep.” Trey put his arms around his city girl to steady her. The flimsy material of her chemise left little to his burning imagination. He suddenly felt like someone had stolen the breath out of his lungs.

  Chevonne looked up at him with an expression of complete trust. Her golden-red hair flowed down to her waist in long silky waves. It took all of his restraint to not run his fingers through it.

  “Can you walk?” His voice was hoarse.

  She took a tentative step, collapsing against him. “I guess not. I don’t think it’s broken, just twisted. I need to rest it and put a hot compress on it.”

  With one swift motion, Trey picked her up in his arms. She was as light as a feather, her body soft against his, curvy in all the right places. He tore his attention from her curves and focused on not tripping on the ropes.

  He carried her back into the house, over the threshold and up the stairs to her room. Trey hesitated at her door, glancing in at her bed and knowing instinctively he probably shouldn’t go any further.

  “You can put me down here. I think I can hobble the rest of the way in,” Chevonne said in a breathless voice.

  He put her down gently, taking care to hold on while she found her balance. She lingered in his arms, standing in front of him with only a whisper of electrically charged air between them. Trey gently wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb.

  She looked up at him, a sea of emotion flickering through her green eyes. Trey’s thumb lingered on her cheek, then drifted down to trace the delicate line of her jaw before flickering over her creamy white shoulder and down her arm, his fingertips delighting in the exquisite feel of her silky skin.

  She stumbled toward him and he caught her, pulling her close. He knew it was a mistake. Her warm body pressing against his broke the dam of his restraint. His hand tightened around her waist and he lowered his head tentatively at first, and when she didn’t protest, he brushed his lips against hers.

  Her sigh of satisfaction encouraged him. He deepened the kiss, angling her head so that he could taste more of her. Trey pulled her tighter against him. His blood coursed hot in his veins as he kissed her as he’d never kissed any woman before.

  * * *

  The warmth of Trey’s lips and his spicy scent that filled her senses sent shivers of delight through Chevonne. She’d been kissed before, tentative little things by tentative little city fellows. It was never like this. This made her dizzy with desire.

  She clung to Trey’s shoulders and felt the world spin. A coiling of warmth worked its way through her body, causing unfamiliar but very pleasant sensations.

  Gram had told her about the delicious sensations the right man could give to a woman, but Chevonne had never imagined anything like this. Thoughts of her grandmother tugged at her consciousness. Her heart was urging her to give everything to Trey, but her mind reminded
her she had her grandmother’s secret project to consider. She was so close now, she couldn’t let Gram down. Being an Oklahoma rancher’s wife and being a businesswoman just couldn’t mix.

  She splayed her palms on his firm, wide chest, and felt the thud of his heart. Reluctantly, she pushed away, breaking the kiss and their tight embrace. Her breath came in short gasps as she stared up at him.

  His grey eyes darkened. “I’m so sorry ... I didn’t...” He released her abruptly and she stumbled back, causing him to have to snake his arm around her waist again to keep her from falling.

  This time, to Chevonne’s dismay, or was it relief, he kept a good six inches of space between them. “It’s okay.” She stepped away slowly, testing her ankle to see if it would hold her weight. She took a little hop into her room, holding onto the doorway for support. “I think I can make it on my own.”

  Trey glanced in. Was he looking at the bed? Chevonne’s cheeks flamed, her heart thudding with nerves. Or was it desire? She had an urge to flee into her room and hide behind the locked door until she could sort these new feelings out.

  Trey shoved his hands into his pockets. “Okay, then. If you think so.”

  Chevonne backed into the room, holding on to the door. “Sorry about messing up your alarm contraption.”

  “Huh? Oh, right. No problem. I just hope you didn’t get badly hurt.” Trey glanced down at her ankle.

  Chevonne eased the door closed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Night.”

  “I’ll get a hot compress... and set it outside your door.” He turned toward the stairs.

  She closed the door, whooshing out a breath as she leaned against it. Her ankle throbbed, but that was the least of her worries. Her hand flew to her lips, still warm from Trey’s kiss.

  Her mind reeled in confusion. Chevonne hobbled over to the bed and glanced at the dressing table under which she’d hidden her grandmother’s bag.