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

by Leighann Dobbs

  That kiss had distracted him. Now that he thought about it, the kiss was probably part of her plan. His mind drifted back to the night she’d set off his alarm. Was she out there meeting Phinneas? Dressed in practically nothing? Were they lovers?

  Trey downed the whiskey in one go to numb the pain that thought had shot through him body and soul.

  “Dang!”

  Trey banged his fist on the table knocking his empty glass to the floor. He drew hooded stares from the other patrons. He scowled at them then signaled the bartender to bring another drink.

  “Make it a bottle.”

  She’d played him for a fool: cooking for him, acting nice to his family, making his house a home with curtains and wild flowers even. And the whole time, she’d been spying on him.

  The bartender set the bottle and a fresh glass on the table. He waited for payment, which Trey gave him without a word or glance at the man.

  Trey’s mind was too busy figuring things out to talk to anyone. How did she do it? She must have gotten into his study when he wasn’t home and seen his experiments and copied his notes. Ironically, his experiments had not been successful, so she didn’t have the right formula to submit to the Patent Office. The joke was on her and Gulch.

  A long, low whistle from a train arriving in Oklahoma City echoed in his head and broke his heart.

  Another shot of whiskey and his heart hardened so he didn’t feel the break. He hoped she would get on that train and head far away. Chevonne had been an unwelcome distraction that had slowed down his progress. He was glad to be rid of her.

  Chapter 17

  Chevonne spent the next three days alternating between hoping to avoid Trey in town and wishing she would run into him. Did he even know that she was still in town? Did he care? Why did she care what he cared?

  At least the hotel was nice. Though she had one of the least expensive rooms, her room had clean linens, a comfortable bed and a bathroom she shared with only three others. She’d shared with many more when living in boarding houses.

  At least she didn’t have to cross a field to an outhouse like at the ranch.

  She couldn’t ask for much more ... unless it was a source of income, which she was right now trying to secure.

  “You seem a million miles away.” Anna Overholser peered at Chevonne over the rim of her cobalt blue porcelain teacup.

  They were seated together in the Grand Avenue Hotel’s tearoom, one of the nicest establishments in town, built by Anna’s much older husband, Henry Overholser. The walls were decked out with floral wallpaper, the tables and chairs painted a soft white color. Green velvet drapes decorated the windows. There was no dust in sight and the air was spiced with the smell of cinnamon and sugar from the dainties they served at their high-tea.

  A three-tiered salver of those dainties, most already eaten, was on Chevonne and Anna’s table. ‘You have to spend a bit to make a bit’, Gram always said, so Anna was there as Chevonne’s guest.

  Chevonne was dressed in her finest outfit, one she had made herself, to show off her design skills to Anna. It was of a fine peach silk with a lace neckline and lace decorated sleeves.

  Anna’s outfit was of a gorgeous deep shade of sapphire blue with powder blue velvet trim. Chevonne knew she could make something equally nice as long as she could buy the same materials.

  “Sorry.” Chevonne smiled. “I was just trying to picture which style of design would best show off your lovely figure.”

  Anna laughed and set the dainty pastry she was about to eat back on her plate. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She frowned. “But I’m not sure yet since you are a new, unknown designer. With my position in town, because of my husband, I have to weigh all I do very carefully.”

  “I understand.” Chevonne tried not to let disappointment creep into her voice.

  She had to convince Anna Overholser to let her make custom-designed dresses. If Anna wore her designs, then everyone else of import in town would want to as well. Once she had women buying her dress designs, she could introduce them to Gram’s undergarment line, which she’d have perfected by then.

  The tearoom door opened and the two women who entered caught Chevonne’s eye. Iona and Celia! She hadn’t talked to them yet and she had no idea what Trey had told them.

  Chevonne turned awkwardly in her seat to hide her face.

  “Is something wrong?” Anna asked.

  “No, I was just admiring the room.”

  Dang! Iona and Celia were being seated at a table in her direct line of sight.

  Chevonne plucked up the menu from the table and opened it to cover half of her face then she hurried up her sales pitch, “I’m so confident that you will like my designs that I am prepared to do your first dress for free.”

  Anna nearly spilled her tea in surprise. “Really? Well, that is tempting. Miss Flannery, are you still hungry?” Her eyes drifted from the menu to Chevonne’s empty plate then to the nearly empty tiered salver.

  “What?”

  Anna nodded at the menu Chevonne was hiding behind. “Oh, no. Just admiring their selection.”

  As Chevonne lowered the menu to smile at Anna, Celia’s eyes widened as she recognized her sister-in-law.

  Shoot! Please don’t come over.

  Celia smiled and waved. Surrendering to her fate, Chevonne put down the menu and gave a half wave in return.

  Anna twisted in her seat. “Who are you... Oh, do you know the Garners?”

  “Yes. Quite well.”

  Darn it! Celia and Iona were getting up and heading in her direction.

  “They’re my in-laws.”

  “In-laws, Miss Flannery?”

  Chevonne forced a smiled. “That’s my maiden name, my designer name.”

  “Chevonne, it’s so good to see you.” Celia hugged her. “Anna, nice to see you. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “I was just discussing some of my dress designs with Anna.”

  Iona beamed with pride at her daughter-in-law. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Chevonne is so artistic and an excellent seamstress.”

  Chevonne’s heart melted at the support Iona Garner was giving her. They certainly didn’t know that Trey had sent Chevonne packing for wanting to work outside the home.

  Anna stood up suddenly. “I’ll leave you with your in-laws. I will be in touch, Miss Flannery.”

  Chevonne smiled graciously despite her disappointment at not getting a firm commitment from her number one prospect.

  Perhaps noting the disappointment, Anna stated more clearly, I’m taking you up on your offer. Labor gratis. Materials at my expense. An endorsement from Iona Garner was all I needed to make up my mind. I expect to see some sketches next week, same time, same place.” She smiled at Chevonne’s overjoyed expression then sauntered to the door. A waiter rushed to open the door for the closest thing Oklahoma City had to royalty.

  Iona and Celia immediately joined Chevonne at her table.

  Celia whispered, “Where have you been? I went over to the ranch yesterday and Trey said that you were in town but I saw the buggy in the barn. Is something going on between you two?”

  “What has my difficult son done?” Iona asked in concern.

  Chevonne warmed even more to her mother-in-law, who assumed immediately that Trey was at fault. “He didn’t like that I wanted to have my own business so he threw me out. I’m living here for the moment.”

  Celia shook her head. “It’s eighteen-ninety. A woman can have a business if she wants.”

  “I run our businesses with Father, and Celia helps, and Gary doesn’t mind.” Iona rolled her eyes in irritation at her son. “What kind of business? Dressmaking? I hardly see that as something to fight over. Many women are dressmakers. And to be dressmaker to Anna Overholser is hardly slumming it.”

  Chevonne was grateful she could share her frustrations with people who cared about her. It was time to share her secret. “My grandmother had a dream for new kinds of garments, and she made designs that I was
wondering if I could patent. Trey found out that I’d contacted the Patent Office and he just blew up in anger.”

  “Designs?” Celia asked, “Like the ones you were talking to Anna about? I’m not sure you can patent designs like that.”

  Chevonne shook her head. “No, not like that. These are different, innovative designs.”

  Interest filled Iona’s eyes. “Really? How so?”

  Chevonne leaned across the table and confided softly, “The designs are for fancy ladies’ undergarments, made of lace and silk, with matching corsets and knickers, unlike anything you can buy today.” When their eyes went wide in shock, Chevonne feared she’d lost her first two customers.

  Iona burst into giggles. “Why, that sounds wonderful. Doesn’t it, Celia?”

  Celia nodded, her eyes sparkling.

  “What didn’t Trey like about that?” Iona asked. “Seems any man would like that idea.” Iona giggled some more. “Even my Buck.”

  “The truth is, I never showed him the designs. I was keeping them a secret until--“ A realization hit her. “Sarah Perkins must have told Trey. She saw my letter at the post office.” A second realization hit her. “Trey never even asked what I wanted to patent.”

  “Why, I have a good mind to go over there and knock some sense into my son, treating his wife like this, throwing her out on the street to fend for herself.”

  A third realization hit Chevonne hard. Her marriage to Trey had been a sham, a marriage-of-convenience, but his family didn’t know that. It had become inconvenient to Trey, so he had every right to break it off. How could she confess the deceit to these two wonderful women? Chevonne didn’t have the courage to, and she didn’t want Trey to tell them either. What would they think of her if they knew the truth?

  “No, don’t do that,” she pleaded. “Things just won’t work out for us. He’s not the type that likes women with innovative ideas, apparently.”

  “Why, he has innovative ideas himself,” Iona said with pride in her difficult son. “I think he was just being hardheaded and stubborn. Maybe spending all that time on his projects in that smelly study of his has addled his brain.”

  His innovative projects in his smelly study? Why did he never tell her? Okay, she’d never told him, either. But...

  “And maybe you’re being a little stubborn, too?” Iona patted Chevonne’s hand.

  “Me? You’d be wasting your breath with Trey. He doesn’t want me. We’re not suited for each other.”

  Iona snorted a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. You two are perfectly suited. One only has to look at the two of you together to see that. You’re exactly what he needs in a women. He would never be happy with any of the simpering young women from around here.”

  “But, didn’t you want him to marry Sarah—“

  “Never,” Iona cut her off. “I was just pushing those women on him so he would get up the gumption to go find a woman of his own. I know how my Trey’s mind works.” She smiled reassuringly at Chevonne. “Now that he’s found the perfect girl, I can’t stand by and let his stubbornness ruin it.”

  Iona pulled Celia toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Chevonne called after them.

  “To knock some sense into my son.” Iona rushed back to Chevonne and whispered, “I expect to see some of those undergarment designs later on.” She winked then hurried out of the tearoom with her daughter in tow.

  Chapter 18

  “Dang it!”

  Trey poured the test liquid he’d concocted into the glass jar that held his other rejects. It was his fifth attempt in three days to perfect his concoction, and they had all failed miserably, probably due to his lack of sleep and his distracted thinking.

  He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. He was overtired and living on just sponge cake, rhubarb pie, pudding and bread, lots of bread, with butter, everything Chevonne had left ready in the kitchen for them.

  He was making no progress with his project. Nothing had gone right since Chevonne left. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his project because his every waking thought had been of her. Everywhere he looked he saw things that reminded him of her.

  The food he ate reminded him of her and their meals together. The well-equipped kitchen made him think of her. The sunrise made him think of her arriving in the kitchen each morning with the colored rays illuminating her in the doorway. The sunset made him think of her lush, copper hair. The birds chirping morning and evening sounded like her delightful laugh. Every curtain in the house smelled of her floral scent, and it made him dizzy with desire.

  He missed talking to her. He missed seeing her across the breakfast table. He missed sharing his eggs with her. He missed everything about her.

  He’d spent the nights tossing and turning thinking about her. Was she a traitor? The truth was, he’d never stopped to ask her about her actions. Maybe Phinneas Gulch had forced her to spy on him and mail the Patent Office.

  She never said much about her life before Oklahoma, the life that had her living in boarding houses with views of brick walls. All he knew was she had loved her late grandmother and that she had no other family. But maybe the truth was that there was someone and Gulch was threatening them. Or maybe she was beholden to him somehow.

  He should at least have given her the benefit of the doubt and asked what was going on. Instead he went off half-cocked, throwing her out of the house. That was not the act of a gentleman and Trey was ashamed of himself, especially when he thought that he might have frightened her the way he’d barged into the house and banged on her door.

  The memory of the man he didn’t want to be drove him out of his stuffy study. He needed fresh air, but his escape to the front door stopped in the foyer. The flowers in the Mason jar were dead. Even the flowers knew that the house wasn’t a home without Chevonne. In that instant he knew what was in his heart. He wanted her back. To heck with his project or whether she was planning on stealing his ideas—he wanted her back more than he cared about any of that.

  Where was she now? He had no idea.

  “Arggh!” In a fit of frustration, he swept the glass jar off the table. It smashed to bits against a wall, scattering dead flowers, broken glass and water all over the floor.

  How could he find her? Would she write him when she was settled like he’d asked so they could get the divorce? If she did, he could go to her then. When would that be? How long would he have to suffer like this?

  Luke. When Luke had tried to talk to Trey the next day, Trey had cut him short. Had Luke seen her purchase her ticket? Did he know her destination? It was a start.

  He barged out the front door then stopped short. A buggy was approaching the house. No, not now! It was his mother and his sister, the last two people Trey wanted to see. It would mean more lies.

  He’d lied to Celia when she’d come looking for Chevonne. He’d been too embarrassed to admit what had really happened. And he didn’t think he could ever admit to his family that their marriage had be a lie, too. He felt like a heel for how he’d behaved toward them.

  Maybe he could duck back in the house... But it was too late. They’d seen him. He returned his mother’s wave and waited for them to pull up in front of the house.

  His mother got down from the buggy, a dark scowl on her face. “Trey Garner, you tell me just what is going through that dang fool head of yours!” She climbed the steps, planted herself in front of her son, and tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes.

  What did she know? Trey hugged her tightly. “Hi, Mama. Celia. What brings you two out here?” His fake smile faded in the face of the two women’s disapproving glares.

  “I think you know what brings us out here, Son. What in heaven’s name are you doing having a fight with that beautiful bride of yours?”

  They knew? How could they possibly know about the fight? Had Luke told them? Luke, who barely said two words to anyone? Trey ran his hands through his messy hair. What did it matter now? Chevonne was gone and there was
probably nothing he could do about it. “It’s true, Mama. I found something out about her and ... well ... I guess my temper got the better of me.”

  Celia crossed her arms and demanded to know, “So, when I came out here yesterday, Chevonne had already left, and you lied to me, your sister.”

  “Yes.” Trey’s head drooped to his chest then snapped up again. “How do you know she was gone then?”

  “We heard all it.” Iona settled in for a long lecture. “Chevonne is a smart girl. The two of you are perfect for each other. But you have to let her be her own person. She’s not the kind of gal that’s gonna be happy just hanging around the kitchen and ranch house. She has her ambitions. You have to let her see them through. And she has some wonderful ideas of her own, Trey. Why shouldn’t she try to protect them?”

  He settled his hands on her mother’s shoulders and looked her in the eye sternly, stopping her lecture before it was done. “How do you know all this?”

  “Why, we talked to her. How else would know?”

  “Where?”

  Iona didn’t react well to his sharp tone of voice. Her lips tightened into a pucker and she refused to answer his question.

  Celia smiled a knowing smile then answered the question, “In town. She’s staying at the Grand Avenue Hotel.”

  Chevonne was in town! Trey jumped off the porch and up into the buggy. “I need to take your buggy.” He lifted Celia in one swoop and deposited her on her feet on the porch steps. “You can use mine. Luke will set you up.” He snapped the reins and sped off without a backwards glance.

  Chapter 19

  The Grand Avenue Hotel’s desk clerk’s eyes widened in apprehension when he saw the look on Trey Garner’s stubble covered face.

  Trey raced across the hotel lobby and demanded to know of the man, “What room is my wife in?”

  When the clerk hesitated, Trey leaned over the counter and said gruffly, “It’s an emergency. I must talk to my wife.”