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

by Caroline Fyffe

  Stiff from sitting like a statue for forty-five minutes in the light of one solitary lamp, Evie remained silent as her heart quietly broke into two pieces, then four, then too many to count. Her dreams evaporated. She felt embarrassed for the lie she’d been selling herself. What should she do now? She swiped a single tear with the back of her finger. How could—

  Chapter Seven

  A SOFT knock sounded. In her misery, Evie had missed the sound of approaching footsteps. Rising, she went to her mirror in the dimly lit room. Her eyes were red. Her hair, although it was fixed just as lovely as before, looked shabby to her now.

  The knock came again. “Evie?”

  Insecurities, born of years of service to others, of never measuring up in her own eyes, kept her rooted to the spot.

  “Evie, are you in there?”

  “One moment, please.” Heavens! She sounded like the frog that lived in the carp pond behind the house in St. Louis. She stepped over to the door with as much aplomb as she could muster. She took a deep breath and, for one split second, prayed to God. Prayed that Chance might still want to go forward with the wedding. That he wasn’t here to call everything off. Then, resigned for whatever was to come, she pulled open the door.

  “Evie,” he said gently in the golden light of the hallway. His gaze captured hers. Wouldn’t let go. He was so handsome, his eyes alight with—with what? Oh, she was an expert dreamer, proficient in creating a reality she desperately wanted to be true. She struggled to look away, to gather her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late.” His slight Texas drawl wrapped around her like loving arms. He held his hat, and his hair was wet around his temples.

  “Chance,” she said softly as she struggled to smile. Fought for one cohesive thought in her fog-muddled mind.

  Across the hall, the door opened and an older couple stepped out into the hallway. The woman was dressed for dinner in a pretty jade dress and the man wore a coat and tie.

  “Why, Chance, good evening,” the man said as he took the woman’s elbow. Evie didn’t miss the look of curiosity that passed between them.

  “Hello, Mr. Klinkner, Mrs. Klinkner,” Chance responded. Stepping back, he brought Evie into the hallway with a slight touch to her back. “I’d like you to meet Evie Davenport, from St. Louis.” His eyes searched hers as if looking for something deep inside. Was he sorry he’d kept her waiting? “Mr. and Mrs. Klinkner own the lumber mill on the outskirts of town.”

  Evie dipped her head, a habit she had from working all those years as a maid. “Good evening,” she replied in a small voice. She was intensely aware of Chance by her side as she returned the woman’s smile. His gaze was doing strange things to her insides.

  “Speaking of lumber,” Mr. Klinkner said. “Shingles are ready whenever—”

  Chance straightened. “Good,” he replied quickly. “I’ll see to them tomorrow.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” the motherly woman said to Evie. “You’re so beautiful. That shade of yellow is just perfect for you. Brings out the color of your hair.”

  The kind words were almost Evie’s undoing. She willed away the moisture burning her eyes. Such an extravagant compliment! How was she to respond? How she wished she could just disappear into the air. “Th-Thank you, ma’am.”

  The man chuckled. Lines crinkled softly around his eyes and mouth. “Come on, dear, let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. Not so long ago, I remember you alight like that. There’s no mistaking it when it’s there.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. “Even now that I’m old and tottering, I feel young tonight on our fiftieth wedding anniversary. The years have flown by.”

  The woman giggled like a schoolgirl and swatted his arm. “We’re not so old, Norman.” Her face tinged pink and she dropped her eyes.

  “Maybe not, but if I don’t get something to eat soon, I just may expire right here in the hall. Come along before they close the kitchen.” He nodded at Evie. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  They watched as the older couple walked away, Evie feeling conspicuous and nerves rattling her insides.

  Chance cleared his throat, then put out his arm. “Shall we go? You must be plenty hungry by now.”

  Before eight o’clock she’d been ravenous, her tummy growling up a storm as she visualized all sorts of delicious fare. Once the hour grew late and Chance failed to show, however, her appetite faded, then disappeared completely. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite.

  Still, she nodded, taking his arm. Butterflies swirled and danced in her stomach. She felt so small walking next to him. The hallway was narrow, squishing them together. Embarrassing silence ensued.

  At the top of the stairs, Chance stopped and looked down into her face. “You look beautiful tonight, Evie. Even more beautiful than before, if that’s possible.”

  Be confident, Trudy had told her. And if you get flustered, just pretend Chance is Ernie, the son of the gardener who used to come to the house twice a month to care for the shrubs and trim the trees. Ernie had been a friend of hers for years, and the two could chat for an hour and not run out of things to say. She’d try to imagine Chance was Ernie right now.

  She ran her free hand down the side of her dress. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” Her response seemed to satisfy for his eyes warmed, and then he smiled. They proceeded slowly down the stairs.

  They entered the dining room through the lobby door. Succulent smells and glowing candlelight enveloped her senses. A short, stocky man in a tight black vest and greased-back hair greeted them. Five or six tables took up the main portion of the room, but in each corner was a cozy booth. The only other customers were the older couple they’d met in the hallway.

  ***

  So far, so good, Chance thought. He waited as Evie got comfortable in the booth, smoothing her dress over the fabric-upholstered seat. When she’d opened the door to her room, he’d been flummoxed. Her finely made gown looked expensive. Around her neck hung a jewel, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Why would she travel all the way to Montana for a second-rate rancher like me? One she’d never met. She could have married anyone.

  She fidgeted in the booth one last time, then looked up at him and smiled. The light from a half-burned candle in the center of the table made her hair shimmer and glint. He hung his hat on the peg at the end of the bench post. Swallowing, he took his own seat. Straightened. Looked across the table at her.

  Thankfully, the waitress appeared immediately. When she saw Chance, Lenore Saffelberg’s eyebrow lurched up. He hoped the quick-tongued young woman wasn’t going to make some silly remark about his clothes. Or why he was here. Or how a month ago his horse, after pulling free from the hitching rail, had almost run her down as she crossed the street. She loved reminding him of that. He didn’t frequent the expensive hotel restaurant often. Actually, he’d only been here a time or two. Once when Luke announced Faith was expecting, and the other time when he brought Francis for his birthday last year. The food at the Hitching Post Saloon suited him just fine, or, if he was splurging, he’d patronize the Biscuit Barrel for their tasty pies and coffee.

  “Good evening,” Lenore said. She slid her curious gaze from him over to Evie. “Jackson said you were here. That you’re celebrating a special occasion, with a woman, no less. I see he wasn’t making it up.”

  Best just ignore it. “Evenin’, Lenore,” he said, avoiding her statements altogether. “I ordered a bottle of champagne. It should be chilling in the back. Can you bring that out—please?”

  She pursed her lips and left.

  “You like champagne?” he asked when Lenore was out of earshot.

  Evie nodded.

  “Good. I hoped you weren’t going to say no. For all I know you could be a teetotaler—which would be okay, too,” he added quickly. “I’m not much of a drinker myself, but I do have a sip now and then—you know, on special occasions.” What about the Hitching Post on payday and Saturday
nights, sometimes other nights, too. Waking up with a headache. Should I be honest? Would that bother her?

  She nodded again, this time a small smile playing on her lips. Was she having doubts? Second thoughts about marrying him? After his ride out to Grassy Gulch, he’d been almost an hour late to the hotel, and rumpled from the effort.

  But more than that, maybe Y Knot wasn’t to her liking. She looked like a city girl through and through, with her feminine hands and creamy, soft skin. He’d be surprised if she’d done more than a lick of hard work in her twenty-two years. What would she think when he took her out to the ranch? Probably faint right away when she found out it was to be just the two of them. No housemaid, no ranch hand, just him, her, and Dexter—smelling like a skunk.

  He swallowed and surprised himself by wishing for sharp-tongued Lenore to hurry back with the champagne. “I guess it’s time we get to know each other a little,” he said. The older couple was all the way on the other side of the room, but that didn’t stop him from feeling conspicuous. The evening was warm for a spring night. Mr. Klinkner had taken off his coat. He wondered if he could follow suit.

  “You’re right, Chance.”

  “Actually, I have something important to tell you about the house. There’s been a—”

  Her face brightened and it seemed her reluctance to speak melted away as quick as a one-minute snow flurry. “Oh, Chance, I have something for you. I forgot when I got off the stage. It’s just a little thing, but—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I interrupted you.”

  “That’s all right. Please, go on.” He hoped beyond hope she wasn’t going to give him some expensive bauble he couldn’t match. He didn’t have anything for her. The jewel winking back at him every few moments from around her neck was reminder enough that they were from two different worlds.

  “I saw this in a house goods store in Waterloo before I boarded the stage,” she said, taking a small something from her purse. “I hope you like it.”

  Her hand wobbled. He felt like a heel. He should have gotten her a gift, too. All he’d thought about was the smooth gold band in his pocket, wrapped up in a handkerchief.

  As he took the wrapped gift, Lenore Saffelberg returned with the bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses. The waitress made a show of opening the bottle and pouring the sparkling wine.

  The wrapped gift from Evie weighed heavy on his mind.

  Finished, Lenore asked, “Would you like to order? It’s getting late.”

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Your choices are steak with boiled new potatoes, steak with mashed potatoes, or steak with coleslaw. All three come with bread, butter, and bread pudding for dessert.”

  He glanced at Evie.

  “I’ll take the steak with mashed potatoes, please.”

  “How would you like it cooked? On-the-hoof red or dead broke?”

  Evie sat for a second, looking at Lenore as if trying to figure out what she meant. “In between, please.”

  Lenore’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Some folks just have to be different. Chance, how about you?”

  Frowning, Chance reminded himself to speak later with Jackson about Lenore’s behavior. He didn’t care if she made him uncomfortable; it was Evie he worried about. “Steak with new potatoes, on the hoof.”

  Lenore nodded and hurried away.

  He glanced up to find Evie watching him with clear, inquisitive eyes. What is she thinking? And why the heck didn’t I think of a gift for her too?

  Chapter Eight

  “BEFORE I open this,” Chance said, turning the small surprise over in his hands and smiling, “I’d like to make a toast.” He picked up his glass and waited for her to do the same. “Here’s to us. Evie and Chance.”

  Emotions played across her face, reminding him of clouds crossing the vast Montana sky.

  “Yes,” she finally said, smiling. “To us.”

  They touched glasses with a soft tink. He never took his eyes from hers.

  She sipped and her eyes brightened. “This is wonderful.”

  The lightness of her voice reminded him of the lightning bugs he used to chase as a boy on hot, humid nights. He’d go out in his short pants and his ma and pa would sit on the porch, laughing as he ran around the barnyard, trying to capture one of the elusive critters in his hands. Those virtuous times had the power to heal his soul. Good times with lots of love.

  He took another swallow and looked at Evie. How was one woman so darned beautiful? He should have told her more clearly how difficult a life in Montana would be. Days without company. Snowfall sometimes five feet deep, and cold enough to chill you to the bone. Or the sun, hot enough to drop you to your knees. No woman of her caliber would want to live here. Fear, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since his mother walked out on him and his father when he was only six years old, overshadowed the happy moment.

  “Chance?”

  He’d slipped away, back to Amarillo. He struggled to focus on Evie. This should be a night of celebrations, not of sadness. “I’m sorry.” He took in her worried eyes, the quaver in her voice. “I was just marveling at how beautiful you are. I’m not sure you’re cut out for ranching. Have you ever been out of the city before?” Better to find out now, than have her walk out this winter or, even worse, in a few years, leaving me and the babes.

  When a shadow crossed her eyes, Chance regretted he’d asked. “I’m just thinking of you.”

  “No, I’ve not been out of the city.” She quickly took another sip of champagne, then set the glass down on the table.

  Chance poured her a refill.

  “Aren’t you going to open the present I brought you?”

  “Sure.” He unwrapped the paper carefully, worried the gift might be fragile, and found that he was right. Chance uncovered a small pink-and-green porcelain plate bearing the expression Home Sweet Home, the words stacked one atop the other. A wire strung through a small hole at the top was meant for hanging. I have no sweet home for Evie.

  He’d promised her a house, said it would be done by the time she arrived.

  “Do you like it, Chance?” Splashes of pink colored her cheeks, vestiges of the champagne, he was sure.

  “I do. Thank you. I only wish I had something for you.”

  She smiled and reached out her hand. “If you’d like, I’ll put it back in my reticule until later.” When she opened up her cloth purse again, a note card fluttered out and onto the floor. A large two-story Victorian home was etched in detail.

  He picked it up to inspect. “Did you draw it?”

  She nodded.

  He was no expert, but it was a beautiful likeness. “What is it—besides a house, I mean?”

  “Where I grew up in downtown St. Louis.”

  She’s wealthy! Used to living in luxury. Montana living will be an unwelcome shock to her system.

  “Your home?” he heard himself saying.

  She looked at him for the longest time. Her brows drew down slightly before she nodded. “The only place I’ve ever lived.”

  Lenore Saffelberg was back with two plates. After setting them down, she rushed away and returned with a cloth-covered breadbasket and a pitcher of water. She promptly topped off their glasses. “Need anything else?”

  Evie hadn’t mentioned her financial situation in her letters. Only said her mother was dead, and he assumed the same of her father. What had happened to the red-and-white Victorian? Had they sold it? Questions raced in his head faster—

  Lenore cleared her throat.

  “That’s all, thanks.” His rumbling belly felt like a vast, empty ocean. He’d have to let his worries be and fill the void. Morning was the last time he’d eaten. The aroma of the pepper-covered steak made his mouth water, but the memory of that enormous house his bride-to-be had grown up in made his blood run cold.

  ***

  Embarrassment vied with fear as Evie silently berated herself. She should have cleared up Chance’s misconceptions about the Victorian! Hot tingles b
ehind her eyes made her look away. How right Trudy had been! She should have told him the truth from the start. Shame filled her heart and she vowed she’d tell him everything when they knew each other better.

  Fork and knife in hand, she cut into her steak. With the first bite of savory meat, Evie’s appetite returned in force. The champagne warmed her blood more with each passing moment, and Chance, sitting in front of her with his charming smile, smoothed away her agitation.

  Perhaps his lateness tonight didn’t mean anything earth-shattering. Maybe he’d been working. Or got caught up in something important he couldn’t put down. Whatever the reason, she didn’t want to contemplate it now. This was their moment.

  Chance chuckled and she glanced up quickly, realizing she’d been concentrating so hard she’d shut the whole world out.

  “You’re hungry,” he said. “I know my gut is aching.” He forked up a bite. “This is good.”

  She nodded, and watched him chew. His eyes fairly twinkled, making him a mixture of roughened cowboy and small boy. He was trying so hard to be polite, and he was succeeding. She was glad he wasn’t some snobby, highfalutin businessman. She much preferred open and honest to guarded and calculating. Yes, he suited her just fine.

  ***

  Chance swallowed and wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin. “I haven’t learned much about you, Evie, since we sat down. I intend to fix that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

  She looked off for a moment. “Blue.”

  To match your fine-looking eyes, he thought with an inner smile. “Good, we’re finally getting somewhere. Favorite song?”

  Again, sadness. He wondered where it came from.

  “‘Tell Him I Love Him Yet.’ It’s a song my mama used to sing to me.”

  “I’m not familiar.”