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

by Caroline Fyffe

  Chapter Twenty

  CHANCE AMBLED to the barn, Dexter at his heels and his tired horse lagging behind. He’d left at sunrise and they’d worked hard all day. Exhaustion made his step slow, and his eyes droop. Thankfully, after leaving McCutcheons’, he’d made it into Y Knot just as Mr. Lichtenstein was turning the Open sign around, barely in time to pick up Evie’s letter. He was glad he could do that one small thing for her.

  Visions of Evie scrubbing his wet back with a soft-bristled brush brought a wistful smile to his face. There was a possibility, albeit small, that if he asked nicely, she’d help with his bath. All sorts of feelings and ideas tumbled around when it came to his new wife. He’d spotted her in the grass right away, looking tiny against the backdrop of the distant mountain range. Was she homesick? How long would it be until she decided she missed the hustle and bustle of St. Louis? He didn’t like to think about her leaving.

  His stomach tightened painfully. He’d taken the good-natured ribbing from the ranch hands today, no less than one would expect after just getting hitched. Nevertheless, the jokes about his beautiful wife, having enough of living with a country bumpkin and hightailing it back to the city had unknowingly hit their mark. Evie was educated, refined, came from money. What the heck was she doing with him, alone, out in the Montana wild land, instead of living a life of ease in the city? It just didn’t make sense.

  He lit a lantern and hung its handle on a nail, then went about unsaddling and rubbing down his mount. The other horses nickered from the outside paddock in hopes of getting a handout. Evie seemed happy to see him. She didn’t act as if she regretted her decision—but then, his mother hadn’t given them any clue, either, before packing up and leaving them all behind.

  With his horse turned out, Chance plunked down on the bench and lowered his head into his hands. He should have thought this through longer before sending for a city girl. Even if she had taken a fancy to him, that might not be enough to keep her here, not when the weather turned and the going got rough. If he were honest with himself, the reason he’d wanted her to come along today was to make sure she wouldn’t pack her bag and leave. He’d been so relieved when he’d spotted her in the grass…shaken, too, at how worked up he’d let himself get. On his way home, he’d pushed his horse harder than he should.

  Lifting his head, he hefted the saddlebag slumped next to him on the bench into his lap, and unbuckled the keep. As well as the letter from her friend, he’d picked up a few things at the store that might make life a little easier for her. Boy-sized store-made britches, along with a cotton shirt. He’d seen her struggle with the yards of fabric of her brown dress, the garment she’d worn every day since arriving. He wouldn’t want to work in one of those. Besides, Charity McCutcheon had been wearing pants for years, even into town at times. If Luke’s little sister didn’t care what people thought, Evie shouldn’t, either. She might put up a fuss at first, but when she got used to them, and realized how easy they made her chores, she’d see the light.

  Ina Klinkner and Hayden had been in the store, too. Hayden had watched as he’d set items for Evie on the counter. Had the gall to ask about her, and tell him they’d met at his house. Evie hadn’t mentioned it when she’d told him about going to the Klinkners. Why not? Jealousy gnawed at him. The light shining from Hayden’s eyes about drove him wild, that along with his know-it-all expression while speaking about her. All too many questions about my wife for propriety. Just you try it, Klinkner. I’d welcome a go-round with you.

  He sighed, knowing he was being mulish, then looked over the other trinkets he’d picked up for Evie, wondering if he was being a dang fool. What did he have to offer someone like her? Seriously. That woman, Mrs. Seymour, must have been tipsy when she matched the two of them together.

  Chance removed his hat, swabbed his face with his shirtsleeve, then proceeded to tinker with the felt brim. Evie was refined where he was coarse. She was educated where he’d only made it through his sixth year of schooling. She was used to culture and society, where he valued the expanse of the blue sky and company of hawks and cattle, even as much as another would treasure a precious diamond. He and Evie were like oil and water—not made for mixing. Maybe Ernie, back home, was better suited to her. He shook his head, then looked at the faithful friend sitting at his feet. “What say you, Dex? Is it only my exhaustion trying to trip me up? You think she’ll stick around?”

  The dog, aware he was being addressed, whined earnestly and laid his head on Chance’s thigh. His sorrowful dark brown eyes said it all.

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that.” He stroked Dexter’s warm neck, then settled his hat on his head. Standing, he corralled his nagging doubts. “My thoughts exactly.”

  ***

  Looking at the words on the cream-colored paper, Evie imagined Trudy’s loving smile. St. Louis didn’t feel quite so far away.

  Dear Evie,

  It was with great relief and thankfulness that I read your letter telling me you had arrived safely in Y Knot and that your Chance seems everything you had hoped. I must admit to some envy about the “devilishly handsome” description, and hope I will be able to give a similar description of my Seth. However, I have told myself to adopt a more practical frame of mind. He is what he is, and I will have to live with it—or rather him.

  Pausing a moment, Evie closed her eyes, recalling the day she had stepped off the stage in Y Knot and encountered Chance for the very first time. Her breath caught, unable to believe how blessed she’d been.

  Although, my dear friend, I am going to take you to task for not giving me more description. I want to know what Chance looks like and how you find Y Knot. Have you met his family and friends, and what do you think of them? I cannot wait to hear about your home. Do not fail to omit any details.

  Evie giggled. That was Trudy. Always straight to the point.

  My father’s wedding takes place in one week. His fiancée has already packed up most of her possessions, and some of them have made their way into our house. When I am not at the agency, I am sorting through my family’s paraphernalia and choosing which to take with me. My father is most generous. You should see the wooden crates stacked in the parlor!

  A quick glance around the sparsely furnished living room reminded Evie of the few things, besides herself, that she had brought into this union with Chance. Trudy had numerous crates. Boxes of knickknacks. Stacks of trimmings and frills. Everything to make a home beautiful and inviting. Oh, how lacking she’d been in her marriage! A frying pan, a feather duster, a manners manual, the clothes on her back. Poor Chance. He would’ve been better off with another of the brides. Maybe Heather with her thick black hair and quick sense of humor? Kathryn, with her rich family, easy smile, and gift for writing poetry? What about Darcy Russell and Angelina Napolitano? All most certainly good choices. Prudence? No! She wouldn’t consider that mean-spirited, sassy-mouthed agitator for her worst enemy, let alone her darling Chance. That she-cat wasn’t a match for anyone!

  Evie pushed away her doubts, insecurities, and painful thoughts. Squaring her shoulders, she glanced at the pretty Home Sweet Home keepsake she’d given Chance their first night; it now hung over the hearth. Her husband, for better or for worse, was going to be in the house in just a few minutes. She mustn’t greet him with a frown on her face or sadness in her eyes. She’d do everything in her power to make him happy. Mrs. Seymour’s book said a happy, cheerful spirit was what all men loved.

  She returned her focus to the letter, wanting finish it before Chance stepped through the door.

  I am sure by the time you receive my letter, you will have married and be living in wedded bliss. Of course, you will share the details with your dear friend! I will write you again when I reach Sweetwater Springs and meet my Seth.

  Your fellow mail-order bride and friend,

  Trudy Bauer

  Finished, Evie inhaled a deep breath of the warm, aromatic air and sat motionless in the quiet room, the letter forgotten in her hands. A moment pas
sed. She wished the letter were twice as long. She wished Trudy had mentioned Mrs. Seymour and what her reaction was when she found her gone. She thought of Trudy’s hanky and the words Trudy’s mother had stitched so thoughtfully. Love Never Fails. She hoped it was true.

  She recognized the feeling filling her heart as love. Love for a man she’d just met and, in all honesty, hardly knew. Did he return that feeling? He’d never said so. But then, she hadn’t expressed her own feelings, either. Maybe it was time. His eyes seemed to say he did. What if he knew about her deception? How would he look at her then? Too many questions she didn’t have the answers for. She’d answer Trudy’s letter tonight, then hopefully post it tomorrow. The sound of Chance’s footsteps on the steps outside chased all her fears away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CHANCE DREW the buckboard to a halt in front of Ina Klinkner’s house. This morning, in preparation for her visit with the mill owner’s wife, Evie had primped and fussed so long—doing this, that, and whatever—that he had been driven to distraction. Her cheerful humming had penetrated the closed bedroom door, prompting him to chomp the inside of his cheek several times as he ate his porridge. When she’d finally emerged, she’d told him she was too excited to sit down with him, or eat a thing.

  His patience stretched to the limit, he set the brake with a jerk, then glanced at her. She looked charming in her yellow dress and upswept hair. Was this all for Hayden’s benefit? Had she taken a fancy to him the other day?

  “Here we are,” he said, his voice low and even. He tied the reins to the brake, jumped to the ground and went around to help her. When she placed her hands on his shoulders, he suddenly had to fight the urge to pull her close. He trained his gaze away from her lovely looking lips, tamping down the desire to capture them with his own.

  “Thank you so much, Chance, for allowing me this day with Mrs. Klinkner. Driving me all the way—”

  “No problem,” he said, cutting her off.

  Her brows pulled together.

  Good. Maybe she needed to realize Hayden was a schmuck.

  “So you’ll be back around five?” she asked tentatively.

  “That’s what we decided, isn’t it?”

  Even though he felt justified, it didn’t feel right speaking to her so crossly. He glanced across the street to the mill, where steam billowed and the sound of the saw cutting wood filled the air. He clenched his teeth and looked away.

  “If you’d rather I not go, I can certainly do that. This idea isn’t set in stone.”

  Oh, sure. Now that she was here she wanted to go with him—right.

  “No. We’ll stick to our plan. I’ll post this letter in town.” He patted his front shirt pocket. “Then go back out to the ranch and do my ranching, then come back and fetch you home later. Not before five, though, as you’ve requested.”

  It hurt him to be so curt with her, yet a part of him wanted her to feel as much pain as he had the night before, when she’d made her initial request. After he’d bathed and eaten, they’d walked out in the pasture hand in hand to check on the cattle. Moonlight all around. Peaceful herd, the cattle calm and resting. No new calves, just the two they already had, frolicking around their mamas in the evening air. The hoot of an owl and the soft call of a mourning dove was music to further set the scene. A lush, cool breeze enveloped them and he snuggled Evie closer to his side. The huge flower moon suspended on the treetops. The twinkle of early evening stars, fairy dust all around.

  Everything was perfect. The rightness of his decision to marry Evie moved his soul. Made him whole. Made him long for the children they would bring forth to enrich their lives and be their legacy.

  Just as he’d opened his mouth to share what was in his heart, tell her he’d fallen deeply and madly in love with her, she’d sprung it on him. Brought up the subject of going into Y Knot today. To the Klinkners. To see Ina—or did she really mean Hayden? That burr under his saddle was at the mill every day. Chance had never been out there when Hayden wasn’t working. Luke had given the scoundrel his final warning, last Christmas, about his open flirtation with Faith. Chance had seen Hayden in action too many times to feel comfortable with Evie’s spending the day here. What made it worse was Evie doing the asking, not Klinkner. Why hadn’t she told him about meeting Hayden the first time? Did she have something to hide?

  I’d love some time with Ina, if I could. Do you think it would be possible for me to spend the day with her tomorrow?

  After her request, the beauty of the evening had evaporated in a sizzling pop. Was she pining to see Hayden again? When he’d asked her about him—or, rather, why exactly she wanted to go to the Klinkners’—her face had turned a rosy pink and she’d sputtered for something to say.

  He felt foolish now, thinking love could grow between them so quickly. Had he expressed that notion, she’d have thought him a dolt. It was obvious she missed life in a town—friends, society—all the things Hayden could give her. The joy of the small gifts he had purchased for her, including the clothes, turned into humiliation. He’d kept them in his saddlebag, angry with himself for spending the money and wasting time at the store trying to figure out what would please her most.

  As if on cue, Hayden appeared, striding around the corner of the mill. He smiled. Waved. “Mornin’, Chance, Mrs. Holcomb,” he called. He took off his hat and ran his sleeve across his sweaty brow, giving Evie a show of his long-johns-clad chest. Evie gave a small, discreet wave and had the decency not to reply.

  She looked up searchingly into his face. “All right,” she said finally. “If you’re sure you don’t mind picking me up later. I’ll just go see if today is good for her. Do you mind waiting?”

  “’Course not.”

  Before Evie got to the door, it opened. A delighted smile flashed across the older woman’s face when she saw Evie and she promptly enfolded his wife into a hug. They talked. Ina glanced his way. He was almost sure Evie dropped her voice so he couldn’t hear what she was saying. What were they cooking up, anyway? Did Ina already know she was coming? Did the woman want Evie as a daughter-in-law? It was crazy, he knew it even as he thought it, but then again he wouldn’t put anything past Hayden. And nothing had been consummated. He hadn’t taken her as his wife, not in that way. What were the rules of the law? Certainly their vows were binding regardless, weren’t they? Or were they?

  The women withdrew their fluffy heads from the huddle. “Chance,” Ina called. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? It’s fresh.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am, I have lots of work to do,” he replied, climbing into the wagon and picking up his reins. Despite the coolness of the morning, a warm sheen broke out on his forehead. “I’ll be back—later.”

  Evie waved. Her cheery smile contradicted the way her brows pulled down worriedly on her forehead. The women watched as he flicked the reins over the horses’ backs and turned the wagon. They remained standing, waving, for a good few moments until he was at the bend in the road. One last glance showed them back together, bursting into giggles, and then hurrying through the door.

  ***

  “Why, I’d be honored to teach you how to bake a cake, dear,” Mrs. Klinkner said, closing the front door with a click. “It’ll be fun. I’m waiting for the day I have a daughter-in-law or granddaughter to share my recipes with.” Her pleased face all but glowed. “But let’s not tarry. We have lots to do and only a few hours to do it. Come along. It takes finesse to get cake just right and the icing light and fluffy.” She scurried away.

  Evie followed behind, worrying what had come over Chance. Ever since last night, he’d been acting strange. Detached. Cold. Maybe even angry—but how could that be? She didn’t have the foggiest idea why. She’d fed him the leftovers again last night, then this morning had managed to boil up some hot cereal. Mrs. Seymour’s book said grumpy men were the result of empty bellies. Was that it—the food wasn’t satisfactory? Or could his crankiness have something to do with his seeing Fancy Aubrey yesterday? He h
adn’t given her many details except that he’d seen her on the boardwalk in town and she’d asked him to tell her hello.

  A niggle of suspicion sprouted, but she quickly pushed it away. No. Fancy wouldn’t do that. Fancy is my friend. Nevertheless, Fancy herself said she went after other women’s husbands, didn’t she? Would she go after Chance? Angry with herself for even entertaining such an idea, she turned her thoughts away from Fancy and Chance. She’d not conjure up something out of nothing.

  But something was wrong. Was he miffed over the marriage’s waiting stipulation? Feeling lonely? There could be lots of things. When she’d asked, he’d just frowned and looked away.

  They crossed the parlor and hurried into the homey kitchen she remembered so well.

  “I can’t tell you what this means to me, Mrs. Klinkner,” Evie said softly, still worried about Chance and their quiet ride into town.

  The older woman placed her hands on her hips. “I insist you call me Ina. Mrs. Klinkner sounds so formal. Nothing formal about baking a cake.”

  Evie smiled. “All right then, Ina. Do you think I’ll be able to learn to bake and cook in one day? Chance’s birthday is on the twenty-seventh, and I have my heart set on baking him a cake.”

  “Well, we have to start somewhere, and God willing, we can. First, keep in mind you’ll need a good four inches of coals to have your oven hot enough to bake. Also, don’t skimp on the warm-up time. Allow an hour and a half if your stove is cold and not a minute less. I’ve already been cooking this morning so we won’t have to wait.”

  Ina rummaged through a drawer, extracted a wrinkled yellow apron, and handed it to Evie. “Here, put this on. We don’t want to soil your pretty yellow dress.”

  She did as instructed.

  Ina riffled through her recipe box. “Do you have any cake pans or baking utensils?”