Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46) (10 page)

C
hevonne lined
the delicate lace up carefully along the edge of the silky fabric. She’d made an adjustment to the placement of the seams that she hoped would make the knickers fit better.

She threaded her needle and pierced the fabric, making small even stitches. Her grandmother had taught her to always take pride in her work and do her best even if she was just mocking up the design to see if it would fit properly.

If only she could find a way to secure the waist and the leg holes so that they were tighter but without using bulky ties or a knitted band.

Crash!

Chevonne leapt up from her chair. What was that? It sounded like the front door had been torn off its hinges. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs toward her room.

She opened her door tentatively to find Trey standing on her doorstep, his fist poised to knock. Her heart crashed when she looked at his face. It was twisted in anger. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Myron at the post office told me about your little plan to get someone from the Patent Office here,” Trey blurted out, his words dripping with rage. He looked over her head into the room.

Chevonne stepped back and tried to shut her door. Angry Trey was not a Trey she wanted to know. He put his foot in the way of the door, blocking her escape and setting her blood to boil.

So, it was as she’d suspected. Trey didn’t like the idea of his woman being independent. He wanted to keep her in the kitchen with no ideas of her own and dependent on him. Well, she wasn’t going to stand for that. “I see you don’t value an independent woman with a brain.”

“Independent?” Trey scoffed. “I hardly see how you can say that’s being independent.”

Chevonne glanced back at her grandmother’s designs on the bed. Did he think because her grandmother created the original designs that it meant they weren’t Chevonne’s too, that she was dependent on Gram despite sewing and testing them out and modifying them when they didn’t work?

Trey’s voice rose in anger, “If I’d known this was the kind of woman you were, I never would’ve let you into my house.” His fists clenched at his sides.

Was he going to hit her? Chevonne’s anger grew even greater at the thought of it. She shouted with equal anger, “What right do you have to be questioning my integrity when you’re the one telling fibs about goats in your room.” He winced at that blow, so she continued, “What are you really doing in there?”

Trey ran both his hands through his hair, pulling it hard. “You’re just pretending not to know to muddle my mind. You women--“

“I hardly think that
you’re
one to be questioning
my
motives.”

“Oh, really? Now that I know for sure what you were doing downstairs last night outside my study? Now that I know what you were doing outside the other night in your nightdress?”

“What do you think I was doing? That I was trying to spy on you? To meddle in your business? Oh, just like a man to think I should stay in the kitchen and not question anything
he
was doing.”

“Oh, just like a woman to turn this perfidy around on me.”

Chevonne fisted her hands on her hips and fired away, “Perfidy? For your information, I don’t need to be nosing around. I don’t need to know what you’re doing. I have my own life and my own projects going on.”

Trey snorted in contempt at her projects.

That snort angered Chevonne more than anything he’d said since storming up to her room. Scoffing at her project was like scoffing at Gram, and that was unacceptable. She sputtered out a weak retort, “At least I don’t have to make up stories about some mythical goat in my room.”

Trey rolled his eyes at the mention of the goat then shot back, “Well, then, with all your projects going on it sounds like you don’t need me. How about you continue your projects somewhere else.”

“Fine. I don’t want to spend a minute more in the presence of a self-centered man who thinks like you do!”

Trey shook his head and looked at her incredulously. “Fine. I’ll have Luke get the wagon. Pack your trunks.” He spun on his heel and raced down the stairs.

“Fine,” Chevonne shouted after him. “That’s just fine by me.”

“Fine,” Trey roared back. “Write when you settle so we can finalize a divorce.”

Wanting to get the last word in but not knowing what to say, Chevonne just slammed her door as hard as she could, rattling the windows and sending one of her window shades rolling up of its own accord.

C
hevonne refused to cry
. What was there to cry about, anyway? She couldn’t let anyone squelch her passion to bring Gram’s designs to life and she certainly couldn’t abide living with someone who would want to keep her trapped in the kitchen baking or tied to her sewing machine making quilts and curtains.

She packed up and dressed for travel without shedding a tear. Then she silently clutched her Gram’s bag to her chest and went downstairs and out the front door.

Luke had the wagon waiting. Chevonne stepped on Luke’s offered knee to get aboard, then she waited there, not daring to look toward the house or Trey’s study window, until poor old Luke had Dustin help bring her trunks down and load them on the wagon. Her last glance at the ranch house nearly brought a tear, but she squelched it with the memory of her anger at Trey.

As Luke drove the wagon away from the ranch, Chevonne realized that she had no idea where to go. Could Oklahoma City still be her home even with Trey here?

Her thoughts drifted to Dacey, one of her friends from Lawrence. Dacey was a young woman after her own heart, a woman with original thoughts and ideas. Dacey would never let a man tell her what she could do or not do with her talents.

Dacey had gone to North Carolina as a mail-order bride. Maybe Chevonne could write her to see if there was a place in North Carolina for a young woman with dreams of independence. She knew Dacey would approve of her project, and she was a good seamstress. Maybe Chevonne could enlist Dacey’s aid in bringing Gram’s designs to life. But until the letters could be exchanged, she needed somewhere to go.

Chevonne clutched her grandmother’s lace bag in her lap to give her comfort and to seek inspiration. Gram had always told her to never be caught out without an emergency stash of money. Chevonne had taken that advice to heart so she was not destitute.

Luke was being his usual silent self, but he seemed more brooding than usual. She couldn’t blame him. It was an uncomfortable situation. He worked for Trey. She didn’t want to make things difficult for the old man, and besides, she preferred the silence so she could think and decide what to do.

Chevonne reached into her bag and pulled out Gram’s change purse. The squelched tears threatened to fall as she traced the beaded butterfly on the front of the purse. Then she undid the clasp and looked inside to make sure her money was still there. It was, and it was enough to buy food and to pay for a good hotel room for several weeks.

Luke drove the wagon onto busy Main Street and slowed the horse down. Chevonne spotted a fancily dressed woman on a walkway, about to board a fancy buggy with a uniformed driver. It was Anna Overholser. The woman carried herself well and her outfit was impeccable. Celia had said that Anna was a big social influence in town. Gram had always said if you could get someone with social influence to wear your designs, business would flourish.

“You goin’ to the station?”

Chevonne started in surprise at Luke’s deep twang. She twisted in her seat to watch Anna a moment while she mulled over an idea. “No,” she said firmly. Did he sigh with relief? “I’d like you to take me to a hotel.”

“A lady alone can only stay at the Overholser’s Grand Avenue Hotel, but you’ll have to register with your married name.”

It was the longest sentence she’d ever heard Luke utter, and it was full of good sense. Most hotels forbid single women, afraid they would hurt their reputation. But as a well-off married woman, even one separated from her husband... “The Grand Avenue Hotel it is, then.”

Luke nodded his approval.

Chevonne felt herself smile suddenly, the tears a distant memory. Things would look up. She had enough money to support herself for now and an idea on how she could make more. With some luck, she could be the independent woman she yearned to be
and
bring Gram’s dream to life at the same time
and
she didn’t need a pretend husband to do that.

Oklahoma City was where she wanted to be and she had no intention of letting the likes of Trey Garner run her out of town.

T
rey felt
like he’d been sucker punched in the gut by a friend. How could Chevonne have lived in his house and then betrayed him like that? And how had he not noticed? Had he been so taken with her green eyes and coppery hair and good humor and smarts and cinnamon-current rolls and soft skin and so much more that he was blind to the real Chevonne?

Well, all that would blind any man, wouldn’t it?

After their fight, he’d stormed out of the house shouting instructions to Luke to deliver his wife and her trunks to the station. Then he’d climbed back on his horse and returned to town, to a saloon where no one he knew ever went to drink.

An added benefit of the remote saloon was that the train station was on the other end of town, so his path would not cross with Chevonne’s. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her, and he planned to wait a good long time until he went home, to be sure that she was all packed up and gone when he got there.

Good riddance.

Trey sat at a table with just a glass of amber-colored whiskey and a head full of dark thoughts for company. How had he been so careless? He let Chevonne weave a spell around him. He should’ve known Chevonne was up to no good when she drew him away from Phinneas Gulch. They had to be in it together.

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.

C
hevonne 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.