Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46) (3 page)

She was probably eager to do as he wished so she could keep her place at the ranch. He had to remember not to abuse that. It wouldn’t be right. And, he had to admit, she was as easy on the eyes as she seemed to be to get along with.

Trey could see this working out quite well as long as he didn’t let his overactive imagination become too suspicious of her obviously innocent motives.

But even as he pushed his suspicions away, he cautioned himself about getting too comfortable around her. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know about his future plans. At least not just yet.

C
hevonne stretched
under the sheets and felt that her body was still sore from the lengthy train journey. She rolled over and looked out the window, marveling at the expansive view of the Oklahoma countryside that was now splashed with the pinks and oranges of the sunrise.

The Oklahoma countryside was much more scenic than Massachusetts city life. She decided right then and there that she never wanted curtains to block the view from her window. She was on the second floor and, unlike in crowded Lawrence, there was no one outside to see in.

She sat up and swung her feet down onto the wooden floor. Chevonne padded over to the sash window and slid it up as high as possible so she could smell the fresh morning air, another rarity in the mill town she’d lived in her whole life. And unlike the city, with its bustle of activity, Oklahoma was quiet. The ranch was far away from any neighbors and the only sounds consisted of birds chirping and cows mooing.

All the anxiety and uncertainty of the previous day had fallen by the wayside as she slept. Oklahoma was going to be good for her. She felt it in her aching bones.

Chevonne dressed quickly, then hid her grandmother’s bag under the low skirt of the dressing table, before heading down to the kitchen. She locked the room with the key the old ranch hand Luke had delivered to her, silently, along with her dinner tray the night before. He was clearly one of those strong silent types every easterner imagined peopled the west.

Working in the textile mill had made Chevonne an early riser, but this morning she had slept later than usual, probably because she was tired from the trip. She didn’t know if Trey slept late, but she assumed that running a ranch involved getting up early. She’d heard the ranch hands outside before dawn, and she figured her new husband was on the same schedule.

Downstairs, she noticed once again how empty the house looked. Maybe when she went to town for her sewing machine, she could look for more furniture. Her eye drifted around the house, her mind visualizing what items to add to make the place more homey. She caught up her thoughts before she had the whole place decorated. She wasn’t even sure how long this arrangement would last, so no sense in making any long term decisions, especially when they involved spending someone else’s money.

She found Trey in the kitchen. He’d lit a fire in the range and a kettle of water was heating atop it. He stood at the sink, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the window light. His long hair was messy as if he’d just run his fingers through it. He turned toward her, the light from the window highlighting the angles of his strong featured face and turning his grey eyes to a stunning slate blue. “Mornin’.” His face spread into a lazy grin.

Chevonne’s heart leapt to her throat. It was an unfamiliar feeling and it caused her to pause in the doorway. He really was far more handsome than any city fellow she’d ever encountered. City fellows always seemed to looked careworn, sloped shouldered and dirty. Oklahoma sure did make some handsome, healthy men.

“Are you okay?” His face grew serious with concern.

“Yes. Sorry.” Chevonne waved her hand in the air. “I just have a little lightheadedness after the long journey. Would you like breakfast?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I get up with the hands and have coffee and bread with them before sunup. But a big breakfast is what they’re having now, and what I thought we could have together.”

Chevonne made a quick inventory of the kitchen under Trey’s watchful eye. The icebox had a full cream pot, milk jug, butter pot, drinking water pitcher and some vegetables. There were no yeast cakes, however. She’d have to see if the druggist in town sold them.

The egg-tree on the counter was full. The spice rack was stocked and even included flavoring essences. Under the sink she found a good stock of soap, vinegar, scrubbing brushes and cleaning supplies from alum and ammonia to Water of Javelle and zinc. There was a slop bucket too.

“Luke delivers that each evening to the pigs,” Trey informed her. “And he restocks the wood and coal, and cleans the stove of ash. He’ll bring over meat, milk, eggs and cheese regularly from the farm stock.”

Chevonne nodded and smiled in happy surprise at how convenient it was to live on a ranch, then she continued her survey. There were plenty of kitchen towels, cheese cloth, string, silverware, utensils, sturdy crockery, glassware, a teapot and even a stock of fine teas.

She entered the pantry and saw that it was well-stocked with salt pork and bacon protected in muslin sacks. There were coffee beans and a grinder, an assortment of dried beans and peas, bread flour, graham flour, Indian cornmeal, oatmeal, hominy grits, rice, potatoes, salt, sugar, molasses and onions, and much more.

On a pantry shelf she found a stock of baking soda, cream of tartar, baking powder and hop cakes. There was a good supply of lard for frying, and suet for baking and basting. There were mixing bowls, big roasting pans, graters, grinders, beaters, scrapers and knives of all sizes.

She had never in her life seen such a well-equipped and well-stocked kitchen. The surprise must have registered on her face, because she heard Trey chuckling.

On a pantry shelf was a basket covered in a red gingham cloth. She lifted the cloth to reveal golden brown bread.

Trey looked in the pantry door. “My sister, Celia, brought that over yesterday.”

“Perfect. I’ll use it for toast. I can bake more bread after I get some fresh yeast cakes.”

“The druggist’s in town will have them.” Trey seated himself at the pine table and watched his new wife work.

She set two cast-iron skillets on the stove, then got out an array of kitchen utensils. Chevonne tied on an apron she’d spotted in a drawer, and hummed happily while she worked.

First she set to grinding some coffee beans and putting them in the coffee pot to boil with some of the pump water that smelled and looked crystal clean. The oatmeal she set to cook in a double boiler. Then she sliced bacon strips and put them in one of the skillets, adding sliced potatoes after the grease built up.

She cracked eggs into the other skillet that she’d greased well with bacon fat from the fat pot. She flipped the eggs over expertly, all the while keeping an eye on the slices of bread she had inside the oven to toast. Throughout it all, she adjusted the fuel to keep all the temperatures just right under each burner and for the oven.

It wasn’t long before Chevonne was bringing the coffee, bacon, potatoes, oatmeal, eggs and toast to the table, which Trey had set for them both, even with a table cloth and napkins, and sugar and salt from the pantry.

She got the cream, milk and butter from the icebox and set them on the table, then studied the result of her efforts. Not a bad spread for a new bride.

“This looks and smells great,” Trey said. “I’m not much of a cook so I’ve had to settle for the hash slung by the cook out with the ranch hands.”

She sat down across from him. “Well, I’m no blue ribbon cook, but I hope you like it.” Chevonne worked her knife around the yolks of her eggs. She didn’t like yolks and preferred to just have a piece of toast with the whites on top, which she bit into heartily.

Trey frowned down at her plate. “You don’t eat the yolks?”

Chevonne shook her head.

“Well, I don’t like the whites. Want to trade?”

She glanced at his plate. He had cut the yolks out and placed them on his slices of toast. “Sure.”

“I hate wasting any food, but honestly, those whites are tasteless. It’s good that you’re here now and we won’t have to waste a thing,” he teased.

Chevonne lifted her plate toward Trey. Their fingers brushed as he maneuvered the plate so that he could slide her yolks onto his toast. She felt a flutter in her stomach and Chevonne wondered if the eggs were bad. Otherwise, why did her stomach feel so funny?

But Trey must have been feeling fine. He shoved a big piece of yolk-soaked toast into his mouth. “After breakfast I’ve got to ride the ranch. I make it a point to personally check the fencing and the stock daily. I know you want a sewing machine and supplies for the kitchen. Luke can show you the stores where I have accounts. Can you drive a buggy?”

She and Gram couldn’t afford a buggy back home. She’d ridden in plenty, but never had an opportunity to drive one. “I’ve never driven one, but I would love to learn. I think a woman needs to be self-sufficient out here, don’t you?”

“I certainly do.” He nodded approvingly. “Luke can teach you to handle the buggy on the way into town. I’m sure you’ll take to it in no time.”

“That would be nice.” Chevonne was delighted that Trey was giving her a lot of freedom. The more freedom she had, the quicker she would be able to accomplish her goals.

“Is there anything else you need?” Trey asked.

An uncustomary surge of shyness bubbled up inside Chevonne. “There is one thing ... it was a long train ride and I’d love a bath. Where do you ...?”

Trey thrust his chin toward the screen door. “The tub is on the back porch.”

Chevonne’s brows flew up in shock. On the porch? Where everyone could see?

“It’s closed in a bit.” Trey frowned in thought. “Though I suppose that might not be ideal for a lady.”

“It’s fine,” Chevonne cut him off. She didn’t want to cause a disruption and she realized the back porch was the easiest place to have the tub since it was next to the kitchen and that’s where the hot water would come from, and they could dump the used water off the porch. She’d just have to pick a time when no one was around. “I don’t have time today, anyway.”

Another sponge bath would have to do, and perhaps she’d wash her hair in the sink, just like Gram used to do once a week. It wouldn’t do to meet Trey’s family not looking her best.

After breakfast, she cleaned up the kitchen. Then she washed her hair in the sink, using the hot water from the kettle to take off the chill of the pump water. By the time she was changed for town her hair was dry so she pinned it up, settled a hat on her head and pinned it in place, then went downstairs to ring the bell for Luke. She was careful not to forget to lock her room.

The bell wasn’t necessary. Luke was waiting in a rocking chair on the porch. A buggy was at the foot of the house steps, harnessed to a single powerful looking horse. Without a word, the old ranch hand offered his knee for Chevonne to climb aboard. She stepped gently on his knee and sat down on the buggy’s seat.

Luke boarded the buggy and rumbled, “Watch close what I do.”

He flicked the reins so they tapped the horse’s rump, and he made a clicking noise with his tongue. That was enough to set the horse going. Chevonne paid attention all the way into town, and marveled at how much Luke taught her without saying more than a word or two the whole way.

Chevonne quickly made her purchases at the Gilpin and Frick store, where Luke brought her first, then she purchased the other items she thought she could use at several stores Luke brought her to when she explained what she was looking for.

At each shop she followed laconic old Luke’s lead and ignored all the curious stares and whispers directed her way, presumably because she charged everything to Trey Garner’s accounts. They probably thought she was his housekeeper, unless the saying was true, that the two fastest forms of communication were telegraph and tell-a-woman, which meant that Sarah Perkins had been very busy.

Luke loaded her packages safely under the buggy seat, then drove them back to the Gilpin and Frick store. The sewing machine and a small table she’d purchased on Trey’s account were loaded in a wagon before the store, both items safely wrapped in burlap.

Luke held out the buggy reins to her. “You’re turn.”

When she hesitated, the old man winked. That was all the encouragement she needed. Chevonne took the reins and drove the buggy home, happy to discover that it was, indeed, as easy as Trey had implied, and that Luke was an excellent, if silent, teacher. The Gilpin and Frick wagon followed them with the two purchases strapped down on a bed of straw.

Once back at the ranch, Chevonne put away the kitchen provisions while Luke and the store delivery man brought in the table for the foyer that she’d purchased just because it was perfect for there.

When the men carried her treadle foot sewing machine with cabinet and table extension up to her room, she collected a chair from the kitchen table to use upstairs and went ahead of them to unlock the door. That earned her a raised eyebrow from Luke.

Luke escorted the delivery man back outside, shook the man’s hand in silent thanks, then drove the buggy to the barn. A quick wave was his answer to Chevonne’s thanks from the porch.

Her eyes fell on the colorful purple, yellow and pink wild flowers growing in front of the house. She didn’t recall seeing any vases on her tour of the house but she did recall seeing several mason jars in a kitchen cabinet, so on an impulse, she stepped down and began picking flowers.

What the place really needed was a big kitchen garden and an herb garden out back, and some roses before the house, she decided. Trey’s real wife would no doubt do all that one day. After he was gone.

In the kitchen, she filled a mason jar with water, arranged the flowers into a bouquet in it, and got a saucer to set under the jar to protect the wood from damage, then she set the whole thing on the new table in the foyer.

Taking a step back, she surveyed her handiwork. The makeshift vase and flowers weren’t expensive, but the homespun feeling fit the ranch perfectly and it made the empty house look a little more homey.

Wondering why she even cared what the house looked like, Chevonne hurried up to her room. With the long train trip to get to Oklahoma, she’d fallen behind in her goals for her project, which was suddenly, inexplicably, foremost in her thoughts.

She had a few hours before having to get ready to meet Trey’s family for supper. She’d better get busy and make good use of them if she ever hoped to put the wheels in motion that would fulfill her grandmother’s dream.