Chevonne_Bride of Oklahoma Read online

  “Umm ... yes. Yes, I do.”

  Chevonne was surprised to discover that she didn’t really feel very much even though she was getting married. Shouldn’t she be excited? Or terrified? She was neither. Good. The marriage was meaningless. It was merely something that needed to happen--a milestone on the way to her success.

  “And do you take this woman?” the man asked her husband-to-be.

  Trey cleared his throat and swallowed loudly then barely grunted his assent.

  The Justice barreled on, “Then with the power vested in me by the Federal Government and the Territory of Oklahoma, I pronounce you man and wife.”

  He turned the podium around and had them sign four copies of the Marriage Certificate in the book that he’d signed in advance. Once the signatures were in place, he cut each certificate out of the book and put them in envelopes. He gave one envelope to Trey, one to Chevonne, filed one in his cabinet, and tossed the last one into a mail bag he had stashed under his desk.

  “That one’s for the Federal Government,” he explained. “That will be seventy-five cents, please.”

  Trey dug three shiny silver coins out of his pocket and flipped them to the man. He took Chevonne’s elbow and they turned to leave. Then he hesitated for a second. Looking down at her, Trey whispered, “I hope you don’t mind the ceremony being so quick like this. But we both know this isn’t a love match. I intend to keep my word. We will live in my house separately until such time as we see fit to change that.”

  “Good. That’s exactly as I expected.” Chevonne gently removed her elbow from his grasp. She didn’t like the way it made her feel all tingly. She was very relieved that he’d laid down the law and that he intended to keep his word.

  “Your trunks should be loaded on the wagon by now so we can head on to the ranch. We’ll be there by suppertime,” Trey said as he opened the door for her.

  They joined others on the wooden walkway. As they stepped down onto the pounded dirt street, a young woman approached them. She was a blonde with squinty blue eyes. The way she was looking at Trey reminded Chevonne of the way her grandmother used to size up a piece of beef at the butcher’s.

  Chevonne could tell the woman had an interest in Trey and didn’t like seeing him in the company of another woman. An old girlfriend? Chevonne’s chest tightened but not with jealousy. No, even though it felt similar, it wasn’t that. She’d just met this man. How could she possibly be jealous?

  The feeling had more to do with this woman being a threat to the new marriage. Even though it wasn’t a real marriage, Chevonne needed to remain married at least until she could fulfill her dreams and take care of herself. Her heart twisted as she realized that for the time being, she was dependent on Trey Garner for her survival.

  She’d better make sure nothing messed that up.

  “Why, Trey Garner, what are you doing here?” The blonde addressed Trey, but her eyes were glued to Chevonne. She eyed her rival up and down critically.

  “Sarah.” Trey’s eyes narrowed at the women as he stepped closer to Chevonne.

  She didn’t know what was going on between the two of them, but Chevonne had a feeling it was in her best interest to nip it in the bud right away. She grabbed Trey’s arm possessively, plastered a wide smile on her face and said, “Why, we were just coming from the Justice of the Peace’s office.”

  Sarah frowned and looked up at Trey. “Justice of the Peace?”

  Trey looked in surprise from Chevonne to Sarah.

  Chevonne announced happily, “Yes. We got married.”

  Anger flashed in Sarah’s eyes, directed at Trey. “Married? But I didn’t know you were promised to anyone.”

  “That’s right, Sarah,” Trey said. “Fact is, it all happened real fast. There was no time to tell anyone. We just couldn’t wait to get married.”

  Chevonne almost laughed at the enthusiastic tone in Trey’s voice. It was clear he wanted Sarah to think that he was happily married. For some reason, the thought of that made Chevonne’s heart warm. He’d chosen her over Sarah. But what did she care?

  “But Mama never said anything.” Sarah’s lips became a thin, angry line.

  “Well, I guess your mama isn’t privy to everything I have going on.” Trey guided Chevonne toward the train station. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my new bride and I are in a hurry to get to the ranch.”

  Chevonne felt the woman’s glare stabbing her in the back as the newlyweds walked to the station. “What was all that about?” she whispered.

  Trey bent his head down toward her. The feeling of them being co-conspirators made her smile. “Sarah is my mother’s best friend’s daughter. My mother has been trying to hitch me up to her for over a year now, but she’s just not to my taste. Thanks for playing along.”

  “Oh. So your mama wanted you to get married.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “She’s been trying to hitch me up to pretty much every single woman in town.” He stopped in front of a sturdy wagon with an awning over the front bench and helped her up.

  Chevonne studied the handsome man. “Surely there must’ve been someone in town who would have been suitable? Why would you send away for a bride?”

  He swung up onto the bench beside her and flicked the reins. “That’s the thing. No one in town is suitable. I like to keep to myself. I don’t like everyone knowing my business. That’s why I chose a bride from out of town. I figured it would be easier for us to have our separate lives on my ranch without anyone asking a lot of questions.”

  “So, basically you did this just to shut your mother up.”

  Trey chuckled. “You’re very perceptive, and you’re right.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Do you think this arrangement could work for you? We’ll live together on the ranch but have separate lives. You’ll be free to do whatever you want. We’ll sort out the future in the future.”

  Chevonne sat back in the buggy seat, a smile flicking across her face. “Oh, I definitely think it could work for me.”

  The low sun warmed her shoulders and a feeling of self-satisfaction bubbled up inside her as their horses pulled the wagon down Main Street. Things couldn’t be going better. In fact, they were working exactly as she’d dreamed.

  It appeared that Trey Garner didn’t want a wife any more than she wanted a husband. This was going to be easier than she’d thought. After all, how hard could it be to live on the ranch with Trey and only pretend to be his wife in public?

  * * *

  Trey smiled to himself as he drove the wagon off of Main Street on to the road that led to his ranch. He couldn't believe his good luck. When he'd sent away for a mail-order bride, he'd been afraid the woman who arrived would expect a real marriage, one that required a lot of affection and attention.

  He wasn't much for that lovey-dovey stuff, which was one of the reasons why he didn't want to marry any of the demanding girls in town. But it appeared as if he and Chevonne were on the exact same page. She was more than agreeable to live their separate lives in private.

  He snuck another sideways look at her and saw that she was studying every bit of Oklahoma scenery on the way to the ranch. She had a nice profile, with her delicate features and pert nose. His heart had blossomed with admiration for the way she'd assessed the situation and come to his aid with Sarah. It had been pure brilliance.

  But why had she come to his aid? How could she have possibly known that he wanted to give Sarah the cold shoulder like that? His new wife was not only pretty and smart but she was also perceptive.

  Life was funny sometimes. If he had been looking for a real wife, a mate for life, that was one of the exact qualities he would be looking for. Too bad he had no interest in a real wife at present.

  Trey was relieved that he'd gotten the actual marriage part over with and set the ground rules so easily. Running into Sarah had actually been a stroke of luck. Now she would go blabbing to everyone that he was married. That would get the rest of the single women in town off his back.

&n
bsp; Of course, his mother hadn't liked the idea, when he'd announced it, of him getting married without her in attendance, but she'd have to deal with that. If he'd given her advance warning of the place and time, she would have planned a big fussy party like the one he'd heard she was planning for him and Sarah.

  Poor Sarah had likely thought marrying him was a given. That was mostly his mother's fault. She'd campaigned for that long and hard. She thought Sarah was perfect for him. The poor girl probably already had a China pattern picked out from some fancy store back east.

  Trey congratulated himself on his smart thinking. Sending away for a mail-order bride had been a stroke of brilliance and he'd lucked into a good one. Chevonne would leave him alone to work on his project, and the fact that he was married would stop his mother from her infernal matchmaking attempts. That she was so pretty, would certainly convince most everyone it was a real match.

  Of course, they would have to live at the ranch together and attend functions together. There was no getting around socializing, not if he wanted it to look like they had entered into a real marriage. But since most of his time would be taken up working on his project and running the ranch, he wouldn't be running into Chevonne much around the house.

  He would be spending most of his time in his study where he would also sleep, and she would have the bedroom upstairs that he'd had fixed up for her. They didn't have to have much contact if they didn't want to.

  There would be the added hurdle of fooling his mother, but Chevonne had proven to be a brilliant actress when they'd run into Sarah. Maybe he could enlist her aid in putting on another act when they met his parents and his sister and her husband for supper tomorrow. He sensed she would be willing. He also sensed she could be a lot of fun, good company for a husband, if that was what a real husband wanted.

  It was all going to work out perfectly. He glanced again at his clever new wife-of-convenience next to him, her pretty hair illuminated in the low sun and looking like it was on fire. Her green eyes shone with excitement at her adventure despite her exhaustion from the long journey.

  In public, they would act like a loving couple, but back on his ranch they could live their own separate lives with her upstairs and him downstairs.

  How hard could that be?

  Chapter 4

  The ranch was bigger than Chevonne had expected. The house house itself was a large, two-story clapboard building with a wide porch all around it. The land stretched for miles in every direction, with woods to the east. The range she could see was divided into large paddocks by split rail fences, with stock grazing within them.

  One paddock was surrounded by chicken wire keeping in the many chickens that scratched and pecked at the ground. She could see horses, milk cows, beef cattle, sheep, a rabbit hutch, and a pig sty farthest from the house, presumably because of the smell.

  There was a huge barn and bunkhouse, and what looked like a smokehouse, as well as many sheds. Smoke rose from a chimney at the back of the bunkhouse, where a cook would be busy preparing supper for the ranch hands.

  The house was as neat as a pin on the outside. Not surprising since it couldn’t have been more than a year old, having been built shortly after the first land run. Chevonne knew that in order to keep the deed to the land he claimed, a claim-staker needed to improve the land.

  Trey was doing a good job of that by the looks of it.

  He gently lifted her down from the wagon and set her on the front steps. Then he rang a bell that was attached to a post, she assumed to call for help with the trunks. Trey led her onto the porch and opened the screen door and the front door of the house for her.

  Her first impression as she stepped inside her new home was that it was large but sparsely decorated. The honey-colored walls glowed in a wash of sunshine from the many windows, none of which were curtained. The scent of cedar and soap tickled Chevonne’s nose. She went from the central foyer into a hall and stopped before the main stairs.

  The walls were bare of any kind of decoration. There were no paintings or knickknacks like she knew back in Massachusetts. There were but a few utilitarian sticks of furniture, as if the rooms were barely used.

  Trey encouraged her with a wave of his arm to continue her silent tour into the large kitchen. It was well-equipped. A large cast iron range sat against one wall atop a tiled section of the floor. the tile, she knew was to stop sparks setting the wooden house on fire. Next to the stove was a basket of chopped logs and kindling and a coal scuttle. On the stove were a water kettle, coffee pot and grease pot.

  A deep copper sink gleamed before a window that overlooked the woods to the east of the house. The hand pump that brought groundwater up looked new, barely used. An oak icebox dominated the opposite end of the room. There was a door, presumably to the pantry, and another one to the back porch.

  There were plenty of useful shelves and cupboards. Chevonne went to a shelf next to the stove that was full of cooking pots, skillets and utensils to admire the selection.

  “I don’t have a cook... but I suppose we could hire one if you wanted,” Trey offered tentatively.

  “I know how to cook. My grandmother taught me. I informed you of that in a letter, remember?” Chevonne didn’t want anyone to come in to cook. The less people around to stick their nose into her business, the better it was.

  “Okay. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not have anyone in the house anyway. Luke, our oldest ranch hand, is happy to help with any heavy lifting.” He added hesitantly, “I usually eat with the hands and that’s always been good enough for me.”

  Chevonne smiled. She felt that she should offer to cook for him but was unsure if it was what he wanted.

  “Your room is upstairs. I rang for Luke. He’ll bring your trunks up. If you ever need his help, just ring the bell outside. He’s always nearby, keeping an eye on things.” Trey glanced at the bag she was still clutching and, as if in an afterthought, he asked, “Can I take your bag?”

  Chevonne’s heart lurched. She clutched the bag closer. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” She chided herself when she saw his quizzical look. He was only trying to be polite, and she didn’t want her odd behavior to draw any extra attention to the bag. She laughed, trying to make light of it. “Sorry. This was my grandmother’s and I just like to hold onto it myself. It’s not heavy.”

  Trey took her on a silent tour of the rest of the downstairs. The sitting room had a large stone fireplace and a sofa that looked incredibly uncomfortable and out of place. It was the fussy type that graced rich Boston homes. Off of a hallway, a small office housed an oak cylinder desk with the cylinder rolled up and the surface littered with papers.

  Chevonne wondered if she would be expected to entertain in the house. If so, she would need more furniture, but she would broach that topic later. If her project took root, she might not be here long enough to worry about it. And as Trey said, they’d decide the future in the future.

  Trey turned abruptly just before they reached the end of the hall. Chevonne could see there was one last room down there. Its door was closed.

  “I’ll show you to your room upstairs now.”

  Chevonne eyed the mysterious closed door. “What’s in there?”

  Trey frowned. “In there? Nothing,” he said rather abruptly. “I mean, that’s my study where I will be sleeping. I keep it locked. There’s nothing in there you would be interested in.”

  “If you say so.” Chevonne glanced back at the door as they continued toward the main stairs. Trey had acted oddly about the room, but she supposed there might be important papers in there, since it was his study. He obviously didn’t keep anything important in the office next door, judging by the mess it was in. Well, if that was where he would be sleeping, she sure as heck didn’t want to go anywhere near it.

  The house had three bedrooms upstairs, each with a small closet, a luxury she’d never had before. Chevonne noticed a small staircase that led off the upstairs hall and likely finished on the back porch.

 
; Trey explained, “The outhouse stairs.”

  She saw him smile at her surprise, probably laughing at her being a city girl not used to traipsing through a field to a shed to relieve herself. Well, he was right, she wasn’t. But she supposed they had to protect the ground water from contamination.

  Two of the bedrooms were completely empty but one had been furnished thoughtfully with a large bed, a dressing table, a bureau, a nightstand with a kerosene lamp on it, and a washstand with a chamber pot cupboard. The chamber pot would save her from having to traipse through the field in the middle of the night.

  The bed was made up with white sheets on the thick mattress, and white cushion covers over two plump head cushions. A quilted blanket was folded over the foot of the bed.

  “Is this satisfactory?” Trey asked about the room.

  “Oh, yes. It’s very fine. You’ve made a lovely home here.”

  It was a hundred times nicer than any boarding house she’d ever lived in with her Gram in Massachusetts. She noticed his broad smile. He was surely the most house-proud man she’d ever met.

  “My sister came over with her housekeeper and gave it a good polish. She and her husband live on the next claim over. Her housekeeper comes over a half day twice a month for a big cleaning. And the ranch hands’ washerwoman does all my--our washing.”

  Chevonne saw that the washstand pitcher was filled with water, and a bar of soap was in the soap dish. A sponge was on top of towels that hung on a towel rack.

  It was all so civilized, not primitive as she had feared it would be. She really didn’t need anything fancy, but there was one thing she would need in order to execute her plan, and Gram had taught her that ‘if you don’t ask--you don’t get’.

  “I would like one thing, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, a treadle step sewing machine with a five drawer cabinet and table extension.” The less he knew about what she planned to do with it, the better.

  “I see,” he said, suppressing a laugh. “Oh, yes, of course, you were a seamstress.” Trey thought for a minute. “I think we can get one at Gilpin and Frick in town and have it delivered.”