Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46) by Leighann Dobbs Page A

nestled snugly in her corset.
    Chevonne saw Trey sniff approvingly as they entered the kitchen. The scent of the molasses fruit cakes cooking in the oven filled the room. She’d mixed up the batter and set them to cook when she’d come down earlier that morning. Now she carefully removed them from the oven and then from their pans, and set them to cool on wire racks by the open window. To protect them from flies yet release the steam, she set wire mesh protective domes over them.
    They had a big breakfast that included the butter-rich breakfast rolls that she’d prepared and set in the ice box the evening before, after returning from town. The bread kneading, as always, had soothed her nerves, which were raw after seeing Phinneas Gulch, and especially after seeing the change in Trey’s character the thief produced.
    Early that morning, she’d come downstairs in her wrap when the ranch hands and Trey had started their day, to set the rolls to rise, and to mix up the cake batter and put the cakes in the oven to bake. Then she’d returned upstairs to finish her toilette, and to do a bit of work on her project.
    She noticed the camaraderie of the previous morning’s breakfast when they had shared the eggs was missing. This morning Trey was much less talkative.
    Did that have something to do with Phinneas Gulch?
    Whatever was eating at him, it didn’t seem to affect Trey’s appetite. He ate up everything she cooked and even tucked the last rolls into a muslin sack to take with him, which pleased her.
    “Good breakfast. Thank you.” Trey went out the back door, his usual way of coming and going.
    Maybe he was a strong silent westerner like old Luke, and had just been making an effort at conversation up to then. Chevonne wondered about that as she cleaned up the kitchen. Then she prepared bread dough, kneading it probably more than was necessary, to release some pent up frustration, at what she wasn’t quite sure. She set the dough for the first rising, and greased bread tins so they were ready for the loaves she’d make after the second kneading.
    Chevonne ran up to her room to get ready for her trip into town with Celia. She sorted through her clothes hanging in the closet, pulling out a dress in a brown floral print with modest lace edging. She didn’t want to dress too fancy. Judging by what Celia had worn to dinner the night before, this dress would help Chevonne fit in better with her sister-in-law.
    Stripping down, she pulled open a bureau drawer and eyed a pair of her knickers. She hated the blasted things. The legs were so long and the scratchy linen material was uncomfortable.
    Why did women have to suffer these things?
    She didn’t have much choice. It was either the knickers and a separate camisole under the corset, or the new style one-piece underclothes that included the camisole. She didn’t like either. Despite the lace on the edges and the one small bow at the top of the camisole, they were not very feminine.
    She shimmied into the knickers. The darn things were so bulky they made her look like a moose. Women deserved better under their dresses. It was bad enough with the layers of material one was forced to wear.
    Why couldn’t we have something sleek, form-fitting and pretty underneath?
    A smile tugged at Chevonne’s lips as she eyed her Gram’s bag that held the new designs. Gram had shared her ideas on undergarments and the two of them had set out to change the world. A pang of sadness stole her smile when she felt a hint of the grief that had nearly killed her.
    It acted to renew her conviction to do it all by herself. That’s why it was so important that no one find out and ruin her plans. And it reminded her yet again that until she had the perfect designs, she couldn’t trust anyone.
    By the time Celia arrived, Chevonne was dressed and waiting on the porch, her undergarments scratching her skin and her corset stays poking into her uncomfortably. But the bread loaves were rising on the