Libbie_Bride of Arizona Read online

  Biting back an oath, he slammed down the steps and untied Sparky’s reins from the hitching rail. After launching himself into the saddle, he rode as close to the edge of the boardwalk as he could get, leaning low over Sparky’s withers to peer into the windows of the stores and businesses he passed. But the roof overhangs were so deep they created shade too dark to allow for a clear view.

  At the far end of the block in front of the Cabinet Saloon sat the Bar S wagon. But no Sergio. Dell dismounted, tied off the reins, and propelled himself through the double doors. Squinting at the sudden interior dimness, he scanned the tables for his dark-haired farrier and sometime driver. He spotted him at the Faro table and wended his way through the small, mostly unoccupied, round tables. “Sergio.”

  “Yea, bossman.” The short man jerked his chin upward but kept his gaze on the cards on the gaming table.

  “Did you see a lady come out of the depot?”

  “A pretty blonde with a funny umbrella? Yea, I saw her.”

  A clue. “Where did she go? Did you see what direction she took?”

  He shrugged and leaned forward to place a bet. “Why would I, bossman? I don’t know who she is.” He straightened and looked upward. “I saw you dozing on the depot bench so I came here. Figured you’d see the wagon and find me. What supplies am I driving back?”

  Here the fallacy of him keeping quiet about his plans was proven. If he’d apprised the hands what to expect today, he might have received support in keeping track of Libbie. “Just be in front of the livery at half past one.”

  “Will do.”

  The dealer turned over the next card.

  Shaking his head, Sergio groaned.

  Outside, Dell took several seconds to gaze up and down the street before mounting and renewing his search. Partway down the street, he stopped, remembering that Libbie said she’d gone to the livery. Maybe she’d returned there. Had she mentioned knowing about the family connection between the two men? No, she’d only referred to him as “William,” not “your father.” Did he really want to dash around Prescott opening the door to every business, sticking in his head, and taking a quick look? People would label him loco. No, the smarter choice was to ask his father if he knew her whereabouts. Even if he’d have to confess that he’d misplaced his intended bride.

  With a flick of his wrist, he guided Sparky in the opposite direction. As he approached, he glanced at the shadowy doorway of the livery but saw no movements. Dreading every movement, he pulled the horse to a halt in front of his parents’ house and tied his reins to the iron ring in the post.

  This time, no admiring younger sister hurried to greet him at the door. His gut burned like he’d swallowed a fireball, but he forced himself to move forward across the porch. His customary double taps on the door before he turned the knob signaled his arrival. Once inside, he heard the hum of conversation and the clatter of silverware coming from the dining room. He shrugged out of his long coat and tossed it on the closest chair. By the time he reached the doorway into the dining room, he still hadn’t figured out what to say about the morning’s events. Since Sunday, his family had been aware of her upcoming arrival.

  With only one foot over the threshold, he saw her, almost as if his gaze was drawn to this particular woman. Libbie’s safe. The tightness he didn’t know he’d carried in his shoulders loosened, and he took his first full breath since awakening. Her shiny blonde hair looked out of place in a group of dark-haired people. But there she was, sitting in his regular spot at the table. “Here you are.”

  His mother shot him a glare but waved a hand at an empty chair. “Sit, son. We’ve been waiting on you.”

  Dell refused to look at his brother, not ready to be the butt of his jokes. “Mom, Dad, I see you’ve met Miss Van Eycken.” He noticed the stern set to his father’s mouth. I should make this more of a formal introduction. “You remember me telling you about the woman who’d be arriving today?” He hung his hat on the chair post and slipped into his seat. Under the guise of reaching for the meat platter in front of her, he leaned close and spoke from the side of his mouth. “You might have woken me, like I did you.”

  With precise and slow moves, she patted her mouth with the napkin and turned to meet his gaze. “Not when you so obviously needed your sleep.”

  The look in her blue eyes was as cold as a snowmelt stream and matched the tone of her voice. What happened to that lilting accent or the mischievous smile when he’d teased her? Dell stabbed at a ham steak, dropped it onto his plate, and then sawed off a piece to jam in his mouth.

  “Corn, Dell?” Wearing a wide grin, Skip held out a bowl. “Or maybe you’d like a slice of humble pie.”

  Several minutes of heavy silence passed while everyone focused on their meal. Dell was hungry, having missed out on a real breakfast this morning, but every bite seemed to lodge in his tight throat. A couple of times, he glanced sideways at Libbie whose placid expression gave away nothing. She seemed content to eat while gazing out the window.

  “Good meal, Hazel.” William set his knife and fork in the center of his plate. “Libbie, I’m glad you sought me out at the livery and that you agreed to join us.”

  “I appreciate being included and in learning about Dell’s family.” She smiled and then turned to Hazel. “And the food was tasty. I had only a small breakfast before boarding the early train.”

  Her gaze snapping between Libbie and Dell, Maida set down her water glass and then waved a hand at the nearby dishes. “Would you like more of anything?”

  Everything was too polite, too nice. The burning in his gut told him he’d mishandled this entire situation. Dell bounced his knee under the table. He shot a narrow-eyed stare around at his family. “Well, did she at least tell you what happened?”

  “We already knew you were late to the depot when she arrived at the livery for help.” Hazel leaned her forearms on the table. “But we were a bit surprised to hear you fell asleep in the middle of a conversation.”

  Politeness be hanged. “Because I was rousted out of bed at three a.m. to chase rustlers.”

  “And I was stuck in town?” Skip smashed a fist on the table. “Didn’t I tell you, Dad? I should be staying in the bunkhouse. I could be helping out on the Bar S.”

  That was the first time Dell heard about Skip’s wishes. With Ted gone, that might be a good idea.

  “Did you get them back, son?” William frowned as he sat straighter.

  Dell tossed his napkin on the table. “All except Clancy, the stud bull.” He winced and slid a glance toward Libbie. “Sorry for my language.”

  She shook her head, making curly golden waves dance around her cheeks. “Grew up on a cattle station, remember?” A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’ve heard about all aspects of raising and breeding cattle. I’ve even performed lots of the tasks.”

  His mother stood and started around the table collecting plates. She paused next to his chair and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Glad to know there was a reason, Dell. Sorry to hear about Clancy.” She leaned close and brushed a kiss on his cheek then whispered, “Get on out to the sun porch so you can freshen up. You stink, boy.”

  Dell slumped backward. Again, being bossed around by his mother stuck in his craw. He pushed away his chair from the table and stood. “Skip, can you come with me?”

  A second slice of buttered bread was halfway to Skip’s mouth. “Why?”

  “Just come.” Dell stared at the mutinous look on his brother’s face and forced out a single word through his gritted teeth. “Please.” Moving into the kitchen, Dell grabbed the wash basin and the supplies he needed from under the sink. A couple strokes of the pump handle dumped several cups of water into the metal basin and he topped it off with some of the hot water in the kettle.

  Still chewing, Skip trailed him. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing. I need to borrow your best shirt and that string tie you sometimes wear to church.”

  His eyebrows winged high. “That’s
my favorite tie.”

  Dell huffed out a breath then pinned his brother with a stony glare. “In case you forgot, I’m getting married today, in twenty-five minutes to be exact. If that appointment is still on schedule. Because of the business with tracking down my wayward cattle, I didn’t arrive in town wearing my Sunday duds.” He swept a hand down the front of his body.

  “Yeah, well, okay. But I still say I should be living on the ranch, and not here in town.”

  “Today I’m thankful you live here so I can wrangle a clean shirt.” Without waiting for an answer, Dell walked through the door and turned to the right. After setting down the basin, he unbuttoned and stripped off his shirt then tossed it to the floor. Stale sweat filled the air, and he wondered how Libbie had endured being in his arms—even for that short period of time. Not the best first impression he’d ever made. He pulled his cotton undershirt over his head and dropped it onto the other shirt. Heat from the high-plateau sunshine warmed the air so he wasn’t cold. A few dabs of a small cloth over the soap square to build a lather and then he swiped it over his chest and under his arms. In lieu of a real bath, the piney scent might cover up any remaining unpleasantness.

  “Dell?” Quick, light footsteps approached from the kitchen. “Skip said to bring this—” Libbie stopped in the doorway.

  He straightened and turned toward where she stood with her mouth agape. Might as well let her look.

  Her gaze widened, a white cotton shirt dangling from her limp hand.

  He wasn’t ashamed of his body, knowing it was well-muscled from honest work. She’d be seeing plenty more when they got to the ranch and shared a bed. “Thank you for the shirt.” He extended a hand and waited.

  “Oh.” She blinked then her gaze traversed his body. “Yes, the shirt.” With a jerk of her head, she looked away, her gaze skipping over the walls and the furnishings.

  A blush rose in her cheeks, making her appear even more innocent than she already did. Dell clamped his jaw tight against the awareness building between them. He’d never imagined feelings for a woman could grow this quickly. But he couldn’t deny the heat of his thrumming pulse, warming him from the inside. “Libbie.” The single word came out like a growl.

  “What?” Hands rolled into fists, she clutched the garment to her chest and, after a long blink, finally met his gaze.

  Dipping his gaze to the garment, he lifted an eyebrow and then met her gaze again. “You’re wrinkling my shirt for the wedding.”

  Her eyes widened even more. “Oh.” She looked downward, released her grip, and then draped the shirt over his hand and spun, scurrying from the room.

  A chuckle escaped. Getting to know her better looked to be an easier proposition than he’d first thought. The petite woman allowed every emotion passing through her to display on her pretty face. In this brief exchange, he’d seen surprise change to shock, then shock switched to curiosity, and finally curiosity deepened to awareness. A look he was grateful to see.

  Finishing with his quick clean-up, he rubbed a hand over his chin and heard the rasp of the day’s whiskers. No time for a shave. A couple of wipes of the wrung-out cloth smoothed his wavy hair into place, and he was set.

  Fully clothed, he walked back into the kitchen and spotted the family waiting in a line near the front door.

  His mother cradled the Stirling family bible in her arms.

  After the encounter on the porch and seeing his family’s acceptance, he was surer of his decision to advertise for a mail-order bride than he’d ever been. All his worries appeared to be settled. He walked forward and paused beside Libbie, crooking his elbow in her direction. “Shall we?”

  Tilting back her head, she glanced upward and smiled. “I’m ready.”

  The group exited the house and assembled into a column of three couples.

  “We’re walking?” Frowning, Libbie glanced toward the livery then leaned forward to gaze father down the street.

  “The church is only three or four blocks away.” Maybe he should have planned for this. His family was used to walking all over Prescott on errands or appointments. He had no idea what her family normally did. Although, thinking back to his last trip to Denver, he realized she probably used hansom cabs while in Boston. “The pastor’s time is reserved right at one o’clock.” As he walked to the corner and turned on Gurley Street, Dell was aware of the looks and whispers from those they passed. Granted, his bride’s attire and lacy umbrella stood out as unusual for this frontier town, but he didn’t give the responses much thought. Curiosity was often shown for a new face in town.

  Once the ceremony was completed, he needed to get to the sheriff’s office to file a report about his stolen bull. Not that a paper report replaced getting out into the foothills with Nascha and doing a thorough search. Enough daylight would be left following the ceremony to allow them several hours of tracking time. He’d sure feel better if he had an idea of which direction the rustlers had taken.

  A tug on his arm snapped him back to the present. He glanced around and saw the group had reached the church. “Er, sorry.” He clasped Libbie’s hand and cupped her elbow with the other to guide her up the stone steps toward the carved double door. “I hope no unforeseen event has delayed Pastor Reynolds.”

  ****

  Hearing his statement, Libbie jerked her head to the left to see his face. His expression might let her know the meaning behind his words. The tip of her boot hit a step, and she stumbled, leaning into Dell’s solid body.

  “Careful.”

  Every single aspect of her experience since leaving the train was foreign, and she struggled to keep a smile in place. As gracious and friendly as his family was, they were strangers of only a few hours’ acquaintance. The church of stone and stained glass she entered appeared rigid and imposing, the air chill and smelling of candle wax. So different than the humble structures she was used to. Now her intended groom wanted things to be accomplished fast? Her throat tightened. This day should be joyful, and she wished for her mother’s shoulder to lean on. Instant tears filled her eyes, and she ducked her chin, blinking them back.

  “Dell, you go check on the pastor.” Hazel stepped close. “Leave Libbie to us.”

  “I’ll do that.” His grip dropped from her arm, and he took one step forward then paused. “Libbie?” His gaze sought hers. “You’ll be all right?”

  Touched that he thought to make this last check on her, she just nodded.

  “Come with me.” Maida nudged Libbie’s arm and walked ahead to open a side door. “We can use the choir room to make your final preparations.”

  Final? What does she mean? Numbed by the new wash of grief, Libbie followed instructions and entered a small room with shelves of leather-bound books and a few music stands.

  From under a shawl draped over her arm, Maida produced a small nosegay of white and pink blossoms. “Every bride needs a bouquet. Here’s what was still flowering at the house.”

  “I’ve seen pictures…Oh, you’re so kind to think of this.” Libbie lifted the nosegay of unknown flowers to her face and inhaled a sweet fragrance. The white blossoms were long and trumpet-like, and the pink ones were clusters of tiny blooms. Maybe holding something would hide the shaking of her hands. Her thoughts drifted to what might be happening with her birds and how they were making the adjustment to their new home. Just as important was the fact she needed to inform Dell about their presence.

  When she’d arrived at the livery the second time, she’d inquired, and William informed her he’d had the freight wagons loaded with the crates and her luggage driven out to the Bar S Ranch. She knew Jomo would be sure the birds were settled, but she hated leaving all the work to him. After all, her parents had entrusted her with caring for the ostriches. The flock represented the last present she’d ever receive.

  “What’s that sad expression for, miss?” Hazel removed the parasol from Libbie’s hand and folded it.

  “Sorry. My thoughts were with my family who are not here.” Her breath cau
ght at the partial lie and how her words might sound ungrateful. “But I’m glad my new family is present. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Emitting a giggle, Maida threw her arms around Libbie’s shoulders. “I’m glad to finally have a sister in my life.”

  For a moment, Libbie closed her eyes, and wished she could absorb some of this curvy woman’s enthusiasm. She lifted a hand to place on top of Maida’s and gave a squeeze. Their circumstances of being the only daughter in a family of sons was similar. Like the bond she’d had with Grace on the train, Libbie viewed this young woman as her ally—with developing ties already stronger than those she’d had with her Boston cousins.

  Hazel and Maida then tugged and smoothed the fit of Libbie’s dress, chattering about the cut and the fabric, and lamenting the lack of a veil. The hem of her dress was shaken to remove as much reddish Arizona dirt as possible. Their attentions distracted her from her earlier sadness and flutters settled in her stomach.

  A throat clearing alerted them to William’s presence a second before he appeared in the open doorway. “I’m here to escort the bride.”

  After accepting final best wishes from the women, Libbie took a deep breath and smiled at the older man. “I am ready.”

  “You look right pretty, Miss Libbie.” William extended an elbow in the same fashion his son had.

  “Thank you.” Her throat grabbed tight and she could say no more.

  With measured steps, they advanced down the church’s center aisle.

  Libbie thought of making her family proud and walked with her shoulders back and her head up, focusing her gaze on the waiting tall, dark-haired man.