Libbie: Bride of Arizona (American Mail-Order Bride 48) (6 page)

The stare the very tall man gave her was direct, alert, and assessing. Her pulse raced at being the focus of this handsome man. Suddenly self-conscious, she ran a hand over her hair, feeling for any spots that poked out.

“Are you Libbie Van Eycken?”

Right now, being seated was not to her advantage. She was used to being the shortest one in her family, but this man was even taller than her brothers. “I am.” She swung her boots off the bench and shot to a stand. Prickles ran up and down her legs, and she cried out then swayed.

Strong arms surrounded her, broad hands bracing her shoulders and the middle of her back—the stranger’s hold kept her upright.

“Everything okay, folks?”

“Just fine, Simon. Go back to your own your business.”

The man’s rich baritone held confidence. For just a moment, she allowed his grasp, glad to have another to lean on. The shirt she’d grabbed was warm with the man’s heat and held the scent of dust and active male. She wrinkled her nose and inched backward, stamping her feet to bring back the circulation. In her heart, she knew this man was Dell, because who else would know her name? But something was very wrong with his appearance. Was this how a caring man arrived for his wedding? She shoved at his chest and moved back from his embrace. “If you’re Dell Stirling, you’re late.”

“I’m Dell, and I’m here now.”

Waiting for the rest of his explanation, she gave surreptitious pinches and tugs to her dress to straighten the bodice, smooth the waistline, and perk up the lace edgings. At the same time, she inspected his scuffed boots and the dirt that layered the creases of his denim pants. Was that mud swiped along his thigh?

“Look, I’m sorry for not meeting the train. Don’t know why the arrival had to be earlier than normal. On today of all days.” He shook his head, glanced upward, and then snatched off his hat, exposing a headful of wavy brown hair.

Yes, on what she’d hoped to be a wonderful day. Unable to stop herself, she tapped the end of the parasol on the tip of her shoe. This man needed to explain himself so she decided to remain quiet until she heard a satisfactory answer.

“Being late was out of my control. Rustlers attacked my ranch last night and made off with some cattle. Naturally, the hands and I had to give chase to retrieve my stock.” He glanced around the empty room and then back at her. His gaze narrowed on the ends of her bobbed hair then he took in her length from top to bottom before meeting her gaze again.

Under his frank perusal, she heated and a flush crept up her neck. Curiosity sparkled in his eyes, but she refused to address his unspoken question about her short hair. If she hadn’t been in such a panic about acquiring transportation for her birds, she would have taken inventory and sold anything else to get the needed sum. A woman with short hair was indeed an oddity in these times, and she’d be smart to prepare a pat response.

After settling his hat on his head, he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled back on his boot heels. “Seeing as how you wrote about growing up around cattle, you ought to appreciate…no, you ought to understand the need to get back the stolen animals.”

Of course, she realized the value of stock and that he had to get them back. But today? Before she allowed pitying thoughts to overtake her, she nodded. “I do understand, sir. I’m peeved by the clash with my expectations.”

“Peeved, eh?” An eyebrow cocked and he flashed a smile. “How does a little snip of a thing like you act when peeved?”

His cajoling tone washed through her and she relaxed. Indifference she couldn’t tolerate, but teasing was familiar. “Don’t get on my bad side and you won’t find out.”

After a long look where their gazes tangled and held, Dell swept an arm toward the room. “I don’t see any suitcases. Didn’t you bring luggage?”

Letting out a breath, Libbie wondered at the fluttering in her chest. “William from First Livery has taken charge of—”

“You’ve already been to the livery?” Dell paced to the door, running a hand over his jaw. “What did he say?”

Had she overstepped her fiancée boundaries by conducting a transaction that normally would have been completed by a male? The problem was, he hadn’t been present to do so.
If only Grace were nearby to ask about this nuance of relationships
. “Well, we discussed rental of a wa—”

“No need. The Bar S wagon will be outside in a few minutes.”

What had changed the teasing man to this tense one? “What occurs next? Do we go in front of a justice of the peace?” In truth, she had never been to a white person’s wedding. She’d witnessed tribal ceremonies in South Africa where negotiations over the bride price occurred while the elders sipped wine or singing by family members kept the groom outside a locked gate until a dowry agreement was reached. And one where a broom had been circled over the couple’s head to show the wife’s willingness to keep the groom’s courtyard clear. With no family to represent her, she hoped a bride price wasn’t part of Dell’s tradition.

Dell dropped his chin to his chest, set both hands on his hips, and huffed out a long breath. “Again, Miss Van Eycken, I must apologize. I am handling this first meeting all wrong.” Looking up, he gave her a crooked grin, turned slightly, and then extended his hand.

She slipped her hand in his and felt him pull her back toward the bench, letting him clasp her elbow and guide her to sit.

Angling sideways, he sat, leaving several inches between their bodies. “How was the journey?”

“Five-and-a-half days and nights long.” Her answer came out in a hesitant tone, because she wasn’t sure what had changed.

“Did you have any major delays?” He slid an arm over the back of the bench. “I’ve read the track switches in Wichita can be slow.”

“Yes, we were delayed in that city.” The introduction of polite conversational topics almost made her smile. “The first part of the trip went too fast. From Boston, I shared a seat with a delightful woman named Grace Dickinson, and we chatted away the miles. In Chicago, right before I wired you, we said our goodbyes. The second part of her trip took her to Montana, and she was traveling for the same reason I’m here.” After switching to the southbound line, her own journey had been so quiet, and almost lonely, without her friend’s company.

At least it gave Libbie plenty of time to study the recipe book and the household guide Mary packed into her satchel before leaving Aunt Betje’s house. Libbie sat upright and turned to glance at him, a sudden realization widening her gaze. “Her trip was shorter in miles, and by now, she might already be Mrs. Grace Foster. Oh, that would be quite grand.”

“Uh, huh.” Dell’s head dipped downward. A soft whooshing came from under his hat.

Libbie stiffened, disbelief making her jaw drop. She leaned forward and peeked under the brim of his hat. Her soon-to-be husband had just fallen asleep while listening to her stories.

Could this day get any worse?

Pain stabbed his neck, and Dell shifted against the hard, unforgiving surface, wondering why he’d fallen asleep in his office chair. Faint sounds of conversations… harnesses jingling…footsteps on boards—all filtered into his thoughts. No, he shouldn’t be home on the ranch. Not yet. He was supposed to be somewhere else, someplace important.

Heart pounding, he jolted awake and on instinct, his hand went to his hip. Blinking fast, he focused on the chalkboard listing the train arrival and departure schedules that hung on the opposite wall. Train depot…his bride. Jerking to his feet, he made a complete circle to assure himself that the impossible was actually true. Except for him, the room was empty.

Scrubbing both hands over his face, he forced himself to think hard. Had Libbie mentioned anything about leaving or an errand she needed to complete? A visit to the mercantile or a dress shop?
Nope
. Fool that he was, he’d fallen asleep listening to her conversation. That lilting accent was so soothing.

Dell strode to the ticket window and leaned down to look through the barred opening. “Simon, you in there?”

“Ah, I see you’ve awakened.” The clerk stepped around an interior corner of the small office, several pieces of mail clutched in his hands.

“Did Miss Van Eycken say where she was going?”

Simon bit back a smile. “She said lots of things, but most were grumbled in a language I do not speak.” He shrugged. “But no translation was needed to see that young woman was mighty angry.”

Or the word might be
peeved
. “Dang it. I’ve been up since three a.m. riding after rustlers and then herding those cattle back to the ranch.” He pounded a fist on the counter. “Can I help it if I dozed off for a few moments?” His protests were weak, and he knew it.  No excuse was valid for what he’d done, or the embarrassment his action probably caused.

Lifting a single finger, Simon pointed upward. “More like twenty minutes.”

What the—?
Leaning back, Dell glanced up at the Regulator clock that hung above the ticket window. Sure enough—the time read ten minutes after twelve. Less than an hour to give Libbie a tour of her new hometown, introduce her to his family, and then meet the pastor at the Congregational Church at one o’clock.

But first, he had to find his bride-to-be.

Dell smoothed the collar of his duster and straightened his hat. Then he strode through the door and to the edge of the platform. He looked around the immediate area and studied the pedestrians. Maybe she’d be lingering close by, and he’d see a flash of her white dress. Although most unchaperoned women didn’t linger long on town boardwalks, because they were protective of their reputations. A factor about his arrival he should have ranked as a higher concern. Sure was a lot to this acquiring a wife business than just benefiting from more help on the ranch.

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.”