Libbie_Bride of Arizona

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Near the corner of the barn stood Floyd and Guy, staring wide-eyed, and a red-faced Dell, both hands jammed on his hips. He stood beside a large wagon piled high with cut boards.

  The men in the driver’s seat from the lumber yard elbowed each other and strained forward to get a better look.

  My lumber. She took a few steps toward the wagon. Now that the surprise had been delivered, she wanted to share the excitement she’d been suppressing since the order was placed. Working through the details to arrive at a fair split had been achieved with relatively little discussion. Maida had a good business sense, and Libbie was proud she’d recalled enough from her parents’ discussions at the dinner table to come up with a basic written agreement. With her business coming together, she could finally take her place as a contributor to the Van Eycken conglomerate.

  She dashed toward Dell. “Do you see? Here’s my surprise.”

  “Libbie.”

  At the stern tone, she froze, her bare feet kicking up a dirt cloud. A breeze riffled along her shoulders, chilling the dampness clinging to her skin.

  “Take yourself into the house and put on proper clothes.” His brows lowered, and he pointed a rigid arm toward the house.

  Turning sideways, she gestured toward the supply wagon. “But you need to know that—ˮ In the distance, she spotted Jomo jogging up from the bunkhouse. His calm face was the one she needed to see right now.

  “Libbie Stirling, go into the house…now.”

  Flinching, she turned her head to look at her husband. Never had she seen such a twisted and scowling expression turned in her direction nor had she heard her name spoken in such an angry voice. Her breath caught in her throat, and she glanced at the cow hands whose widened eyes displayed their shock. Heat attacked her cheeks, and she drew up her arms to cross over her bare midriff. The jeering whispers from the delivery men were warning enough that she shouldn’t turn toward the wagon.

  How had she gone from feeling the most like her true self to being ashamed and wretched within the span of two minutes?

  Gasping back a sob, she ran for the back porch and pounded up the stairs, throwing herself into her bedroom. She had to get away—from staring men, from Dell, and from the Bar S. After she unwound the length of cloth from her body, she pulled on her riding outfit and her boots. Knowing Dell, he’d want to sit in the parlor, in the comfortable armchairs, and discuss her latest behavior, giving advice on what she should have done.

  Her stomach clenched, and she fought from crumpling into a heap. She didn’t think she could ever look at him in the same way again. He’d so obviously disapproved of what came naturally, of what was part of her very soul. Oh, to be back at the compound in Cape Town where she knew how to act. Where her dancing was lauded, and where she didn’t have to meet anyone’s confusing expectations.

  Tossing the strap of her mbira bag over her neck, she scanned the room for anything else she’d want with her, blinking fast to wash away the tears that refused to stop. She grabbed her cape and tucked the boomerang into her back waistband. The flat-brimmed leather hat with a chin strap completed her outfit. If she hurried, she should be able to skirt the garden, approach the corral from the back to get to Koning, and then sneak out onto the plateau for a ride. Maybe Dell would still be busy with the delivery.

  Moving through the house as quietly as her boots allowed, she headed for the front door and slipped along the porch toward the ravine. This was one of the times she was happy for her small size, because she didn’t have to stoop much to creep below the window sills. Her stomach roiled and, in her mind, she kept seeing Dell’s scowl. How could he ever forgive her for embarrassing him? Moments later, she reached the enclosure and clicked her tongue for Koning, scanning the space for the tall male bird.

  Jomo stepped into view, leading the black-feathered ostrich by the reins. “Figured you’d want to ride.”

  Her shoulders loosened, gratitude filling her that someone on this ranch understood her needs. “Thank you, Jomo. I do need to feel the wind in my ears.” She stepped into Jomo’s cupped hands and settled onto Koning’s back. With just a little squeeze of her thighs, she telegraphed her readiness.

  The bird set off, first at a bumpy trot and then stretching out its long legs to settle into a distance-covering pace.

  Libbie tucked her chin and gazed out under the brim so the breeze wouldn’t strip off the hat. The bird was sure-footed so she didn’t need to do much steering. She let her thoughts wander, wondering how such a crazy thing as marrying a complete stranger could ever work. What did she know about being a wife? She had no knowledge of living within a budget. The only halfway fun part was learning to cook.

  Koning turned south and headed up a rise until he reached the flattened dirt road into town. Good choice. Relief at the direction flowed through her. She’d go and talk with Maida, and maybe find out what she could do to stop her husband from hating her. Moments later, she reined Koning to a walk to keep her appearance in town as unobtrusive as possible. Although, a small woman riding an ostrich would be strange in any location except South Africa. Libbie guided the bird toward the trough in front of the livery and waited as he dipped his head, scooped water, and then tipped back his head.

  “Afternoon, Libbie.” William walked through the open livery doorway. “What brings you to─?” His eyes widened, and he stopped, running his gaze over the bird that towered over him by at least a foot.

  The pressure in her chest kept her from taking a full breath. She’d grown fond of Dell’s family and didn’t know what to share about today’s situation. Hot tears threatened again, and she dipped her chin to hide them. “Just out for a ride.”

  He walked to the other side of the trough and held out his hand. “Give me the reins. I’ll find a place for this beast until you’re done talking with Maida.”

  Her head popped up. “You know that’s why I’m here?” Bracing one foot on the edge of the trough, she lowered herself to the ground and stretched to pass off the leather reins.

  “Your first fight with Dell?”

  “He hates me.” The tears overflowed, and she swiped both fingers under her eyes.

  “I doubt that.” William came around the end of the trough and gave her a one-arm squeeze. “Don’t fret, Libbie. Fights happen with newlywed couples.”

  Surely, no one had ever done something as horrible as she had. She shook her head. “Not like this.”

  He released her and stepped toward the doorway. “Anything special I need to know about your bird?”

  “Don’t come up too suddenly on his sides. When he’s startled, he kicks.”

  “Take your time, Libbie.” William lifted a hand and waved as he disappeared into the shadowed doorway. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  How sweet he was to reassure her. From a distance, she heard her name called and glanced around, looking for who’d spoken.

  A man stood on the train depot platform, waving a hand over his head.

  She walked in his direction along the boardwalk, seeing he held something in his hand. On this horrible day, any distraction, no matter how brief, was welcome.

  The bespectacled ticket clerk met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Libbie, a letter came for you.”

  Her heart sped up. Maybe it’s from Grace, telling me about how she’s faring in Montana. If Libbie learned this situation had worked for another couple, then maybe she’d believe it could work for Dell and her. She held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” A glance at the return address showed the letter came from New York. Our feather money. “I do appreciate you hailing me.” She turned, anxious to get to Maida and share whatever news the envelope held.

  “Oh, and miss, a gentleman who talked funny was asking about you.”

  Who could Mr. Henderson possibly mean? “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “A fella came in on today’s train and asked about a Miss Van Eycken. I remembered hearing Dell mention your name the day you arrived.”

&n
bsp; “Where is he?” She started across the street. “At the depot?”

  “No, ma’am.” Mr. Henderson rocked back on his heels. “He said he needed to throw down a coldie. Although I’m not familiar with the words, I did see him go into the Palace Saloon.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the building across the street.

  Coldie. That’s Australian. “That could be one of my brothers. Oh, can you go inside and tell him I’m here?”

  “Sorry, miss. I’ve been away from the depot long enough.” He turned and headed back toward the train station, his boots resounding on the boards.

  Libbie stood at the side of the street, glancing between the envelope in her hand and the building that might hold a beloved family member. She turned, dashed past the livery, and pounded up the porch steps to the Stirling house. Giving the door two quick knocks, she twisted the knob and burst into the house. “Maida, are you here?” Her heart pounded in her chest.

  Footsteps sounded on the landing above, and Maida’s face appeared over the railing. “Libbie, what’s wrong?”

  Smiling, she held up the envelope and waved it. “A letter from Mr. Dekker. Come down so we can share the news.”

  Maida hurried down the stairs and stopped at her side. “What does he say?”

  “I didn’t open it.” Libbie glanced around Maida and toward the kitchen. “Is Skip here? I need him to go into the Palace.”

  “Whyever for? And what in the world are you wearing?” Maida stepped away and glanced up and down Libbie’s length, her nose crinkled. “That shirt does nothing to accent your figure. And what’s that smell?”

  “Maida! Listen.” In as few words as she could use, Libbie described what had brought her to town, the unknown contents of the envelope, and the mysterious stranger who arrived and asked about her.

  “We have to know about the stranger, of course.” Maida scurried through the kitchen and out to the back porch. “Skip, please do us a favor.”

  As soon as they watched Skip head out the front door, they moved to the dining room table and sat. The letter rested in the space between them.

  “This could be the start of our business.”

  “It’s addressed to you so you should open it.”

  Libbie nodded then tore off the shorter end and puffed a breath into the opening. Out slid a letter on stiff paper. With shaky hands, she unfolded the paper and a bank draft slid onto the table. When she read the amount, she squealed. “This is wonderful!” Holding the draft so Maida could see, she couldn’t stop her smile at her friend’s wide-eyed astonishment.

  “Fifty dollars? That’s five times the amount I lent you.”

  “And that was only for the feathers the birds lost in the journey. We can harvest a few more before winter, and then do a full gleaning in the spring.”

  Maida grinned and flopped back in her chair. “I do believe I will like being a lady of business, even if only for a twenty percent portion.”

  The front door opened. “I’m back, Maida.”

  “In the dining room, Mama. And Libbie’s here.”

  Hazel walked into the room, untying the strings of her hat. “Afternoon, Libbie. I didn’t know you were coming to town.”

  With all that had happened, Libbie hesitated to share her original reason for leaving the ranch. She glanced at Maida, who frowned and gave a small shake of her head.

  “Look, Mama.” Maida held up the bank draft. “This is our first earnings for the feather business.”

  Hazel squinted and held out the draft at arm’s length. “Lordy be, that’s a lot of money. Well, I’d say those birds are a real smart idea.”

  The front door opened again. “Libbie, are you here?”

  Dell. Heart pounding, Libbie jumped to her feet. At least his voice had lowered to a normal tone again.

  Maida stood and started fussing with Libbie’s clothes. After removing the cape, she grabbed out the boomerang and cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’ll explain later.” Libbie plucked the bank draft from Hazel’s hands and hid it behind her back. “Yes, I am.”

  Hazel and Maida moved away from the table but stayed at the perimeter of the room, gazes bright.

  The clump of long strides against bare wood approached. “There you are.” He appeared in the doorway, scanned the room until he met her gaze and then walked straight toward her until only a foot separated them.

  Had he become more handsome while she was gone? His eyes were warm and focused only on hers. So, he is no longer angry? “I’m fine.” She was a skilled rider, and he didn’t have to worry about her safety.

  “I thought you were in you─, um, the house. When I realized you weren’t there, I went a little loco.” He reached for her hand.

  Loco? What does that mean? She gave him her empty one, savoring the strength of his grip. “I didn’t want to hear you yell again.”

  “Yell?” Hazel stepped forward, frowning. “Arndell Hart Stirling, you yelled at your bride?”

  He turned his head and narrowed his gaze. “Mother, this is between me and my wife.”

  The possessive way he spoke that single word set her pulse racing.

  Then he looked back at her and gave her a rueful grin. “Jomo is not the most cooperative man. He shrugged away any knowledge of where you’d gone. I do give him credit for being loyal. Finally, I realized the black-feathered bird was missing. I followed that blasted bird’s tracks, which wandered around for a while before they headed toward town.”

  She didn’t know if Dell was aware he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as he talked. That simple caress was familiar and comforting─making her realize how many times he’d used the same gesture as they’d sat in the parlor, talking about their day’s activities, or as they said goodnight at the top of the landing. A fluttering invaded her stomach.

  Just then, the front door opened. “Hey, Libbie.” Skip called out. “I found the guy.”

  With reluctance, Libbie pulled herself away from her husband’s hypnotic gaze and looked into blue eyes so like her own. Can he really be here? Her heart stuttered and then pounded hard in her chest. Not ten feet away stood a tanned muscled man dressed in kangaroo boots, dungarees, and a wheat-colored shirt. A flat-topped leather hat with a wide brim sat back from his forehead, displaying tousled sun-streaked hair. “Deman, luv.” She burst into tears and ran across the room, hurtling herself into her older brother’s arms. Only by sharing with another who’d suffered the same loss could she truly start healing.

  “Oh, Libbie, my sheila. Don’t cry.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and then hoisted her higher into his arms and tucked his mouth close to her ear. “I’m here. No need to worry.”

  Libbie clung tighter, letting Deman’s Australian drawl soothe her jangled emotions. They might have teased her until she wanted to scream, but her brothers had always been there when she needed them. Facing down bullies on her behalf, taunting her until she jumped out of the loft onto the haystack, letting her tag along when they went fishing.

  “Put down my wife, sir, and explain yourself.”

  Again, Libbie heard the possessiveness in Dell’s voice, and she pulled back to look at him, wide-eyed. Frowning, he stood with both arms crossed over his chest, his feet braced wide.

  “Libbie, who is this?” His gaze flicked to her and then back to the stranger.

  She dashed the moisture from her cheeks and wiggled to be put down. When she remained upright with her feet dangling, she arched backward and then turned to Deman. “Set me down, Dem.”

  Flashing a grin, he shook his head. “Nah, I want to see what this bloke’s gonna do.”

  “Deman, now is not the time for your teasing.” Glaring, she pushed at his chest and heard the crinkle of the bank draft. Swinging her arm to the side, she stretched to look at Maida. “Take this, please.”

  Maida gaped, her gaze riveted on Deman’s face. She hurried forward and took possession of the paper.

  Deman glanced her way and then a wide grin spread his lips, and he
cocked an eyebrow.

  “Enough.” Dell stepped forward, scooped Libbie into his arms, and moved to the side of the room. “I’m waiting for my explanation.”

  She wrapped an arm around his neck and held tight. Could she take his action as proof that he wanted their marriage to continue? “He’s my older brother—at least, one of the three. Deman is one of the twins.”

  Deman shoved his hat backwards so it hung behind his head by the chin strap. “The older and more responsible twin.”

  “Older by two minutes.” She giggled as she grinned like a fool at her brother. “But he never lets Knox forget that fact.”

  Dell tightened his hold. “I do like hearing you laugh.”

  “Now that the roosters have stopped strutting through my dining room, let’s sit. I’ll put on some coffee.” Hazel walked across the room, extending her hand. “A brother of our sweet Libbie’s is welcome here. I’m Dell’s mother, Hazel.” She shook and then waved her hand at her daughter. “And this young lady you were just gawking at is my youngest child, Maida.” She moved toward the kitchen before glancing over her shoulder. “Skip, run and get your father. He won’t want to miss this meeting.”

  What would happen in the next few minutes flashed before her eyes, and Libbie knew she needed to speak to Dell in private. But she was pulled into the kitchen with the women, and she couldn’t hear what was being said.

  Maida clasped her hand. “You have three brothers? Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “Because they live in Australia and rarely visit America.”

  “Are the others as handsome as Deman? He’s so tan and tall and vital.” She leaned sideways to peek around the wall.

  “I suppose they’re not ugly.” Libbie shrugged. “Tell me, though, do you think your brothers are handsome?”

  Maida crinkled her nose and shook her head. “Eww, no.”

  “I’ll say it again,” Dell’s voice carried into the kitchen. “Libbie is not going anywhere.”

  “Uh oh, I guess Deman has stated his purpose.” Libbie walked into the dining room until she reached Dell’s side and laid a hand on his forearm. “I probably should have explained this earlier.”