Libbie: Bride of Arizona (American Mail-Order Bride 48) Read Online Free

a window revealed gray clouds hovering low, making her unsure of the exact hour.
    Inactivity didn’t sit well, so she moved back to the kitchen. “What might I do to assist you? Please, Mary, allow me to help.”
    “We’ll be needing a wreath for the front door. Ye could gather a dozen or so short branches from the laurel tree back by the stables.”
    Grateful for any task that meant she could be outside, Libbie hurried across the back porch and into the yard. Stopping only a moment to gather shears and a flat basket from the gardening shed, she breathed the crisp air and moved along the crushed shell and gravel walkway toward the back of the property. The snipping of the blades and the scent of damp earth reminded her of working at Mama’s side in their small garden. So much so that she imagined being back there and hearing the lilting voices of the villagers harvesting in their own gardens.
    “Missy?”
    Libbie shook her head against the silly thought and reached for the next limb.
    “Miss Libbie Anke?”
    At this familiar reference, she whirled and gasped, dropping the basket at her feet. Unbelievably, at the back of the house stood one of her father’s trusted South African workers. “Jomo. Is that really you?” She ran down the walkway and threw herself against the tall, dark-skinned man. For just a moment, she savored this tenuous connection with home before tipping back her head and gazing into his dark eyes. As natural as could be, she slipped into her native Dutch. “Do you know?”
    His bristly eyebrows lowered as he scanned her clothes. “I see death has visited dis house.”
    Her lower lip quivered. “Not only here in America. Mama and Papa were killed in a carriage accident.”
    “No.” For a moment, he hung his head then he pressed his fingers to his eyes. After a deep breath, he looked up and gathered her close into his wiry arms. “I am sorry, miss. Dey were good people.” He eased back and dropped his hands. “Now I know not what to do.”
    “But why are you here? In America?”
    “I accompanied your birthday surprise. Were you not told?” An eyebrow lifted, he gazed over the expanse of the back yard. Then he clasped her hand and tugged her along the walkway toward the street.
    When they rounded the house, she spotted a wagon parked at the curb. Several wide-slated crates displaying black or gray feathers filled the wagon bed. Libbie clasped her hands under her chin and let out a squeal. “My ostriches. They’re my present?” Lifting her skirt, she dashed toward the big birds, clicking her tongue in the familiar cadence to catch their attention. Before her was the pet she’d had as long as she could remember. Koning—a seven-foot tall ostrich. His bulging eyes and knobby head were as dear to her as a kitten’s pink nose and perky ears might be to a child in America or Europe. Cooing, she reached a hand through the slats to stroke his breast feathers. “Which females comprise his harem?”
    Jomo chuckled. “You remember his primary mate, Lady. And there’s Gulden, Diamant, Zilveren, and Juweel. A mix of new and experienced breeders.” He moved to the front of the wagon and reached into a well-worn leather satchel. Then he passed her an envelope. “From your papa.”
    With an eager grin, Libbie ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. Through brimming tears, she read of her parents’ wishes for her to establish connections with their old friend, Henrick Dekker in New York, and provide ostrich plumes for the fashion trade. This was to be her contribution to the family’s various businesses. Pressing the letter to her chest, she beamed at Jomo. “They believed in me.”
    “Yes, and they loved you and the boys very much.”
    The front door slammed open. “What is the meaning of this unseemly delivery, Libbie?” Eyes wide, Fayth stood at the head of the stone steps, hands planted on her hips. “Who do those ugly, awful beasts belong to?”
    Those two questions spoken