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

in such a scornful tone informed Libbie her welcome at this house was wearing thin. Her reason for being in Boston at the finishing school was no longer valid or essential. Any marriage match to be made would not be forthcoming from among her parents’ social circle, but would have to be accomplished by her own initiative. Besides, with the family accounts frozen, no additional funds would be wired to the bank for her monthly expenses in the foreseeable future. Her brother Larz would do what he could at the earliest opportunity, but no guarantee existed on when that would happen.
    That day, she and Jomo worked side-by-side to build a temporary enclosure in the back yard from the disassembled crate pieces. At the dinner table, Carson couldn’t have been clearer in giving her a firm deadline by which to remove herself and those animals from the premises. Following that tense and uncomfortable meal, Libbie again looked over the letter in the Grooms’ Gazette that she’d already read several times.
    Hard-working cattle rancher in Prescott, Arizona Territory seeking wife not afraid to do her part in creating a harmonious household. I’m Dell Stirling, 26 years of age, and of sound body and mind. I own 200 acres with a comfortable house, big barn, bunkhouse and corral, and a vegetable garden. Cattle herd varies in size, depending on season, and I employ adequate hands to manage them.
    A compatible match should know she’d have a roof over her head and food on the table always, but she shouldn’t expect fripperies in the house or furnishings. Only practical, sensible women with adequate domestic skills need apply.
    Working late into the night, Libbie composed several versions of a response to be sent by telegraph the following day. The trick was choosing words to disguise the ranch’s geographic location in a southern region was Mr. Stirling’s most attractive feature.
     

October, 1890, Prescott, Arizona Territory

Chapter Two
     
    Dell glanced at Libbie’s latest telegram one more time before stuffing it in the back pocket of his denims. He’d made his decision weeks ago, and his soon-to-be bride had notified him she’d reached Chicago where she’d transfer to the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad line. The new mistress of the Bar S Ranch would arrive mid-week, barring an unexpected delay on the tracks or mechanical failure. Nothing left but to make his important announcement to the rest of the Stirling family.
    He gave his bay gelding Sparky a last scratch between the ears and closed the door to the stalls on the far end of the barn his dad reserved for family use. A glance down the row showed only two out of twelve stalls stood empty. Prescott was a fast-growing city, and his parents’ decision to open the livery looked to be paying off.
    “Are you hiding in here?” Skip stood in the open barn door. At twenty, he was almost as tall as Dell, but not as broad. He lifted his hat, ran a hand through his wavy hair, and repositioned his hat on his head.
    “Nah, just getting my horse settled.” Dell met his younger brother’s gaze and grinned. “How have you been this past week?”
    “Can’t complain. That stallion I’ve been working is showing progress. At the halter and blanket stage now.” Flashing a crooked grin, he rocked back on his boot heels. “This week, we’ll work with putting on the saddle.”
    Dell admired Skip’s patience with the mustang-breaking process. He’d done his turn for several seasons but witnessing his father’s crippling accident years earlier had solidified his decision to work with cattle. He preferred the calmer beasts that rarely got overexcited or bashed a rider into the side of a barn.
    Both men stepped into the bright fall sunlight and turned right toward the two-story house with a tidy flower bed lining the front of the deep veranda. Blossoms still clung to the pinkish verbena, and the air carried a sweet scent from a last profusion of white honeysuckle flowers.