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

Sunday dinner was a family tradition his mother insisted upon so she could keep apprised of her children’s lives. Sometimes he wondered at the practice of a man almost twenty-six years of age appearing on his parents’ doorstep to take advantage of their larder. But he couldn’t deny his mother’s cooking was far superior to his own.
    One of the many reasons he’d decided the time was right to acquire a wife. The most pressing one occurred when his housekeeper deserted him to tend a family emergency. Because the Hemmings hadn’t known the extent of the illness, Ted decided to make the move with his wife. The change left Dell without a foreman as well. A little more than two weeks had passed since he’d been on his own, but the time seemed much longer. He could barely stand the grumbling from his cowhands whenever he delivered a meal of watery stew or charred steaks to the bunkhouse. At least, hiring a cook had solved that problem.
    The screen door opened just as the men approached the wooden steps. “Dell, glad you’re here.” Maida smiled and waved her brothers forward.
    At twenty-two, Maida presented a picture of health with a curvy figure, bright hazel eyes, and a glow to her skin. “Today’s Sunday, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow and fought back a grin. “I’m not ill nor am I traveling, so where else would I be?” He swept his upturned palms outward from the sides of his body.
    Maida’s brows drew low, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Hush, don’t let Mama hear you. She’d be crushed to learn you view coming here as a chore.”
    Dell leaned forward to tap a finger on his younger sister’s nose. “Don’t you know a jest when you hear one?”
    Smiling, she gave his shoulder a playful slap. “Oh, you.”
    The three walked through the modestly furnished house to the kitchen that ran the width of the back of the house. Dell glanced through the windows at the rough granite mountains and scrub trees mixed with an occasional saguaro cactus that he’d seen almost his entire life. The raw landscape always made him pause in admiration.
    A clack came from his right, and he turned to see his mother removing a pan of golden-topped rolls from the oven. “Smells great, as usual, Mom.”
    “Better wash those hands, because the food’s just about ready.”
    Dell looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Skip. Adult men being told what to do? He lifted his hands and sniffed. Sparky’s scent clung to his skin. He walked to the sink, grabbed the lump of soap in one hand, and gave the pump handles a couple strokes. As he worked up a sudsy lather, he eyed the water pump then stilled. Would his new bride expect this same setup? Or would she be content with the pump on the back porch like at his house at the Bar S Ranch? Doubt settled over his thoughts as he reached for a towel. Why hadn’t he listened when his ex-housekeeper Daisy had complained about the extra steps she walked each day while doing chores?
    The back door closed with a thud and in walked the family patriarch. “Dell, good to see you. How’s things at the ranch?” William walked to the sink, his limp a bit more pronounced toward the end of the day.
    Better not bring up the subject of the half-dozen missing cattle that Dell suspected had been rustled. “Got to admit I’m missing the Hemmings more than I anticipated.” His jaw tightened, and he pulled out a chair and plopped down. “Ted had the routine and assignments set, and nothing changed. Now, the hands are acting like this situation is an opportunity to switch up their duties. I’m hearing more than I want to about the work habits of the men I employ.” Dell glanced at his father’s shaking shoulders and knew he bit back a chuckle.
    When he turned, rubbing a towel over his clean hands, William Stirling displayed no such humor. He pinched tight his lips before speaking. “All part of being the boss, son.”
    Hazel carried the platter heavy with a sizzling roast and