Libbie: Bride of Arizona (American Mail-Order Bride 48) by Linda Carroll-Bradd Page A

the stairs. Stopping in the kitchen only long enough to grab an apple, she raced toward the corral and the pounding of a hammer on nails.
    Jomo had already broken down the crates from the disassembled sides they’d roped together and used the previous night for a temporary corral.
    As she walked closer, she bit into the juicy apple, savoring a bit of tartness. Judging by the night air she’d already experienced, the temperatures were not as warm as she imagined this southern region would have. A solid wall stable would be needed before winter set in. Which meant more lumber than the crates provided. After a quick look at the sun, she approached the bird handler. “Good afternoon, Jomo. How are they adjusting?”
    “Settlin’ in, miss. De keep together more than to home. But dey all right.” He swept a hand toward the small stack of boards that inched higher as he spoke. “We need more, maybe four times dese boards.”
    Over the years, she’d learned to trust Jomo’s knowledge about the ostriches so she just nodded. “Were you all right in the bunkhouse? Did the others mind your arrival?” She’d wanted to be the one to introduce him to the cow hands that Sergio told her worked on the ranch. Even if she herself hadn’t been formally presented as the wife of the Bar S’s owner.
    But Jomo waved her off, telling her he’d worked with all types of men and knew how to handle himself.
    “Is there another hammer? Or do you need me to hold the boards?” Libbie looked around, anxious to get the project started, as she nibbled the last part of her apple. “What can I do?”
    “Libbie, what in hell is this mess in my corral?”
    She jumped at the stern note in Dell’s voice and looked over her shoulder.
    Dell waved a hand toward the third person in the yard. “And who is this man?”
    Her pulse raced at the sight of her roguish husband. Maybe he was used to getting more sleep than he had the night before. Eyes squinted against the bright sun, he stood at the edge of the corral, hands on hips and booted feet braced at shoulder width apart. His hair was still tousled from sleep and beard stubble gave a darker shadow to his jaw.
    Jomo straightened to his full height and stepped to her side. “Dis man be your new husband? And he bellows like an elephant?”
    The scowl crimping his face kept her from providing an immediate answer. Seeing his reaction made her realize she should have sent a second telegram. She probably should have explained the details of her birthday present and the presence of the man who’d crossed an ocean to help her establish a feather-producing business. “Shh. Let me talk.” Fighting back a smile at Jomo’s comparison, Libbie stepped over a stack of lumber and walked toward Dell. “Did you sleep well?” She thought back to how her parents greeted each other in the morning and remembered how her father had always given her mother a kiss on the cheek. When she stood right in front of him, she angled her head, offering her cheek, and waited.
    “Are you going to answer me?”
    This question was more of a growl. Embarrassed to have assumed all married couples had similar rituals, she straightened and then swept a hand behind her. “Yesterday, I’d hoped to give you the information at our first meeting. Then later, I couldn’t find the right time to share the news of my birds.”
    “Birds?” He quirked an eyebrow then jerked his chin. “I see hay bales where they shouldn’t be and a stranger beside my corral.”
    She stretched forward, grabbed his hand, and tugged him into motion. “Let me show you. Yes, the stranger is Jomo Bioko. My parents…” She struggled to keep talking. “They put him in charge of escorting the shipment of what’s needed for me to start my own business. That was my birth─”
    “Business?” Shaking his head, he stopped walking. “You? The Bar S is a business. We don’t need another.” He jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I’m the one responsible for