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

for a shave. A couple of wipes of the wrung-out cloth smoothed his wavy hair into place, and he was set.
    Fully clothed, he walked back into the kitchen and spotted the family waiting in a line near the front door.
    His mother cradled the Stirling family bible in her arms.
    After the encounter on the porch and seeing his family’s acceptance, he was surer of his decision to advertise for a mail-order bride than he’d ever been. All his worries appeared to be settled. He walked forward and paused beside Libbie, crooking his elbow in her direction. “Shall we?”
    Tilting back her head, she glanced upward and smiled. “I’m ready.”
    The group exited the house and assembled into a column of three couples.
    “We’re walking?” Frowning, Libbie glanced toward the livery then leaned forward to gaze father down the street.
    “The church is only three or four blocks away.” Maybe he should have planned for this. His family was used to walking all over Prescott on errands or appointments. He had no idea what her family normally did. Although, thinking back to his last trip to Denver, he realized she probably used hansom cabs while in Boston. “The pastor’s time is reserved right at one o’clock.” As he walked to the corner and turned on Gurley Street, Dell was aware of the looks and whispers from those they passed. Granted, his bride’s attire and lacy umbrella stood out as unusual for this frontier town, but he didn’t give the responses much thought. Curiosity was often shown for a new face in town.
    Once the ceremony was completed, he needed to get to the sheriff’s office to file a report about his stolen bull. Not that a paper report replaced getting out into the foothills with Nascha and doing a thorough search. Enough daylight would be left following the ceremony to allow them several hours of tracking time. He’d sure feel better if he had an idea of which direction the rustlers had taken.
    A tug on his arm snapped him back to the present. He glanced around and saw the group had reached the church. “Er, sorry.” He clasped Libbie’s hand and cupped her elbow with the other to guide her up the stone steps toward the carved double door. “I hope no unforeseen event has delayed Pastor Reynolds.”
    ****
    Hearing his statement, Libbie jerked her head to the left to see his face. His expression might let her know the meaning behind his words. The tip of her boot hit a step, and she stumbled, leaning into Dell’s solid body.
    “Careful.”
    Every single aspect of her experience since leaving the train was foreign, and she struggled to keep a smile in place. As gracious and friendly as his family was, they were strangers of only a few hours’ acquaintance. The church of stone and stained glass she entered appeared rigid and imposing, the air chill and smelling of candle wax. So different than the humble structures she was used to. Now her intended groom wanted things to be accomplished fast? Her throat tightened. This day should be joyful, and she wished for her mother’s shoulder to lean on. Instant tears filled her eyes, and she ducked her chin, blinking them back.
    “Dell, you go check on the pastor.” Hazel stepped close. “Leave Libbie to us.”
    “I’ll do that.” His grip dropped from her arm, and he took one step forward then paused. “Libbie?” His gaze sought hers. “You’ll be all right?”
    Touched that he thought to make this last check on her, she just nodded.
    “Come with me.” Maida nudged Libbie’s arm and walked ahead to open a side door. “We can use the choir room to make your final preparations.”
    Final? What does she mean? Numbed by the new wash of grief, Libbie followed instructions and entered a small room with shelves of leather-bound books and a few music stands.
    From under a shawl draped over her arm, Maida produced a small nosegay of white and pink blossoms. “Every bride needs a bouquet. Here’s what was still flowering at the house.”
    “I’ve seen