Free Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell Page B

like silk billowing from the tops.
    Pierre looked in the direction she was pointing and laughed. “Uh-oh. You’ve never seen corn plants before, have you?”
    She turned toward him, her eyes narrowed. “If I had, I wouldn’t have asked you what it was. I’m from the city, remember?”
    Pierre wiped the smile off his face, not entirely successful at attempting to look serious. “I do apologize,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “This is the very last of the corn crop, so late in the season that it’s only for horse feed.
    Josephine pushed a stray strand of hair back up into her hat and stole a sideways glance at Pierre. “I’ll thank you not to laugh at me. Pretending that I knew things I didn’t is what caused this whole mess. I’d really like to start at the beginning. I love to learn new things--but don’t enjoy being mocked.”
    Pierre turned to her, his eyes meeting hers. She didn’t look away--if this was going to work, he needed to take it seriously and tell her everything she needed to know.
    His eyes softened and he pushed his hat back on his forehead. “I understand. And I appreciate your commitment.”
    “What if you just tell me everything you can think of? Pretend you’re explaining what happens on the plantation to someone who’s never been here before.”
    He threw his head back and laughed. “I guess that’s exactly what I am doing.”
    She hid her smile behind her hand. What she’d said was silly. She was grateful when he started to point out things on the plantation as they passed, and she could listen.
    As they passed the first cottage--the one where the young woman and little girl lived--she craned her neck, trying to see more. Was this a relative of Pierre’s? She didn’t think so, but she could be wrong. She’d yet to see the man of the house. Maybe he was working out on the plantation.
    “And who lives there?” She pointed to the clapboard house on her right.
    Pierre leaned forward and looked to where she was pointing. His eyes clouded and he frowned, turning back to the road ahead. “That’s where Harriet and her daughter live.”
    Apparently, she wasn’t going to get any more details as his lips formed a thin line and he flicked the reins at the horses, moving them along faster. She looked back at the house as it grew smaller in the distance, her mind turning at the possibilities.
    As they moved along, Pierre described what seemed to Josephine to be an entire village. He pointed out a blacksmith, a laundry, a leatherworker--all of whom smiled and waved at Pierre as he passed by. Without exception, he smiled and waved in return, and Josephine’s heart warmed. People seemed very happy here at The Willows.
    As they passed through and the road turned to weave through the fields, Josephine sat in contented silence as Pierre spoke to workers in the fields and stopped frequently to jump out and look at the leaves of some of the plants.
    She watched as he carefully lifted leaves, moved small branches over and looked under plants. He’d shield his eyes from the sun--which was dimming behind darker clouds--and look down the long rows, walk to another one and look again and then nod, turning back to the buggy.
    “You’re definitely very involved here, aren’t you?” she asked as he climbed back in the buggy after one of his surveys.
    He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. You must be bored.”
    “Oh, no, not at all. It’s been fascinating, actually, and I love when you tell me about the plants. I feel like I’m getting a real education.”
    He grinned and flicked the reins, the buggy moving forward again. He pushed his hat back on his head and looked up at the sky, just as his stomach rumbled.
    He patted his stomach and said, “With those dark clouds gathering, that could have been thunder.”
    Josephine looked out from the cover of the buggy up at the sky. The black clouds had turned even darker as they’d been when they’d set out on their tour, and she