Free Laurel: Bride of Arkansas (American Mail-Order Bride 25) by Carra Copelin

if we don’t. Do you agree?”
    “Yes?” She had no idea where he was going with this.
    “I want you to know you can talk to me anytime about anything. There should be no secrets between a wife and her husband.”
    “That should be a given in a marriage, but it’s good to hear it said out loud.” Laurel realized, even though he didn’t know what her demons were, he was giving her an opportunity to talk about them. Could she do it? Could she tell him about the devastating incident?
    “ Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
    She sat there another minute or so remembering the fire at the mill and looked up when his hand covered hers. A few more seconds passed before she said, “I moved to Lawrence to live with Aunt Lottie, and after a while, she introduced me to her friends. Eventually, I became involved with the women’s movement.
    “Last March, I took steps to further ensure my independence from my father by taking a job at the Brown Textile Mill. The work was hard and the hours were long, but it allowed me the ability to give money to the movement and help Lottie with the bills. I also developed friendships with the other women there.”
    “I’ve heard of work in the mills and how hard and dangerous the work is. Were you a seamstress?”
    “No, my position was along the line where the thread was loaded onto the large spools.”
    “Is it dangerous work?”
    “Yes, it can be. You has to stay alert so as not to get your hands and fingers caught in the machinery.” She shuddered. “My second day on the line, the girl sitting beside me lost two fingers in the blink of an eye. I learned quickly to pay attention.”
    He let go of her hand to run his fingers across the scar on his palm. “It’s the same in logging. One distraction and you’re injured or dead.”
    “Is that how you were hurt?”
    “No.” He rolled his fingers into a fist, and urged, “Go on.”
    Well wasn’t that interesting? Mr. Griffin Benning, it appeared, had his own secrets. Plainly, he needed to practice what he preached.
    “One day last month the building caught fire.”
    He grabbed her hand again. “Were you hurt?”
    “No, I wasn’t and, other than some minor burns, neither was anyone else. But it was chaos getting out of the building.” Her heartbeat quickened and the awful memory of acrid smoke filled her nose. “I had gone to a back store room for more supplies when I heard screams and women shouting. The force from an explosion knocked me into the shelves and, by the time I fought my way out from under the boxes of spindles to leave the room, something had blocked the door keeping it tightly closed.
    “I pushed and shoved against the wooden slab, my only exit, but to no avail. When the room filled with smoke, I was certain I would die.”
    “Thank God you didn’t, but how did you escape?”
    “I picked up one of the spindles and started hitting the door and yelling for help. After a few minutes I heard someone shouting for everyone to get out, and then, someone pulled the door open enough for me to squeeze through and escape. I could hardly see or breathe, the smoke was so thick, but, two women helped me crawl over the ceiling beam that had fallen in front of the door and we found our way outside.”
    “No wonder you were uncomfortable sitting in front of the fireplace.” Griffin moved quickly to her side and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly. “That’s a horrible thing to have to go through.”
    Having come from a family who never showed their emotions, she found she liked being held. His arms were strong, no doubt due to the hard work associated with logging, and warm.  
    “Do you know how the fire started?”
    “By the time I left Lawrence, there was no official report, but there were rumors it may have been arson.”
    He cursed under his breath. “Who would deliberately torch a building and risk killing hundreds of people?”
    “There was speculation for that, too. I had heard that several