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

little mountain flower?”
    Her face warmed at his use of the name he’d called her last night and she lowered her eyes. She couldn’t think about that right now. She had to tell him she’d come here under false pretenses. She’d perhaps been over confident sitting in her room at the boardinghouse, crafting her letter, trying to sound positive about her abilities, but not specific. In the end, she’d lied. What would she do if he sent her to back to Massachusetts?
    She had to face the consequences of her actions, so she might as well confess now rather than later. Holding her breath for a few seconds, she let it out, looked up at him and announced, “I can’t cook.”
    He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “That’s it? That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
    “Well, y-yes, I . . .” She stammered. This was not the reaction she’d expected. “Why are you laughing?”
    “Because I knew.”
    “How did you know? I said in my letter that—”
    “That you could run a household.” He set the bread slices on the counter top. “If you had any skills, you’d have said so in order to make sure I thought you’d be a good candidate for my wife. And then there was that first time I saw you standing there on the platform.”
    “What?”
    “Everything about you screamed quality. You looked like a woman who was used to being spoiled and pampered.”
    “But I’m not.”
    “I know that, now, don’t I?”
    She folded her arms at her waist and glared at him. “Then why didn’t you immediately put me on the next train back East? Why did you go ahead and marry me?”
    “Because I couldn’t believe my good fortune at having such a beautiful woman answer my advertisement.” He mirrored her stance and matched her glare. “I was intrigued.”
    “Intrigued?” She bristled.
    “Yes. I’d been married for five years to a woman who had been spoiled and pampered. Ora Lee was unkind and vindictive and a woman who used every feminine trick she could to manipulate and control. She was deeply troubled and made everyone around her miserable.” His stance relaxed and he leaned his hips against the counter’s edge and sighed. “I wanted to know if you were the same.”
    Laurel empathized with him. She’d known women like his wife and had never understood their actions, for no matter how much misery they inflicted on others, they were rarely content. She felt like she should apologize to him for all women’s behavior. “I’m sorry, she treated you so badly.”
    He reached for her and pulled her to him. “Me, too, but I’m pretty tough.”
    She pressed her hands against his chest to stop him from pulling her into his arms. “So, what do you think?”
    “About you?” He leaned back as if sizing her up. “I think you’re smart, independent and enterprising, and you don’t back away from problems.”
    “I try not to.”
    “Know what else I think?”
    “No, what?”
    “That I’m starting to like having you around, but I’ll change my mind if you let my bacon burn.”
    She pushed away from him, took the fork he handed her and turned the bacon strips in the pan. They were a little brown, but still edible. After she’d rescued the bacon, he showed her how to fry the eggs and make pan toast.
    When they finished eating, she looked across the table. “I like being here, too, Griffin, and I promise to be a good wife to you and a good mother to your children. Thank you for being intrigued.”
    “Sometimes even a blind hog finds an acorn, and I’ve found you.”
    After their meal, she sat down at the table with her stationery, a pencil, her glasses and a lamp. She finally had some time to write a few letters to the girls she’d worked with, while Griffin worked on one of his projects.
    Her first one was to Roberta McDaniel, her manager at the mill.
     
    October 28, 1890
    Dear Roberta,
    I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I have reached my new home in Flat Rock Point, Arkansas, and married my groom,