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

and a towel. He handed those to her and started pumping the handle to get water. “Here, you go. Clean yourself up and then we’ll go inside and you can tell me about your morning.”
    “All right, but I’m hurt you don’t like my new fragrance.”
    She flashed him a pout, but he saw a mischievous glint in her eyes. Yes, Laurel Weidner Benning was undeniably different from anyone he’d ever known and he was rapidly becoming more certain he’d made the right decision in placing the ad in the Grooms’ Gazette for a wife.  
     

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Laurel sat on the step at the back porch and accepted the water Griffin offered. The liquid was wet and cool and delicious, and she drank it right down. “Thank you.” She wiped her chin, smiled, and handed him the empty dipper. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”
    “Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows and gave her a grin. “I’ve heard wrangling cattle can really dry you out.”
    “Not to mention chickens.”
    “What happened with the chickens?”
    “They hate me,” she stated, glancing out to the yard in the direction of the coop. “I tried to be nice and pet them, but they flew at me and pecked me. They stalked and surrounded me . . .”
    “They’re birds, Laurel, that’s what they do. Did they hurt you?”
    “No, but they frightened me. I’ve . . .” She’d almost said she didn’t know when she’d been more terrified, but she did know. She lived with those terrors every day. “I’ll work on getting better with them.”
    “I’m not worried . . . yet,” he said, grinning again. “How about we go together this evening and again in the morning? Would that help?”
    She supposed this was his way of apologizing for throwing her to the wolves, so to speak, so she answered positively, “Yes, it would.”
    “Good.” Standing, he reached down for her hand. “Come on, let’s go in. We had a package delivered while you were cavorting with the livestock.”
    “I wasn’t—”
    Chuckling, he pulled her up. “I’m just teasing you, come on.”
    When they entered the house, the first thing she saw was a large wooden box sitting on the table. Griffin handed her an envelope from the top addressed to her. She took it and considered reading it later when she could do so in private with her glasses. She’d always felt ugly and embarrassed when wearing them, so she rarely wore them in public.
    She quickly gave herself a stern talking to. The man just found you with your hand covered in cow manure, how much more humiliated could you be? Reaching into her skirt pocket, she retrieved her reading glasses, put them on, and began reading the note.
    “This is from, Sam and Edna Tate?” Laurel glanced over at Griffin with a question in her gaze.
    “They’re our neighbors from over the ridge. I’ll take you to meet them in a day or two.”
    “I’d like that very much.” She continued reading, even as tears welled in her eyes. Removing her glasses, she said, “She wanted me to have time to get used to my new home, so she sent a meal, with a loaf of bread and a cake.”
    “Edna’s good people. She’s thoughtful that way.” He lifted a large tureen from the box and picked up the lid. Sniffing the aroma, he said, “Umm, I think we need to have a bowl of this stew before long to see if it’s worth eating.”
    “It certainly does smell delicious,” she agreed. “I need to get out of this filthy dress, though, before I can eat a bite. Will you set the table for us?”
    “Sure.”
    She changed clothes as quickly as possible, noting the ease with which he’d agreed to set the table. Her father had never done a lick of housework in his life, and why would he? He had servants, a wife, and three daughters to handle those chores. Griffin Benning, on the other hand, had been on his own for a while and was used to doing things for himself. He would likely revert back