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

choice.
    The sign overhead read “First Prescott Livery” in yellow block letters. Libbie entered through the open double doors and paused, leaning forward and glancing around. The familiar scents of fresh hay and animals calmed her nerves a bit. What was the protocol at such a place of business? Was there an office to speak to a clerk like at the train depot? She reached out a hand and rapped her knuckles on the nearest wooden surface. “Hello, anyone here?”
    “Hang on.” The shout came from an end stall right before a head of black hair rose over the wooden slats. A tall man sauntered down the middle of the row of stalls, wiping his hands on a towel. “How may I help you?”
    Libbie liked the sound of his deep voice, maybe a mid-range bass. “I have a need to rent wagons to transport several crates.”
    The man’s brown eyes lit with a spark. “That accent means you’re not from this region.”
    “No, sir. I am formerly of South Africa.” Although she’d read the population of America was made up of immigrants from many countries, she suspected this man would not be the first to comment on her accent.
    “Who-eee, that’s a long way.” He narrowed his gaze as he took in her dress and lifted a brow at the parasol.
    With quick moves, she compressed the folds and held it at her side. “I’m afraid I am unaccustomed to making such arrangements. Perhaps you can explain what is available.”
    “First off, miss, my name’s William.”
    Already she felt more at ease. In Boston, clerks and service helpers rarely offered familiarities, always being in a rush to conduct the business transaction. “I’m Libbie.”
    “Ahh.” A grin flashed, and then his mouth pressed into a smooth line. “I’ll need to know how many crates, their weight, and, of course, the final destination. Then we will talk fees.”
    More fees . She’d hoped Dell would be present to help with this process. “Six large crates, but I’m not sure of their weight. I have the destination, they’re going to the Bar S Ranch. Do you know the place?”
    “Six, you say?” William turned and moved toward a shelf near the first stall. A strangled chuckle was followed by a loud throat clearing. Ducking his head, he fussed with a newspaper and a couple pamphlets before lifting a pad of paper and grabbing a lead pencil.
    Is he laughing? Whyever would he be? She shifted on her feet. What if right this moment Dell stood on the train platform? The possibility pushed her to the doorway so she could keep the depot in view.
    “I’m familiar with the ranch. The distance to the Bar S is approximately three miles.” William grinned as he jotted numbers on the pad. “And the contents of the crates are what? Furniture, household possessions, or…?”
    “Oh no, nothing like that.” She squared her shoulders and smiled, as she always did when speaking of her precious babies. “The crates hold one male and five female ostriches.”
    William’s mouth gaped for several seconds before he snapped it shut. “Ostriches, as in big birds?”
    “That’s right.” She spotted a single rider approaching along the tracks and her pulse beat faster.
    “And they’re headed for the Bar S?” His dark eyebrows arched high.
    At first, this gentleman had seemed to possess an easy-going manner. But his latest responses had been hesitant. “Please, sir, they’re in the sun right now.”
    “This I got to see.” Grinning and shaking his head, he strode toward the doorway. When he drew abreast, he angled his elbow to escort her. “To gauge the total weight, of course.”
    They walked side-by-side down the boardwalk with William murmuring greetings to those who spoke to him.
    Libbie kept her gaze on the rider, holding her breath for the moment Dell would recognize her and change course in her direction. But then he angled to the saloon across the way, and she knew her intended had not arrived. As soon as she and William reached the back side of the depot, she spotted