The Godwins owned the boot and shoe shop in town and lived above their store. Mrs. Godwin was eight months pregnant and painfully thin apart from her rounded belly. She was never particularly hearty, and the pregnancy had taken its toll. Though a kind woman, there wasn’t much color about her. She tended to dress in drab shades that washed out her complexion. Though her eyes were a lively shade of brown, the dark circles beneath them distracted from the color. Today she’d pulled her brown hair back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. The severe style only highlighted her thin neck.
She rarely worked beside her husband in their shoe shop these days, though she often had her feet up in the corner in deference to her condition. Outside of the shop, Mr. Godwin seldom left his wife’s side, hovering over her and ensuring she was comfortable. The pair were hardworking and devoted to each other. All in all they were a fine addition to the community.
“Mrs. Godwin, you’re looking well,” he said. “Is that a new lace collar you’re wearing today?”
“It is.” His compliment drew some color into her sunken cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Canfield.”
“I trust you’re feeling well. Won’t be long before the population of Cowboy Creek increases by one.”
Mr. Godwin took his wife’s hand. “Not long at all. She insisted on coming out for the celebration tonight.” He cast a concerned look at his wife. “Promise you’ll tell me if you get tired.”
“I will. I’ve been feeling ever so much better since Leah—I mean Mrs. Gardner—arrived. She’s given me all sorts of help and advice.”
Her husband wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Leah will make a fine midwife for the town.”
Opal blushed again. “She’s become a good friend.”
“I don’t mean to bother you on such an occasion,” Mr. Godwin began, “but I wondered if you’d look into something for me.”
“Anything,” Will replied amicably.
“As you know, when Opal and I purchased our shop, we bought the space next door, as well. Opal’s father lent us the money. He thought it was a good investment, and he was correct. Someone has approached us to rent the building.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Yes. Except the bank is questioning our deed.”
Will stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. The bank refuses to go forward with the transaction until they authenticate the deed.”
“There has to be some mistake.” Will and the town founders had been scrupulous with their transactions. Every business deal had been overseen by lawyers and filed with the county. There was no reason for the bank to question the deeds. “I’ll speak with someone at the land offices first thing Monday morning and straighten out the problem.”
Relief flitted across Opal’s wan face. “I knew you’d help.”
“Absolutely. You shouldn’t be worrying about anything in your condition, Mrs. Godwin. I promise you, I’ll get to the bottom of this.” Seeking to distract the young couple from needless worry, he asked, “And who is looking to rent the shop?”
“Hannah Taggart.”
“The preacher’s daughter?”
“Yes. She wants to open a dress shop in town. With all the new brides arriving, we’ll need a milliner before long. I have a cousin who might be interested. She works in a shop in St. Louis.”
“Of course, um, yes. A lady can never have too many hats.”
How was Hannah getting the money for the shop? She’d approached him about the idea a few days ago, but he’d been reluctant to give her an answer until he saw more of her designs.
Mrs. Godwin cleared her throat. “I believe Miss Stone is partnering with Hannah in the business.”
“Tomasina Stone?”
A hesitant nod. “Yes.”
He’d obviously assumed a fierce expression, because Opal was looking absolutely terrified.
Will relaxed his features. “I think that’s wonderful. I’ll look into the deed and contact Miss Stone and Miss Taggart personally. I’m happy to hear the women in town are banding together in their endeavors.”
“I thought so, too.”
A certain redheaded spitfire might have mentioned her intentions earlier.
Mr. Godwin shook his hand. “I appreciate your help straightening out the deed.”
“Anything.” He bent in a shallow bow. “Mrs. Godwin, I hope you’ll save me a dance.”
His offer was hollow. She’d never accept and, because of his injured leg, he didn’t dance anymore.
She stifled her giggle with one hand. “What a pair we’d make. Me with my stomach and you with your walking stick.”
He ignored the touch of melancholy her words inspired. He’d survived when others hadn’t. If he never danced again, it was a small price to pay.
“We’d clear the floor.”
With a touch on his brim he set off for the spot where the stage had been set. Unlike at the fair where comfort was the order of the day, the few ladies present were decked out in their finest attire. The enormous bell skirts popular before the war had been tamed by practicality. The war had sobered the nation. Nothing was quite as flamboyant as before. In this one instance he was grateful. The enormous hoop skirts had bordered on ridiculous with ladies barely able to navigate doorways. He much preferred the more restrained silhouette.
A glimmer of red caught his attention, and he halted. A tumble of curls cascaded down the back of a shimmering pear-green gown with a gossamer-embroidered overlay.
The vision turned, presenting him with her profile. His breath caught. Blinking, he tugged on his tie and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Feeling as though he’d been kicked in the gut, he took a step back.
Tomasina.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move. Here was the indomitable Tomasina Stone as he’d never seen her before.
Chapter Thirteen
Will had seen Tomasina in chaps. He’d even seen her in a dress. He’d seen her in a simple calico shirtwaist during her short-lived employment as a laundress. He’d seen her in the severe black dress and white lace cap of the hotel maids.
However, he’d never seen her like this. Her curls were partially piled atop her head in a delightful halo, with a few pieces artfully arranged around her face. The length in the back had been gathered into a waterfall of corkscrew curls.
The dress featured a modest scooped neck lined with a ruffle in the same material as the overlay of the skirt. A wide satin belt with a gold buckle highlighted her tiny waist.
He’d always thought her lovely. Even that first day he’d been captivated by her luminous eyes. This was different. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. She didn’t even seem real. If he reached out and touched her arm, he feared she’d shatter like a porcelain doll. The man standing beside her said something, and she laughed. A light, lyrical sound.
But this was no porcelain doll. She was flesh and blood.
Her dress floated around her in an ethereal green shimmer. He admired once more how the delicate material draped her shoulders and nipped in at her waist.
She caught sight of him and glided forward. His gaze dropped and his fingers trembled. He longed to caress the auburn curl grazing her collarbone.
“Mr. Canfield,” she said, “you’re looking quite dashing tonight.”
Everything faded into the background. People pushed and jostled around them, and he willed them away.
“You are... You’re beautiful.”
She gently waved herself with an ivory-handled fan he hadn’t noticed before. “Don’t look quite so surprised. It’s rather ungentlemanly of you.”
“That dress. Your hair.” He was babbling. “How? When?”
“My goodness. I never thought to see you so put out by a drape
of fabric and a bit of rice powder.” The fan ruffled those delightful curls. “I enjoy seeing you speechless.”
Everything about her was different. Her voice. Her carriage. Normally she leaned slightly forward, as though preparing for a race at every turn. Today she stood straight and proud, her shoulders thrown back, her head held high. The transformation was astonishing. Breathtaking.
The years melted away, and it was as though he was whole again. As though the war had never happened. As though he was still that naive bright-eyed fool who had no idea of the horrors in store for him; a green youth worshipping at the feet of a beautiful woman.
He savored the feeling.
A cowboy who’d started celebrating a little too early tripped into Tomasina. The man’s drink sloshed from his tin cup and splattered onto her pristine skirts. The cowboy groped for her arm and mumbled a slurred apology.
Tomasina’s lips whitened.
Will lunged. The cowboy stumbled again and the remainder of his drink splashed over her satin shoes.
Tomasina fisted her hand and socked the man in the shoulder. “You’ve ruined my best dress, you drunken oaf.”
The man tripped in reverse, caught his heel on an uneven tread and landed hard on his backside. His empty cup tumbled from his limp hand.
Partygoers gasped and murmured.
Tomasina caught Will’s astonished gaze, her brilliant green eyes wide with horror. With sudden insight Will recognized how important this evening was for her. All the changes he’d noticed hadn’t come easy. As the folks around them tittered, a fury of color spread across her delightful décolletage.
Grasping her arm, he gently hustled her toward the double doors of the Cattleman Hotel and away from the curious townsfolk. She didn’t deserve to have her evening ruined because of that clumsy fool.
Thankfully the lobby was far less crowded. She didn’t protest as he led her toward a banquette near the far wall.
Hannah Taggart was staring into the lobby mirror and pinching color into her cheeks when she caught sight of them. “Oh, my. What happened?”
“A little accident,” Will offered quickly. “Can you help?”
“I’m so sorry.” Tomasina reached for her roommate. “I know how much work you put into this dress. I wanted everything to be perfect.”
Hannah hustled over and knelt then grasped the damp skirts and wrinkled her nose. “Beer. Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
Simon appeared, straightening his cap, his gaze scanning the room.
He caught sight of Will and rushed over. “You’re needed, boss. They can’t start the ceremony without you. Everybody is waiting.”
“Then let them wait.”
He clasped Tomasina’s hand, massaging warmth into her icy fingers. He wanted to fix this for her. He wanted to turn back time and let her have her moment.
Tomasina glanced up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”
Only a slight sheen of tears revealed her distress.
He hesitated between his two commitments. Though she was in capable hands with Hannah, he was reluctant to leave.
Hannah pulled Tomasina to her feet, away from Will, and ushered her into the parlor.
Facing Will, Hannah spoke softly. “It’s best if you go. She’s been practicing her walk and her speech all day. She wanted everything to be perfect.”
“She is perfect. I mean, uh, she looks perfect.”
Hannah offered a rare smile. “We’ll meet you at the ceremony.”
He paused, staring at the younger woman.
Her smile.
That’s what had been missing. Hannah rarely smiled. The only time he’d ever seen her truly happy was when she was caring for Ava. Come to think of it, he’d assumed she was watching the baby tonight. When he’d mentioned the dance before, she hadn’t appeared interested in attending.
“Who’s watching the baby?” he asked.
“Mrs. Foster. I wanted... I was hoping to attend the dance. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Enjoy yourself, Hannah. If you need anything, let me know.”
Thank goodness. She was a prospective bride, after all. This was the first time she’d showed any interest in socializing. He should have noticed sooner that she was wearing a new peach-colored dress, as well. Her usual flounces and bows were gone, replaced by a modest bell skirt and V-necked bodice. Her hair was braided into an elaborate chignon, showing off the graceful curve of her neck.
“You look lovely,” he said. “Your skill as a seamstress is apparent. Is Tomasina’s dress your work?”
“Yes.”
“The design is inspired. You’re quite talented.”
Her smile was tinged with pride. “I sewed new dresses for several of the ladies attending this evening. I’m advertising for the new shop.”
Her shop. The Godwins. His whole brain had been muddled by the sight of Tomasina, and he’d forgotten all about his other worries. “Mr. Godwin told me about the difficulty with the deeds. I’ll speak to the bank and visit the land office first thing Monday morning.”
Simon cleared his throat. “You have to go, sir. You’re supposed to give the opening speech.”
He lingered a moment longer.
Hannah pushed on his shoulder. “Go. She’ll be fine. I’ll have her out dancing in no time.”
He followed Simon out the doors, his thoughts jumbled. A sweep of tenderness filled his heart. He’d kept a distance from Tomasina. Not physically, certainly, he’d ensured she was always underfoot. But he’d kept the distance in his thoughts. She was part of the prairie lands he’d grown to love. Exotic, wild and free.
He’d thought to protect her untamed spirit and to shelter her from the encroaching world. Yet she’d sidestepped all his boundaries, effortlessly crossing all the safeguards he’d imposed. She was neither drover nor sophisticated lady—she was an enchanting mixture of both worlds.
She navigated the gulf between classes with effortless ease. Despite her well-deserved outburst this evening, he admired her ability to speak with diverse groups of people. She wasn’t untamed; she was authentic.
She was captivating.
Simon tugged on his sleeve. “They’re waiting, Mr. Canfield.”
Tomasina easily fit into his world. Could he ever fit into hers?
* * *
Tomasina pounded her fist against her thigh. “I was doing so well. You woulda been so proud of me. I was pronouncing all my words and everything.” Hannah and Pippa had spent their free time over the past few days giving her lessons on decorum. As long as she spoke slowly and didn’t move too quickly, she could pass as a real lady. Except she didn’t suppose real ladies punched people. “That drunken fool ruined everything.”
Who could blame her for losing her temper?
“Nothing is ruined,” Hannah said in a soothing voice. “The dance hasn’t even started yet. There were only a few people who saw what happened. Rest assured Mr. Canfield will deal with that rowdy cowboy.”
“That clumsy oaf better not be around when I get back. I’ll trip him into the punch bowl.”
“Now, Tom. A lady always ensures her conduct is such that her inferiors may respect her.”
“He was inferior, all right. Especially after I socked him.”
Hannah gasped. “You didn’t.”
“Sat him right down in the dirt, I did.”
“Well, obviously he deserved what happened. A slight hiccup. Nothing more.”
“The kind of hiccup where you can hold your breath until it passes?”
“Something like that.”
While they’d been speaking, Hannah had wiped down her skirts with a damp towel. She sat back on her heels and waved them dry with her ivory-hand
led fan.
After a few minutes Hannah stilled her fanning and surveyed her work. “You’re good as new. We will begin again as though nothing happened.”
Tomasina planted her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands. “It’s too late. Will already seen me acting rough and tumble.”
Tonight of all nights she’d wanted him to see her as a lady. As someone who deserved respect. Not that he’d ever disrespected her. Far from it. He’d always treated her like a lady. That’s why she wanted to act like one.
“Mr. Canfield already saw you acting rough and tumble.” Hannah folded her fan. “A gentleman would never remark on a lady’s misfortune.”
Tomasina snorted. “A drover would never let me live it down.”
“Drovers are rude.” Hannah snapped her skirts aside and stood. “Drovers are uncouth, ungentlemanly, pigheaded fools.”
“Have you spent time at the stockyards? You described them just right.”
A gentle knock sounded, and Pippa appeared. “Come along, ladies. The town is absolutely swimming with eligible bachelors and, thanks to Hannah, we’re the belles of the ball.”
Hannah had chosen a daring shade of black cherry for Pippa’s dress. The bold color highlighted her strawberry-blond hair and brought out the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. Because of her slight frame, Hannah had added a peplum hem to the bodice and belted it with an embroidered sash. The neckline was draped a bit lower than Tomasina’s, with bows at the caps of her cutaway sleeves. The dress was as striking as her personality.
Suddenly shy, Hannah ducked her head. “I didn’t do anything very special.”
“Do be serious.” Pippa patted her elaborate coiffure, a mass of looped braids tumbling from a knot at the top of her head. “You did everything. There’s nothing I detest more than false modesty.” She flounced toward the door, gesturing over her shoulder. “Now come along, you two. No long faces. I’m not wasting this hair. We’re young, we’re unattached and this town is full of rich, eligible men.”
“Pippa!” Tomasina admonished. “We’re not cattle going to market.”
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