Couldn't she even manage to make it to town and visit one dress shop on her own?
The scrubbed milk stain on the shoulder of her borrowed dress only confirmed her need for more clothes.
Finally, with a clean and sleeping baby in a little crate at her side and Daisy, the mare, at the helm, Kizzie steered from the barn onto the road toward the little town of Casper. Underneath the exhaustion, a tiny hint of pride straightened her spine a little. She'd done it. By herself.
Clothed. Fed. Somewhat clean. And riding in her own buggy.
And if she ignored the fact that the sun was almost midway in the sky, she'd feel even better about her progress. The cool air nipped at her face but failed to dim her smile as the sudden awareness of her plans washed over her. She was on her own, going shopping for ready-made dresses at an actual shop! And Charles had given her enough money to purchase things for Charlie as well as the house.
She'd never seen so much money in her life, let alone held it.
She slid her hand into her pocket and clenched the small purse. Her own buggy. Her own house.
She grinned down at Charlie.
Her own little baby.
Maybe this new way of life wouldn't be so bad.
Another waft of snow-scented air and increasing clouds promised a chilly ride back home, but she'd brought plenty of blankets for Charlie and a treat or two for Daisy to keep everyone content, she hoped.
Almost an hour later, Casper came into view. It seemed a decent-sized place, from her little experience with towns. Houses dotted the road, growing more frequent and fancier as Kizzie drove the buggy nearer. She'd only been inside the mercantile a few times, and once into the millinery. Never in the two dress shops and certainly not with the purpose of purchasing something for herself.
The buildings from the main part of town rose into the sky. A few of them even stood five stories high, competing with the two steeples in view for which may be the tallest. There was something exciting about seeing a place so full of life and people and … opportunity. Brick-and-white clapboard buildings lined the dirt main street, with a few carriages as well as an automobile paused in various places along the way. The pristine mercantile stood on the left side of the street, tall and white with a long front porch. An older gentleman nodded at her passing, his smile crinkling his already-wrinkled face. Wasn't he the owner of the mercantile?
What was his name? Berry? Oh yes, Mr. Berry.
Kizzie offered the man a small wave, only causing his grin to grow. She'd make sure to stop in there for her other items. She had a feeling that he and his wife would be happy to help her locate things she needed for Charlie and her home, even things she didn't know she needed.
The two dress shops stood across from each other near the end of the street. A bright yellow sign to the left read SALLY'SPLACE. That was the store Charles had said a Mrs. Hanes owned.
Kizzie brought the buggy to a stop and took a few minutes to appease Charlie's fussing before stepping down to the street. The shop boasted several dresses in the front window, much too fancy for anything Kizzie needed. She paused and scanned the street. As a mama working on a little farm on her own, frills and lace weren't practical at all. She stared at a particularly lovely frock with pink flowers poised in the window.
Her gaze trailed down the pretty pattern, complete with delicate lace at the wrists and neckline. Oh, to wear something so nice.
Would Charles like it?
With a deep breath, she tugged the blanket closer around Charlie and stepped through the door into a bright space lit by gaslights and showcasing various types of women's clothing. A whole shop filled with everything from hats to boots to undergarments and some of the finest dresses she'd ever laid eyes on. She'd never imagined stepping inside such a place with the actual intention of purchasing something.
A pair of women stood to one side of the door, looking at the dresses in the window, but Kizzie's attention focused on a beautiful woman behind the nearby counter. She wore a blue day suit with embroidered sleeves, and as Kizzie approached, her expression dissolved from a welcome smile to a frown. Her steely blue gaze measured Kizzie from her dusty black boots all the way up to her hatless head. “I'm not hiring.”
Kizzie blinked at the statement. “Hiring?”
“I already have enough seamstresses at present.” Her attention filtered down over Kizzie's stained dress once again. “And I'm not looking for a saleswoman either.”
Saleswoman? “I'm not seeking either, ma'am. I'm here to buy a few dresses.”
“Really?” One of her golden brows arched high. “And you have ready money?”
Heat swelled into Kizzie's cheeks, and she stood a little taller. “I do. I was told to come specifically to your shop, assuming you are Mrs. Hanes.”
The woman's other brow rose to match the first, lifting nearer her golden head. “I am.” Her gaze took another detour down Kizzie. “And who might I thank for sending you?”
“Charles Morgan.” The name slipped out in defense, her gaze holding to the woman's. Kizzie knew all too well how Charles’ name held power, even if the son invoked less intimidation than his father had.
The woman's smile stilled on her face as she looked over Kizzie again, pausing for a moment on Charlie. “Ah.”
“Charles Morgan?” one of the women by the window whispered too loudly to be ignored.
