Page 26 of My Darling Clementine

“Bug’s ear?” Kizzy crossed her eyes at Clem and grinned at the seamstress, taking her arm. “I still haven’t gotten used to it, I mean, Kizzy Bobblecopper … you see what I mean?” She tossed a look over her shoulder to Clem, who caught it with a wink.

Kizzy followed the chuckling older woman to a large room with stacks of fabulous fabrics, mannequins of varying sizes, and three separate pedal sewers, those new machines from Sears. Or was it Roebucks? She’d seen them in the catalogs they picked up twice a year with their mail, but never one in real life. “You have three?” she asked, amazed.

“One for me, another for my oldest girl, and a third for my youngest. They help me in the shop when I get too many orders in at once. And sometimes it’s nice to be working on two different projects at the same time.”

“You must do well for yourself.” She looked around the room at the mannequins wearing various styles of dresses.

“I’m one of the few dressmakers at this end of Independence,” Mrs. Blair acknowledged. “Most of the time I get orders for men, traveling salesmen want lightweight suits for summer, and the forty-niners heading west want sturdy mining shirts and pants.” The older woman motioned toward several stacks of ready-to-wear items. “We whip up extras during down times and they always end up selling. She laughed as she walked Kizzy over to a folding screen. “Men wear something whether it fits them or not.” She nodded for her to go behind the screen. “But don’t you worry, honey. I’ve got the time to make your wedding dress fit you like a glove.”

“My wedding dress?” Kizzy walked behind the screen to find a gown of pale blue satin edged in fine lace, and a single hoop petticoat waiting for her to try on. “Ooh,” she couldn’t help saying, fingering the soft fabric accented with tiny ribbons the color of moonlight. “I’ve never seen a gown so beautiful,” she gushed.

“I’d take the compliment for myself, but your bridegroom was waiting for me with it when I opened the shop this morning. Told me it belonged to his mother, and he wants you to wear it for your ceremony tonight. Lucky for me, it’s already late summer and business is slow. The last wagon train of the year will pull out day after tomorrow. Jed Cushing’s a damned fool to be leaving this late, the traveling won’t be as easy as the spring, but I guess he knows what he's doing. This’ll be the seventh train he’s taken across in three years.”

“That’s the one we’re joining,” agreed Kizzy with a nod. “My… husband,” she chuckled, “still not used to that either, but he says we’ll be in California before Christmas.”

“It’s eerie you should say so, Tamsen Donner said the same thing to me a bit over a year ago,” said Mrs. Blair. “But best not to think about that.”

Kizzy nodded and gulped. The tragedy of the Donner Party starving in deep snow until reduced to eating their dead had spread like wildfire. “Surely Mr. Cushing wouldn’t take another chance like that one,” she said as Mrs. Blair helped her remove the stifling, itchy, dark blue wool and two linen petticoats.

“Oh, he’s a fool all right. He’s getting his share of the gold by rushing folks out to the west. He leads a mule train west in as little as twelve weeks, then grabs a sack of mail from Sutter’s and rides a fast horse back to Independence, once as quick as twenty-three days.”

“Twelve weeks seems like a long time to me,” Kizzy said as a satin petticoat’s hoop swayed around her ankles.

Mrs. Blair laughed, twitching it straight and buttoning the waistband. “Time goes different out on the trail, or so I remember when we headed out west.” She lifted the gown over Kizzy’s head and settled it around her. “We arrived in Independence only a dozen years ago ourselves, and all of this grew up around us after the gold fever hit.” She pulled the puffed ruffle sleeve down the young bride’s shoulders to create an expansive neckline.

“What are you doing?” Kizzy tugged the sleeves back up.

Mrs. Blair tugged them down again. “It’s worn this way, and don’t worry dearie,” she lifted both of Kizzy’s breasts through her camisole, weighing and measuring before tucking them into the lacey bodice, “I’ve got something in the back that will make it fit like a glove. You’ll have a perfect hourglass figure once we’re finished.”

Kizzy stood on a riser as Mrs. Blair circled, wielding pins to tighten the bodice. With a tug here, a nudge there, she took notes about the way the skirt hung from the waistline, and then stood back for another look.

“It’s perfect for a dance, but too short for a wedding dress,” she declared. She left Kizzy standing as she bustled back into the front room.

“Are you finished?” she heard Clem ask with a bit of impatience. “Do you have anything readymade for her to wear instead of putting her back in that wool? When will you be done?”

“Calm down, my boy,” laughed Mrs. Blair, her feet scurrying down the hallway. “Yes, we’re almost finished, yes, I’ve got something for her to wear, and yes, she’ll be out soon.”

As she bustled up to Kizzy, she held out a fine sky blue silk ribbon eight inches wide. “I’ll drape this along the hem. It’ll be easy for you to remove after the ceremony, and you’ll have an elegant party dress.”

Kizzy laughed. “Where will I wear it in the mining camp?”

“You never know,” said Mrs. Blair as she dipped a feather into a metal tin and dusted Kizzy’s torso and arms with a powder that made her sneeze.

“Ah-choo! What is that?” Kizzy waved her hand at the white dust hanging in the air.

“Talcum powder,” Mrs. Blair explained. “Pretty amazing stuff, it helps keep human skin dry, and also softens up leather gloves.” She pulled out a pretty pair of elbow-length soft doeskins. “Feel this.”

Kizzy took them and tried them on. “They’re lovely,” she exclaimed.

“They’d look fine with your dress,” Mrs. Blair suggested.

“Yes, I’ll take them, and some of your talcum powder, too, if you have enough to spare?”

“I do,” said Mrs. Blair, eyes twinkling. “Anything else you might need, Mrs. Bobblecopper?”

“Mrs. Bobblecopper.” Kizzy sighed. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And yes, if you have time, there are a couple of other things I need.”

“I’ll fetch in some help. Let me make a list, while you try this on.” Mrs. Blair handed her a clever, well-constructed thin cotton shift, white with delicate embroidered red cherries, wide enough to fit different-sized women. When she had it on, the clever seamstress placed a shaped red leather belt around her middle, wrapping its long straps around her narrow waist to tie in front. Mrs. Blair rolled up the puffy sleeves to above the elbow, and they both agreed a single petticoat in this heat was quite proper enough.