Kane took Opal’s hand in his. “I’m gonna give you that dream, Mrs. Chandler. What color train would you like to have? I mean the inside. You like red?”
“I couldn’t possibly—,” Opal began.
Kane leaned closer to her. “I have a real weakness for ladies,” he said softly. “And you, Mrs. Chandler, are as much a lady as your daughter.”
There was silence for a moment between them and Susan, as she looked over Houston’s shoulder, stopped her buttoning.
“Pink,” Opal said. “I should like a train completely done in pink.”
“You’ll have it. Anything else you want?”
“I should like you to call me Opal. I’m afraid my husband, Mr. Gates, won’t appreciate his wife being called by her former husband’s name.”
Houston held her breath to see how Kane would take the correction.
Kane took Opal’s hand he was holding and kissed it heartily, not a gentleman’s kiss. “No wonder you got a lady for a daughter.”
“I think your mamma’ll marry him if you won’t,” Susan said.
“Hush and finish the buttons.”
“Done,” Susan said, and Houston walked around the door to the front of the parlor.
“I hope I didn’t take too long,” she said sweetly. “You were comfortable, Mr. Taggert?”
“Yeah,” Kane said, grinning. “Real comfortable. But I gotta be goin’ now. I have work to do.”
“Mr. Taggert,” Houston said, “could you please drive me into town to the dressmaker’s? I need to leave her some patterns.”
A frown crossed Kane’s face, but he agreed when Houston said her errand would take fifteen minutes at the most.
“Don’t expect me back until evening,” she whispered to her mother as she kissed her cheek good-bye and grabbed her parasol.
“You’re in capable hands, dear,” Opal said, smiling fondly at Kane.
When they were in Houston’s carriage, she turned to Kane. “Did you and my mother have a pleasant chat?”
“You got a good mother,” he said. “Where’s this dress shop you want to go to? You sure you’ll only take ten minutes?”
“Fifteen,” she answered. “My . . . previous wedding dress was made in Denver, but I’m going to have an identical one made here.”
“Identical? Oh, yeah, for the double weddin’. When is it, anyway?”
“Monday, the twentieth. I do hope you don’t have to work that day and can come.”
He gave her a sideways look, then smiled. “I’ll be there on the weddin’ day if you’ll be there on the weddin’ night.” He laughed as her face pinkened and she turned away.
She directed him down Coal Avenue to the Westfield Block, a long, two-story, sandstone building that ran from Second to Third Streets and contained retail stores below and offices above.
Kane tied the horse, and helped Houston out of the carriage. “I think I’ll have a drink while I’m waitin’,” he said, nodding toward one of the town’s many saloons. “I hope bein’ a husband is easier ’n bein’ an intended.”
Turning, he left her standing in the dusty street. There were times, Houston thought, when she missed Leander’s manners.
Her business inside the dressmaker’s took only seven minutes, and the woman threw up her hands in despair at the idea of being asked to make such an elaborate dress in so short a time. She sat down in shock when Houston asked her to also make a dress for Jean Taggert. In a flurry of movement, she pushed Houston from the shop, saying she needed every moment for work. Houston could tell she was thrilled at the prospect.
Now, Houston stood outside the shop, her green parasol open, and looked across the street toward the saloon where Kane was waiting for her. She hoped he didn’t stay in there too long.
“Lookee here,” came a man’s voice. “You waitin’ for us?”