He thought that by showering her with love and attention, her desire to entertain would fade, but he soon realized that wasn’t the case. It was still on her mind, though she wouldn’t say it outright. “Just like a woman,” he would mutter to himself after one of her not-so-subtle hints that she wanted to work in the saloon.
On one of his visits to the farm, he sought Lily out and found her by the chicken coop. When she heard his steps, she spun around, ran to him, and threw her arms around his neck. He kissed her through his smile. She might be coy in her hints to work in the saloon, but she didn’t seem able to contain her spontaneous displays of affection for him. It was one of many things he adored about her.
She pulled away after she kissed him and took a step back. “I’m dirty. I probably smell like a horse.”
He grabbed her and pulled her back to his chest, enclosing her in a tight hug. “Don’t deny me the feel of you.” He loosened his grip after squeezing her. He brushed some dirt off her face with his thumb. “Besides,” he said in a teasing voice. “I like the smell of horses.”
Lily let out an unladylike grunt. “I hate being a farm girl. I want to wear pretty dresses every day and not be dirty all the time.”
Jesse groaned. Here we go again. He placed his hands on his hips and frowned at her. She stared into his eyes in a pleading way.
“Lily, why do you want to wear pretty dresses every day? It’s impractical for you.”
“I know, and that’s the problem. I want a different life—a life in town away from dirt and pigs.”
Jesse knew she referred to the saloon life, where all the girls wore satin or silk. “Didn’t we already discuss this, young lady?”
She blinked and gave him a vacant look. “I didn’t ask to work in the saloon again. I’m just saying I wish I could wear pretty dresses.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You sure you weren’t hinting at working at the saloon? Be honest.”
She looked down. “I guess I was a little. Sorry. I sure would love it if you’d let me work there, but I know you won’t. Mostly I look forward to when you marry me so I don’t have to live on the farm anymore.”
He groaned again. “You’re a heap and a half of trouble, Lily. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
Her lips quirked up in a smug smile.
“How about this? I’ll help you finish your chores, and after that I’ll take you to town. We can go to the seamstress’s shop and I’ll buy you a dress you think is pretty. Then you can wear it to the next barn dance.”
Her eyes came to life. “I would really like that. Can I get a red silk dress like the madam wears?”
Jesse’s knee-jerk response was to say no, but he forced himself to consider it before speaking. He ran his hand over his face and determined it wouldn’t hurt anything. “I suppose, if that’s what you really want.”
“It is,” she exclaimed, and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Jesse.”
He wrapped his arms around her in a loose embrace. “You’re welcome. I don’t understand it, though. You look pretty enough in your homemade dresses.”
“No, I don’t,” she asserted, pulling away. “I look boring and plain. You just think I look nice because you like me.”
He scoffed and walked toward the bucket to get started on the chores. “Love you, not like you,” he muttered.
“What was that?” she called out after him.
He turned and fixed her with a hard look. “I said I love you. You know that.”
Her face broke into the happiest smile he’d ever seen. “I do know, Jesse, and I love you too.”
*
After they arrived at the seamstress’s shop, Lily made a beeline to the rack that held the readymade dresses. She’d never owned a premade dress, and she felt nearly faint with excitement. She didn’t even look at the fabric that she usually rummaged through when she needed sewing material.
Jesse cleared his throat, bringing Lily out of her single-minded focus. She looked at him. He was leaning against the frame of the door, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll leave you to decide what you want, darlin’. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
She nodded and returned to browsing through the rack of dresses. She heard him murmur some words to the seamstress before he left.
The bell on the door jangled a few minutes later, and a beautiful woman floated into the room. She wore a pink taffeta skirt with a bodice made of velvet and lace. Black ribbon housing a pink cameo circled her delicate neckline. Lily knew she was the schoolmarm, a lady from Boston who brought her fine things with her to their small town in Arizona.
“Hi, Marta,” she said to the seamstress in her thick eastern accent. “I’m looking to buy some calico material. Max says I should start wearing more practical things in the summer, and I suppose he’s right. It’s dreadfully hot.”
“Yes, I agree he’s right, dear. Besides, you’d look pretty in just about anything. No need for you to be uncomfortable.”
Marta led her to the material Lily normally looked through. When the seamstress returned to her sewing machine in the back, Lily approached the lady. “You’re the schoolmarm, aren’t you?” she asked shyly. “You’re married to the blacksmith. I’ve known Max my whole life and he’s a friend of my beau, Jesse. My name is Lily.”