Chapter Four

Cassandra and Andrew stood hesitantly before the bed, the reality of their wedding night sending a thrill of anticipation tinged with nervousness through them both.

"Shall we...?" Andy's voice trailed off, his dark eyes seeking hers for consent.

Cassie nodded, her heart fluttering like the wings of a trapped sparrow. She watched as Andy's hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, the normally steady fingers betraying his unfamiliarity with this most intimate of moments.

"Here, let me," Cassie said, her hands surprisingly steady as she helped him. The fabric parted to reveal the solid chest she had only imagined under the layers of clothes he wore during the day.

"Thank you," he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile that made her feel at ease, despite the circumstances.

Together, they discovered the rhythm of each other's bodies, awkward at first but soon moving together in a dance that felt ancient. Laughter mingled with soft sighs, the sound sweeter than any symphony to their ears as they embraced the newness of marriage.

MORNING LIGHT PEEKEDthrough the curtains when Cassie woke. Andy still slept, his breath steady and even. Slipping from the bed, she dressed quickly and tiptoed to the kitchen. She set about making breakfast, cracking eggs into a bowl. She'd made more meals than she could count, something that had been part of the learning of all the female orphans at the foundling home.

By the time Andy came in, wiping his hands on his trousers after milking the cows and collecting eggs, the smells of cooking filled the small house.

"Good morning," Cassie greeted him, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him.

"Morning, Cassie." Andy's voice was gruff with sleep, but his smile was wide. "This looks wonderful. I have to admit, I wasn't thinking about marriage bringing me better meals until just this second."

As they ate, Cassie ventured into the silence with her dream, "I've been thinking...I'd like to start a dressmaker's shop. I love to sew, and I design dresses for my friends. I'm very good."

Andy paused, his fork mid-air. "That's a fine idea, Cassie. A real fine idea."

"Really?" She looked up, hope etching her features.

"Of course. You're a talented seamstress, and it would be good for us—good for the ranch."

"I didn't know if..."

"Listen," he interrupted gently. "If you want to start building up clients, you should do it. And I'll make you a small separate room for your work. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Cassie breathed, her heart soaring. The simple breakfast suddenly tasted like the finest feast, and the future seemed brighter than she had imagined it ever could.

ANDY HOISTED THE LASThay bale onto the wagon, his muscles burning pleasantly with the effort. As he straightened up and wiped the sweat from his brow, his thoughts wandered to Cassie. He chuckled to himself, thinking how different she was from the women he'd known before—serious about her work, sure, but with a dry sense of humor that caught him off guard. And she didn't want children. A rare thing for a woman in these parts, but it suited Andy just fine. The fact that Cassie shared his disinterest in parenthood felt like a stroke of luck.

"Good fortune indeed," he muttered to himself, a grin spreading across his face. With his dream of expanding the ranch and Cassie's of opening her own dressmaker's shop, they were set to be quite the team.

Inside the house, Cassie hummed a tune while she swept the already spotless floor. The early morning light streamed through the windows, casting warm patches on the wooden planks. She imagined every corner of their home filled with rolls of fabric, the chatter of satisfied customers, and the steady rhythm of her sewing machine.

"First things first," she said aloud, setting the broom aside and surveying the tidy room. "I need my sewing machine from Susan's." Her mind whirred with plans as she thought about a piece of fabric she had brought along when they'd come from Massachusetts. It was a lovely shade of blue, one that made her eyes stand out even more.

"Imagine wearing a dress of my own creation to church," she thought, the idea blooming in her mind like wildflowers in spring. "I'll make myself a dress, and everyone will see what I can do."

She pictured the admiring glances and the whispers of inquiry, the potential orders that might follow. Cassie could almost hear the snip of her scissors and the whisper of the fabric as she cut into it, creating something beautiful and desired.

"Then they'll come, one by one, eager for a dress of their own," she whispered with determination. "And my dream won't be just a dream any longer."

CASSIE SET THE PLATESdown with a clink, her hands steady despite the flutter in her chest. Across the table, Andy paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. The savory aroma of stew filled the modest kitchen as the golden light of sunset spilled through the window, bathing everything in a warm glow.

"Andy," Cassie began, her voice soft but sure, "I've been thinking about how I want to start my business."

He chewed slowly, then set his fork down, his dark eyes meeting hers with interest. "Tell me more," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting into an encouraging smile.

With each detail she shared, Andy's smile widened. "Cassie, that's a good idea. Let's fetch your machine from Susan's tonight."

The ride to the Daileys' house was filled with talk of patterns and fabrics, the wagon bouncing along the dusty road as stars began to dot the evening sky.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by the scent of fresh cookies wafting from the kitchen. Susan stood in the doorway, her blond hair catching the last of the daylight, green eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Come in, you two! We've just made tea," Susan called out, ushering them inside.

Once settled at the Daileys' sturdy kitchen table, surrounded by the chatter of family life, Cassie took a deep breath and launched into her plans.

"Susan, I want to create dresses for the women around here. To give them something special, something just theirs."

Susan reached for a cookie, her gaze never leaving Cassie. "That sounds marvelous, Cassie. Did you make the dress you're wearing?"

Cassie nodded. "I did. But I made this out of two old dresses that came to the orphanage. I can do much better when I'm starting with a fresh piece of fabric."

Cassie unfolded the fabric across the kitchen table, its cornflower blue hue dancing under the soft glow of the oil lamp. Susan's eyes lit up as she ran her fingers over the material, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

"Blue always was my favorite," Susan mused, her gaze shifting from the cloth to Cassie's face. "I think a dress in this would be perfect for church on Sunday. Can you have it done by then?"

"I'm sure I can," Cassie replied, her voice steady with confidence. She retrieved her tape measure, a tool that had become an extension of her hand, and began taking Susan's measurements, noting each number with care. It would be so much better to have Susan wear the dress, but she would be sad to part with the beautiful blue fabric.

"Your stitches are like tiny works of art, Cassie," Susan said, standing still as Cassie worked around her. "I'll be the envy of every lady at service."

Cassie offered a small, satisfied smile, imagining Susan parading in the dress, a walking advertisement for her business.

Later that night, after the wagon ride home beneath a blanket of stars, Cassie and Andy entered their modest homestead, the air between them charged with a new sense of purpose. They quietly prepared for bed, anticipation building with each passing moment.

As they lay together, Andy traced the outline of Cassie's face with his fingertips, the touch featherlight and full of adoration. "I'm glad about us, Cassie," he whispered, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window. "Glad we don't have to worry about children. Just us, and whatever life we build."

"Me too, Andy," Cassie responded, her heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love. "Just us." She was surprised at how close she already felt to this man who she'd just met the previous evening. She never would have imagined that a good marriage could come from meeting someone the way she did, but she wasn't about to complain. He was a good man, and they would be happy together.

Entwined in each other's arms, they found solace in their shared understanding, their love growing stronger in the quiet spaces of the night.

Cassie nestled into the crook of Andy's arm, her breathing slow and even, as her mind spun with a whirlwind of emotions and plans swirling in her mind.

"Goodnight," Andy murmured, his voice low and comforting, like the distant rumble of thunder on a clear night.

"Goodnight," she whispered back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. Her thoughts fluttered to the dress she would soon create for Susan, the stitches and seams already forming in her imagination.

In the quiet haven of their home, with moonlight spilling across the quilted bedspread, Cassie allowed herself to dream beyond the homestead. She envisioned women from all around, drawn to her skillful hands, each one leaving with a piece of her artistry—a dress, a blouse, perhaps even a fancy skirt or apron.

Cassie's last conscious thought was a silent promise to herself and to the life she was building. She was going to make it, she was sure of it. And with that certainty warming her from the inside out, Cassandra drifted off to sleep, her dreams as bright and promising as the dawn that would soon break over the rolling hills of their land.