Chapter Nine

Cassie walked down the path to Susan's house right after breakfast the following morning. The air was crisp, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Today, she was on a mission to secure Jane's help so she could put more of her time and energy into her burgeoning dressmaking business.

Susan greeted Cassie warmly at the door, her blond hair catching the sunlight. "Morning, Cassie. Come on in," she said, stepping aside to let her enter.

"Thank you, Susan. I won't take but a minute of your time," Cassie replied, stepping into the cozy kitchen where the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air.

Jane was there, her youthful face brightening as Cassie entered. "Good morning, Cassie!" she chirped, setting down the dishcloth she was holding.

"Morning, Jane. I have a proposition for you," Cassie said, getting straight to the point. "I need help. Cooking, cleaning, and maybe learning a bit about sewing. Would you be interested?"

Jane's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, yes! That would be wonderful!"

"Good," Cassie nodded, pleased. "We can agree on a fair salary, and you'll keep staying here with Susan, as I don't have the space."

"Of course, Cassie. Thank you," Jane beamed, nodding in agreement. Jane had been the last of the ten orphans to travel to Texas and had been staying with Susan since her arrival.

Later that afternoon, Jane arrived at Cassie's, apron tied neatly around her waist. She quickly set to work, tidying up the place with an efficiency that impressed Cassie. While pots clattered and the broom swished across the wooden floor, Cassie sat at her worktable, cutting patterns from brown paper.

"Cassie, where should I put these scraps?" Jane asked, holding a handful of fabric remnants.

"Over there, in the basket by the window," Cassie directed without looking up.

"All right, Cassie," Jane said. Jane had known Cassie her entire life, but it was different to be employed by her.

Jane cooked them a simple yet savory meal, and they had a quiet lunch together.

Cassie was thrilled by the time Jane was freeing up for her, and she was glad that Jane seemed happy to do the work.

CASSIE WATCHED AS JANEbustled around the kitchen, her apron swishing with each brisk step. The aroma of stewing beef and fresh bread filled the air, a testament to Jane's growing culinary skills.

"John Miller was asking about me at the general store," Jane mentioned casually, stacking plates with a clink. "And George Smith said he'd fix that wobbly shelf if I baked him one of those apple pies like the one I made last week."

Cassie chuckled, shaking her head while threading her needle with practiced ease. "Jane, you've got the whole town's batch of bachelors on a string. Might be time to pick one and let the others down easy."

With a playful toss of her chestnut hair, Jane laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. "Oh, Cassie, but it's so much fun being courted! Besides, how can I choose just one?"

The door creaked open and Andy stepped in, his dark hair tousled from the day's work. Behind him, a tall figure loomed, wiping dusty hands on rough denim.

"Evening, ladies," Andy greeted them. "This here's Robert Myers, my new hired hand."

"Please, call me Bob," said the newcomer, his voice gruff but polite.

"Nice to meet you, Bob," Cassie replied with a nod, her gaze flickering between him and Jane.

Dinner passed with a curious undercurrent, the air charged with an energy that wasn't entirely amicable. Cassie noted the way Jane's brow furrowed ever so slightly when Bob spoke, and how his responses to her chatter were terse, almost dismissive.

"Pass the salt, please," Jane requested, her tone holding a hint of ice that hadn't been there before.

"Sure," Bob replied, sliding the shaker across the table without meeting her eyes.

Later, as they cleared the dishes, Cassie leaned close to Andy. "What do you make of those two? They're like oil and water."

Andy's mouth twitched into a knowing smile. "Sometimes, that's just how it starts. Give it time."

The last of the supper plates were put back into the cabinet, and Cassie watched as Bob offered a curt nod to Jane. "Suppose I should walk you back," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Suppose you should," Jane responded, her voice edged with a playfulness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Cassie shook her head slightly as she threaded a needle, her fingers nimbly catching the cotton. The soft whisper of fabric against her skin was comforting as she focused on the dress pattern spread across the table.

"Those two are like a summer storm brewing," Andy remarked from where he lounged against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Could be. Or maybe just a drizzle that'll pass," Cassie said, glancing up at him with a small smile.

"Speaking of weather, you should've seen Bob today trying to mend the fence by the creek," Andy chuckled. "He swore he could handle the mule, but that beast dragged him a good ten yards before he let go of the rope."

"Is he all right?" Cassie asked, amusement dancing in her blue eyes.

"Nothing wounded but his pride," Andy said, the laughter in his voice echoing in the cozy kitchen.

"Good help is hard to find," Cassie mused, returning her attention to the dress. She pressed her lips together, then spoke up again. "Andy, I've been thinking. Maybe it's time we stop offering delivery for the dresses to Dallas."

"You think?" Andy leaned in closer, his interest piqued.

"I do. If they want one of my dresses, they can come here. It's putting too much strain on me and not adding much to our earnings."

"Sounds sensible," Andy agreed with a firm nod. "You shouldn't have to run yourself ragged."

"Exactly." Cassie smiled, feeling the warmth of his support. "I'm heading out to my shop for a little while. I need to use my sewing machine for this next part."

Hours later, Cassie set down her needle and thread, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes. She glanced around the cozy confines of her dress shop, where rolls of fabric lay stacked in haphazard towers. With a thoughtful frown, she turned to Andy, who was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her work.

"Andy, this place is getting crowded," Cassie began, gesturing toward the overflowing shelves. "I need more space to display the fabrics—new shelves would do wonders."

Andy pushed away from the doorframe and walked over, carefully examining the clutter. "You're right," he said, running a hand through his hair. "More shelves could line that wall there. Would make it easier for your customers to see everything you've got."

"Exactly," Cassie nodded with determination, her blond hair catching the light from the lantern. "And while we're at it, I'm thinking of striking a bargain with the general store. Special deals on fabric could help both our businesses."

"Smart thinking," Andy agreed, a glint of admiration in his gaze. "Your head's always full of plans, Cassie. It's one of the many things I admire about you."

She offered him a grateful smile before a new thought struck her. "I can't keep up with custom orders alone anymore. If only I had time to sew some dresses ahead of time—ready-made ones to sell right off the shelf."

"Have you considered that?" Andy asked, tilting his head to one side. "It might draw in more ladies, looking for something quick and fashionable."

"Of course, I have," Cassie replied with a touch of pride. "As soon as I find the time, I'll stitch up a bunch of dresses. Give the women of this town a taste of convenience and style."

"Sounds like a plan," Andy chuckled. "Just remember, don't work yourself too thin."

"Thank you, Andy," Cassie said warmly. "With your help, it seems there's nothing we can't do." She picked up her sewing once more, but now with a renewed sense of purpose, envisioning a future where her dreams were neatly folded and displayed on brand-new shelves, ready for the world to embrace.

CASSIE AND ANDY PREPAREDfor bed. "You need more rest," Andy said gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Cassie's forehead.

"I know," she sighed, her resolve softening in the candlelight. "I'll try to sleep more."

In the quiet sanctuary of their room, they came together with a tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. The world outside faded away as they reaffirmed their love, drawing comfort from each other's presence.

Afterward, as Andy's steady breathing signaled his journey into dreams, Cassie lay awake, tracing the familiar patterns on the ceiling. She thought about the bolts of fabric waiting to be transformed, the shelves that would soon hold her creations, and the ready-made dresses that would bring convenience to the busy lives of the women in town.

A spark of inspiration ignited within her, and she envisioned the perfect way to showcase her talents—a special dress for herself, one that would stand out at Sunday church. She imagined the gasps of admiration, the inquiries about where such a dress could be found, and she'd reply with a knowing smile, "Why, I make dresses like this for my shop."

She pictured the dress in her mind, elegant yet practical, a testament to her craft. Her current wardrobe, worn and functional, was no longer a reflection of the woman she was becoming. A new dress, created by her own hands, would invite others to share in the beauty she could offer.

Cassie slipped from the warmth of their bed, careful not to disturb Andy's slumber. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. She tiptoed out to her shop, where scraps of fabric and unfinished projects lay in silent anticipation of her touch.

The hum of the sewing machine was a lullaby that failed to reach Andy's ears. Cassie lost herself in the rhythm of the needle, a new dress taking shape under her hands.

In the quiet hours of the night, as the clock ticked on, Andy stirred. He reached out for Cassie, expecting the familiar comfort of her presence. His hand met only cool sheets, and he opened his eyes to find her side of the bed empty. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Cassie?" he called softly, already knowing she wouldn't answer. He pushed himself out of bed, following the light he could see through one of the windows.

Andy found her there in her shop, surrounded by her creations, a look of fierce determination etched into her brow. He leaned against the doorway, watching her work with an ache in his heart. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Cassie jumped slightly, then flashed him a quick smile. "Just had an idea I couldn't ignore," she replied, her fingers never pausing in their dance.

"You need rest, Cassie. We both do."

"I will, soon. Just...let me finish this hem."

Andy nodded, though disappointment clouded his dark eyes. "I'll be waiting," he said, retreating back to their bed.

As he lay down again, listening to the distant whir of the sewing machine, Andy's thoughts wandered. He pondered the threads of ambition that wove through Cassie's spirit, admiring and yet fearing them. He loved her passion, her drive, but at moments like this, he couldn't shake the feeling that her business, her need to prove herself, was stealing her away from him.