Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1) by Jan Holly

She went to her room and closed the door. Resting her face on the cool pillow, she fell instantly into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Charles brought the tray back to the kitchen, intending to wash up, but thought the sounds might disturb Rose’s slumber. Going back into the parlor, he saw Rose’s new dress and sunbonnet neatly folded on the settee. He picked up the dress and held it against himself, trying to commit its proportions to memory, planning to purchase a new dress for her at the mercantile. He marveled at how small the dress seemed.
    The next day, he was at Barney’s as soon as the shop opened.
    “Well, good morning to you, Mr. Smith. What can I do for you? Need some more liniment for Rascal’s fetlock?”
    “No, thank you kindly. He’s all right now. I need to buy a dress. For my wife.” He felt simultaneously proud and bashful at saying those words.
    “My congratulations to you,” said Mr. Barney, smiling. He was a kind man with a wife and three young girls. He was tall and lean, with a thick beard and gray eyes. “This is a special day indeed. Take a look here. Shipment came in just last week. The train brought your bride and some fine clothing for her as well, it appears.”
    Charles couldn’t even nod politely at Mr. Barney. He was overwhelmed by the number of dresses hanging from a rack at the back of the store. There were so many patterns, too. He blinked, staring in confusion, feeling like a bull in a china shop.
    “The latest fashion, but wears well. Good, strong stitching. And look at these buttons,” said Mr. Barney, marveling as he held out one of the dresses for Charles’ consideration.
    “Well,” said Charles, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed awfully warm in the shop.
    “First things first, though. What size is your wife, Mr. Smith?” Mr. Barney asked after hanging the dress he had been holding.
    “About up to here,” he said, pointing at a spot on his chest. “And about this wide.” He gestured. “Arms about this long, I’d reckon.”
    A loud guffaw made him turn around. Two ranchers were leaning on the counter. Charles hadn’t even heard them enter.
    “Looks to me like you know your wife very well,” laughed one of the men, while the other slapped him on the back.
    “Gentlemen!” Mr. Barney frowned, but his eyes twinkled. “Although there are no ladies present, please, gentlemen. This is a respectable establishment.”
    Charles frowned, feeling awkward. I held her dress up against myself to see how big it was, is all , he thought to himself. Upon reflection, he was glad he had not said that aloud. He was sure that would have given rise to further laughter at his expense.
    “Quite petite. Ah, yes. Here, and here. An everyday dress, and one for Sundays. See the ruffle? But would the colors be pleasing to your bride?”
    “Gosh. I’m not sure,” said Charles. “Her hair is brown. Not dark, though. In the sunlight, it almost looks golden. Her skin is fair, and her eyes, well. They have very dark lashes, but they’re a golden kind of light brown, almost green in some lights. Hazel, I reckon.”
    A snicker from the ranchers at the counter made him clench his teeth in embarrassment.
    “Gentlemen!” Mr. Barney glared in their direction.
    “No offense intended,” drawled one of the men.
    “I think this dress, and this one, yes, then. These colors would be more flattering. Look at this pleating, and the full skirt. Buttons at the front, regard the workmanship. They’re cut steel, don’t you know. And look here, feel that? Whale bone basque.” Mr. Barney held them out. “Of course you’ll be wanting a chemise, petticoats, and stockings, too?”
    A bark of laughter from by the counter made Charles seethe. “Mr. Barney? Could you please see to those yahoos? I’ll wait.”
    “Certainly,” he said, transferring the dresses to Charles. “Just one moment.”
    Charles stood stiffly, the dresses hanging over his arm. He stared at an advertisement