Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) by Trinity Ford Page B

muster. He guided her across the street, carefully missing the mess the Longhorns had made a few moments before and dodging a wagon in the process. “Let go of me,” she ordered in a loud voice so that people were stopping to watch the spectacle.
    Hank kept a grip until they reached the door to Beatrice Reynolds’ fashion store. “After you, my dear,” he said as he opened the door.
    Della stamped her foot. “This isn’t a store for uniforms!”
    Hank gently pushed her inside. “It is if I say it is,” he argued. “Besides, look at all the color in here. You’ll stand out to the customers wearing one of these fine dresses. ”
    “Stand out like a silly fool ,” she rebelled. “Honestly, let’s go back now. I promise to wear a colorful scarf tomorrow.”
    Hank could tell Della wasn’t used to having anyone splurge on her or to the wide array of color and fine fabric of the dresses in Beatrice’s shop. He grabbed a light, sky-blue cotton, square-necked dress that he was sure would show off the delicate shape of her slender neck. Darker blue flowers stood out like bright Texas Bluebonnets against the lighter blue of the material and the waist of the dress was gathered and dropped down to a point in front. A pale, cream colored lace framed the neck, front bodice and around the bottom of the elbow-length sleeves. Delicate pewter buttons ran down the back of the dress and added a finish to the dress that set it apart from the normal work dresses of frontier women.
    “Look, Della,” he commanded, pulling her in front of him, both facing the mirror. He held it up to her body so she could see the transformation for herself. “Look at how beautiful you are.”
    “I’m not trying to look beautiful, Mr. Hensley,” she said loudly. “I’m trying to start my life over in this town and start a family…”
    “With Milton Tidwell,” he finished her sentence with a sneer.
    “Yes,” she shrieked. “With Milton Tidwell, if he’ll have me.”
    “Even Milton Tidwell knows the dresses you’re wearing now won’t do,” Hank laughed. “Didn’t he buy you that dress I saw you wearing Saturday night?”
    “Yes, he did,” Della admitted. “And it was very generous of him.”
    “Milton Tidwell wouldn’t know generosity if it bit him in the behind,” Hank said.
    Beatrice Reynolds heard the commotion from the back and emerged like an angry bull. “What in tarnation is all the ruckus?” she bellowed. “Oh, Mr. Hensley. I didn’t know that was you. What can I do for you today?”
    Hank was always amused at the way people who talked behind his back treated him to his face—especially when he was about to spend a small fortune in their business. “Afternoon, Mrs. Reynolds,” Hank said. “You know Miss Della Owens, don’t you?”
    “Why I certainly do,” Beatrice said a little too sweetly. “She was in here just the other day shopping for a gown for the Stockyards event. Although, I don’t recall if she bought anything.”
    “No, ma’am,” said Della, remembering how Beatrice sneered when she told her she didn’t have the funds for one of her dresses. “It was a bit out of my price range, although you have beautiful fashions.”
    “Price is no object for us today,” Hank announced. “We’re here to stock up on some pretty little dresses for Miss Owens to wear as a representative of the Hensley General Store.”
    “Well I’m afraid I don’t have work uniforms, Mr. Hensley,” Beatrice said, confused.
    “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Hank said, “but didn’t your husband, Otis, tell me you were the best seamstress west of the Mississippi?”
    “Oh hush,” Beatrice blushed and waved her hand at Hank as if to dismiss the compliment. “I might have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
    “I want you to create a set of colorful and well-made dresses for Della here to wear to work every day,” Hank said. “Something she could wear anywhere!”
    “Oh that’ll be a delightful project!” Beatrice