A shriveled old Mexican lady sat by the fire inside. Drab cloths covered her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She raised her eyes and nodded to Amelia when she entered the room.
Amelia nodded back and looked around her. Then she shut the door.
The door shut out almost all the available light. When Amelia closed it, the room fell into darkness. Only a dim beam of sunlight slotted under the eaves of the roof. Amelia made her way to the table in the middle of the room and set down her bundle. She untied the corners of the sheet and spread them out.
She hesitated, staring at the folds of lace and ruffles. Was this really happening? Was she really getting married today?
The memory of Bruce, her intended husband, came back to her. He stood across the plaza under the portico of the church, penetrating her with his limpid eyes. The image hung before her as clear as life. The memory spurred her to lift her wedding dress out of the sheet. She held it up and brushed it off.
She set the dress aside and picked out a set of white cotton underwear. She cast one more glance toward the nebulous outline sitting by the fire, but the lady hadn’t moved. In all likelihood, she was fast asleep. Amelia took off her hat and hung it on the back of a chair. Then she kicked off her boots and unbuckled her belt.
She deposited one article of her work clothes after another on the table next to her bundle. First, her gun belt, then her pants with the leather belt still threaded through the loops, and finally, her cotton shirt.
Along with each garment, Amelia removed a year of her life riding the range, herding cattle, shooting varmints, and weathering the seasons. When she changed into her new white underwear, she knew for certain she was changing for good.
She reached out to pick up the dress when the door opened.
“Alma!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I thought Allegra was taking you over to the church.”
“She’s taking Papa right now,” Alma replied. “I’ll go in a minute. I just remembered that I needed help to put the head piece on. You’ll need someone to help you with that, too, so I came in.”
Amelia turned back to the dress. “All right. I was just getting ready to put the dress on.”
Alma sat down heavily in a chair. Her eyes gleamed in the dark. “The underwear looks good on you. You were smart to make it for yourself to wear under the dress. I wish I’d thought of that.”
“But you didn’t even think of wearing Mama’s wedding dress until a few weeks before your wedding,” Amelia reminded her. “You didn’t have time to make a new set of underwear.”
“That’s what I mean,” Alma replied. “You’re so much more practical and sensible than I ever was. You came up with the idea of making yourself a brand new set of underwear, especially for your wedding, even before you wrote into the mail-order matrimony service to get a husband. You always think of details like that. None of the rest of us do.”
Amelia picked up the dress and held it up. She examined it from a distance.
Alma sensed her hesitation. “What’s the matter? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No, not at all,” Amelia replied, “especially not after seeing Bruce over at the church. I’m quite certain I will marry him. It’s just….”
“Just what?” Alma asked.
“These clothes,” Amelia replied. “They give me a funny feeling.”
Alma put her head on one side. “A funny feeling?”
“They make me feel different,” Amelia explained. “I was just thinking when I took my work clothes off that I was taking years off of my life, and that my time on the range was peeling off me. Maybe I’ll never get it back. Did you feel that way when you changed into your wedding dress?”
Alma smiled and nodded. “That dress did something to me. That was the beginning of the end for me. And just look at me now. This is the end result.” She laughed.
“You look wonderful,” Amelia told her. “I only hope getting married will have the same effect on me. In fact, when I saw Bruce over by the church just now, I knew for certain that it would have the same effect on me. It’s not the dress that’s doing it. It’s him. It’s his presence.”
Alma fixed her with a fierce stare. “I know exactly what you mean. I felt the same thing when I first put on the dress, but the real change happened when I married Jude. I didn’t see him before I got to the altar the way you just did. But it was the same. His presence did something to me. His touch changed the texture and quality of my skin—and not just my skin. The change went all the way down to my bones. That’s the only way I can describe it.”
“Well, he hasn’t touched me yet, but I feel the same thing just from his eyes looking at me. He sees something in me, something I didn’t know was there. Maybe it was there all the time, or maybe his eyes put it there.” Amelia shook her head. “I can’t think about this anymore. I have to concentrate on right now. Otherwise, I’ll never get this dress on.”
She opened the back of the dress and stepped into it. It slithered up her body and wrapped itself around her shoulders. She smoothed down the skirts and turned back to Alma.
“I don’t suppose you can see very well in this light,” she remarked. “Can you see if it looks all right?”
“It looks absolutely stunning,” Alma breathed. “Even in this light, it looks incredible on you. You should see yourself. This is the first time I’ve ever seen another person wearing it. I understand now why everyone acted so stunned when I put it on. It looks like something out of a fairy tale.”
“This is probably the last time anyone will ever wear this dress,” Amelia told her.