bedroom. Half of the space belonged solely to Bea. Her hand-carved black walnut armoire had been aligned along the far wall (her husband’s matching armoire echoed in placement across the room) with the dressing table positioned next to it and a velvet-tufted chair tucked beneath. This allowed Bea to sit in front of the gilded mirror with a view of the four-poster canopied bed behind her. She stored her “unmentionables” in a chiffonier, which Dinah decided was a fancy word for a tall, narrow chest of drawers.
She’d never put much thought into the type of luxurious life Bea was accustomed to as a banker’s wife. Even the Talbots’ temporary residence while their new house was under construction was much nicer than anyplace Dinah had lived. She might’ve been intimidated by Bea’s wealth, if not for the fact Bea was genuinely sweet, fun to be around and the schemer of outrageous ideas that had not come to fruition, thank goodness.
Dinah still hoped to talk her friend out of the plan she’d concocted of dressing up for a ladies’ night dinner at a restaurant in Sundance. During her years in Cheyenne, Dinah had dined out with her parents, but she hadn’t enjoyed it. She remembered the food being weird and a meal taking forever. So she hadn’t sought out dining experiences in Sundance.
“All right,” Bea said, reentering her room, her arms piled high with garments. “Andrew bought these for me this spring when he had business in Chicago. Apparently these are all the rage among women in cities.”
Bea tossed a bronze-colored bundle of fabric on the bed. She held up a black, bell-shaped skirt at her waistline. The billowing layers with a satin sheen changed the fabric from black to silvery gray. “What do you think?”
The skirt stopped mid-shin. “Are you adding a fabric underlay? Because as is, it’s much too short.”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s not the most shocking feature. Watch.” She ran her hand down the center of the skirt and midway it separated into two pieces, like men’s trousers.
“Bea! Why are you showing me your bedclothes?”
“I’m not. These were designed for women’s bicycle riding. See? When you’re walking down the street they look like a normal skirt. But when you want to ride…voila! You can sit on the bicycle seat without having to yank up your skirt. Isn’t it the cleverest thing?”
“It is,” she admitted. Then she studied Bea. “I didn’t know you had a bicycle.”
“I don’t. But these are perfect for horses too.” She reached over and plucked up the bronze material, holding one skirt in each hand. “Which one do you want to wear tonight?” Bea gave her a once over. “The bronze for you, I think, since you’re wearing brown boots.”
“Beatrice Talbot. I am not wearing something like that out in public!”
“Yes you are. We both are. And we will be the absolute talk of the town.”
That’s what Dinah was afraid of.
“But…”
Bea dropped the clothes and snatched Dinah’s hands. “Please? As a favor to me?”
“Tell me why this is so important to you.”
“Because after the bank is built and our house is done…I’ll be expected to act in the manner that’s appropriate for a banker’s wife. Not to mention how staid and upstanding I’ll have to appear when children start arriving.” Bea squeezed her fingers. “Now that you’re betrothed, you needn’t worry about a single night of mischief harming your chances of finding a suitable husband. We can have this one evening of fun and thumb our noses at anyone’s disapproval. Plus, won’t it be a hoot to show up in such fashionable clothes that no other woman is bold enough to wear? Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the ladies who’ve been condescending to both of us?”
Her friend did have a point.
“And the best part? If our men feel the need to chastise us for our behavior, we’ll blame it on too much whiskey. Because isn’t that what they’re allowed to do?”
Dinah laughed. “You are taking that ‘what’s good for the goose is good for the gander’ argument to the extreme. But you’re right.” She paused, her pulse racing at what she was about to suggest. “I have one request, however, if we are going for the shock factor.”
“Name it. Anything.”
“I want to attend the burlesque show at Timson’s.”
Bea let out a peal of laughter. “The prim schoolteacher has a wicked side. I knew it!”
For once, Dinah did feel wickedly carefree. She picked up the bronze skirt. “I do think this one is