The morning after her arrival, Ginger dressed carefully in a demure, pale yellow dress with a pattern of small flowers, and headed out, hoping for a job in a nearby dressmaker's shop she had noticed. She had made the dress, and wanted to impress her potential employer with her sewing skills. It was important for Ginger to establish herself in a proper job, and one more acceptable than working in a saloon. A job suitable for a potential wife and homemaker.
"Oh, don't you look pretty, Miss Peller! If that lovely dress is an example of your work, I am very impressed!" The slight, middle-aged woman walked closer to carefully inspect the stitching and button holes. She was a kind widow who had turned her grief into making fine dresses for the ladies of Dodge. Since her beloved Bret's death two years ago, Bertha Huggins had discovered her hidden talent and derived great pleasure from seeing others wearing her creations. Now she was overwhelmed with orders, and was thrilled when the lovely young woman had walked in wanting work.
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Huggins! And please call me Ginger. I've been sewing my own clothes since I was a child. My mother taught me, and it comes easily to me. I'm ready to start helping out anytime now!" She gave a sweet, dimpled smile that pierced the older woman's heart with a fleeting memory of the blonde child she and Bert had lost many years ago. After Mrs. Huggins showed her around, Ginger settled down to work and had already finished a party dress for Peggy Stuart by noon. She looked up when her employer walked over and stood watching her finish the last buttonhole.
"My! Don't you work fast! And such fine work!" The meticulous woman smiled approvingly as she picked up the hem of the pink frock and inspected the needlework. "Ginger, it's lunchtime, and since it's your first day, why don't you take off for the day? I'm sure you must still have some settling into Dodge to attend to."
Looking up into Mrs. Huggins' kind, pale hazel eyes, Ginger smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much! I DO have a few 'things' in mind." Standing up, she stroked the creases from her dress, patted the sides of her silky, platinum hair, and headed towards the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early." She returned her employer's wave and stepped out into the hot, bright day. Shading her light blue eyes with a hand, she looked down the street towards the Marshal's office. Smiling, she started walking down the wooden boardwalk, humming a soft, but happy tune.
Chester was pouring a cup of hot, newly-made coffee into a thick, ceramic mug when he heard a soft knock on the front door. Taking a sip, he complimented himself on how the "cold-soak" he had given the beans before boiling had produced such a fine taste. "Sure wisht Mr. Dillon was here ta have some while it's fresh." Hearing another knock, a little louder, he frowned and hollered, "Wal, come on IN! It ain't locked, ya know!" His hand lifting the cup to his lips for another sip froze, and his mouth dropped open when a beautiful, blonde young woman stepped in and her face dimpled into a charming smile. "Uh,uh, howdy, Miss." He could feel a warm blush rising up his neck as he quickly thunked the mug down onto the Marshal's desk, coffee sloshing everywhere. Running his left hand through his long, straight brown hair, he lurched forward on his stiff right leg and pulled a chair back from the small table in the center of the room. "Please have a seat, Miss. I'm Chester Goode. How kin I help ya?" he said in a honey-filled drawl.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Goode." She focused her long-lashed, bright blue eyes on the young man, gave him another dimpled smile, and watched his large brown eyes soak her in. "I'm Ginger Peller, and I'd like to see the Marshal. Matt Dillon." When the mesmerized man silently stared, she continued, "I'm an old friend of Matt's. From Wyoming. Is he around?"
Chester blinked and swallowed hard. "Proud ta meet ya, Miss Ginger Peller. My, that sure is a purty name! Mr. Dillon is outta town, over at Fort Dodge, but should be back by this evenin.' Is thar anythin' I kin do fer ya? How 'bout a cup o' coffee? I jest now made it fresh. Oh, and please call me Chester."
"Well, Chester, a cup of coffee sounds very good, but I have another errand to do. I'm sure I'll run into Matt eventually. Thank you for being so very kind. And please call me Ginger." She stood up and stepped close to the tall young man.
Inhaling her perfume, Chester felt his head spin a little, then he blinked a few times and smiled. "Glad ta help, Miss Ginger. I sure will let Mr. Dillon know you was here." He took the young woman's arm and escorted her to the door, opened it, and stepped outside with her. "Uh, Miss Ginger. When the Marshal gits back ta town tonight, we usually go over ta the Long Branch saloon." He felt himself blushing again, and quickly added, "Not that a saloon is any place fer a lady like ya!" He nervously looked at her face, but was relieved to see the dazzling, dimpled smile deepen.
"Thank you, Chester. I'll keep that in mind," she purred before gracefully swaying away.
Chester was standing outside the office watching her, unable to look away, when he felt a hand grab his arm and shake it.
"CHESTER! I've been calling your name all the way across the street! What in the world is wrong with you? WHAT could be so interesting? I come all the way over here to have a cup of coffee with you and you IGNORE me! Just wha…" Doc followed Chester's eyes and caught sight of the tall, shapely woman swaying down the boardwalk, her light hair glowing in the sun. "OH, I see…" The older man shook his head, but smiled in admiration, swiping his hand over his neat mustache above his grin. "I do indeed SEE!" he chuckled. When they saw her cross the dirt street and push through the bat-wing doors into the Long Branch, the two men sighed in unison, turned, and entered the office.
"Wal, I wonder why she'd go inta the Long Branch now?" Chester thought, but forgot about it as he saw Doc setting up the checkers board and pieces on the small table. He filled two mugs with coffee and carried them to the table, setting one down by Doc. Scraping back the other chair, he sat down, and took an appreciative sip. When Doc was through, he looked over at Chester, and they both grinned for a moment like naughty school boys.
The older man then cleared his throat and frowned. "Harrumph! You gonna take all day? Make a move, Chester! Make a move!"
To be continued…