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the gringas in spite of her Mexican name. Turquoise surveyed herself in the big cheval mirror. “No, this isn’t it.”
    “What about the turquoise one?” Mrs. Whittle said. “Of course, it’s a bit more expensive and if you think your gentleman friend would balk—”
    “He’s not my gentleman, he’s my guardian,” Turquoise corrected her as she began to pull off the scarlet dress.
    “Of course, anything you say.” The lady was smiling, but her voice was sarcastic.
    Whatever was the matter with this clerk? Of course, Mrs. Whittle was used to dealing with snooty, upper-class patrons and maybe they all acted this way. Uncle Trace was now dozing in his chair. “I think the turquoise is the one. I can wear all my jewelry with it.”
    “Perfect,” said the clerk and took the dress off the hanger.
    Turquoise put the dress on and stared at herself in the mirror. It was a gorgeous dress that brought out the color of her eyes, but the bodice clung to her figure and was very low-cut, revealing a generous curve of breast. “I don’t know. This one is a bit daring.”
    “Well, if it’s too expensive for you, perhaps—”
    “It’s not the money,” Turquoise protested. “It’s just so— so bare.”
    “Of course.” Again the woman’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Of course, you could put a shawl around your shoulders. Let me get one.” She disappeared and was back in a moment with a paisley silk scarf, which she draped around Turquoise.
    “Oh, that does help.” Turquoise smiled at herself in the mirror, knowing she looked very curvacious and femininein the low-cut gown. “I don’t know what Uncle Trace will think.”
    “Oh, just surprise him with it,” the clerk urged her. “Shall I wrap it up?”
    Turquoise nodded. “You really think I’ll fit in at the ball? I don’t want to do anything socially incorrect.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Whittle reassured her. She took the dress into the back room to box while Turquoise put on her pink frock and returned to the front area.
    “Good.” Uncle Trace yawned. “Can we go now?” He stood up. “You want to show it to me?”
    “I want to surprise you,” she said. She was already feeling uneasy that Uncle Trace would think the turquoise silk too daring. Maybe Fern would come by the hotel this afternoon and give her an opinion.
    When they left the shop, her guardian carried the big box.
    “Thank you, Uncle Trace.”
    “And I reckon I have to put on a monkey suit and escort you,” he grumbled.
    “Well, I guess I could go alone.”
    “In a town like Austin at night?” Trace snorted as he helped her into the buggy and she opened her parasol. “Not on your life.”
    “Uncle Trace, there’ll be dancing and all the society people will be there.”
    “Sounds dull to me,” Trace complained as he put the box in the back of the buggy and climbed in. “I don’t want to dance with anyone but Cimarron, and society people are all dull snobs. I don’t know where you get these high-falutin’ ideas.”
    Tears came to Turquoise’s eyes and she blinked them back. She had never asked Trace or any of the Durangos about her questionable birth except that she was certain old Sanchez, the ranch boss, was not really her father and with her parents both dead now, there was really no one to ask.She was determined to reach a pinnacle of respectability so that no one would ever gossip about her again. A proper gentleman would give her security from the whispers.
    They had barely returned to the hotel when her chubby, red-haired friend, Fern Lessup, showed up and the pair retreated to the bedroom to look over the dress while Trace left the hotel on business.
    “Just look,” Turquoise said conspiratorially as she unpacked the dress.
    “Oh my word, it is beautiful!” Fern breathed and ran her hand over the turquoise silk with its sassy bustle. “It must have cost a fortune.”
    “It did, but the owner assured me I would be the best-dressed girl at the