Hanna watched him until he vanished behind a low rise. The endless prairie looked flat at first glance, but the land was never completely level. Rain had rinsed the gray and beige plains, leaving behind a translucence of green that was growing denser every day.

She went into the wagon and opened her trunk. She took out a piece of plain brown wrapping paper, a pencil, a rubber eraser, and a well-worn magazine.

The paper had been folded accordion-style several times and folded across twice. Opened out, the creases formed rectangles about two inches wide and three inches tall—three dozen of them.

Hanna had used up about half the rectangles on one side of the paper. In each was a small pencil sketch of a dress. Housedresses, visiting dresses, dresses for church, even ball gowns. She had seen pictures of ball gowns in the Godey’s Lady’s Book magazine, and it was fun to draw the elegant garments, even though she would never have a chance to see or wear one.

Now she leafed through an issue of Godey’s from last summer, the latest she had been able to get. On page after page, there were drawings of every kind of garment. Some were available ready-made; for others, paper patterns and instructions could be mail-ordered.

She found pictures of two gowns that interested her. She took up her pencil and began to draw, combining the bodice of one dress with the skirt of the other. She also added a trimming of braid around the cuffs and hem of the bodice.

She eyed the drawing critically. Something wasn’t quite right. The skirt was too full for the length of the bodice. She erased the skirt and drew it again, this time with a slimmer profile.

Yes. Better.

For the past three years, Hanna had done all the family sewing. Papa bought his coats and jackets; she made his trousers, overalls, shirts, drawers, and nightshirts, as well as her own dresses and undergarments. Using paper patterns that had belonged to Mama, she knew how to adjust measurements to the correct size. She could backstitch, whipstitch, sew buttonholes; when she hemmed a garment or added trimming, her stitches were nearly invisible. With all that experience behind her, she was confident that she could make a dress of her own design, and she intended to try very soon.

She loved sketching because it took all her attention; she could stop thinking about the rest of the world for a while. As for sewing, most of the time it was both soothing and satisfying. She hadn’t been able to draw or sew for several weeks now; riding in the wagon, it was too bumpy for fine work, and by the time they stopped to camp, it was almost always too dark.