She had brought four crisp one-dollar bills to buy fabric to make curtains for Mr. Kilgore’s school. With his cane and wicker basket in tow, Bart accompanied Rosie as she went from one dry goods store to another. It wasn’t enough to buy just any old cloth. Rosie wanted something special, something that would cheer up the small room and bring life into the summer months. It had to be a fabric that would block some of winter’s chill but also let in spring’s sunshine. Bart had started the morning feeling like a citified dude, but by the time he had stared at hundreds of bolts of gingham, silk, taffeta, cotton, muslin and velvet in every color of the rainbow, he was about ready to take off like a wild bronco. His stiff white collar seemed to get tighter and tighter around his neck. The fancy coat he had traded for began to have the weight of a saddle on his shoulders. Even the bullet wound in his side began to hurt. He was debating the urge to gallop outside for a breath of fresh air when Rosie suddenly announced, “This is just what I’ve been looking for!
