Chapter 22: Made for You

Hallie's POV

On Friday night, five days later, nineteen men crowded into my shop for their fittings.

The shop was built for two people and a dog.

They stood among the hides and the hanging belts and the cutting table, and every one of them was afraid to touch anything.

"Don't lean on the stitching horse," I said.

"What's the stitching horse?"

"The thing you're leaning on."

He straightened up so fast he hit his head on a saddlebag.

I had twenty cuts hanging on the rack.

Black leather, heavy and plain, with room across the shoulders for a back patch.

I had sewn the first nineteen in four days and four nights.

I had never been so tired, and I had never been so sure of what I was doing.

The back patch was the last thing.

I hadn't shown it to anyone.

"Okay," I said. "Line up."

They lined up, grumbling.

The big man went first, because he never let anyone go ahead of him.

I held his cut open, and he slid his arms in.

It settled across his shoulders.

He turned to the mirror.

He didn't say anything for a while.

"Hell," he said. "It fits."

"I measured you in March, when you ordered the one I never finished. I kept the numbers."

His face did something complicated.

"Show us the back," the man with the gray ponytail said.

I took the cloth off the patch board.

It was a wide black arc of leather, with a road winding up a mountain in white thread, turn on turn.

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