Page 54 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘I’ve never bought a hat before. I usually get stuck wearing those dumb politician caps to hawk for votes. They were always ugly and flimsy things, but these are big.’

‘Try one.’

‘What am I looking for?’ There was nothing quite like that splurge on a luxury item that maxed out your credit card, where shopping for clothes usually felt as good as a hair flick of freshly blown-dry hair straight from the salon. Right now, Harper was hoping for the power of retail therapy.

‘With your skin, you’ll want a wide brim. Wider the better. As you don’t use a stockwhip, the brim can remain flat. So, avoid the curled sides, which will only let the sun in to burn your ears.’ Bree tapped her own ears.

‘But isn’t that the classic design for cowboy hats?’

‘In America, they’re designed like that because they do a lot of roping. This is Australia and we have a harsh outback sun we try to avoid.’ Bree walked before the wall of hats like a teacher giving a lecture in a classroom. ‘As we’re currently enjoying a fabulous winter—’

‘It’s summer for me.’

‘This time of year, a felt hat is fine. In the summer, you’ll want a straw hat, the lighter the better.’

‘Like you and your vast hat collection at the cottage.’

‘My skin is like yours, Harper. I burn easily, and instead of getting a tan, I just get more freckles.’

‘Which is why you make your own sunscreen.’

Again, Bree nodded, sliding on a hat over Harper’s head.

Harper flinched and ducked away.

‘What?’ Bree peered inside the hat. ‘Did it have a pin inside?’

‘It’s not you. It’s me.’ She touched the bald spot at the back of her head.

‘Is it irritating your scar?’

‘I’m sensitive there.’

‘But you’re able to keep your ponytail tight.’

‘I do that to hide my bald spot,’ she shyly admitted. ‘Normally I don’t wear my hair up, except for the gym.’

‘Let me see it.’ She gently pulled Harper’s hair out of the ponytail. ‘I swear, I can’t see it when your hair is down.’

‘I can feel it.’

‘I imagine it’d be like that tiny zit you get on your chin that feels like some massive boil festering over your whole chin.’

‘Is that what it looks like?’ Harper gasped, stepping back with her eyes widening in horror, her hands covering her bald spot.

‘No, blossom, it’s nothing like that. But it gives me an idea for finding the right hat to suit you. You’ll want a taller crown to keep it off that sensitive area … Like this one.’ She plucked a dark brown hat from the shelf. ‘You can do the honours.’

‘Can I just wear a ski mask?’

‘And die from heat exposure? Go for it.’

Harper gently slid on the hat. It didn’t touch the scars that lived high on the back of her scalp. There was a gap.

‘Not too tight?’

‘It’s perfect.’

‘In that case, we’ll go a size bigger.’

---