Page 20 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
“That— You didn’t have to.” It had been an invitation, not an expectation. Not an order. Now she had spoiled it. He had thought she sat down because she had wanted to. He scowled. “I only want a conversation,” he muttered.
This clinched it, though. He was definitely not taking responsibility for a gaggle of women when he opened his saloon. He had seen last night exactly how knotty it could get.
“What do you want to talk about?” She warily began walking with him.
“Your father.”
“What possible interest could you have in a man who is ‘grossly misinformed?’”
He had suspected she was still holding that against him. “I had good reason to say that.”
“And I’m sure I have good reason to insult your father even though I’ve never met him.” Her sidelong glance dared him to contradict her.
“It’s not his fault he turned out the way he did.” The remark was meant to be a throwaway joke at his own expense, but it was too true. Too loaded. His guts clenched, and his ears rang with the silence of her surprise.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, brows pulling with contrition. “Was he not a good man? I shouldn’t have been so flippant.” Her green eyes grew soft as new grass, inviting him to fall into their expansive field.
“Be flippant,” he urged, finding her spice easier to digest than her sweetness. “I find clever putdowns endearing.”
“You must tell me the mark of a good one, then. I imagine you’ve heard a lot of them.”
Damn. He was going to fall into unbridled infatuation if he wasn’t careful. He should haul his ass back to camp right this minute.
He picked up a stick and threw it into the water as they approached the bridge. Clarence splashed in after it and came out to give a big shake, fur rinsed clean of manure.
“I was doing those boys a favor last night,” Owen said as they ambled across to Auraria. “Mark my words, it takes no time a’tall for fresh faces like theirs to look like the ones doing the hard drinking. Giving them false hope that there’s a trick to finding gold is cruel.”
“So you offered to let them dig for you? That’s the height of kindness, I’m sure.”
“You’ll have to work harder if you wish to shame me, Miss Goodrich. I make no apology for looking out for my own interests.”
“I had already worked that out for myself.”
He didn’t think she was being glib. Neither was he, so it didn’t make sense that her words stung.
They arrived at the cook tent.
Her mouth tightened and her brow furrowed in consternation. She saw this meal as charity, he could tell, and it compromised her estimation of herself.
That told him she had not been down on her luck before. Not for any length of time—which was its own type of luck, not that she seemed to recognize it.
They glanced inside the tent where a long table was filled with noisy miners. They would have to stand at the barrelhead tables outside.
“Would you fetch the coffee? Throw a lump of sugar in mine,” he said.
Nearby, under a lean-to, a quick-footed man of Mexican heritage was sweating by a griddle over a wood-fired stove. He was stirring and flipping, pouring and plating, doing a brisk business with his fifty-cent breakfast. A boy of eleven or twelve, presumably his son, chopped wood nearby. A younger one had his hands in a big bucket of water, washing the dishes as they were returned.
Owen paid, then carried their plates and forks to their barrel. Temperance was already there with their cups. The dog wandered nearby, sniffing through the dried grass, eating whatever dropped morsels he could find.
“Why are you interested in my father now?” Temperance asked as they began to eat. “You weren’t yesterday.”
Owen knew he was about to sound like the biggest hypocrite alive, but, “A man with some education in minerals is a useful connection. When will he arrive?”
“You want him to advise you on your mine?” She made her eyes wide with facetious astonishment. “I wouldn’t dream of suggesting he provide you with false hope, Mr. Stames.”
“My friends call me Owen,” he told her. “Do you prefer Rose or Rosie?”
“My friends call me Temperance. You may call me Miss Goodrich.”