Page 24 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
“What sort of day did you have?” Jane asked curiously as she lowered her arms and took up her coffee again.
“Oh.” Temperance hated to recall it. “Mrs. Dudley dismissed me. That was my own fault. I don’t even want to tell you how stupid I was. Then my landlady found out where I was working and gave me the boot after taking all my money. I was going to take refuge here until the saloons opened, then see if anyone will hire me. I’ll finish my coffee then go do that.”
“Let me ask Mr. Fritz first. Mavis can’t work tonight. Perhaps if you—” Jane looked around. “I know there’s not much room in here, but if you offer to help with rent and take her place in the saloon, perhaps he won’t turn her out,” she said with concern.
“Would he?” Temperance’s heart lurched on the other woman’s behalf.
Jane shrugged. Who knew what a man would do when a woman became a burden?
Owen had stayed in Denver to look into opening a saloon, not get himself bent out of shape by a saloon girl, but damned if he hadn’t spent two whole days raising eyebrows all over town by asking after Temperance.
He’d been put out when she didn’t show up at Dudley’s the evening after they breakfasted together, but he hadn’t been worried. Not yet. Mrs. Dudley had claimed Temperance had asked for a day off. It had been a ruse to keep the crowds coming back, Owen had realized when she failed to appear, but the lie couldn’t be sustained. Cecil had finally confided to Owen that his wife had dismissed her. Owen had walked out, annoyed.
He visited the other saloons in Denver, where he asked if anyone had seen her, but he hadn’t had any luck. This morning, the stage office had said she usually came by every day, but they hadn’t seen her, either. Mick at the mercantile said she had bought four eggs and a can of milk, so Owen knew she was alive, but Mick didn’t know where she had gone.
Finally, one of the traders at the post told Owen that a pair of women had come by looking for baby blankets. One of them worked at the Bijou.
The Bijou was located on the outskirts of Auraria. It was as far as he could get from his room above the corral in Denver without arriving in a neighboring state. What it lacked in convenience, it lacked in everything else, offering two-bit tangleleg and no beer. The bar was a few rough planks nailed together and balanced across the tops of some whiskey barrels. There was no mirror behind the bottle shelf to let you see who was coming up behind you, only a fading sketch of a woman whose clothes were very slippery and dangerously close to falling off. The floor was dirt, the poker played on the tops of whiskey barrels with upended crates for stools. There were antlers nailed here and there for hanging coats and hats. The fact it had wooden walls and a roof, rather than canvas, was the nicest thing anyone could say about it.
“Owen,” Fritz greeted him. “Stoney was here a few days ago. I don’t have much for you.”
“I came for a drink.”
“You must be thirsty, then.”
“And wondering if you’ve got a new girl here?”
“Over there.” Fritz jerked his chin, lip curled with discontent. Fritz came across as grumpier than a spring bear, but Owen had the sense his perpetual scowl was one of pain. He always kept his one elbow tight against his ribs and moved with a swaying gait that was more of a limp.
“Thanks.” Owen tossed back his whiskey, trying not to taste it, and threw enough money on the counter that Fritz could treat the rest of the men down the line.
Owen walked to the wall of backs surrounding one of the barrels. Sure enough, there she was, sitting with her eyes covered by one hand, playing a game where she turned a card and guessed what it was. Wrongly, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone.
Owen pushed his shoulders between the men and tapped her shoulder. “Rose.”
“Mr. Stames.” She dropped her hand into her lap. “How nice to see you again.” She greeted him with a bright smile that did something to his insides.
He was glad to see her alive, he really was, but he was annoyed, too. He didn’t want to worry about anyone, least of all someone he wasn’t sure he could trust.
She blinked up at him all innocent, as though she hadn’t promised to meet him then disappeared for two days and nights.
“Have you met Mr. Garvey and Mr. Havershere?” she asked, rising to indicate the young men. “They were telling me earlier about their work on a paddle wheeler in Kansas City. It sounds fascinating.”
“It’s not.” He’d done it and preferred starving in California. “Let’s fetch everyone a drink.” He thumbed toward the bar, not even looking at the rubes.
“It sounds as though Mr. Stames would like to welcome you properly, boys. Who needs a refill?”
Everyone threw back their drinks and set them on the tray she held out.
She carried it to the bar. Her skirts were barely disturbed as she floated in no particular hurry toward Fritz.
“Refills, please, Mr. Fritz, and one for Mr. Stames?” She glanced at him for confirmation. “How have you been keeping?” she asked.
Now that she was right in front of him, he noticed she had dark circles under her eyes and a pull of exhaustion at the corners of her mouth. Her cheekbones seemed to stand out more starkly.
“I have a bone to pick with you.” He dropped more coins onto the bar, nodding to Fritz that Temperance could have the change.
“About?” she asked, still wearing that look of curious innocence.