Page 30 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
Don’t, Temperance warned herself. Two acts of nicety didn’t mean he wasn’t the type to lead a woman on and break her heart when it suited him.
For once the boardwalk in front of the stage window was quiet, with only a well-dressed, middle-aged woman speaking through the window to the clerk. A barrel-chested man in a brown suit of good quality stood nearby, holding the leash of a pretty dalmatian.
“Owen.” The man with the dog tipped his hat. He had a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and the ends of his moustache were pinched to a point.
“Woodrow.” Owen gave a nod of familiarity. “Temperance, have you met Woodrow Greenly? He’s our judge here in town. Although, not for long? Will you be standing for election now we’re becoming the Territory of Jefferson?”
“Until this new territory is recognized by Washington, I remain the appointed probate judge in these parts,” Woodrow said with a cool nod. “I’ll continue to collect my salary and carry out my duties as such.”
“Good to know. This is Miss Temperance Goodrich,” Owen said. “Virgil asked her father to assess our need for a railroad.”
“No assessment necessary. The need is here. We only require investors to make it happen,” Woodrow said gruffly.
“That’s what my father’s report can help with.” Temperance wanted to seize the opportunity to put herself forth, but Woodrow was shifting his attention to the woman who left the window to approach them.
“Please meet my wife, Ivy.”
Ivy Greenly was a buxom woman in a plaid day gown of blue and brown with a smart blue jacket atop it. Her buttons were closed to her throat and the wide pleats in her skirt draped neatly over the modest cage beneath. She wore a simple straw poke bonnet adorned with a pin ribbon that tied under her chin.
“Owen. It’s nice to see you again.” She offered him a smile of. “And...?”
“Miss Temperance Goodrich,” he provided, adding, “Excuse me while I take care of my business.” Owen stepped to the window.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Greenly.” Temperance leaned into her city manners.“I hope we haven’t interrupted your own business?”
“Not at all. It’s lovely to see another woman in town, especially a young one,” Ivy said warmly. “You must drop by sometime to meet my daughter-in-law, Katherine. We’re the brick house on Blake. Did I hear ‘Miss’ Goodrich? You’re not married?” She glanced pointedly at Owen’s back.
“I’m not. I happened to be walking the same direction as Mr. Stames, so we walked together.”
“Owen, does this mean you and your partners are starting a railway company?” Woodrow asked, not letting go of that piece. “You know I want in on that. Elmer will too. He’s at the land office, you know. If we’re getting a railroad, the whole town will explode.”
“My father isn’t actually here yet.” Temperance hurried to clarify and looked to Owen. She shouldn’t have misled him. Now the train was leaving the station and it was very empty. “I’m doing some preliminary work. The actual report is quite some time away.”
Woodrow frowned at that.
“Are you staying in Denver with relatives? Or...?” Ivy’s tone sharpened as she sensed an impropriety. “Where exactly are you staying?”
“I was booked in at Mrs. Pincher’s boarding house,” Temperance began, skipping over the fact she’d been kicked out.
Ivy gasped in realization. “Are you the hussy who stole her dog? That’s Clarence, isn’t it?” She pointed. “Oh, good God.” She grew even more appalled as she was confronted by a blatant impropriety.
Clarence was trying to mount the dalmatian.
“Woodrow,” Ivy said in an aghast whisper.
Woodrow smacked at Clarence’s flank with the end of his leash. Clarence dropped to all fours, but the dogs were sniffing and nuzzling each other, tails wagging with enthusiasm.
“I didn’t steal him,” Temperance insisted. “Mrs. Pincher sold him to Owen for a dime this morning, so I don’t know why she made such a fuss about his going missing. She doesn’t even want him.”
“We have to leave,” Ivy said firmly. “Woodrow, stop him.”
“I’m trying,” he muttered.
He had switched hands with the leash to drag his dog to his other side, but the dalmatian was frisky and receptive. She circled the judge, trying to get closer to Clarence, tying up Woodrow’s legs with the leash and causing him to stagger and swear.
“Control your dog,” Ivy commanded Temperance.
“Owen? Mrs. Greenly wants you to bring Clarence to heel,” Temperance told him, refusing to take any responsibility for the animal.