Page 31 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“Clarence,” Owen said without inflection.

The dog paused at the sound of his name, tail wagging unrestrainedly, and looked at Owen.

“Act like a gentleman. Speaking of misbehaving dogs, how is Elmer?” Owen casually propped his elbow on the window sill. “Will he winter in Springfield again this year?”

Springfield? Temperance barely kept her gasp in her chest. She bounced her gaze between Owen and the Greenlys, trying to work out if she was understanding correctly that these people were the grandparents of Mavis’s newborn son, Freddie.

“Katherine can’t travel. She’s expecting,” Ivy said stiffly, then hissed, “Woodrow,” and smacked at her skirt.

Clarence was very determined. The judge tried to get himself between the dogs while they were equally determined to breed.

“That’s happy news, isn’t it?” Owen spoke with all the placid cheer of a friendly neighbor. “What was his reason for going there last year? Connecting with family?”

Temperance had the sense he was deliberately making conversation to keep them here, the devil. She bit her lips because it was becoming quite comical.

“And business,” Woodrow muttered, still trying to untangle himself from the leash, but every time he got the dalmatian to stand still, Clarence seized his opportunity. “Ivy’s brother is still there, but Elmer was acting for the town company, selling plots?—”

“Oh, Woodrow,” Ivy cried. “I will not have a litter of mutts in my house. We have to take her home right now.”

“Thank you,” Owen said into the window as he took the ticket from the clerk. He snapped his fingers and Clarence came straight to his side to sniff into his hand. Owen took hold of the dog’s scruff. “Tell Elmer I said hello.”

“Of course.” Ivy tucked her hand through her husband’s arm, huffing with shredded dignity. Her glance at Temperance rivaled one of Adelaide’s most unwelcoming expressions.

“Let me know about that railroad investment,” Woodrow reiterated.

As the couple walked away, Temperance looked to Owen in disbelief.

They both sputtered into laughter.

Chapter 9

That had been more fun than watching Clarence drive Temperance onto a bench the other day. Maybe he did want a dog, Owen thought as they walked back toward the bridge.

“Thank you for not telling them I work in a saloon.” Temperance said beside him. “They’re decent people, so I can only imagine how she would have reacted.”

“Decent people don’t judge someone for working in a saloon. Are you really ashamed of it?” If so, he would have to rethink the plan that was taking shape in his mind.

“It’s not very respectable, is it? I’d rather work for my father.”

“Tell me more about the sorts of things you do for him. I saw you had a ledger book when you were looking in your bag.” It was similar to the one that Ira kept at the mine where he recorded wages and yields. Madame Beauville had also recorded Elmer’s debt into her own. “Do you know what to do with those?”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I told you that Papa’s handwriting is terrible. It’s always been my task to record the costs of supplies and expenses for his different projects. You asked how he makes money. Formulating a sound budget and staying within it is always a good start.”

That’s what Owen needed—someone who could record every dram of whiskey that went in or out. He had the ability to add, subtract, multiply, and divide faster than anyone he knew, without a pencil or chalk. When Emmett measured out lumber for cutting, he always double-checked his mathematics with Owen, if Owen happened to be nearby. Owen could keep running tallies in his head for months, but he didn’t have the smarts for writing any of it down.

“In fact, I wanted to ask you—” Temperance began.

“Can I catch up to you tonight? I beg your pardon.” Owen realized he had cut her off, but he had moved from preoccupied to fixated. While they’d been speaking to the Greenlys, another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place for him. He wanted to act on it. Now. “I have business this direction.” He pointed left while the bridge was another block straight ahead.

“I— Yes. Of course.”

“I’ll come by the saloon tonight with the ticket and the money for Mavis.” He was beginning to believe that Temperance did, in fact, have a father who wrote reports. That’s why he’d paid up with her landlady, but he wasn’t so gullible he’d entrust her with a stage ticket and two hundred and fifty dollars. “Will you actually be there this time?” He pinned her with a narrow-eyed look.

“Unless I get dismissed again.” She feigned nonchalance with a shrug.

“Try not to get dismissed, then. Behave yourself,” he ordered.

“I thought I was the one who’s supposed to tell you that?” Her brows went up, haughty.