Page 33 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
“I’m taking up minding my own business.” He was proud of that comeback. “Give some thought to how badly you’d like to clear your debt at Madame Beauville’s, then come find me at the Bijou tonight.”
“The Bijou?” Elmer made a face.
“She’s not there,” he reminded him. “She just gave birth.” Idiot.
He walked out.
It was a busy night in the Bijou. Temperance couldn’t imagine Mavis and Freddie were getting any rest, given the hullaballoo going on in here.
Mavis was incredibly relieved to have a ticket and money promised to her, but she didn’t want to believe it until it was in her hand. Temperance wouldn’t breathe easy until that happened, either. She smiled when Owen finally arrived.
He nodded at her, downed a shot of whiskey, then disappeared again.
She caught up to him at the bar when he returned.
“Another round please Mr. Fritz. Is everything all right?” Temperance asked as she searched Owen’s expression. She lowered her voice to ask, “Did you speak to Mavis?”
He nodded. “I told her the stage has a seat available the day after tomorrow.”
Temperance was briefly speechless. “Do you understand the mechanics of childbirth? She won’t be able to travel for a week or two at least.”
Mavis was up and moving around, but still heavily staining her rags. That frosty little room was no place to keep a baby for a winter, though. They were all worried, given the temperatures were dropping more each night. Jane and Temperance had spoken privately about one of them traveling with her, to help, but neither felt right about stealing from Freddie’s future and what would they do once they arrived? At least here, they each had an income and a place to sleep.
“Hey, Rosie. Git that whiskey over here!” a man called from one of the tables.
Owen frowned.
“Lively bunch from Horsefly,” Temperance said with a pressed smile.
They were rowdy, disrespectful, and had arrived drunk—something Mr. Fritz seemed to think was beneficial since it meant they were spending freely.
Temperance already had a silver dollar and two bits in the pocket Jane had helped her sew into her bodice. That made the way the men treated her slightly less odious, but it was still dismaying.
“Thank you,” she said distractedly, as Mr. Fritz replenished her tray. She hurried over to set out the drinks, asking, “Who’s winning?”
“Not me. Kiss me for luck, Rosie.” One unbathed man in deerskin and a smelly hat offered his unshaven cheek.
Temperance blew a kiss at him. “Good luck.”
“Ah, come on, girlie.” He scooped his arm around her and would have shoved his face between her breasts, but she jammed her tray before her like a shield. Jane had taught her that move her first night here.
“I think you’ve mistaken this saloon for another type of establishment,” she said with forced lightness as she twirled out of his hold.
“Oof.” She walked straight into Owen Stames.
He caught her by the upper arms to steady her. How had he come up behind her so fast? He’d been on the other side of the room a split second ago, she was sure of it.
“Deal me in,” Owen said, looking past her to the men. He stepped between her and the table. “Fetch me a whiskey, too, Rose,” he said over his shoulder.
She did, then danced twice, hurrying back when the men started shouting for more drinks. Jane was in the same boat, racing to deliver drinks as fast as Mr. Fritz could pour them while being pulled into dancing between.
Temperance had four more dimes weighing down her neckline and was at the bar, waiting on another round of glasses, when a grubby, drunken man swaggered up beside her.
“Gimme a bourbon, Fritz. One for the lady, too.”
“That’s kind of you,” she said as politely as she could, instinctively knowing she didn’t want to encourage this one. He seemed very unsavory and was slurring his words. “I need to deliver these to the table, but I’ll come back in a moment.”
She really didn’t want to. She took the tray to the table and felt Owen’s gaze on her as she served everyone. She kept her smile pinned in place, but it felt very stiff and forced.