Page 36 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
“Come on, Fritz,” Owen chided. “It’s freezing outside. She didn’t cause this. You know that.”
“You want to chase this skirt, you can chase her right out of here, but I won’t have her in my saloon. I’ve decided,” Fritz said with a firm drop of his fist onto the bar.
“Well, I’m not leaving until you’ve paid me what you owe me for this evening,” Temperance said, pressing closer to the bar in a defiant manner that was pure bravado because anyone could see she was on the verge of tears. “I’ve turned in four dance tokens and you’ve set twenty-two marks under my name on your slate.”
“Some o’ them was tea.”
“Shut up, Cornelius,” Owen ordered, then gave Fritz a hard look. “Square up with her. It’s only fair.”
Fritz begrudgingly jangled into his cash box beneath the bar before dropping a handful of coins into her hand.
Temperance’s mouth quivered as she counted it. Then she swallowed and reached into the collar of her gown and withdrew a few more coins. She set all of them on the edge of the bar in front of Owen.
“As promised, I have paid back what I owe you as soon as I was able,” she said with threadbare dignity.
Oh, that made him feel small. “Temperance.”
She ignored him and turned away to say to Jane, “Thank you for your help, Jane. I’ll fetch my things from your room and say goodb—” Her voice hiccupped. “—goodbye to Mavis and Freddie.”
Jane’s eyes were huge. “Be well.”
Temperance turned and, as the ruffle of her skirt brushed across Owen’s boot, offered him a scathing look that blamed him for the cold weather, the hot tempers, and every crime ever committed between here and the Mississippi River.
Ah, hell.
Owen pushed the money she’d given him toward Fritz and said, “For the men who lost their drinks,” before he turned to follow her.
The door opened as she reached it.
“Ma’am.” Elmer Greenly tipped his hat and stepped aside, holding the door for her.
Temperance sailed past him, silent, chin high.
Elmer, the womanizing sack of shit, stood there watching her go until a chorus of, “Shut the door!” resounded.
“Owen, let’s talk land.” Elmer steered him back to the bar. “Two, please, Fritz. Who’s your new gal?”
“She ain’t Rose, and she only drinks tea.”
“I swear to God, Cornelius,” Owen warned the man with his ugliest glare.
Cornelius huffed and went back to the shot of whiskey Fritz refilled for him. The rest of the saloon was settling back into their drinking and the squeezebox emitted a few high-pitched notes.
“I don’t have much time,” Owen said to Elmer, keeping his eye on the door to see if anyone went after Temperance. “Have you made a decision?”
“I have.” Elmer picked up the glass Fritz poured for him. “I’ve also figured out what you want it for. You’re opening your own saloon. Aren’t you?”
“Is that true?” Fritz asked behind Owen, pulling back the drink he’d poured.
“’tis”
“Then you can get the hell out too.”
Temperance had offered her carpet bag to Mavis, thinking she would be staying in this cabin for the foreseeable future. She refused to take it back, even though Mavis tried to insist.
“No, you’ll need it when you travel with Freddie. If I don’t see you before you leave, I w-wish you both safe travels.” Temperance was trying to be brave, but she was terrified.
She gave Freddie’s soft cheek a rub with the back of her knuckle, then finished rolling her belongings into the thin bedroll she’d been sleeping in. It wouldn’t be nearly warm enough for a night like this.