Page 49 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
“I was hoping to find you a pretty gown,” Owen said as he looked at the dull cotton one that a trader showed them. “Take that with the apron and shawl if you’ll get any use from it, but you’ll need something nicer for serving in the saloon.”
“When you say ‘nicer’...” she began.
“I mean something cheerful. That thing is nothing but a reminder of chores.” It didn’t even have flowers on it.
“It would be good for chores,” she noted, nodding at the trader that she’d take it.
“Hey, look at that.” Owen nodded at the rolled wool mattress standing up in the back of the wagon. It was still in its shipping sack. “Did anyone die on that?”
“No, sir,” the trader said. “I found it down a bank under an overturned delivery wagon where it stayed nice and dry. I had a helluva—excuse me, ma’am.” He tipped his cap. “I mean a devil of a time getting it up into my wagon, but it’s big enough for a family if you and the missus are starting one?”
“We are not,” Temperance assured him with an offended hand against her narrow middle.
“Sold,” Owen stated firmly. “How much?”
“Owen,” Temperance hissed. “We agreed on bunkbeds.”
“Do you know when I last slept in a proper bed? Never in my life. The undertaker’s bed was a church pew. I didn’t even bother carrying it into the house, thinking we’d be just as comfortable on the floor. But this? I’ll build the frame and string the ropes myself.” He was so elated, he barely argued the price, only insisting the trader throw in the ugly gown and deliver before dark.
“I suppose I can cut it into two,” Temperance mused as they made their way back to the mercantile.
“You will not. That thing’s big enough, you won’t even notice I’m beside you.” She could sleep on the floor if she was that concerned about it, but he was enjoying his own bed.
The rest of the day was spent settling his horse in the wagon house and chopping some of the wood that had been stored in the other stall.
Temperance swept out the living area before wiping everything down and putting things in order. A stew of beans and dried venison started to smell mighty good by the time the mattress arrived.
Talk about a corpse. The mattress was as heavy as three dead men, but between them, they managed to get it into the nook where the bed would stand.
Owen cut the three ropes that held the mattress in its roll, half expecting a family of squirrels to scamper out of it. Aside from one dried up spider that he brushed away, it was pristine.
He settled up with the trader and saw him off, then sat down to eat.
“Do you know how happy I am right now?” He couldn’t help gazing on his purchase. “You can’t sleep on gold, but you can use it to buy comfort.” It felt almost too good to be true.
Clarence walked over to sniff at the mattress, then stepped straight into the middle, circled twice, and lowered himself into a ball of fur.
“Dog, you have bigger balls than any man I’ve ever met. You can sleep on that bed when you contribute to this household. Until then, git onto your mat.” He pointed into the corner.
Clarence only tapped his tail while looking at him pleadingly.
Chapter 14
She knew Owen was on the mattress with her. Temperance doubted she could ever not be aware of him, but she had to admit the wool-stuffed mattress was very comfortable, even if they weren’t touching and sharing warmth. The dog slept between them, proving himself to be an adequate chaperone, after all.
They rose early, both fired up to take on this new endeavor. While they ate oatmeal, Owen gave her one of his company notes worth twenty dollars.
“There’s a new clothing store near the hotel. See if they have gowns for women or if they can make one for you. Something bright with lots of frills. I don’t mind if it costs a little extra. Anyone can get a drink in this town if they want one. I want to attract the men who can afford to give me their money.”
Temperance had to appreciate that he wasn’t looking to prey on those who were down and out. It made her more inclined to support his venture to the best of her ability so she bundled up and headed out with Clarence as soon as they were finished eating.
The bell over the door announced her arrival, and a cheerful female voice sing-songed, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Temperance smiled toward the counter where two women stood chatting with the proprietress. “Oh, Mrs. Greenly. How nice to see you again.” Temperance moved closer as she recognized her. “This must be your daughter-in-law,” she noted with a friendly smile at the woman who was roughly her age. The woman’s high-waisted gown draped over her expanding belly.
Ivy Greenly stood taller. Her nostrils pinched themselves to narrow slits as she drew in a breath of offense.
“I shan’t introduce you, Katherine. This is the woman Elmer told us about. The one who is living in sin with Owen Stames.” With a wide-eyed look of warning to the proprietress, Ivy cautioned, “I wouldn’t stain your reputation by engaging in commerce with a soiled dove.”