Page 50 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

Katherine murmured, “Mother,” and looked down with appalled embarrassment.

The proprietress lost her friendly smile and gave Temperance’s crushed gown an askance dismissal. “I must ask you to leave.”

It was the same the ugly repulsion Adelaide had shown while telling her, You can’t stay here.

Shame was a hot flame that licked up from the soles of Temperance’s feet to engulf her whole body in humiliation. Her face felt as though it glowed with her guilty desires and loose morals. She couldn’t even blurt out the heated words that crowded into her throat.

I’m here because I trusted a man like your son, she longed to say. She couldn’t do that to an innocent woman like Katherine, though. Not when Katherine was kind enough to be mortified by her mother-in-law’s rudeness.

Faced with Ivy’s contempt, however, Temperance could only flee the shop with another jarring clang of the bell.

She hurried back to the undertaking parlor, feeling as though her one mistake followed her as doggedly as Clarence. At least the dog didn’t nip at her heels the way her past did, constantly tripping her up and leaving her feeling helpless and pounced upon.

Why was she bearing all of the consequence of Dewey’s unprincipled behavior anyway? He was back in Chicago, living his life as gaily as before while she’d been banished to the edge of existence. She was forsaken by her family and had to rely on a man who gave her money that she couldn’t even spend! Who was going to accept her here? Men who were too drunk to hold any standards? Men like Elmer who were as much a reprobate as Dewey?

She felt as though she had died and gone to actual hell. This was a miserable life she was living. Her nose was running from the cold, and her eyes watered with wretchedness. Her tears were freezing onto her lashes, making everything that much worse.

She cut down alongside the wagon house, so dejected she wanted to throw herself onto the new mattress and bawl her eyes out.

She thrust herself in the door and Clarence shoved past her, smacking her skirt with his tail as he went by.

“Clarence,” she complained even as Owen shouted, “Wha—? Fuck!”

Temperance halted in shock as a cacophony of noise and a blur of movement hit her ringing ears and wet eyes. Long limbs shot straight out from the hip bath as it tipped over in front of the hearth. There was a sploosh and a clatter and more swearing as Owen scrambled to his feet.

“Don’t drink that!” Owen stretched out a long leg to push Clarence away from the expanding puddle of soapy water.

Temperance was frozen in place, stunned, taking in that Owen was completely naked. He was soapy and affronted, holding a limp rag in front of his bow and fiddle.

The rest of him was godlike. His wide chest and powerful shoulders were strapping muscle still tanned from the summer sun. The brownish-red hairs on his chest lay flat and wet in an arrow down his abdomen. His legs were paler than his torso, but looked as tensile and implacable as tree trunks. Soap bubbles traced their way to his ankles and pooled at his feet.

He seemed as speechless as she was.

Then he suddenly jerked his hips sideways and cried, “Jesus, Clarence. Did you rub his nose in the crick on your way in? What the hell.” His hips jerked the other direction.

The angry humiliation in Temperance’s throat melted into mirth. The desolation that had threatened to destroy her sputtered out in rolls of laughter.

“It’s not funny!”

Were there any words more likely to turn a ludicrous situation into something even funnier? Her eyes grew damp as she laughed so hard her stomach hurt.

“I swear to God, Clarence...” Owen kept angling this way and that, trying to avoid showing Temperance his ass while dodging the dog’s nose touching his bare skin. “You could fetch me some clean water since my bath leaked through the floor,” Owen said irritably. “If I have to get it myself, I’m going all the way back to Pincher’s and leaving him there.”

The thought of him walking through town, stark naked, covered with only that soggy rag, ordering Mrs. Pincher to take her nuisance dog back was such an image, Temperance laughed even harder.

“I’ll remember this, you know. When you have your bath.” He was shaking his finger at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said on a wheeze, unable to tell if he was serious. She could hardly catch her breath. “I wasn’t…It was just so...” Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears again. “Don’t get rid of him.” Her throat cinched up tight.

Clarence was a nuisance, but he was one of her few bright spots these days.

With a sniff, she snatched up the pail and took it out to the pump, returning with it full. Owen had a larger towel draped around his hips and had swept the water into the cracks so the floor was painted with damp streaks. She set the pail by the hearth and walked into the parlor, bringing Clarence with her.

She paced, picturing Owen wiping the soap from under his arms and along his thighs and calves, handling his private parts with surety. She wanted to watch him. That was the iniquitous thought that tortured her most. Despite the very real consequences of her tryst with Dewey and the way her living here with Owen was impacting her reputation, a wanton part of her wanted to lie with Owen fully. Naked and lustful and sinful.

She found herself against a wall and slid to the floor, feeling all sorts of pitiful as she dropped her head onto her knees. What was wrong with her? She had been raised better than this.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Owen said as he came into the parlor.