Page 84 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“Owen tells me you’ve begun offering accounting services. The lumber mill is too busy to manage their paperwork. Can you drop by later this week to help them out?”

“It’s winter. Are they operating?”

“When they can, yes.” He tugged his ear.

Oh, Owen. He had pushed his friend to offer this work to her.

“Of course.” She couldn’t allow her pride to get in the way of earning a living. “Thank you.”

“Don’t pay her too well,” Mr. Fritz said as he poured Emmett a drink. “We still need her here in the evenings.” The twinkle in his eye as he shot her a glance told her he was joking.

“Mavis is back,” Emmett noted with a nod toward her. “That’s good.”

She smiled and waved but stayed where she stood, her tray on her hip as she listened to a customer who was gesturing to his sling, obviously telling her how he came to be injured.

“Is Jane not here?” Emmett frowned as he scanned the room.

“She and Mavis trade off in the evenings. Jane watches Freddie for a few hours, so she can catch up on her sewing.” Mavis liked to make tips and have money of her own, but she wasn’t up to being on her feet more than two or three hours.

“I’ll have one more drink, then square up with you, Fritz. Maybe I’ll come back after I finish my rounds.”

Emmett walked away with Mr. Fritz, and Temperance bit back a smile at how obvious he was in his attraction to Jane.

Temperance had told Jane that Owen thought Emmett was sweet on her. Jane had taken the news with equanimity, not saying anything about her feelings toward him, not that Temperance had probed. As far as she knew, they’d only met the once back in October, and Jane shouldn’t be expected to return a man’s affections unless she genuinely felt the same.

Temperance liked them both, though. She would definitely support a romance if one blossomed between them.

“I forgot your letter,” Emmett said to Temperance when he reappeared. He was tucking his wallet into his jacket, but his hands were otherwise empty. “I picked up the mail for the Horseshoe since that’s where I was headed. I guess they thought you were still there. I didn’t think to bring it with me. I’ll tell Owen you’ll come by tomorrow?”

Anxious yearning rolled through her middle. She wanted to see him, but it was always difficult. The way Emmett watched her so closely made her wonder if he was orchestrating a meeting.

“I was there yesterday. I’ll drop by on my regular Thursday. If it’s from one of the distilleries, go ahead and open it. It’s saloon business.”

Emmett looked like he wanted to say more, but someone called out for a drink. By the time she had served them, Emmett was gone.

Owen was trying hard not to become the worst kind of saloonkeeper, the kind who stole from himself and depleted his own inventory.

He was miserable, though. Not with the business. He was proud of the saloon and the way it was running. He’d even had a small cask of decent bourbon come in from Fort Kearney, and Felix had written to his friend with an order for four barrels to be shipped in the spring.

Temperance was right in that his customers didn’t come to see her. They asked after her, now that she was absent, but they were just as happy to pat the dog and gamble and jaw-wag about business and investing whether she was here or not.

That’s how Owen heard about the proposal to have a telegraph line brought into Denver, something he wanted to discuss with Virgil and the rest. Heck, Temperance would have had an opinion worth hearing, but she wasn’t here.

He missed their talks and sharing a sense of accomplishment with her. He missed her. It wasn’t just that his bed was as empty as his stew pot. So were his days. So was his chest.

When Emmett staggered in after Owen had emptied out for the night, Owen searched his face for some sign of whether he’d seen Temperance and how she was doing.

“You’re pickled,” Owen noted as Emmett braced his shoulder into the wall.

“I gotta stick to one drink each when I do the rounds by myself. Or get to bed when they’re finished, not run back to the Bijou for dancing.” He sat down heavily in one of the chairs and shook his head when Owen held up a bottle, offering to pour him a nightcap.

“How’s Jane?” Owen asked as he poured himself the drink he’d been avoiding all night.

“She’s so pretty,” Emmett said on a wistful sigh. “And she has the nicest laugh, and she dances well. Then I asked if she’d ever been to California, because I can’t help feeling like I know her, and she got all quiet. I couldn’t tell if I insulted her or...? It’s frustrating. Shit, I’m drunk, aren’t I?”

“Not at all. Tell me more about your love life,” Owen said, amused. “Did you kiss her?”

“You’re just jealous I have a woman who wants to see me. She looks as miserable as you do, by the way. Not Jane. Temperance.”