Page 88 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“A couple of days ago. She told me that Ivy Greenly threw the horseshoe through Owen’s window. I can’t believe I didn’t tell Owen when I saw him earlier.” She drained her coffee and rose to collect her purse and gloves. “I have to go tell him right now.”

Owen didn’t know what was in the letter Temperance had received from Chicago. It could be anything from a stage ticket and an invitation to come home to another rejection by her family. Either way, it spurred him to declare his own feelings.

What if he couldn’t be everything she needed, though?

They had never talked about whether she wanted children, but she missed her siblings. He expected she would want a family. Was he ready to become a father? Perhaps not today, but he had to admit he enjoyed Virgil’s children. He had no trouble imagining that he would love his own to hell and back, but that was the issue. What if hell arrived, and it was his own damned fault?

For most of his life, he’d used the excuse of being too poor and irresponsible to marry and start a family. He could afford to support a wife and children now, though. Perhaps not in high fashion, but comfortably. He wanted Temperance to feel secure. It bothered him that she was still feeling every day was as tenuous as the last. He’d lived like that for too long himself to want that for her, especially when he could make things easier for her.

Yet, the fear of failure that clenched around him when he thought of holding an infant or trying to keep a passel of children from danger and disease was real. Most importantly, he didn’t want to fail and watch Temperance’s love for him die. That would kill him, it really would.

But he couldn’t keep hurting her by holding back his heart, either. And when he looked around and saw what he could accomplish with her, he wasn’t as worried that he’d make mistakes. Her strengths made up for his shortcomings. And he found himself wanting to bring his own strengths to bear for her. He wanted to enrich her life with more than gainful employment or a laugh or a satisfying roll in the hay—God, he definitely wanted to do that.

Mostly, he wanted to be the best man he could be for her, so she’d know she could rely on him. Maybe there would be tribulations to overcome, but he wouldn’t have a gold mine or a saloon if he had allowed fear keep him from trying.

Yes, when she arrived for her letter, he would definitely tell her how he felt.

He finished unloading his second barrel into the hole and dropped the doors, latching them shut. Then he walked his horse and wagon into the wagon house.

He had just tucked Cobalt into his stall and was closing the stall door when he realized there was someone behind him.

Before he could turn, the cold barrel of a pistol pressed into the base of his skull freezing him in place.

“I’m taking this,” a guttural voice said, relieving him of the pistol he wore on his hip. “Now let’s visit your safe.” The pistol dug harder into his scalp.

Owen didn’t care much about his own life, except that he had just decided to use what was left of it to make Temperance happy, if she’d have him.

Dammit, she would be here any minute.

Chapter 24

Temperance didn’t try the front door of the saloon. It was too early for it to be open. Besides, Clarence ran up the far side of the building to the back door where he was more used to being let in.

As she came into the backyard, the dog bounded through the snow toward the wagon house. The big door was open, so she presumed Owen was still putting Cobalt away.

“Owen?” The wagon house was empty, but his hat was on the floor. Strange.

She glanced in both stalls. Cobalt was in one, the other was open and empty. Clarence walked into it and flopped onto the straw, tongue lolling.

Good. He could keep his wet feet out here for now.

Carrying Owen’s hat, she started back to the house, walking far enough along the wagon tracks to see that Owen had already closed and latched the cellar doors.

Did she hear voices? Angry voices?

She paused as she entered the back door and cocked her head, trying to hear who he was with. One of his partners? Felix?

For some reason, her stomach began to churn with anxiety. She instinctually closed the door very quietly and set his hat on the table, then crept toward the door into the parlor.

“You don’t think I’m going to tell people it was you?” Owen asked impatiently.

“I’ll be gone by the time you get out of here. Now get down there and open the strongbox.”

“I’m telling you there’s nothing in it except the receipt proving I paid off your debt at the cathouse. Is that what you’re after?”

“Prove to me that’s all that’s in it, because if you weren’t planning to store gold here, you would have sent the box to camp with Emmett.”

“On horseback?”