Page 91 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“There will be if he gives me any more trouble.” Elmer’s lip was swollen and cut, but Owen could have done worse. He had sure been tempted to.

Frenchie touched his cap and headed toward the marshal’s office.

An hour later, the gold was under guard at the Express office. Elmer had been taken away and was also under guard. Woodrow had come by long enough to learn that his son was a failed bandit, and his wife’s vandalism was also firmly on the town grapevine.

Temperance had made coffee and a pot of stew, but they hadn’t had a minute alone to talk properly. She was still quiet as they sat down to eat, but the saloon was already filling with men who wanted to know, “What the hell happened here today?”

There was no use telling the truth. It wasn’t nearly as engaging as the way others chose to tell it.

“Rosie confronted Elmer Greenly in a shootout,” was the version Skip favored. “He threw Owen down the hole and was about to get away with Owen’s gold. Elmer owes money all over town. Gambling. Rosie shot his gun out of his hand and tied him up while Owen fetched the marshal.”

Cornelius was less charitable, still suspicious of Temperance’s motives. “Rosie shot him because she’s nursing a grudge over those pamphlets she was trying to write.”

“Owen saved her.” Frenchie assured everyone. “I was up the street. Heard it all. Elmer tried to rob Owen, but who cares about gold when the woman you love is in danger? Owen fought him for her life.”

Temperance seemed to relax a little when Jane and Mavis and baby Freddie turned up. Even Fritz was with them.

“My saloon is empty,” Fritz complained with a scowl for Owen, but he shook Owen’s hand and said, “Thank you for all you’ve done for my Mavis. I’m glad that good-for-nothing will be taken away from here. I’ll buy you a drink at my place next time you come in.”

“Is that supposed to oblige me to buy you a drink here tonight?” Owen asked drily.

“I’ll help you behind the bar. How’s that?”

It was busy enough that Owen appreciated the help. Jane and Mavis pitched in with serving while the tall tales continued.

When Owen noticed that Temperance was looking as frayed as an old blanket, he called out, “Sorry, folks. I’m out of whiskey. Fritz has plenty, though. Head to the Bijou.”

“That’s not fair, Owen,” Cecil Dudley called from the middle of the pack. “You stole our business for the evening, then you don’t even throw some my way when you shut down for the night?”

“Get yourself robbed, Ceece. That seems to attract a crowd.” Owen shook hands with him, though, and Cecil left in good spirits. “Oh, not you,” Owen said as Temperance started to follow Jane out the door. “I’ll walk you home later but stay for now. We need to talk.”

Temperance exchanged a small nod with Jane that it was okay she was staying behind. The boisterous crowd spilled onto the street and headed for the bridge.

Owen closed the door and locked it, then turned the sign. When he turned back to Temperance, he saw that he’d misjudged her.

She was a fainter, yes, but she was also a crier.

“Oh, Rosie.”

Owen gathered her up and drew her into his lap as he sat down on a chair. “You were so brave. So smart. So steady and clearheaded.” His arms wrapped tight around her. His voice dropped with deep emotion. “I love you, you know. I knew it before you shot up my saloon. I love you even more now that you have.”

“Don’t make jokes.” She choked through her shaken sobs.

“I have to make jokes, love, otherwise I’ll remember how scared I was when I heard Clarence bark and knew you were here. You could have been killed. I couldn’t take being responsible for that again, Temperance. Next time, you run and get the marshal, all right? My taxes are paying the man. I’d rather he took the bullet than you.”

“I was scared for you, too. And I don’t want there to be a next time.” She clung to him and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, feeling him swallow. She was still trembling, but now it was for a new reason. “Do you really love me?” she asked tentatively. “Or is that just talk?” Maybe it was his own reaction to danger, saying things he didn’t mean.

She kept her face buried in his throat, insides twisted and aching with hope.

“Temperance Rose Goodrich, I love you so damned hard, I don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t know how I’d make you happy, but I want to try. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” She drew back to search his eyes. Her heart felt too big for her chest, squeezing out all the air and thumping so hard it hurt. Her eyes were stinging, too, along with her throat.

“Yes, I’m sure.” His voice was fierce, almost exasperated, but his expression was tender. “I want to laugh with you and talk about people behind their backs and make love and help you start your own business helping people with their businesses. I don’t want to go a day without seeing you. I want you in my life forever. I don’t know what else to say to convince you.”

Her mouth trembled and her eyes welled. Her voice scraped its way past her thick throat. “You don’t have to convince me. I want to be with you forever too. I love you.”

His eyes glowed with tender light as he cupped her cheek and they pressed their wobbling smiles together, clinging. He kissed her softly at first, sweet and cherishing, filling her with warmth. With a belief that she was truly loved.