Page 53 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

She was still on the floor, arms around her knees, mouth unutterably sad. “I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Me, too.” He left, blowing out an agonized breath that puffed on the afternoon air.

Chapter 15

Owen walked to the clothing store with Clarence on his heels, still feeling raw, but that wasn’t a new sensation for him. This weight of guilt was the shadow companion his brother had once been, and he held it close as a reminder of his own reckless stupidity.

There had been a time when he’d been as hard on himself as Temperance, convinced he needed to be punished. That’s how he’d become friends with Virgil, in fact. He’d hated himself and school and the boys who still had fathers and money. When he’d seen those better-thans picking on Virgil—who had been a broomstick of a boy with a father who had never claimed him in the first place—Owen had stepped in to fight alongside him.

Owen had been seeking a beating and got it, but he’d got his own licks in and wound up with a loyal friend. They’d both dropped out of school within a few years and hadn’t seen much of each other until they happened to join the army at the same time. They quickly discovered you needed someone to watch your back there, too.

The army had been hell, absolute hell, where Owen had taken fresh beatings for refusing to do things that were outright monstrous. That’s when he’d learned there were people, grown men, who weren’t just negligent and illiterate, they were deliberately cruel.

He had realized he could be like them, or he could be a clown. He’d taken many a blow because of his smart mouth and unconcerned attitude, but incompetence made an excellent weapon, when wielded correctly.

Like now, when he ‘accidentally’ allowed Clarence to follow him into the shop.

“Good m— Oh. Sir.” The proprietress’s voice went from cheerful to stern. “I must ask you to put your dog outside.”

“He’ll be all right. He hardly ever pees indoors,” Owen said with a blithe wave.

The shop was empty. The woman paused in laying out fabric at her counter to bug her eyes at Clarence as he dropped his head and snuffled into all the corners and under shelves, wagging his tail happily.

Owen had taken a draw from the mercantile on his way here. He made a point of putting his two twenty-dollar coins on the counter where the woman could see them.

“Is that gown in the window spoken for?” He pointed at the rich mulberry that looked as though it was draped over a bird cage.

“That’s a premade skirt, sir. It needs tailoring and a bodice, which I could supply if you’d like to choose one of the fabrics from my sample book?” She brushed aside the fabric she’d laid out and set a heavy book in front of him. “Why don’t you browse while I put your dog outside?”

“I definitely want that skirt, and this here is nice.” He ignored the book and turned the edge of the fabric she’d been measuring, admiring the bright colors on the right side of it. Big red flowers and green vines climbed over stripes of gold and soft yellow. “Bundle me up enough of this for a gown.”

“I—” She hesitated, attention divided between him and the dog. “I have another customer who has asked me to set aside enough of this chintz for a gown if she decides she wants it. Most ladies prefer to stand out in something original so perhaps your, um, wife?” she guessed. “Would like to come in and choose something for herself.”

“I sent Temperance in here to do that this morning. You refused to serve her.” He kept his anger out of his face, wearing his most confounded expression instead. There was no need to scare a woman with a hard look when it was enough to let her know her rudeness had presented him with a problem he needed to solve. Today. Right now.

She blushed tomato red and dropped her gaze to the coins on her counter.

“My husband and I arrived very recently. Mrs. Greenly seems a very influential customer. I didn’t feel I was in a position to take your, um, friend’s side against her.”

“Is this for Mrs. Greenly?” He nodded at the fabric.

“Um...” She looked as though she’d backed into a porcupine. “I have a nice blue stripe that is very fetching. May I show it to you?”

“No, I definitely want this.” Ivy Greenly could wear the same gown as a saloon girl, or she could go to hell. He moved his two coins forward.

“You’re putting me in a very difficult position, sir.”

“I disagree. You’re in an excellent position to make a sale today, rather than hope for a sale another day. Tell Mrs. Greenly that if she wants this chintz, she can buy a few yards of it from me. Now, let’s have some lace and ribbons to fancy this up. What else is needed for making a gown? Needles? Thread?”

“Jane!” Temperance cried with welcome when her friend turned up the following afternoon. “I wanted to come ask your advice, but I couldn’t bring my work out in this rain. How are you? Come in, come in.”

“I’m good. Mavis asked me to return this to you.” She offered the damp carpet bag. “She’s decided to stay and marry Mr. Fritz, but she wasn’t up to walking this far to return it herself.”

“Goodness. That’s news, isn’t it? Thank you.” Temperance took the bag. “Hang your coat there.” She pointed to the hooks near the door. “You’ll stay for coffee?”

“I’d love one.” Jane stayed on the stoop to shake out her wet cloak and wring out the shawl she’d used to cover her bonnet. Both were soaked through.

“What does it mean for you that Mavis is staying?” Temperance asked as she drew the door shut to close them inside.

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