Page 76 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

Exquisite sensations were drawn out of her, then flowed back in. She had known this would make her feel closer to him. She hadn’t known she would feel this. Everywhere they touched, she felt fused to him. Her bloodstream sizzled with joy, and each thrust washed her in such pleasure it was decadence.

She wanted to tell him how good it was, but the only sound she could make was a long moan of absolute bliss. She rocked her hips to capture each of his returns, and stars shot behind her eyelids with every delicious crash.

His breaths were ragged, his body flexing in an effort to hold back as he tenderly made love to her.

When they were coated in sweat and gasping for breath, he caught his arms behind her knees, hitching her hips into a new angle. A thrilling sensation detonated deep in her pelvis. For one soul-shaking breath, her body tightened. Contracted.

Intense pleasure erupted within her, sending her into a world where nothing existed but ecstasy and the distant awareness that he was here with her, shuddering and bucking, sliding in and out of her in uneven thrusts, crying out with triumph, melding his hips to hers for what felt like eternity.

Slowly his weight sank onto her. He was still shaking, still panting.

Her weak arms fell off his shoulders, but she turned her lips against his salty skin to kiss him.

The words ‘I love you,’ sat in her throat. Tears were in her eyes.

That had been too beautiful. Too perfect to give up, and too fragile to sustain.

Owen hated winter, but as November flurries began to stick and accumulate, he wasn’t as miserable as he’d been in the past. The saloon was surprisingly cozy, and, even when the fire went out, his bed stayed deliciously warm.

That meant he was cheerful even when the deep snow meant the shipment to the mercantile was well over a week late and put him two pints away from running out of whiskey.

“Are you sure Mick is telling you the truth?” Temperance asked him.

Owen was wondering the same thing. Then he ran into Fritz at the mercantile. The other saloonkeeper was haunting the place in search of casks he’d ordered, too. Owen wasn’t the only one running low.

They heard from Mick that a rider had arrived in town from one of the forts this morning. He reported that waggoneers were waiting for the ground to freeze before attempting the rest of the trip.

“This is why Dudley makes his own,” Fritz said with a look of even more pain than he usually wore. “Listen, are you going to advertise in this catalogue of Elmer’s?”

“What catalogue?”

“I don’t know. Something he mentioned the other day. He said he’ll print it up and send it to Springfield to advertise the town. That way we’ll get more people here. Not just miners, but homesteaders and tradesmen who’ll buy plots of land. He’s going to drum up interest in a railroad too.”

“Are you joking?” Owen was near speechless. Had Elmer ever had an original thought in his life?

“He’s working on it with his father and P.J. Hartigan,” Mick provided. “He asked me too.”

Swearing and shaking his head, Owen went to P.J.’s liquor and tobacco shop on the way home, managing to fenagle a bottle of whiskey from P.J.’s reserve along with more information. Owen told Temperance as soon as he arrived home.

“What?” she cried. “But that’s what I’m doing.”

“His sounds like it’s pure hornswoggle too. P.J. said Elmer said it doesn’t have to be accurate. People only need to get the idea that there’s enough here to convince them to come. Elmer reckons if he says a railroad is on its way, people will come buy up land regardless.”

“That’s lying.”

“I think he’s views it as a colorful sales pitch.”

“Well, it’s wrong. It’s fraud. It’s—” She dropped her gaze to the notes she was making, but he’d seen the sheen of angry tears gathering there. “Will Virgil still want mine?”

Owen grimaced. This was the worst part. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he wouldn’t lie to her.

“I couldn’t say how Virgil will react, but this feels a lot like gold rushing. First in makes the money. Elmer isn’t just sending it to Springfield. Woodrow has contacts in Chicago, New York, and Washington.”

“But...” She looked crestfallen, which bothered him, but he couldn’t find it in him to be as upset as she was. “This is how I plan to get myself back to Chicago and support myself. I was going to show Adelaide that I contribute. That I b-belong—” She clamped her lips tight, but they still quivered. Her eyes welled, and her chin crinkled.

“Come on. Don’t cry.” She’d break his heart. He took her pencil and laid it down, then drew her out of the chair into his arms. “Why do you want to go back there and prove anything to that old cow anyway?”

“Because that’s how I get to see my family, Owen!” She pulled away. “Because I don’t want to be stuck here as a saloon girl all my life.”

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