Page 16 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“Good morning, Mrs…..Clarence!”

The dog pushed his whole head under her skirt in a most unseemly way. Temperance tussled and shoved at the dog’s head, sending an embarrassed look toward the neighbor’s house before glancing at Mrs. Pincher, expecting her to scold the dog.

“Keep your voice down. I have new guests.” Mrs. Pincher continued to glower. “You didn’t come home last night.”

“I was here. I just went for an early walk,” Temperance lied. Blatantly.

“I looked in on you, Miss Goodrich,” Mrs. Pincher said ominously. “I was concerned. Especially when you weren’t there.”

“Did you think I’d skipped out on you? Goodness no! I should have explained.” Temperance managed to get away from the dog and shook her skirts back into place along with as much of her composure as possible. “I actually have some of the rent I owe you.” She took a step forward, hoping to be let into the house where it was considerably warmer.

Mrs. Pincher didn’t move from blocking the doorway, only held out her hand. “My key.”

“Of course.” Temperance handed it over. “And let me give you what I can of the rent I owe you.”

Firming her smile, Temperance dug into her purse, carefully keeping the amount she needed to send a letter to her father. She offered the rest to Mrs. Pincher.

“It’s not all of it, but I’ll have more every day. I have a job.” She spoke with as much sunniness as she could manage under such a malevolent look.

“I surmised you were working, Miss Goodrich.” She made it sound very unsavory as she dropped the coins into the pocket of her apron. “I do not operate a house for women of ill repute. You are no longer welcome here. I must ask you to leave. Immediately.”

It was so unjust yet familiar, Temperance could only stand there trying to withstand the churning sensation in her middle. Trying to find the words to defend herself. She was in an impossible position. What else could she do?

“Immediately,” Mrs. Pincher repeated.

“But—” I’m tired. “If...” Do not cry. “If that’s how you feel, I’ll collect my things and...” She didn’t know what she would do. Prevail on Jane and Mavis?

“You may have your belongings when you settle up,” Mrs. Pincher informed her.

“But Mrs. Pin?—”

She closed the door in Temperance’s face.

Her first thought was to bang on the door and insist she be allowed to take her writing things at least, but given Mrs. Pincher’s mood, any further demands might incline her to throw Temperance’s things on the fire. Temperance didn’t have much in her carpet bag, only a change of clothes, a fresh chemise, a handful of reference books and her personal items.

And her pen and ink and paper. How would she write to her father?

Mrs. Pincher, she screamed silently, giving a small stomp of her foot.

Clarence came up to snuffle at her skirt again.

She was so despondent, she crouched to ruffle the dog’s ears and scrub into his neck, making his foot tap in silly joy.

I’m trying to wallow in misery, you fool. Don’t you dare cheer me up.

The door abruptly opened.

“I said immediately, Miss Goodrich. Clarence, come.” Mrs. Pincher gave her skirt a slap.

The dog ignored her, lifting hopeful eyes to Temperance as Temperance straightened and nodded, heart heavy. She hadn’t been made to feel so ashamed of herself since Adelaide had banished her from the house. This was even worse than finding out her father had never married her mother.

“All right. Goodbye, Mrs?—”

The door slammed again.

Temperance blindly began walking to the bridge into Auraria, unable to form a thought beyond, What will I do? Her eyes stung. So did her throat.

A sudden press of her skirt had her looking down into the cheerful eyes of Clarence, his tongue lolling happily from the side of his mouth.

---