Page 66 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“Good thing,” she said. “I need time to learn how to play before it gets here.”

His teeth slowly appeared in a grin of appreciation. “Now you’re just being silly.”

She was, and why did she enjoy it so much when she coaxed a grin out of him? Why did that one smile make her think that maybe everything would turn out fine?

While he finished filling the bottles, she hurried upstairs to change and fix her hair.

Despite all her misgivings leading up to this day, she was excited. They’d been working really hard, and she knew this meant a lot to him. It meant a lot to her. She wished Jane was here to see it. She’d managed to see her once in the last few days, only long enough to tell her about the broken window.

Jane wasn’t getting much sleep with Freddie in the cabin, but Mavis was moving in with Mr. Fritz as soon as they married, which was happening any day now.

When Owen came upstairs, Temperance went into the parlor, so he could have privacy while he changed. It was freezing in here, so she started the fire in the stove. She was nervous, but excited.

Owen appeared a moment later with his hair combed. He wore clean trousers and the shirt he had bought and saved for this occasion.

“You look nice,” she said shyly.

“So do you.” He let his gaze linger on her until she started to blush.

“I thought I’d let you put the sign in the window,” she said with a flick of her hand toward the front door. She had painted it yesterday. It read:

Good Whiskey – 35¢

Good luck – Free

Owen was pricing his drinks a little higher than the rest of the saloons, counting on men to be curious enough to pay the extra. He set the sign then walked outside to see how it looked, sending a friendly wave at someone down the street while he was out there.

When he came back in, she asked, “Did you tell Mick when you picked up the barrel that you were going to open today?”

“No, but it only takes one man walking by and noticing. Word will get around quickly enough. There you go.”

“Are you open, Owen?” Skip poked his head in.

“We sure are, Skip. I’ll even buy your first drink since you’re my very first customer.”

“I’d appreciate that, Owen. Well, hello.” Skip closed the door and bent to greet Clarence who padded toward him. He gave the dog a few pats on the head. “That’s a nice touch, offering a friendly face to greet a man.”

Temperance and Owen looked at each other in bemusement. Were they not wearing friendly faces?

“How are you, Rose? You look fetching,” Skip said as he limped toward the bar.

“I’m well, Skip, thank you,” Temperance replied. “How are you?”

“Better than that rap scallion who broke into the storehouse at Fortune City.” Skip always had a story, so she wasn’t surprised when he took his drink to one of the chairs near the stove and sat down with a sigh.

“Oh? What happened to him?”

“He was caught red-handed,” Skip assured her with a grave nod. “And tried by the miners out there. Some wanted to hang him, but they decided on giving him a few days rations and told him to get walking.”

“In this weather?” She lowered into the other chair. “What will happen do you think? Will he make it to one of the other camps? Or turn up here?”

“I don’t think he’ll make it far a’tall. If the wolves don’t eat him, some hungry miner will.”

“No!” She recoiled, then canted her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“That’s what he’ll be asking, once the men are helping themselves to his frozen drumstick.”

“Skip.” She covered her mouth, unable to help laughing.

---