Chapter 21
The saloon had been open for nearly an hour. A foursome of men had been playing cards the whole time, and several others had wandered in and out, all wanting to chew the fat with Owen, but he was irritated by the distraction. Finally, Clarence picked himself up off his blanket and walked to the door into the kitchen.
Temperance was back. Thank God.
Owen let the dog in to greet her, but it was more so that he could see her.
She was changing and shot him a look over her shoulder.
“I’ve eaten,” he said.
She nodded jerkily and turned her back on him again.
He sighed and closed the door, not sure what he was supposed to say to make up with her, but he sure wanted to.
She must have taken time to eat a bowl of stew, because it was nearly thirty minutes before she finally came in wearing her gown with her hair up. She sent Owen a vague smile, eyes barely meeting his before she turned her attention to the card players.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” She greeted each by name, exchanging a few words before saying, “It looks like Owen has been looking after you. Let me know when you’re ready for a fresh round.”
“Will do, Rosie. Thanks.”
For the most part, the Lucky Horseshoe was attracting exactly the drinkers Owen wanted—men who didn’t mind paying a little extra for a comfortable atmosphere. If they wanted to get pickled, they moved to a saloon where the vinegar was cheaper.
Temperance came to the bar, face pale, but maybe she looked so ghostly because he hadn’t lit the lamps yet.
“I know you’re running low, but can I have half a shot?” she asked.
“Why?” She lived up to her name and hadn’t had any whiskey since the first sip he’d poured for her when they tasted from the barrel.
“You can take it from my wages,” she said with a sullen look.
“I’m not going to charge you,” he muttered, annoyed that she would think he would. He spilled a measure into a clean glass. “Is this about Elmer and his almanac?” Or him? Them. He had the sense she thought he was deliberately holding her back. Letting her down. Failing.
He swallowed, but his chest continued to feel both tight and hollow.
“I feel like I’ve been gut shot,” she muttered. “I’m not...” She glanced over her shoulder, then mouthed, ‘pregnant.’ “I thought you’d like to know.”
He hadn’t expected her to be, but the news blew back his hair. And it raised more questions in him than it answered. He didn’t know much about a woman’s cycle beyond the way nature took its course with cattle and horses and other animals.
“Do you feel ill? Do you want to lie down?”
“No. I would only brood.” She sipped her drink, pensive gaze on the wall behind him.
“I’ll talk to Elmer tomorrow,” he said.
“And say what? It won’t change anything. I’ve lost the race.” Her mouth twisted with angry resignation.
He couldn’t deny that, but he hated to see her looking so glum.
“Rosie, I’m ready for another drink,” one of the men called. “And I’m going to need you to come over and tap this deck for luck, because I ain’t got any.”
She gulped her whiskey and choked slightly, then mustered a smile.
“I’m happy to bring you a drink, Whistler, but I warn you my own luck is running low at the moment.”
So was Owen’s. She barely spoke to him the rest of the evening and was fast asleep when he came to bed.
The bad luck and the schism between them lasted four more days. Owen ran out of whiskey and had to put a sign in the window that his barrel was empty. Not that men were venturing out anyway. A storm rolled in with heavy snow and such cold temperatures, Owen blanketed his horse and took him over to the corral where the heat of the other animals and the extra straw provided a slightly warmer barn than his frigid wagon house.
He returned to find Temperance bundled up to her eyebrows, cradling a cup of coffee in her gloved hands, staring into the fire.
“Are you going to stay angry at me for something Elmer did?” he asked.
“I’m not angry. I’m sad. And cold.”
“We could warm up with a snuggle. Just a snuggle,” he added quickly. He’d been waking up with her spooned into his body, but they hadn’t even kissed in days. “Unless you want to do more.” Please want to do more.
“I always want to do more,” she mumbled, setting down her mug to push the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.
His heart teetered in his chest. “Rosie, you have got to stop thinking there’s something wrong with you for enjoying lovemaking.”
“There is something wrong with it,” she insisted, lifting her head. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t let my carnal desires get the better of me. Now, I’m doing it again.”
“No. You’re here because a man took advantage of your curiosity. Then your stepmother punished you for it. If she wants to claim you injured her by living your life, fine. That’s her business to feel that way, but you don’t have to. Are you really going to let them continue hurting you by denying yourself something that makes you feel good?”
“You’re just trying to convince me to join you in that bed.”
“No.” He smacked his hand on the table, making her blink and jerk back. “I want to make love with you, Temperance. I want that all the time, but not if you’re hating yourself for it. That’s insulting.” He straightened, hurt. Conflicted about many things, but not about that. He sighed. “But I want to understand. Life is so damned hard, Temperance. So cruel. Who are we hurting when we share that bed? No one. So why do you want to hurt yourself over it?”
“It hurts either way, Owen!” She rose and paced away, flinging out her hand. “It hurts if we make love, and it hurts if we don’t.”
His stomach pitched. “It hurts you when we make love?”
“Not—” She made a noise of frustration, hugging herself as she looked to the rafters. “Not physically. It hurts here.” She touched her chest. “You don’t love me. And I don’t expect you to,” she rushed on. “Not when I’m the kind of woman a man only wants for that.” She waved at the bed. “I did this to myself. I know that. That’s what hurts.”
He threw back his head, astonished by what a blow those words were and how deeply they cut.
“I care about you.” He dredged the words from deep in his tight chest. “You must know that.”
“In the way you care about Clarence,” she choked. “You’ll make sure I’m fed and that I don’t have to sleep outside in the cold.”
“For God’s sake, Temperance.” Now he was offended.
“Oh, are you ready to make some sort of commitment to me?” she challenged. “Do you want me here forever? Or just as long as it takes to warm up beneath the covers?”
His teeth clenched themselves together too hard for him to speak through them.
The only sound in the silence was the snap of the fire and the small, pained noise that resounded in her throat.
“It’s fine, Owen,” she insisted in a jagged voice. “I understand why you don’t want to take responsibility for people. Why you don’t let yourself really care. I accept that, but it means I have to look after myself. If I don’t care for myself, if I don’t respect myself, who will?”
That was another claw across his face that turned his head to the side, he was so stunned by the pain.
“See? I’m not angry. I’m sad. I don’t know how to fix my future, but I know that climbing into bed with you isn’t the answer, even though it feels good for a little while.”
“What do you want me to say?” he charged, stinging and hot all over. “That I’ll buy you a ticket to Chicago? First of all, you’d be lucky to survive the trip, and what are you going to do when you get there?”
“I’m going to tell people I’m widowed.” She lifted her chin. Her cheekbones were bright with a flush of defiant anger.
“I see. And that will fix everything? Your stepmother will open her arms to you, Mrs. Stames?”
“I wouldn’t dare take the name of your gun,” she scoffed, eyes bright. “And what do you care what I do?”
“Because I need you,” he said begrudgingly. Did she forget that he couldn’t do this without her? “Maybe you don’t think this is respectable work, but it’s important to me.”
The tendons in her neck seemed to flex as though he’d said something that struck her hard, but she looked down at the floor, hiding her expression.
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” she said in a hollow voice. “I appreciate that you pay me an honest wage for honest work, I do. But I think it’s better if we only work together and don’t...” The bed received another fluttering wave. “Do that.”
“Fine.” It was an absolute stake through the heart, but fine.
The followingday dawned so bright, Temperance winced as she opened the curtain and squinted against the glare.
“Let’s hope this holds and the wagons start moving,” Owen said as he stamped into his boots.
People were venturing out, at least. Temperance could see someone was digging out, throwing snow.
Owen did the same for an hour before he left to collect his horse and go hunting. She suspected he was avoiding her since they still had venison from his last hunting trip. He’d sold half of that buck to the butcher for credit, so they could pick up sausage and scraps for Clarence as needed. He’d brought home the rest, all neatly wrapped. It was stored in the locker outside, where the winter temperatures kept it frozen.
The fact was, if he hadn’t left, she would have walked over to see Jane, so she could avoid him.
Thankfully, Jane came by for a visit.
“I was feeling cooped up,” Jane said. “I didn’t even see Mavis outside of cooking myself a meal, and I didn’t want to intrude when they were enjoying a few days to themselves without the saloon taking up all their time. I sewed up some pieces for the clothing store, though. That’s why I’m out this morning. I went to ask if she’d sell them for me for a small commission.”
“That’s great, Jane!”
“She said she’d think about it,” she added glumly. “I think she’s cornered the market and fears competition.”
“I guess she has. The market isn’t very big, either. There aren’t many women here.”
“That’s why I sewed up a man’s shirt, but her husband does tailoring, so she only said she’d keep me in mind if demand is so high they can’t keep up.”
“I’m sorry. I envy you, though, knowing what you want. Opening a shop isn’t easy, but it’s possible. I have no doubt you’ll manage it, one way or another. I only wish I had the same sense of purpose.”
“Are you not going to work the front of my store while I’m busy sewing in the back? I was fully planning to poach you from Mr. Stames,” Jane said, deadpan, but with a sparkle in her eye.
“I could serve whiskey on the side,” Temperance leapt on the silliness of it. “I think we’re onto something, Jane. Whiskey and wearables.”
“The Gulp and Gown,” Jane shot back.
“The Tipsy Tailor.”
“The Drunken Dressmaker.”
They both chuckled, leaving Temperance in much better spirits that lingered after Jane left and Owen returned.
“I met up with a string of pack animals heading into town,” Owen reported when he returned with a fat hare. “They said wagon drivers at the forts were removing wheels and installing sleigh runners, but it would take a few more days for them to arrive.”
“That’s good news.”
The next day, they were in the saloon eating their midday stew, debating whether it was worth a walk to the mercantile to check on things, when there was a knock at the door.
Owen opened it to a middle-aged stranger who was hunched into his jacket on the stoop. His woolen hat was pulled low on his friendly face. He had a rucksack over his shoulder.
“We’re not open,” Owen said. “No whiskey.”
“I actually have some for you,” the man said cheerfully. “At least, I believe it’s for you. Are you Owen Stames of the Venturous Mining Company? A friend of Mr. Gardner’s?”
“For a bottle of whiskey, I’ll be anyone you like.” Owen stepped back to wave the man in. “This is Temperance Goodrich.”
“Nice to meet you.” Temperance stood. “Are you coming from Peoria?” She was shocked that her father had received her letter and acted so quickly.
“Topeka. Felix Martin.” He offered his hand to Owen. “I think you’re acquainted with my nieces, Marigold and Pearl.”
“I am. It’s very nice to meet you.” Owen shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm. “Where’s your horse?” He looked out the window.
“It belonged to the stage. They took care of it and gave me a room when I came in yesterday.”
“That must have been quite a journey in this weather.” Temperance felt oddly threatened by their instant camaraderie. “Can I offer you a bowl of stew?”
“I just ate, thank you, or I would leap on that. Oh, hello.” He leaned down to pat Clarence as the dog ambled over to nudge his hand. “I was snowed in twice on the trail, once in Fort Kearney, then in Julesburg,” Felix belatedly answered. “It was a relief to arrive in one piece. This is a fine place you have.” He straightened to take in the small improvements they’d been making while they had days to fill.
Owen was nearly finished filling in the ceiling, which already kept it warmer in here. He’d scored out the pattern of a checkerboard onto the end of an empty whiskey barrel. It stood in the corner with a pair of homemade stools.
Temperance had begun making cushions for each of the chairs, using up the black velvet from the old drapes and trimming them with leftover yellow and green ribbons from her gown. They were only stuffed with straw, but they were better than nothing and brightened things up.
She had also found a canvas painting in a broken frame at the trading post. It showed a handful of people in fancy dress and wigs playing cards in a drawing room. Owen had fixed the frame enough that its crack wasn’t too noticeable.
Temperance might not have any stake in this saloon, but she was proud of how it was coming along.
“I had a letter from the girls a month ago,” Felix continued as he accepted the chair Owen waved him into. “I was already considering a move here now that Kansas has settled on its own constitution and will be admitted into the union as a free state. It’s funny. I spent a lifetime thinking I hadn’t signed up to be a father, but once the girls were gone, I missed them.”
“You still have a ways to go before you’ll see them,” Owen said. “If the weather holds, and you’ve got a good horse, you can do it in a day.”
“I’ve heard. I’ll wait a few days before I attempt it, but I wanted to come see you straight away. Pearl said you’re liable to need a manager.”
“She did?” Owen sat back, smile falling away.
Temperance felt as though she was being lowered into an icy stream. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, couldn’t move, and she was pretty sure she would soon drown.
“She made clear that she hadn’t discussed anything with you.” Felix held up a staying hand, then withdrew a sealed whiskey bottle from his saddle bag. “This is uncut bourbon directly from a distillery owned by a friend of a friend. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you I understand the market.” He touched his nose and grinned. “I brought two, but one has developed a slow leak. Cold nights, I’m afraid.” He winked.
Felix offered Owen a letter. Owen slowly unfolded it, glancing at Temperance.
She stood to read it over his shoulder.
It opened with reassurances from Pearl that she was well and that Marigold was happy in her marriage. Temperance skimmed past that, then read aloud:
“It’s wonderful to be with my sister and her new family, but I feel I’m in the way of the newlyweds. I would prefer to live in town where things are not quite so rustic. There’s a potential opportunity I wanted to put to you for consideration. I haven’t spoken to Virgil, or his partner, Mr. Stames, but I’m given to understand Mr. Stames has purchased a saloon in Denver. It may be some time before it is operational, but Virgil wonders what Mr. Stames will do in the spring, when all the partners will be needed in camp to work the diggings. This leads me to think there may be a position for you as a tender of the bar. On my arrival in Denver, I had the chance to learn a little of whisky-making and serving. I would happily assist you there if you would be amenable to my living with you again.”
Temperance quit reading. She felt Owen’s eyes on her face but avoided looking at him by taking her bowl with its few bites of cold stew and setting it for the dog to clean up.
“There’s no presumption on my part,” Felix said. “My education is law, and I have the pleasure of writing for two newspapers which is a small income, but enough to get myself settled here. Marigold has put to me that there is always need for labor at the mine.”
“True,” Owen said noncommittally.
“You needn’t feel obliged. I’ll only add that I play piano and sadly lost my accordion in our house fire, but I’ve made an arrangement with a man in Fort Kearney to purchase his. Saloon work isn’t something I’ve ever done, but it’s something I imagine I could enjoy.”
Owen picked up the bottle to turn it over in his hand. “How much do I owe you for this?”
“I brought it as a goodwill gift, in hopes you would consider ordering from my friend.”
“If it’s any good, I will, but the whole town is dry. Take advantage and take my money. Will you accept five dollars?”
“I will take four and a shot from the top of it.”
They sampled it, and both men released satisfied hisses of breath.
“Paint us a new sign, Rose,” Owen said. “Pure bourbon, sixty cents. Limited quantity.”
“Sixty cents! That’s robbery.”
“That’s business. The casks will arrive tomorrow. After that, we’ll be lucky to get thirty-five cents no matter how good it is. How much will you charge me for your open bottle?” Owen asked Felix.
“At the profit you’re making? It will cost you another four,” Felix said with a chuckle of amusement.
“Go get it,” Owen said with a nod.