Chapter 24
Temperance didn’t try the front door of the saloon. It was too early for it to be open. Besides, Clarence ran up the far side of the building to the back door where he was more used to being let in.
As she came into the backyard, the dog bounded through the snow toward the wagon house. The big door was open, so she presumed Owen was still putting Cobalt away.
“Owen?” The wagon house was empty, but his hat was on the floor. Strange.
She glanced in both stalls. Cobalt was in one, the other was open and empty. Clarence walked into it and flopped onto the straw, tongue lolling.
Good. He could keep his wet feet out here for now.
Carrying Owen’s hat, she started back to the house, walking far enough along the wagon tracks to see that Owen had already closed and latched the cellar doors.
Did she hear voices? Angry voices?
She paused as she entered the back door and cocked her head, trying to hear who he was with. One of his partners? Felix?
For some reason, her stomach began to churn with anxiety. She instinctually closed the door very quietly and set his hat on the table, then crept toward the door into the parlor.
“You don’t think I’m going to tell people it was you?” Owen asked impatiently.
“I’ll be gone by the time you get out of here. Now get down there and open the strongbox.”
“I’m telling you there’s nothing in it except the receipt proving I paid off your debt at the cathouse. Is that what you’re after?”
“Prove to me that’s all that’s in it, because if you weren’t planning to store gold here, you would have sent the box to camp with Emmett.”
“On horseback?”
“The stableboy for the Express office told me you and Emmett had a private meeting yesterday, arranging for a guarded shipment to Philadelphia as soon as the weather clears.”
“Well, that little shit is out of a job, isn’t he? Look, I know you’re not going to shoot me, Elmer. Someone will hear it and come running.”
Temperance’s heart lurched.
“No one runs toward a gun fight, idiot. Now get down there and open the fucking box.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God! What to do? Run? Scream for help?
Temperance flung a look to the back door. Her gaze locked onto Mrs. Stames, Owen’s long gun, in its rack beside the door.
In the parlor, she heard Owen’s voice growing muffled. He must’ve been going into the cellar through the trap door.
“Do you want me to turn this back into an undertaking parlor?” Elmer asked snidely. “You owe me. Mavis didn’t leave, and now you’ve gone and told Katherine?—”
“I’ve never spoken to your wife.”
“Yes, you did. Who else knew about Mavis?”
Me. I knew, Temperance thought with another swerve of her heart.
Shaking, she tiptoed to the door and picked up the gun. Owen kept it loaded, but she carefully slid the ramrod down the barrel to check. It didn’t go all the way, telling her it was ready to fire.
Should she take it outside and send out a blast into the air, hoping someone would come? Elmer was right. She never went looking to see who was exchanging gun fire. She turned the other direction.
With her guts sloshing like water, she crept back to the door with the long gun in her clammy hands. Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t swallow.
“None of your fucking business where I’m going,” Elmer was saying, voice muffled by the floorboards.
She searched for a crack in the wall that was wide enough to peek through, winding up standing on Clarence’s blanket on the far side of the chimney. Here, she could see the corner of the bar where the trapdoor was propped open.
Elmer sat on the edge of the opening, one foot on the ladder into the cellar. He held a revolver that he pointed into the hole. In his other hand, he held an open bottle of bourbon.
He took a pull then asked, “What else is in there? Is that Sureshot’s pistol?”
“It’s not loaded,” Owen’s muffled voice replied. “Is that who you owe money to?”
“We’re not having a tea party here, Owen. Just give me the gold.”
Even if she wanted to try, she couldn’t shoot Elmer from this angle. The stove pipe was in her way.
“Toss that up here,” Elmer said, rising to stand over the hole.
Two nondescript looking parcels wrapped in deer hide landed with very hefty thuds next to his feet.
“Now, stay nice and quiet down there, or I’ll start shooting through the floorboards.” Elmer dropped the door with a slam and stood on it while he took another pull off the whiskey bottle. He was shaking with nerves almost as badly as Temperance was.
He set his revolver on the top of the bar then bent to set the bottle on the floor while he reached for the parcels. His grunt told her they were heavy. They must be gold.
She brought the gun up, but in this tight space, she couldn’t angle herself for a clear shot, not that she wanted a murder on her conscience, but she couldn’t let Elmer get away with daylight robbery. She opened her mouth to let him know she had a gun on him when, outside, Clarence gave one sharp bark.
Elmer swung his attention to the door into this room, hand blindly reaching for his pistol on the bar.
“Temperance, run!” Owen shouted. “Run, dammit!”
She held her breath, praying Owen knew his gun as well as he seemed to. She veers a little to the left. She aimed for Elmer’s pistol and squeezed the trigger.
The boom and kick and shatter of glass behind the bar scared the hell out of her. She didn’t see if she hit her target. She spun so her back was to the chimney bricks, waiting for Elmer to open fire against the wall between them.
Through her ringing ears, she heard a huge thump, staggering footsteps, shouts of alarm followed by crashes and grunts and things being knocked over.
Just as she gathered her limp muscles to start running for the back door, she heard Owen shout, “Temperance!”
“Y-yes?”
“Get me a string of rope from the wagon house.”
“Okay.” She was going to faint, she was pretty sure, but the bracing cold outside rejuvenated her. Clarence had retreated into the wagon house and hesitantly waggled up to her.
She patted him briefly, then grabbed the first bundle of rope she saw before staggering back to the house, feet slipping in the uneven snow.
When she entered the parlor, she found Owen sitting on top of Elmer, who was face down on the floor. Owen held one of Elmer’s arms twisted into the middle of his back.
Elmer was swearing, but Owen gave his arm a little wiggle and said, “Clean it up. There’s a lady present.”
“Is that what you’re calling her?”
“I don’t need any more reasons to kill you, Elmer. Start looking for ways to convince me you should live. Thanks, Rosie. Good job keeping a cool head.” He started roping Elmer like a cattleman with a yearling.
“I couldn’t shoot him.” Her head was no longer attached to her body. Her knees were so loose she could barely stand.
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“I mean, I couldn’t get him in my sight. I had to aim for his gun when he put it on the bar.”
“You got it. Left a crease in the bar that’ll make anyone think twice about robbing this place. You also busted the hell out of my mirror, which is seven years bad luck. Good thing I have a horseshoe to cancel that out. Was that you, Elmer?” Owen gave a final loop of the rope around Elmer’s ankles and stood over him, nudging his hip with the toe of his boot. “Did you throw that horseshoe through my window? Because I’m going to charge you for that.”
“It was his m-mom.” Her lips felt numb. Her vision was blurring.
“Ivy Greenly broke my wind— Whoa.” Owen caught Temperance by the upper arms as her knees gave way. “So, you’re a fainter.” He gathered her up and sat her in a chair but he didn’t let go of her. That was a good thing since she felt limp as a ragdoll, held up only by his grip. “We all react differently to danger. I like to make jokes. Elmer wets his drawers.”
“I did not. Fuck you.” Elmer turned his head to glare at them.
Owen ignored him and knelt in front of her, holding her upright while hugging her and kissing the side of her bonnet.
“Are you going to faint? Because as much as I’d like to cuddle you until you feel better, I have to call the manure wagon to scrape this shit off my floor. You want me to put you on the bed first?”
She gave a little sob-laugh, reaching for her bearings now that she could see Elmer was hogtied. “I could make some coffee?”
“Could you? I’d like that. You want a shot of whiskey first?”
“I really do.”
“Stay right here. I’ll get it.” He kissed her once on the lips and walked away.
Owen had nearly diedof fright when he’d been standing trapped in his cellar with an empty pistol and an empty strongbox, and heard Clarence bark, telling him that Temperance had arrived.
He didn’t care if Elmer took a couple of pounds of gold. Well, he cared, but he could track that fucker the rest of his life to get it back. There was no getting Temperance back if something happened to her, though. That had been the thought that had nearly popped his heart out his throat.
He had shouted at her to run, trying to keep her from walking up on a desperate man—and Elmer had to be desperate, given he had such a low chance of getting away with his ill-conceived crime.
After pouring a drink for Temperance, Owen downed two himself, then he leaned out his front door. He whistled sharply to Frenchie, who was up the street, smoking and leaning on a shovel. Two other men stood by. They were all looking this direction.
“You got trouble, Owen?” Frenchie called. “We heard a shot.”
“Tell the marshal I stopped a robbery,” he called out.
“Merde. Anyone killed?”
“There will be if he gives me any more trouble.” Elmer’s lip was swollen and cut, but Owen could have done worse. He had sure been tempted to.
Frenchie touched his cap and headed toward the marshal’s office.
An hour later, the gold was under guard at the Express office. Elmer had been taken away and was also under guard. Woodrow had come by long enough to learn that his son was a failed bandit, and his wife’s vandalism was also firmly on the town grapevine.
Temperance had made coffee and a pot of stew, but they hadn’t had a minute alone to talk properly. She was still quiet as they sat down to eat, but the saloon was already filling with men who wanted to know, “What the hell happened here today?”
There was no use telling the truth. It wasn’t nearly as engaging as the way others chose to tell it.
“Rosie confronted Elmer Greenly in a shootout,” was the version Skip favored. “He threw Owen down the hole and was about to get away with Owen’s gold. Elmer owes money all over town. Gambling. Rosie shot his gun out of his hand and tied him up while Owen fetched the marshal.”
Cornelius was less charitable, still suspicious of Temperance’s motives. “Rosie shot him because she’s nursing a grudge over those pamphlets she was trying to write.”
“Owen saved her.” Frenchie assured everyone. “I was up the street. Heard it all. Elmer tried to rob Owen, but who cares about gold when the woman you love is in danger? Owen fought him for her life.”
Temperance seemed to relax a little when Jane and Mavis and baby Freddie turned up. Even Fritz was with them.
“My saloon is empty,” Fritz complained with a scowl for Owen, but he shook Owen’s hand and said, “Thank you for all you’ve done for my Mavis. I’m glad that good-for-nothing will be taken away from here. I’ll buy you a drink at my place next time you come in.”
“Is that supposed to oblige me to buy you a drink here tonight?” Owen asked drily.
“I’ll help you behind the bar. How’s that?”
It was busy enough that Owen appreciated the help. Jane and Mavis pitched in with serving while the tall tales continued.
When Owen noticed that Temperance was looking as frayed as an old blanket, he called out, “Sorry, folks. I’m out of whiskey. Fritz has plenty, though. Head to the Bijou.”
“That’s not fair, Owen,” Cecil Dudley called from the middle of the pack. “You stole our business for the evening, then you don’t even throw some my way when you shut down for the night?”
“Get yourself robbed, Ceece. That seems to attract a crowd.” Owen shook hands with him, though, and Cecil left in good spirits. “Oh, not you,” Owen said as Temperance started to follow Jane out the door. “I’ll walk you home later but stay for now. We need to talk.”
Temperance exchanged a small nod with Jane that it was okay she was staying behind. The boisterous crowd spilled onto the street and headed for the bridge.
Owen closed the door and locked it, then turned the sign. When he turned back to Temperance, he saw that he’d misjudged her.
She was a fainter, yes, but she was also a crier.
“Oh, Rosie.”
Owen gathered her up and drew her into his lap as he sat down on a chair. “You were so brave. So smart. So steady and clearheaded.” His arms wrapped tight around her. His voice dropped with deep emotion. “I love you, you know. I knew it before you shot up my saloon. I love you even more now that you have.”
“Don’t make jokes.” She choked through her shaken sobs.
“I have to make jokes, love, otherwise I’ll remember how scared I was when I heard Clarence bark and knew you were here. You could have been killed. I couldn’t take being responsible for that again, Temperance. Next time, you run and get the marshal, all right? My taxes are paying the man. I’d rather he took the bullet than you.”
“I was scared for you, too. And I don’t want there to be a next time.” She clung to him and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, feeling him swallow. She was still trembling, but now it was for a new reason. “Do you really love me?” she asked tentatively. “Or is that just talk?” Maybe it was his own reaction to danger, saying things he didn’t mean.
She kept her face buried in his throat, insides twisted and aching with hope.
“Temperance Rose Goodrich, I love you so damned hard, I don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t know how I’d make you happy, but I want to try. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”
“Are you sure you want to marry me?” She drew back to search his eyes. Her heart felt too big for her chest, squeezing out all the air and thumping so hard it hurt. Her eyes were stinging, too, along with her throat.
“Yes, I’m sure.” His voice was fierce, almost exasperated, but his expression was tender. “I want to laugh with you and talk about people behind their backs and make love and help you start your own business helping people with their businesses. I don’t want to go a day without seeing you. I want you in my life forever. I don’t know what else to say to convince you.”
Her mouth trembled and her eyes welled. Her voice scraped its way past her thick throat. “You don’t have to convince me. I want to be with you forever too. I love you.”
His eyes glowed with tender light as he cupped her cheek and they pressed their wobbling smiles together, clinging. He kissed her softly at first, sweet and cherishing, filling her with warmth. With a belief that she was truly loved.
She kissed him back, wanting him to know she loved him with her whole being. As their kiss deepened and passion ignited, they kissed with more hunger and urgency.
“Will you stay here tonight?” he drew back to ask. “You’ll come back to me? For always?”
She nodded. They rose and doused the lights, leaving the dog snoozing by the stove.
They prepared for bed and crawled beneath the blankets where they reached for each other and twined together in a way that was deliciously familiar. Her head notched just so into the hollow of his shoulder. The firmness of his knee pushed between hers. His chin rested on her plaited hair, and her hand rested on his chest where she could feel the beat of his heart.
They both sighed as though it was a homecoming.
It was. Emotion rose behind her eyes, and she sniffed back a rush of tears, chest swelling with love for him. She tilted up her mouth, searching for his.
He groaned and covered her lips, kissing her long and slow and thoroughly. His hands moved on her, pulling her closer, as though he wanted to pull her inside his skin.
She wanted the same thing. She wanted them so close they’d be like bubbles that popped the inner wall and became a single entity, bigger. Filled with wonder and color and something invisible yet pure.
When she started to seek his skin under his untucked shirt, he whispered, “Temperance.”
“Don’t you want to?”
“I do,” he groaned. “I really do.” They squirmed in a struggle to remove their clothes without breaking their kiss or letting go of each other, unable to cease touching.
When they were naked and their discarded clothes were nested around them, he started to pull away.
“You don’t have to wear it. You can pull out.”
“You trust me?” His hand cradled the side of her face, and his lips nuzzled her cheekbone.
“Shouldn’t I?”
“You can, yes.” He kissed her tenderly. “I want to look after you in every way. Always.”
“Then make love with me. I need you, Owen.”
“I need you too.” He kissed her again, longer. Deeper.
They ran their hands over each other, fondling, caressing, exploring. Eliciting hisses and soft moans.
“You’re so hard.”
“You’re so soft.”
He rolled atop her, and she opened her thighs and brought her knees to his waist. Their hands bumped as they both tried to guide him in the darkness. He paused to stroke her, delving and preparing, then the wide dome of his sex was pressing— There.
As he slowly filled her, her whole body came alight. His hot mouth opened on the side of her neck. He shook.
She slid her hands across his naked back and roamed them across his firm buttocks, digging her fingers into their firmness as he flexed and began to thrust.
“I missed this,” she whispered.
“I missed you. God, you feel so good. I love you, Temperance. I love you so much.”
She felt his love. She gloried in it, feeling divine. She arched and gave herself fully to his powerful thrusts, moaning unabashedly.
“Tell me when.”
“Soon. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck, Owen.”
He bent his knee and tucked his hand beneath her tailbone, tilting her pelvis so his thrusts slammed a fraction more deeply. They landed more firmly against that tantalizing spot that had her clamping onto him, fisting her hand in his hair and saying, “Harder. Harder.”
Her climax struck with exquisite force, engulfing her in waves of joyous pleasure while his hips continued to piston, holding her on that plateau of ecstatic beauty.
The very moment the pulses began to recede, he pulled out and thrust against her bare belly. Harsh groans escaped him as bursts of wet heat spilled across her skin.