Chapter Six

      Eve clutched the borrowed book to her chest as they left the restaurant, feeling one part guilt and one part excitement. She shouldn’t have taken advantage of Abigail’s generosity the way she had, but the idea of having a book to read had been too irresistible a temptation.

      They made a quick stop at the sheriff’s office to retrieve her carpetbag and then headed for Mr. Dawson’s place.

      Eve still felt uncomfortable with the idea of moving into the home of an unmarried man, especially one she’d met only a few hours ago, but accepted that she had little choice in the matter. The fact that Dotty and the sheriff saw nothing amiss with the plan did reassure her. And she was selfishly glad Mr. Dawson had tapped Dotty to play the part of chaperone. She’d liked the woman almost on sight.

      “Tell me,” she asked Mr. Dawson, “what sort of business are you in?”

      Was that a wince? Had she overstepped with her question?

      But almost immediately he was flashing one of his carefree grins again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, let her fancy run away with her as her grandmother often accused.

      “I repair mechanical devices,” he said.

      “Mechanical?”

      “Yes, I tinker around with all sorts of machinery— stationary engines, grandfather clocks, sewing machines—I repair and adjust them when they break down.”

      Leo’s eyes lit up. “Are you working on anything right now?”

      Mr. Dawson rubbed his jaw, but she saw a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, let’s see. Mrs. Carlisle’s sewing machine is giving her problems so I’m taking a look at it for her. And I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately tinkering with a stationary engine.”

      Leo nodded solemnly as if he knew exactly what Mr. Dawson was talking about.

      “Of course, you might be more interested in the mechanical toys I’ve taken apart just to see how they work.”

      Leo’s face brightened further. “Can I help with that?”

      “We’ll see. There’s one other thing I work with that might interest you—I spend time making certain my motor carriage stays in good working order.”

      Leo stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing rounder. “You have a motor carriage?” He said it as if Mr. Dawson had just admitted to having a pirate’s treasure hidden in his shop.

      Even Eve was impressed with the announcement. She’d heard of motor carriages but had never actually seen such a thing.

      “That I do,” he answered proudly.

      “Can I see it?” Leo was practically bouncing with excitement.

      Mr. Dawson waved a hand to indicate they should move forward again. “You can not only see it, you can sit in it if you like.” He turned to Eve. “Both of you.”

      Eve wasn’t at all certain that was something either she or Leo should agree to. Was it safe? But she settled for smiling and giving him a noncommittal “We shall see” response.

      As they turned the corner, Eve saw a building that had the unmistakable trappings of a saloon—most notably the swinging half doors and the faded but still legible sign proclaiming the name of the establishment to be The Blue Bottle.

      She looked around at the neighboring buildings. Was Mr. Dawson’s place nearby? She wasn’t comfortable being in close proximity to such a place, but if that was the case she would do her best to make it work. She’d just have to keep a close eye on Leo to make certain he was shielded from any unsavory influences.

      “From the frown on your face, I see you have some concerns about The Blue Bottle.”

      Eve gave him a direct look. “I’m not afraid to admit that I don’t approve of such establishments.”

      He seemed amused by her words. “You can rest assured that the place no longer serves as a saloon.”

      Mollified by his words, she relaxed. “That is good news. Did the town close it?”

      “No, I’m afraid providence did. It was shut down by a fire. It happened before I ever moved here.”

      “Oh.” They were drawing closer now and she frowned as she studied the structure. “But it seems to be undamaged and still in use.”

      “The inside has been renovated, and yes, it’s still in use. In fact I own it now.”

      Oh, my goodness. She stopped in her tracks just as they reached the corner of the building. That meant—

      His grin had a mischievous edge. “That’s right. I have my shop on the first floor and my living quarters on the second.”

      “You mean this is where we’re going to be staying?”

      He swept his hand forward with a flourish. “In all its glory.”

      A former saloon, of all things. Somehow it seemed very in character for this unorthodox gent to have set up shop in such an establishment. She slowly approached the entrance, feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what she might see inside. Just the idea of what all must have taken place in a former saloon was enough to send the warmth into her cheeks and her grandmother’s scandalized voice resounding in her mind.

      Which was foolish, she told herself firmly. It was merely a building and nothing more. Lifting her chin, she pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into a very large undivided room that took up most of the lower floor. She’d never been inside a saloon before, of course, so she’d had no idea what to expect.

      To her relief, Mr. Dawson was as good as his word and there were very few traces remaining of the former den of iniquity. The most obvious remnant of the building’s former purpose sat to her left—what had obviously been the counter where the drinks were dispensed. There was still a brass rail on the lower portion where she imagined men had propped their boots as they partook of the bar’s offerings. Looking closer, though, there was something odd about the counter, as if part of it had been lopped off. A result of the fire perhaps?

      As for the rest of the room, the section nearest the doors was bare except for two round tables that had been shoved together to the left of the entrance. Three unmatched wooden chairs, at least one of which bore scorch marks, flanked them. Is that where he entertained visitors? Assuming he ever had visitors.

      Across the room, however, it was a different story. The area was as crowded and cluttered as this side was bare. A pair of long worktables along with three smaller round ones were arranged in a seemingly