**READERS - I'm the kind of author who loves readers to help me find my errors. Please, if you see something that is an error, let me know. THANK YOU!

Nicole Blake tightened the shawl around her shoulders as she quickened her footsteps toward the saloon. Heavy, thick clouds made the evening darker than normal, and the fierce wind created noises she didn't normally hear while walking outside. Then again, this was her first time in Stumptown. Everything made her jittery, but she needed to control that. She was far away from Billings, and nobody would even think about looking for her in a logging town.

A scraping noise stopped her, making her swing around to see who was in back of her. The wind blew into her face, making her squint. "Who is there?" She paused, waiting for someone to answer, but all she heard was the wind. "Brenda? Is that you?"

Growling under her breath, Nicole proceeded toward the saloon. The Silver Dollar Saloon was the only one in Stumptown, and for Nicole, it was where she would start work today. Her cousin, Brenda Garby, arranged for Nicole to work with her as a saloon girl.

Nicole blew out a frustrated breath, thinking about her new profession. Of all occupations to have, why did she have to choose a saloon? Yet, nobody in Billings would think to look for her in that kind of place. Not when her father was a minister.

She quickened her step, hating that she still felt as though she had to always look over her shoulder. The tinkling of the piano from inside the saloon was heard before laughing voices met her ears. It sounded as if the saloon was in full swing. She had hoped to have gotten here sooner, but because of her early morning arrival into town on the stagecoach she'd been traveling in for a few days and then getting set up at the hotel, she was plum tuckered out and needed to rest. It irritated her that Brenda hadn't come to greet her yet. Nicole didn't want to enter the saloon without her cousin, but waiting for the absentee girl wasn't an option, either.

She stopped at the front door. In Billings, the saloon had swinging doors. Not this one. If not for the large sign above the building, Nicole wouldn't have even known what kind of establishment this place was.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked in. The boisterous laugher that she'd heard only moments ago, had died way down, and the longer people inside turned to look at her, the more the place quieted. Eventually, even the piano player stopped his talented fingers on the keys to turn and look her way.

Inwardly, she groaned. She was going to kill her cousin for doing this to her!

Nicole swallowed hard and moved toward the bar. A tall man who appeared to be in his early thirties, stood behind the circular counter, cleaning mugs. The handsome man's hands had stilled as he looked at her with wide eyes. She was sure her hair was a mess, thanks to the wind outside, so she ever-so-casually, lifted her hand to pat her coiled hair. Immediately, she felt the several loose strands that came out due to the wind.

She stopped at the bar and met his stare. "Pardon me, sir, but I'm looking for Brenda Garby. I'm her cousin."

The bartender's gaze moved over her slowly, from the top of her wind-blown hair, down over her hooped flowered dress with lavender sleeves and hem, all the way to her black heeled boots. The man's expression held a touch of confusion, and when he lifted his gaze to her, he arched an eyebrow. "You are Nicole Blake?"

Relieved that Brenda had at least told someone that Nicole was coming, she sighed and nodded. "Yes, I am."

The handsome bartender placed the mug and cloth in his hands on a table behind the bar and walked around the large counter, coming toward her. Slowly, the chatter in the room picked up, and the pianist started playing again.

"I'm Caleb West. I own this place."

She held out her hand in greeting, and he shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. West. I must apologize for not being with my cousin, but for some reason, she never came to greet me at the stagecoach."

Concern laced his face. "Brenda didn't arrive for work today. I had just supposed she was with you."

Nicole's chest tightened. "Oh, dear. That's not good at all."

Mr. West flipped a hand in the air. "I'm sure she's just ill and hasn't gotten word to me yet. So, let's get you started." He glanced over her dress again. "However, you are overdressed."

She stiffened. What did he mean by that? She'd told Brenda that she would work in the saloon, dance on the stage with the other girls, but that was it. She would not do those extra activities that Brenda and her friends did with the men upstairs in the rooms. "Um... what do you require that I wear?"

Chuckling, he motioned for her to follow him. Nicole kept her shoulders straight and tried to hold up her chin as she walked behind Mr. West. He led her to a back room and kept the door open. In one of the closets hung some black and red dresses with frilly white under-skirts. He pulled out one of the dresses and pressed it against her front side.

She sucked in a quick breath, not used to a man being so bold. It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact that he didn't find this wrong. He acted as though he was used to touching a woman so personally.

"It looks like this dress fits." He winked. "This is what you'll wear as your uniform."

Uniform? Heavens, he had turned her into a servant. Nicole would have to learn quickly how to take orders. "Yes, I think it does." She snatched it away from him, only to get his hands away from her. "Where should I change?"

"Well, usually the girls come to the saloon in their uniforms, so you can use my office to change." Mr. West walked past her, his arm knocking against her briefly. He moved out of the room and to the next door. He withdrew a set of keys and opened the door. "When you've finished changing, come back out, and I'll show you what you'll need to do."

Once Mr. West had left the room, she hurried to change her clothes. She muttered under her breath, cursing her cousin for not being here. Wasn't it bad enough that Nicole didn't really want to be doing this for a living? Yet, her secrets could be the death of her if certain people ever found out. The only way to stay safe was to live a life that was completely opposite of what she'd been doing for the past twenty-six years as the spinster daughter of a minister.

Several minutes later, she stood in the middle of the room, looking down at the dress as she struggled to button it in the back. Shame washed over her as she noticed the length of her uniform. Heavens, men would see her calves and ankles, and when she danced on the stage and lifted her skirt as she'd seen her cousin do, the men would be able to see her knees and stockings! But that wasn't the worst of it. The bodice didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Her neck and upper bosom would be seen by all, and the sleeves on her arms barely covered her shoulders. How could she do her job without embarrassment encasing her the whole time?

She would do her job tonight but starting tomorrow, she would look for another place to work here in this small town. It was either that or become used to having men ogling her all the time.

Sighing, she shook her head. At least wearing this outfit, she'd finally get noticed. The reason she was a spinster had nothing to do with her appearance, but instead, her problem had always been the father that raised her. He was a strict father, and he had become worse when men starting coming around.

Tears stung her eyes, and she struggled not to cry. This wasn't the life she'd wanted, but she made it to this point, so she may as well make the best of it.

Someone at the door knocked, and she jumped.

"Nicole? Do you need any help?"

She rolled her eyes. Brenda must have told Mr. West all about Nicole's upbringing. She exhaled deeply. Sadly enough, she did need help. "Yes," she answered meekly.

Mr. West opened the door and peeked inside. She shrugged and pointed to her back. "I can't get the dress buttoned all the way."

Grinning, he walked inside and closed the door. "Brenda had mentioned that you had a maid when you lived at home."

"I did." Why did she feel ashamed to admit that?

He walked behind her. The moment she felt his fingers on her back, heat exploded in her face. This wasn't good. If she was going to have this kind of reaction to the boss, how would she handle having men stare at her or want to put their arms around her waist? If she didn't find a job within the first week, Mr. West would fire her for certain.

"There. You're all done up."

Mr. West's hot breath on the exposed skin of her back caused a chill to rush through her. Unfortunately, it wasn't cold and so it didn't remove the heat from her face. "Thank you."

He moved around her and stopped, staring into her eyes. "Are you ready to start your new job?"

"Yes... and no."

He chuckled. "I understand you have some reservations, but let me assure you, the customers are not supposed to force the girls to do anything. If you don't like the way one of them is touching you, all you need to do is remove his hand. If the customer is drunk and causing a scene, I'll be more than happy to boot him out of the saloon. Your only job is to serve them drinks, talk and laugh with them, and dance on the stage with the other girls once a night on the weekdays and twice a night on the weekends." He cocked his head. "Is that something you can handle?"

She nodded. "I shall try."

"Oh, one last thing." He stepped closer and reached behind her head. With fast fingers, he plucked the pins holding her coiled hair together. The bulk fell in disarray around her shoulders and down her back.

She gasped as her hands flew to her unbound hair.

"I like my girls more casual. Wearing a bun in your hair makes you look like you're going to church."

She snorted rudely. "How can I look like I'm going to church while wearing this?" She motioned to her dress.

He shrugged. "True, but I still like my girls' hair to be long and flowing."

Nicole held her temper, breathing briskly in and out through her nostrils. She needed to calm down before she sounded too much like an angered bull. "Fine."

"Now, run your fingers through your hair a few times, and let's go back into the saloon."

Her hands shook as she did as he suggested. She wasn't sure if it was fear that made her shake or if it was the way his warm gaze moved over her as if reacquainting himself with her again. She didn't like the way her heartbeat kicked up a notch or the way a different kind of warmth moved through her from his intense look. And for heaven's sake, why did his hazel eyes have to sparkle?

She shook off the sensations rushing over her and followed him into the main room. This time when entering, nobody stopped what they were doing to gawk at her. That was all right with her, only because she was sure her face was still red.

Mr. West led her to the bar, and he motioned to the younger man behind the counter. He had hair as black as night and long bushy sideburns. "Nicole, this is Weston. He tends the bar on those days when I'm off."

The skinny man straightened from his slouched position and grinned. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nicole."

"It's nice to meet you."

Mr. West turned and motioned toward the two girls who waited for drinks at the end of the counter. "The redhead is Teresa, and the brunette is Mary." The girls sashayed toward Mr. West, grinning and batting their long eyelashes as they stared at the handsome man.

"Do we have a new girl?" Teresa asked, stopping and leaning against Mr. West.

"Yes. This is Nicole. She is Brenda's cousin."

"Hello, Nicole," Mary greeted. "Brenda mentioned you were coming."

"I'm... um, glad I'm here." Nicole wasn't sure what to say.

Teresa nodded. "It'll be nice having another girl to help us with these rowdy loggers."

"And over there," Mr. West pointed to the girl with curly white-blonde hair. "That's Patsy. Amber is the one standing by the other man sitting at that table."

All four girls looked to be around Nicole's age. Only Patsy appeared older, but not by more than a few years. According to Brenda, these women were soiled doves. There was no way Nicole would become one of them, but she hoped they liked her just the same.

"We'll have to get to know you better when the crowd dies down," Mary said nicely. "Right now, Teresa and I need to serve drinks."

"Yes, we'll talk later." Nicole smiled.

Mr. West didn't say anything as she scanned the room slowly. Ten tables with four chairs around them filled the center of the room, and tonight, a good half of the chairs were occupied with drinking men. The piano player was a lively fellow who looked to be in his forties. The top part of his head was bald, and the hair around the sides and back was long and going gray. Would she remember anyone's name? It would definitely take her a while to learn everything.

"How much do you know about alcohol?" Mr. West asked.

Groaning, she turned her gaze back to him. "Brenda has told me a few things, but I grew up with a father who, um... to say he was very religious is putting it mildly."

Mr. West laughed. "In other words, you don't know a lot."

She shook her head. "Not a lot, no."

"Then perhaps the first week of your training should be behind the bar with me so that I can teach you properly."

"Yes, I think that will be best."

He motioned his head for her to follow him as he stepped behind the bar. She walked with him, grateful not to worry about the customers touching her in any disrespectful way. At least for today.

Nicole listened carefully, taking a mental note of everything Mr. West said, hoping she'd still remember this tomorrow. He showed her how much whiskey to pour in each tiny glass and how much beer to fill in the mugs. He showed her a few ways to mix different drinks, and she knew she would never remember that.

Mr. West paused, looking at her with humor on his face. "You can relax, Nicole. I'm not going to give you a test on this in class tomorrow."

She released a pent-up breath and chuckled. "Thank goodness for that. I fear, I would have been your worst pupil."

"The fact that you haven't high-tailed it out of here already shows me what a determined woman you are."

His compliment made her belly flutter. "Thank you, Mr. West."

The front door to the saloon opened, and in walked two men. One wore a silver star on his vest and looked to be in his early thirties. The other man was so much older with white hair. Both men were frowning.

Mr. West nodded. "Sheriff Reed, Doctor Stiles. I take it you aren't in here to wet your whistle."

The man with the silver-star badge shook his head. "No. The news we have isn't good."

Mr. West moved closer to the sheriff. Nicole tried to act as if she wasn't listening, but she eavesdropped anyway.

"What's wrong?" Mr. West asked.

"Earlier this evening, we found one of your girls dead in the woods."

Mr. West's body stiffened, and he swung his head to look at Nicole. At first, she wondered why he would look at her, but then realization struck. Brenda?

She darted around the bar and grabbed the sheriff's arm. "Was it Brenda Garby?"

The sheriff nodded. Nicole lost her breath. Her chest tightened so hard. She was almost sure that she wouldn't make it through this, either. Her eyes filled with tears as her body trembled.

Two strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her standing. Tears blurred her eyes, but she knew the man was Mr. West because she could smell his cologne.

"Sheriff? What happened?" Mr. West asked in a strained voice.

"She was murdered."