Nicole had changed back into one of her dresses, not wanting to put on the saloon uniform ever again. She would have fixed her hair up in a proper bun, but then she was too exhausted to do it. Very little food had touched her belly today because of the distress she and the others had gone through, and now Nicole wished she would have eaten a little more.

The heavenly aroma from the kitchen downstairs made her stomach grumble, but she didn't dare step foot out of this room. Although she still had the pistol that Caleb had given her, she didn't want to shoot anyone. It nearly broke her heart knowing that she could have killed Weston. But Caleb had given it to her for protection. If the person responsible for Brenda and Patsy's death came after Nicole, would she have the courage to pull the trigger? Even if it was Caleb?

Her forehead pounded. It couldn't have been Caleb. He was too kind, and too giving. She had mourned with him both times. If he was the killer, why would he mourn? Not only that, but if he was the one killing the saloon girls, why did he give them guns to protect themselves? Did he want to get shot? She just couldn't believe it was him because she didn't want it to be him, the man she was falling in love with.

Then again, Brenda had fallen in love with him, too.

A heavy knock shook the door, and she jumped. Please, don't be Edward. Her mind paused. And don't be Caleb, either.

She stepped closer to the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Mrs. Crane. I thought you might like something to eat."

The loud grumbling in Nicole's stomach gave her the final answer. She opened the door and smiled at the middle-aged widow. "You are a lifesaver. I'm starving."

The salt-and-peppered hair woman smiled and nodded. "When you didn't come down for supper, I knew you had to be hungry." She handed her the tray of food. "I hope you like biscuits and gravy. And I made some freshly squeezed orange juice."

"I'll eat anything right now." Nicole chuckled and took the tray. "Thank you again."

The kind woman nodded, turned, and walked back down the hallway. Nicole closed the door and hurried to set the tray on the small table. She didn't wait to sit before she started shoveling the food in her mouth like a starved woman. Oh, and it tasted so good, too. She sipped the orange juice, then sighed heavily. Not eating for most of the day certainly helped her to appreciate food when she finally was able to eat.

After a few minutes, she wondered if it would be too rude of her to go downstairs and ask Mr. Crane for more. That woman was a wonderful cook.

When the last bite of food was gone, and the last drop of juice had been swallowed, Nicole sighed heavily and relaxed in the chair. Now, she just needed to wait for the snow to stop so that she could leave. Then again, she'd have to wait for morning to arrive since that was the only time she could catch the stagecoach.

She blew out a frustrated breath. For once, she wished things would go her way. Instead, she was always waiting for someone else.

Someone knocked on the door again, and her spirits lifted. Had Mrs. Crane returned with desert?

Nicole nearly tripped over her feet hurrying to the door and pulling it open. But it wasn't Mr. Crane. Caleb stood in front of her looking like an icycle. But it was the relief in his gaze that calmed her slightly.

"Heavens, you look like you've been outside all night." She pulled on his snow-caked coat sleeve and led him to the fire. "Stay right here until you melt."

Nicole moved back to the door and closed it. When she turned to look at him again, he had been watching her with sad eyes. Her heart twisted.

"Why did you leave?" he asked in a tight voice.

She inhaled deeply, mainly to gather the courage she would need to tell him the truth... and then to ask if he kissed Brenda – and then killed her.

* * * *

Caleb was numb, and it had nothing to do with the freezing temperature he'd been in for a good hour. He'd followed the light, and although he wanted her to be safe, he almost hoped she wouldn't have answered the door.

"Caleb, I..." She shook her head. "I didn't want to get you involved with my problems."

"Let me be the one who makes that decision."

She moved to him and started unbuttoning his coat. "Let's get you out of these frozen clothes first."

While Nicole undressed him, all he could do was stare at her. Not that he couldn't undress himself, but he had little strength due to his breaking heart. He said another silent prayer that she would open up to him... and that he would understand.

As his body began to thaw, Nicole pulled the single chair over to the fireplace and he sat. She knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots and socks. As he studied her, his heart began to melt. She wasn't a selfish woman. If so, she wouldn't be worried about his welfare. Yet, here she was undressing him to keep him from catching pneumonia.

"Nicole?" he said finally.

She glanced up at him. "Yes."

"I think you look much better in regular dresses and in the saloon dress."

Her eyebrow arched. "Does that mean you are going to let me wear my normal dresses?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"If you're planning on staying in Stumptown."

The color in her pretty blue eyes dimmed, and the color in her cheeks left. She appeared as miserable as he felt.

"I don't belong here," she whispered as she moved to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Will you tell me why?" He stood and continued removing his shirt, hoping the heat from the fire would warm him quickly.

"I told you about my father, correct?"

He shook his head. "Only that he has lost his mind and that he's in a hospital."

"Well, what I haven't told you is that for years, he was the minister of a parish in Billings. Many people loved him. He helped so many, and he was always visiting the sick and elderly." She sighed and her gaze dropped to her lap. "I noticed a difference in him two years ago. By this time, men had stopped trying to woo me. But I noticed my father was buying fancier things for me and for the house. I'd asked him where he had gotten the money, and he said some folks in church were helping him."

She rubbed her forehead and raised her gaze back to him. "The community wanted a new church with an extravagant steeple on top. The people were becoming excited and adding more money in the collection plate. It didn't take long for me to notice my father was acting out of character. I had the physician check him out, and that's when my father was put into a hospital that would study him."

Her breaths seemed a little ragged and she kept licking her lips. Caleb hadn't seen her this nervous before.

He shucked his trousers and stood before her in his longjohns. She handed him a blanket on the bed, so he wrapped it around his body as he stayed by the fire. "Then what happened?"

"Gradually, some of the people in the community came to the house, asking when the church was going to be built. I looked for the money I knew my father had been keeping, but I couldn't find it. He hadn't put it in the bank, either. I finally found a little of that money, but it wasn't even half of what people had donated." She inhaled another shaky breath. A sheen of moisture appeared on her forehead. "Then one day, a man by the name of Edward Patterson came. He was demanding. He was a very large man, and he wasn't polite at all. He grasped my arms and shook me, leaving bruises." She blinked several times. "I was able to get away from him, but only by using a knife. I cut his face. I... I was so afraid he'd come back. I was frightened that the other people my father had been stealing from would come and ransack my home. That's when I decided to come out here and live with Brenda."

Caleb noticed something odd about Nicole. Her skin kept losing color, and at the same time, moisture coated her forehead and on her upper lip. She had been twisting her hands in her lap, but as he studied her closer, he could see she was clutching at her belly.

"Nicole?" He moved over to her, touching her cheek. She was very clammy. "What's wrong?"

"I... don't know. I'm sick to my stomach, and I feel dizzy."

Fear clawed inside of him like a raging bull. "Nicole? Have you eaten or drank anything other than what we had at the saloon earlier?"

Nodding, she pointed to the empty plate on the table. "Mrs. Crane brought me some food."

He ran to the table and lifted the plate to his nose. He could smell the gravy, but there was something else. Mint!

Panicked, he almost couldn't breathe. "Nicole," he dropped the plate and rushed back to her side, taking her in his arms, "you've been poisoned."