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crying woman.   Yeah, it was way past time for him to distance himself from this.
           He hated the guilt pressing down on him, but he needed to get home to Todd.   Goodfellow might be a mercenary bastard, but Cole felt confident that at least no harm would come to the woman.  
           But what if it did?   He hesitated, silently kicking his own ass for giving the woman a second thought.   Get the hell out while the gettin's good.
           With a nod of resignation to Goodfellow, Cole gnashed his teeth and walked away.   He heard the woman's startled protest, but he kept walking.   He had to–this was none of his concern.
           Unless she turned out to be who she claimed she wasn't.       
    * * *
           Zeb and Rupert each took an arm and literally hauled Jackie back into the Gold Mine Saloon.   "Get your filthy hands off me," she shouted, but no one seemed to have heard her.   What was going on here?   How could the ghost town she'd stumbled across the day before have suddenly become a boomtown?
           "Well, Miss Belle–Lolita," Rupert said, depositing her in a chair near a familiar cast iron stove.
           I'm not crazy, she reasserted.   Not.
           She glanced around the saloon again, digging into her memory for fragments of everything she'd noticed last night.   The whiskey, vienna sausages, her stupid red hair...
           "Since you're here early, we might as well have the artist get to work on your portrait."   Rupert stood back to stare at her, tapping his chin with his finger.   "Where's your trunk?   You certainly can't perform in...that.   I did take the liberty of having some items delivered, but they certainly won't fit."
           Jackie was too tired to argue any more, so she drew a deep breath and simply stared at the man.   After a few moments of total silence, his face darkened and she saw fury etched across his features.   Again.
           Insistent tears burned and threatened to spill from her eyes, but she blinked them back.   She was determined not to let this asshole see her cry.   "I told you, I'm not Lolita Belle."   Jackie rested her chin in her hands and sighed.   "I came in here last night to get out of a blizzard.   There was a terrible fire...and now you're here.   What the hell is going on?"  
           "Blizzard?"   Rupert frowned and shook his head.   "It's been a dry spring–we haven't had snow since early April."
           "Bull."   Jackie straightened and flashed him what she hoped came close to what her aunt would call an uppity glare.   "I walked down the mountain in a blizzard yesterday and came in here to keep from freezing to death."   Her voice rose with each syllable and she shot to her feet.   "How dare you call me a liar?"
           Rupert placed a hand on each of her shoulders and pressed her back into the chair.   "I own you, Miss Belle," he said from between clenched teeth and his cigar.   "Until I recover every cent I've sunk into bringing you here, you're mine.   Understand?"
           His tone permitted no argument, yet how could Jackie agree to this lunacy?   "I don't get it."   She shook her head in numbed outrage and her tears escaped– damn traitors –but she swiped them away before anyone could see.   You're pissed, Jackie–do not let them see you cry.   Aunt Pearl said big girls don't cry.   I am a big girl.   Dammit.
           "Just help me understand this–who are you and how did you get here?"   She drew a shaky breath.   "For that matter, how did this town get here?"
           Rupert chuckled and shook his head.   "You're good–one helluva actress.   Maybe your handbills weren't all lies."   A nasty smile spread across his face and he shoved his cigar back into the corner of his mouth.   "I don't know your game, Miss Belle, but you'd better come through, if you know what's good for you."
           "Is that a