The Trailrider's Fortune (10 page)

"How much is
your gun?" she countered. "I'm sure you keep it cleaned and oiled and
working perfectly." He nodded. She smiled. "But if you didn't
practice to develop your aim and skill in using it, even the best gun in the
world wouldn't be of much value."

"Ain't the
same." Sparkle was relieved to hear the slow rhythm back in his speech.
He'd been too intense before. Now he was relaxing, becoming the Rafe Conley she
found almost charming, although she doubted others appreciated this man the way
she did.

"I need my
thumb on the Colt. Got a strange feelin' you could look me in the eye and tell
me things all on your lonesome. You don't really need those fancy painted
cards. I don't recollect one with a snake."

Sparkle laughed,
scanning the unused cards. "I doubt you can remember every card in the
deck after one sitting, Rafe. This card has a serpent. You see the snake is
behind Hermes, the figure with the jackal's head? In tarot, left represents
what's behind you or what may come unexpectedly."

"So anytime
that card's in someone's readin', he'll get snake-bit?"

"No. Part of
it does come from intuition. It takes a long time to read tarot and learn what
the signs mean. I've been doing this for years, just as you've been a hired gun
for years. I'm sure you trust your gut feelings about outlaws."

"That's why
I'm talkin' to you. Been trackin' a certain man for nigh on six years now. I
wonder if you can tell me where to find him."

"I can't do
that," she sighed. "I can't tell you where your lost money pouch is,
or if Aunt Tess went to Purgatory. I can't simply lay out cards and get an
image of some particular person sitting in a train station in Baltimore. It
doesn't work that way." She saw Rafe didn't believe her.

"One snake
took you from thinking I was a charlatan to believing I can predict
everything." She folded her arms across her chest. "You didn't
believe it was real when I read your cards before. I knew that, so I didn't
tell you everything. Now you believe too much, so I still can't. You won't like
what I see."

"Shit. I told
you
I'll die young. Ain't no big surprise. This is somethin' I got to do. You can
help me. I know you can. You're just bein' contrary because you don't like what
I do."

"I'm sorry. You're
asking me to aid in your pursuit of this man, but judgment's already been
passed."

His eyes became
huge dark pools. "How'd you know that?"

She tapped JUSTICE,
which had come up inverted, positioned beneath the primary subject card.
"You're pushed by a desire to continue something wrong or biased. You
believe an injustice was done."

"It was,
dammit! Dan Hoffman shot my uncle in cold blood and got off. The very next
year, he gunned down someone else. Then folks decided they'd made a mistake.
Too late for my family."

"As I said,
I'm sorry." Sparkle abruptly gathered up the cards and rose to leave.
"I'm not going to help you kill someone in a vendetta. God will judge
him."

Rafe bolted off his
seat. "You don't agree that acquittal was unfair? How would you know, if
you weren't at the trial?"

"I don't
care," she answered slowly. "I've seen things happen, Rafe. Some of
them cruel and unjust. But it's not for us to judge others, and I truly can't
see a given person's whereabouts, anyway."

"Sparkle,
listen. You got lots of folks passin' through this town. Cowhands, drifters,
homesteaders come from the East, all manner of strangers. Someone might know
Dan Hoffman, used to ride with an outlaw named Slade. You could ask, let me
know what you hear."

"I won't do
that, either. You don't expect to live very long. Why? Because you were just
shot. Because you're out for blood. You live violently, which can only lead to
dying the same way. Don't ask me to help you get more blood on your
hands."

"It's
my
choice, ain't it? Don't I got the right to choose how I live, same as you or
anybody else? You know what I do, but you ain't got to hold with it. What gives
you the right to decide how I should live my life?
You
live like a
sleazy, two-bit whore."

"A minute ago
you were ready to push Mr. Malloy's face into the dirt for talking like that.
You know, I actually thought you were different, Rafe. That underneath all that
harshness…Oh, what's the point? I've got to get back to work." She pulled
up the hood of her cloak and moved to the edge of the porch.

"Sparkle, hold
on. I'm sorry. Please, will you just ask some of the men about Hoffman for
me?"

"No."

His whole
expression changed, turning rock hard. "Thought you were different,
too." He pulled a fistful of gold eagles from his jeans pocket.
"Here, I'll
pay
you! You owe me somethin',
Miz Conley
. Since
the first day we met in the street. Bought you that gold ring. Paid your
son-of-a-bitch boss not to give you a hard time. He's gone easier on you,
hasn't he? Only cost me a hundred dollars."

"You paid
Frazer a hundred dollars?" she snorted. "Are you insane? My rent's
only twenty a month."

Sparkle could
easily imagine such extortion from Benton Frazer. But Rafe was no imbecile or
green dandy fresh off the train from back East. He must have believed he stood
to gain form the transaction.
You owe me somethin', Miz Conley
. Then she
remembered. Humans were just another commodity to Rafe Conley. He traded in
their hides.

"You're an
idiot, Rafe."

"Yeah,
beginnin' to see that myself. You don't admire me or what I do, but you sure
admire the fearsome reputation that goes with it. Don't pretend you don't know
what I'm sayin'. Saw the damned card that sums us up, the one called STRENGTH,
with a pretty gal pettin' a lion. I'm just some animal you like havin' around
cause I frighten everybody else away. Like totin' your own peacemaker, without
havin' to worry about it goin' off and shootin' you in the foot."

She clucked her
tongue. "Please."

"But I ain't
supposed to lay a hand on you, or expect nothin' from you in return. You're
lookin' for somebody a whole lot finer than some scarred-up, ugly freelance
gun, ain't that right?"

"You're
ridiculous. I—"

"Nope, I'm
honest," he growled, grabbing her and pulling her close. Their faces were
mere inches apart. "I admit I want somethin' from you. I don't play like I
just want to be your friend," he simpered. "We ain't
friends
,
Sparkle. I want what any man would want, to screw you. So bad I can taste it,
even while standin' here arguin'. Why the hell did I kiss you that very first
mornin'? Why'd I ask about goin' upstairs? You know how it is, but you won't
let it happen, cause you figure you're too good for the likes of me."

"Rafe, let me
go."

"Hell,
wouldn't want my dirty hands on you, would you? Just want to flutter by
somethin' dark and scary, and pretend none of it'll rub off on you. Pretend
none of it's
in
you. You're full of horseshit, Sparkle. Look down your
own well sometime."

"If you'd calm
down a minute—"

"Know what?
Don't help me find Hoffman. Don't help me find myself. I didn't ask you for
that. Asked for one favor, in return for the couple I've done you, but forget
it. I don't need nothin' that bad. Just forget it and forget me."

Sparkle was busy;
still she found time between tarot readings to raise her eyes to the batwing
doors. Not that she actually expected a certain pair of spurs would come
through them. Rafe had told her to forget him and he seemed to be very much the
kind who meant what he said.
He's not coming back here
, she silently whispered
to herself.
Do what he said, and forget him.

He'd left her too
flabbergasted to respond to his outburst earlier. She didn't know how she would
have replied if he'd given her the chance. Some of his accusations were true.
She
did
like thinking she could associate with him and remain untouched.
There was no chance she'd change her mind about helping him destroy himself or
harm some man he'd sworn revenge against, but she realized she'd made a
tactical error. Tried to take a spirited wild thing and cage it. Then been
foolish and selfish enough to be surprised when it turned on her.

But Rafe was also
wrong, because she didn't think she was above him. She wished she could have at
least explained that, and that he'd listened about his impossible quest for justice.
There
was
no such thing in this world. Sometimes bad things just
happened.

You couldn't spend
your life wondering why you'd been a victim or plotting to set things right.
You couldn't spend your future trying to undo the past. Yesterday was gone. So
was Rafe, and he'd departed without realizing that Sparkle hadn't condemned him
for his chosen profession. She just couldn't fully support it. She shared his
family's view, and indeed could see what his relatives couldn't:  Rafe was
headed for some dire cataclysm. She'd failed to sway him from his path.

She looked up again
an hour later and felt her mouth go dry. He was seated at one of the poker
tables with the newest addition to the staff on his lap. The strumpet had come
from Abilene, and either hadn't been informed or didn't care that Rafe was
supposedly married…to a woman employed in this very same establishment.

As Sparkle watched,
the redhead gave Rafe a juicy kiss. His hand slid under the carmine skirt to
caress a stocking-clad thigh. His fingers probed higher. The whore broke their
kiss and giggled, squirming against Rafe's upper body, then leaned closer to
whisper in his ear.

Had Sparkle just
been berating herself for being unfair to this lewd, selfish beast? She began
to seethe.

Rafe had obviously
come here expressly to humiliate her. Playing her for a fool, embarrassing her
before her coworkers…and getting plenty of help from the new girl. Sparkle
rose. Her eyes were focused on the scene across the room. She never saw Frazer
watching her with snorting glee, barely noted as Ruby's eyes widened in horror,
paid scant attention to the customers edging out of her path as she crossed to
the poker table. She rudely shoved the redhead off Rafe's knee.

"You've got
the wrong man, Dixie," Sparkle hissed to the woman sprawled on the floor.
She waved her gold band in the whore's face, practically rubbing it on the tip
of her nose. The girl actually went cross-eyed trying to focus on the ring.
"You can throw yourself at any other man in this place, but not this one.
He's
mine
."

Ruby Ann arrived to
drag Dixie away. Sparkle spun to discover Rafe was out of his chair, features
taut. "
Yours
, am I? That works both ways, Sparkle Honey. Reckon
it's high time we settled this hash."

Before she could
say anything, Rafe caught her and tossed her over his shoulder. He carried her
upstairs and set her down outside her bedroom. "Where's your room
key?"

"Just because
I didn't want you embarrassing me down there doesn't mean I'm going to play
whore in the redhead's place."

He set a palm
against the wall on either side of her so she was pinned. "Don't worry.
We're done playin'. Give me the key, or I'll kick that door in."

"Just get out.
Go over to the Rusty Nail or some other bawdy house. Wichita's full of pleasure
palaces."

"My wife works
in this one." His eyes narrowed and Sparkle realized he wasn't drunk, but
certainly furious. "Come to ponder on that," he drawled in a
deceptively easy tone, "I'm goin' to want that lock workin' once I get you
on the other side, so I can't bust your door down." Now the gleam in his
dark eyes made her shiver. "Can't be but one or two places you could hide
a key on you."

He tore the
camisole straps and jerked the top of her bodice down. Whalebone stays were no
match for his ire. "No key," he announced, his breath hot and sour in
her face. "But a better set of tits than the other gal had. Now give me
that damned key, before I decide to do you right here, up against the
wall."

Sparkle only glared
back at him. He expected her to cover herself, break down and cry, act
mortified. Stand there quaking in fear of his bullying, prove he'd been right
about her. Too bad. There was no way in hell she'd give him the satisfaction.

She made no attempt
to cover her breasts. She was breathing too fast and too hard. They both were.
Fury and lust burned in Rafe's eyes. Sparkle was aware on a subconscious level
that with every heave of her naked bosom, she skittered across treacherous
ground. But damn the man, she'd worked in saloons and put up with men's
foolishness too long to let Rafe grind her under his boot heels. He'd come
looking for trouble, and now he had it.

Even Rafe Conley,
gun for hire who took on three outlaws singlehandedly, wasn't going to make
Sparkle back down or beg his forgiveness.
She
hadn't stirred up this
hornet's nest. If he thought he could intimidate her—no, especially because he
was sure he could—Sparkle wasn't about to mollify him. "You'll pay for
this dress, Rafe," she informed him. "I have to replace it. That
bastard Frazer makes us pony up to have them made by some dressmaker."