The Trailrider's Fortune (16 page)

She shook her head
in dismay. "Rafe Conley's justice again. No, they didn't hurt me."

She could feel the
heat radiating from his body. Some of it anger. Most of it a different emotion.
One she was feeling herself.

"You got a
problem tellin' when I'm funnin' and when I ain't. I don't fun about killin'
people. If I say I'll see a man lynched, I will." His grip tightened.
"And you ain't leavin'. What the hell's the matter with you? Think I only
fetched you out of obligation? No more to it than that?"

"No, I
think…" She gestured helplessly. "I just need to get back to
Wichita."

He sighed heavily.
"You got no job to go back to. Frazer told Art Thompson he wasn't takin'
you back again, no matter what." His tone was offhand, but he turned and
raked his fingers through his hair where his hat brim had flattened it.
"Look, I can't put you on a train. Like it or not, you got to stay on with
me for a few days here. I'll get you some money and a ticket out after I get
paid."

Sparkle saw hurt in
his eyes. Her palms lifted to his shoulders. "Can't you come with me back
to Wichita? You can talk to Frazer."

He untucked his
shirt and shook his head. "Sorry. I'll get you flush in a couple days. I'm
workin' on somethin' big here, the business Sam came to see me about."

"But I don't
have a dime!"

"You don't
need money just now," he reminded her. "I hired on to do a job here.
Ain't lettin' you out of my sight or puttin' you on some train by your
lonesome. Forget tryin' to wheedle your way in this. I ain't listenin',
Sparkle. Every time I turn my back, you're in some other fix and needin' my
help."

"You're the
cause of the last one!"

"Maybe so, but
my point is, I can't take chances now. Got work to do. You're not the only one
who has to think about employment. Can't do my job and keep an eye on you
unless you're here."

"Wonderful. So
you've
taken me prisoner now?"

"Dammit, but
you're a pig-headed woman! There's nothin' you need in Wichita. Got a hot bath,
supper, a fine big bed, and a man to warm it right here. If you want him. If
you don't…" His breath escaped in a harsh puff. "Reckon I've managed
to share a bed without touchin' you before. Least this one's a lot wider."

"Rafe,"
she admonished softly. He made her sound more mercenary than he was. "You
know things are different now." Her fingers curled into the dark mane at
his nape. "We couldn't sleep like that again. Either of us."

Rafe moved to
answer the rap at the door, admitting a troupe of visitors:  two men bearing a
large hammered copper tub, others carrying steaming buckets, and a woman with a
tray of cold food and a liquor bottle. When the Adventuress employees left,
Rafe turned back to Sparkle. "You were sayin'?"

"I think I'll
stay."

His grin was back.
"So…you hungry, or want that hot bath before we eat?"

She got no chance
to answer. The door abruptly flew open, nearly torn from its hinges. A massive
woman stood in the hall, faded chestnut braids pinned into a coil around her
head and fastened with a feather plume. She waddled into the room beneath
layers of shiny blue satin. "Raford Conley, you weasel! Heard you were
back. How the hell are ya?"

She buried him in
spongy flesh and body powder. The gaudy outfit, so much bare flesh, the feather,
too much rouge and perfume…Sparkle realized with surprise that the beaming
human mountain was a working doxy. She had to be well over three hundred
pounds. Sparkle was amazed Rafe still had his spine intact after the
all-consuming hug, but he calmly brushed excess talcum off his dark brown
shirt. "I'm fine, Al. How you been?"

"Not bad.
Gettin' fatter all the time." She noticed they weren't alone.
"Tolover didn't tell me we had us a new bedbug."

Sparkle crossed her
arms over her breasts.

"She doesn't
work here," Rafe advised. "She's my wife. Darlin', this is Alice,
more commonly known as Big Al."

The whore's eyes
widened as she spied the gold ring on Sparkle's hand. "Well I'll be
jo-fired! Up and got yourself hitched? Raford!" A thick arm clamped around
Sparkle's shoulders and drew her toward the hallway. "My room's over here,
honey. Got something for you. She'll be back in a minute, Rafe, so keep your
iron in the fire." She beamed at Sparkle. "What's your name,
sugar?"

"Sparkle, and
I'm—"

"Prob'ly smart
enough to know, or at least ponder…" The fat woman's voice dropped as they
stepped through the doorway into an overcrowded bedroom. Knickknacks and faded
pink lace abounded. Her pudgy forefinger waved at the room's interior, then
lifted to poke at Alice's scalp. She peered at a jumbled shelf of jars and
bottles high on one wall, then glanced back at Sparkle. "You're reckonin'
me and that husband of yours done tore up the mattress a time or two."

Sparkle tried to
disguise her shock with a shrug. Alice sighed. "That was a long time back,
when he wasn't but a spindly drag rider wet behind the ears."

Sparkle glanced
back over her shoulder to see Rafe's bare buttocks sink into the steaming
copper tub. Stiff from the saddle, after all. "He never mentioned he'd
ridden herds."

"Didn't last
long at it. Wasn't much of a cowpoke. Ah, here's what I wanted you to
have." Alice held out a jar of pale green ooze. Sparkle's nose wrinkled.
"What's that glop?"

"Cactus juice.
Always thought Rafe should rub some into that scar. It softens the skin. He
wouldn't set still for me to do it, but seein' has you're his wife, you might
give it a try."

Sparkle didn't know
how to explain that she wasn't Rafe's wife, only his mistress. As this woman herself
must have been…still was? She obviously had genuine affection for him. Why
would she hoard a jar of medicine specifically for him—aside from the fact she
plainly hoarded everything, from the looks of her room—unless Rafe still
visited her? He'd said Tolover usually put him in one of the other rooms. This
one? Sparkle told herself she should feel resentment toward the big aging
trollop, but she couldn't summon the harsh feelings. She instinctively liked
Alice, and accepted the jar.

"Thanks. I'll
try, but Rafe's chest is a sensitive point, even with me. Mr. Tolover mentioned
you might know where I could find some spare clothing. I've been wearing this
since Wichita. I used to be a pretty waiter girl in a saloon there."

The woman flashed a
grin of pearly, well-worn teeth. "Sure, honey. Rafe's lookin' grim. He
take somebody in today? His face says there was trouble. How many bad 'uns this
time?"

"Two. Well,
four actually, but he left the Mexicans to walk."

Big Al chortled and
went purple. "How many did Snatch get for him?"

"God, that
horse is incredible, isn't he?" Sparkle laughed too now, recalling
Bannister helpless on the ground.

"Rafe needs
you," Alice declared, sobering. "Spare clothes are in the trunk
yonder. Help yourself to whatever you like, then get on back to your
husband."

"We're not
really married, Alice," Sparkle confessed quietly.

"And I ain't
really fat. Deep inside I'm a slim-hipped wonder with nice, high teats like
yours. But folks don't see what's inside, do they? They go by what they see on
the outside."

Sparkle began
rummaging through the musty trunk. "I see the future sometimes. I'm a
fortune teller. I see trouble if you don't stay away from those rich cream pies
you love so much. What do
you
see, Alice?"

"You and
Raford tearin' up a dozen mattresses. Worse things could happen to a woman than
havin' him crazy to pieces over her." Alice reached for a box of
chocolates on a low table beside the bed.

"Alice, it's
not good to keep stuffing yourself," Sparkle chided lightly.

"Miz
Conley…" The fat woman sighed, rolling a chocolate cream into the inside
of her cheek as she spoke. "And don't bother arguin' whether you
is
or
ain't
Miz Conley. I don't got me a Rafe, honey. Got no little ones,
or a home of my own, or any other damned thing a woman can hold close to her
heart. So I love my customers. Every blasted one of 'em. Plan on givin' every
man who comes to see me plenty to grab hold of and suck on until the good Lord
sees fit to take that skinny gal inside to a better place."

Sparkle pulled out
a blue gingham cotton dress, calico skirt, and a faded blouse that looked like
it might fit. She also found a chemise and some pantalets. She turned back to
Alice, but the woman had her head stuck through an open window sash and was
shouting to some man in the street to come up.

"Thanks,
Al," Sparkle called from the doorway. Rafe was dozing with his head
against the rim when she went back into the panel crib. She tossed the clothes
on the bed and brought the jar with her beside the tub. He did look tired, bone
tired. "Need any help, cowboy?"

"Yeah." He
straightened and opened his eyes, tugging at her shawl. "Take off your
duds and get in. You can scrub my back. Or my front. Ain't choosy."

Sparkle unfastened
the red dress and drop-kicked it across the room. "That's for you, Benton
Frazer."

Rafe's laugh came
as a rich sound that pleased her immensely. "Probably should've let you do
that when we first met." He continued to watch her undress. "What the
hell's that mess?" he demanded, as she at last stepped into the warm water
holding the jar.

"Cactus juice
Al's been saving for you. She thinks it will help soften your scar
tissue." Sparkle's eyes drilled his as she sat down across from him.
"And I ought to be jealous."

"Of Al?"
he snorted. "Hell, that was a way long time ago."

"Not that
long, surely. She kept this for you. Do you stay with her when you come here to
Dodge?"

Rafe barked out
another laugh. "She'd crush me these days! We're just good friends. She
was about a hundred-fifty pounds lighter when we met. Ain't funnin', neither.
Jesus, last couple years she's gotten bigger than most of what's herded into
boxcars. She worked at the Tinderbox down the street. It wasn't ever nothin',
Sparkle. She was just my town whore hereabouts."

"Like me in
Wichita."

He shook his head
and handed her the soap and washcloth. "Nope. You were never a whore, and
I wasn't your customer."

"But I shared
my bed and gave you a ride upstairs. I'm…Bannister called me your mistress.
How's it any different?"

"I never loved
Alice."

The statement
rolled so naturally off his tongue, Sparkle almost missed its significance.
Almost. Her mind numb, she made the only reply she could think of at the
moment. "Oh."

"Hurry
up," he groused, rising to step out of the bath. "Got all pruny from
waitin' on you. Take that mess in the jar right back to Big Al. You ain't
smearin' none of it on me. I ain't no Nancy-boy."

Sparkle watched him
wrap a towel around his lean hips and stalk across the room. He flopped onto
the Victorian chair and tore into the meat and bread on the tray, washing them
down with liberal swallows of whiskey. His skin was still glistening, the
bottom of his hair wet and curling where it touched his bare shoulders. She was
glad to see the fresh wound looked to be healing well. Then her gaze skimmed
lower, to the edge of the white towel against his tanned belly.

He'd just admitted
he loved her.

The tingling
sensation in her breasts might have nothing to do with the tub of hot water and
everything to do with the sight before her eyes. Sparkle had to admit she had a
strong desire for Rafe. A powerful attraction she didn't have the strength to
deny. She lathered her hair and body, gratefully erasing all traces of the
dirty shack and her confinement.

She rinsed and
stepped out, wrapping her body in a thick towel. She took up the jar of salve and
slowly approached the armchair. "I think Al's right and this might help
your scar. My mother used something like it when I got too much sun. It won't
hurt."

He scowled in
response, slowly shaking his head. She purposely softened her eyes and vocal
tone. "Not that I object to looking at it or touching it. Your chest
or…any of the rest of you. You're very…"

Rafe squinted at
her warily. "Very what, handsome? Manly?" A fingertip reached out to
peel back her towel. He drew a damp circle around her navel. "A stark
naked woman's drippin' water and sweet talk all over me, knowin' full well I
want her body, not some mess in a jar. Wouldn't be tryin' to blackmail me, now
would you, darlin'?"

"No, I'm
suggesting you endure one thing you don't want to get the other, which
presumably you do."

He snorted in
disgust. "Surprised you didn't bargain your own way out with Bannister.
This ain't always goin' to work," he muttered as he sat back and closed
his eyes. He gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles taut and face set as
Sparkle massaged the runny paste into his scar. His misery was so obvious, so
palpable, she almost laughed out loud. What would Bannister and Brooks think if
they could see Rafe being tortured by a woman with cactus juice?