The Trailrider's Fortune (22 page)

"We're still
breathin' because I understand how wanted men think, know what I'm up against
with them. Ain't like that with her."

Al didn't respond
right away. "You and that little gal grind hipbones like I ain't heard go
on in years. You're not walkin' the floor just cause of a guilty conscience.
That other fella's got to you. But I can't help wonderin'…if Sparkle's so keen
for him, how come
he
wasn't her first? What's she doin' under you?"

"Hell if I
know. Says she's known him a long spell, that she was waitin' for him to come
around…" He paused in confusion. "What's a gal mean when she says a
fella doesn't see her like the men in a saloon do? He some Nancy-boy? Got to be
somethin' wrong there. You think he's maybe older and married? How could any man
not see Sparkle as a pretty gal?"

Al nodded slowly.
"Could be married, I reckon. You ask her?"

"We weren't
exactly havin' a peaceable chat when the subject came up," he admitted
sourly. "Then all hell broke loose." He wiped a rough palm over his
eyes. "Hell, I don't know what to do. Probably best for both of us if I
just step out of her life. She wouldn't have that new part in her hair or been
kidnapped if she spent nights with anybody but me."

"Thought maybe
you loved this gal."

His voice was
tight. "No maybe about it. I do, Al. She'll do anything I want, anytime I
want, any way I want. And I
always
want, no matter how much I have of
her. Can't let her out of my sight. Can't get her out of my thoughts. What the
hell else could it mean?" Now his voice was tinged with sarcasm.
"Yep, she'll do anything I want, except say she loves me."

Al lumbered to her
feet. "Ever ponder she might, only not know it yet?"

He shook his head.
"Has it in her mind she loves the other man."

Alice snorted
again. "You ever known a woman to keep her love in her
mind
,
Raford? Along with about a thousand men, I've known my share of gals in my
years on the rack. Never met one who didn't hold her love in her heart. If
Sparkle ain't in love, she's in some powerful mad lust. I'd use that, make her
see it's you she wants, not the married fella. Known whores to go soft over
some man they couldn't ever have. Maybe that's what it is with her. She might
think about that somebody else, but she needs you."

"You know the
situation, though. Can't give her forever."

"Can't…or
won't? You don't offer that, some other man will," Al pointed out quietly.
"Ain't none of my funeral, and I ain't fond of tattle-asses, but a fella
came up to the landin' a couple nights back while you were over at the livery.
I heard them talkin'. He offered Sparkle an opportunity on the Barbary Coast.
Said he owned a gaming parlor, offered her a partnership if she'd read cards
out there."

Rafe's eyebrows
shot up. "Figured you didn't know," Alice went on. "Point is,
you ponder how many gals pray some fella will come along, make them an offer
like that? Sparkle turned it down."

"Not cause of
me," Rafe answered. "Cause her brother's a cripple and she wouldn't
move so far away from him."

"Maybe, but
you ain't never run from a fight. If you're fixin' to give up so easy, then you
deserve to lose her…Even though she won't find what she has with you again. You
won't find another like her, neither." Alice shambled toward the door.

Rafe moved quickly,
slapping his palm against the wood barrier before she could open it. "Al,
I know you're right. I won't find another like her. She doesn't care about my
scar or that she's too pretty for me. But—"

The whore's massive
arm slipped around his midsection. "Make her see she loves
you
,
Raford. But remember, her kind needs forever. Forever's your challenge, not
Hoffman or whatever Wanted poster gets printed next. Someday you got to face it
all down. It's huntin'
you
, sugar, gettin' closer all the time."

"Al,"
Rafe's voice was hoarse.

The big arm
withdrew. "Go on back, take care of Sparkle. Get her on her feet again,
get her out of here, and don't come back here again."

* * *

Sparkle jerked
awake and sat up, heart pounding. She'd just escaped from something ugly in a
dream. Though clearly daylight, it was pouring rain outside. Water streamed
down the dingy windowpanes. She was alone in the brass bed, alone in the room.

"Rafe?"

No answer. The
saloon was still as a tomb. Had he left town? Collected his reward and stranded
her? He'd been so angry the other night…When
was
that? Sparkle found she
couldn't quite recall. She fumbled into the blue gingham dress, not bothering
with undergarments. She raced out the door to the landing. "Rafe?"
She peered down through the gloom, calling through cupped hands. "
Rafe
."

He was downstairs
with Tolover and Parker when he heard the screams. He bounded up the staircase
as Sparkle came tearing down. They collided and he nearly knocked her off her
bare feet. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were awake." He
grasped her shoulders to steady her.

She abruptly burst
into tears. Rafe couldn't have been more startled had she flung a bucket of ice
water at him. Doors opened here and there above them. Curious women gawked at
them along with a scowling male. Unhappy customer. Sparkle wailed as though
Rafe had just announced he'd shot her pet hound. "Come here,
darlin'." He dragged her back into their room and closed the door.

He wondered how one
small filly could hold so much water. She was leaking from everywhere—but what
was seeping onto her skirts was bright red. He bolted across the hall to Al's
room.

"Get off,
cowboy! We got an emergency." Rafe grabbed the naked man stretched full
length atop the strumpet's immense white belly and flung him off the sagging
bed. Then he grabbed a thick wrist and yanked, jerking Alice to her feet.
"Sparkle…" he panted. "Somethin's wrong. She's bleedin'!"

Al waddled over to
study the girl, barefoot and quietly sobbing in a huddle on the floor. Alice
saw the dark stain on the cotton skirts and began to jiggle with suppressed
laughter. "You mean this?" she pointed with a chubby index finger.

"Yeah! Do
somethin', Al. I'll go for the doc. Wait…which way from here?"

Al lost control and
let loose a booming laugh. "She's just havin' her monthly courses, Rafe.
She ain't dyin', for Christ's sake! You just ain't knocked her up yet, despite
all the effort." Alice literally slapped her thighs and wiped tears from
the corners of her eyes.

Rafe's face went
slack, then red, followed by livid purple. Sparkle stopped hiccupping and
looked at the other two with a mixture of horror and mortification. Rafe
thought she'd had some kind of medical episode?

"Sorry
Alice," Rafe ground out. "I'm goin' back down and have a nice stiff
belt. You two gals can sort this out." He threw Sparkle a murderous glare
and banged out the door.

"My, oh
my…Don't I feel silly?" came Sparkle's rhetorical question. Waking up from
a nightmare, imagining the worst—that she'd been abandoned in the Sodom and
Gomorra of the West—totally unaware it was "that time" again. She was
genuinely embarrassed clear to the soles of her bare feet. She'd acted like a
ninny.

But then again, it
was hard to feel too ridiculous. Rafe thought she'd been bleeding to death.
Heaven only knew why, since the man clearly knew women's bodies almost better
than his own.

And why should
Sparkle feel so mortified, when she sat peering up at a stark naked woman the
size of a young hippopotamus?

'I apologize for
all this," she tried explaining. "I woke up and Rafe wasn't here. I
was afraid he might have left town. I don't have any money. I've got a headache
and cramps. It's raining. Rafe's furious…Otherwise, everything's peachy. Got
anything for the monthlies, Alice?"

"Yeah, be
right back. Got a customer, too, so you'll have to get straightened out and
patch things up with that fool husband of yours."

"Alice, you
know Rafe's not—" Alice was gone. But a moment later, she returned,
wrapped in an embroidered tablecloth. Sparkle looked twice. Yes, it
was
a tablecloth. Al thrust a bundle of faded cloths and a pair of pantalets at
Sparkle.

"Rafe doesn't
need a drink," Alice pronounced firmly. "You got hurt the other
night. You've been sleeping off the morphine the doc gave you for two days.
Rafe ain't finished a plate of food in all that time, but downed plenty of
bourbon. Had to threaten to sit on him before he'd take nourishment at all. He
don't need liquor, honey. Clean yourself up, then take him to Marybel Wing's
eatery. Tell Marybel to boil you up some chamomile tea and charge the vittles
for you and Raford to my account."

A haughty tilt to
her head, the elephantine woman in the tablecloth disappeared.

Sparkle changed and
found Rafe at the Adventuress' long bar, studying his whiskey glass as though
he expected it to spin and dance on the polished wood. His features were taut.
Chagrined was an endearing expression on his rugged face, Sparkle decided.

"Al says
Marybel Wing has some special tea at her restaurant that will make me feel
better. Maybe some food would help you." She reached for his arm.

"It's rainin',"
he scowled, talking to his whiskey tumbler. "Too wet for a walk."

"Afraid of a
little water, Rafe? We won't drown."

Rafe closed his
eyes, struggling to blot out the memory of Slocum threatening to drown her as
he watched. The bartender produced an umbrella and gave Rafe a wink.

Rafe led Sparkle
outside and opened the umbrella. "Sorry I was so stupid back there. My
sister's a few years ahead of me in age. Our ma's been gone a long while, and
whores don't work when…you know. You were hollerin' and wailin', then I saw
blood. Sort of panicked." He laid an arm across her shoulders.

"I was crying
because I thought you'd left me here."

Rafe frowned. Left
her? "Darlin', you should know better." Then he considered their
argument the night of Slocumb's killing. He'd accused her of planning to dump
him. Maybe she
didn't
know better.

"I swear that
would never happen. I'd never leave you." He pressed a soft kiss to her
cheek.

"Guess I
panicked, too." She stared up into his eyes. "Al said I'd been hurt.
Is that why I have this awful headache?" She gingerly reached up to her
hairline.

He began walking
along the sidewalk, shortening his strides to keep her next to him and under
the shelter of the umbrella. "Your man ain't too bright sometimes,"
he sighed, slowly reiterating the events of two nights before.

A half-hour later
he was sipping strong black coffee and studying her face in the empty
restaurant. He'd explained only what he had to. Sparkle drank her special tea
and seemed to ponder the tale. "When are we leaving town?" she
finally asked.

"Reckon I'll
get the balance of my fee tomorrow. Soon as this weather lets up, we can head
out."

Sparkle's gaze
raked his face. "You don't have to work another case right away, do you?
You made enough that you should be able to take some time off. Please tell me
you're not going after Hoffman next."

Rafe set down his
mug. "Hoffman ain't about money. It's personal."

"What did he
do again? Oh yes, you said something about him killing a member of your
family."

Rafe glanced out
the window, watching the rivulets stream down the glass. "Hoffman was
sheriff in a small town until the election, when my uncle took over his job.
Hoffman got ticked, claimed the vote was rigged. Uncle Tom actually took a shot
at Hoffman in the street about a week after the votes were recounted. Tried to
make him back off and quit carpin'. Couple days later, Hoffman backshot my
uncle in front of witnesses. They arrested him for murder. Somehow he got
acquitted."

Rafe toyed with his
coffee cup. "My pa and older brother died in the War Between the States. I
was too young to go, but Uncle Tom came back wounded. Then he got killed and
his murderer got away with it. Ma faded away after that, died a short time
later. Her husband and first-born killed in the war, brother murdered
senselessly. Just broke her spirit."

"I'm sorry. My
mother's been gone a long time, but I still miss her. I know how sad you must
feel." Sparkle's fingers reached to brush his, but he pulled away.

"Quit the gang
I was ridin' with then. Hired my gun out. Ma and my sis never liked my ways,
figured Travis would follow in my footsteps and turn outlaw, too."

"
You were
an outlaw
?" He heard the shocked disbelief in her voice.

He shrugged.
"Of sorts. Seventeen and mostly big talk. But damned fast with a pistol.
Always, from the first time my pa put one in my hand. Took the notion to hunt
Hoffman down and see justice done. Collected a reward or two along the way.
Natural talent, I guess you'd say. Never was much use workin' cows. Hated
raisin' corn on our farm in Nebraska. Born with a wild streak, a lot like my
uncle."