The Trailrider's Fortune (26 page)

"Sparkle, this
is still your home," he reproached. "You don't need my permission to
invite a guest, and what's this about leaving? You just got here. Majesta, what
did you say to her?"

"Several
things. None of which I'd care to repeat in mixed company. I'll wait for you
upstairs. Your sister can help you up."

"Majesta
LaFleur, you will
not
go up without me," Jace corrected. "I'm
not having this house divided. And Sparkle, I'm sorry you had to discover—"

"What, that
you and your nurse have been playing house behind my back for months? Or is it
years? How big a fool was I? Just when did her tender ministrations come to
include massages in bed?"

"Now just a
minute," Jace exclaimed, flushing. "Nothing like that ever went on.
Majesta's a proper lady. I never laid a hand on her until we'd taken our vows,
just as I'm sure you'd never allow a man to take liberties outside the sanctity
of marriage."

Rafe rolled his
eyes. So much for highfalutin' manners and city folk. This was turning as ugly
as any saloon brawl he'd ever seen.

He spoke up firmly.
"Sparkle, I should find a hotel room," he reiterated, getting to his
feet. "You folks need to sort things out and I'm just underfoot. It's
awkward. I shouldn't be intrudin'."

"There's no
call for that," Jace immediately disagreed. "There's a settee in my
study." He used his good arm to maneuver his chair to the bottom of the
staircase. "Majesta, we're retiring to our room. Our guests must be weary
from their travels. Everyone will have a better outlook after a night's rest.
Help me up, please."

Rafe saw Majesta
bend to take Jace's arm over her shoulders as he struggled to stand. The buxom
woman seemed sturdy enough, and Rafe knew she must help Jace up those same
stairs daily. Still, he couldn't just stand and watch. "I'll take him.
Which room is it?"

"To the right
at the top of the stairs," Majesta replied, dragging the wheelchair up
behind the two men. Rafe waited until she'd joined him on the landing and had
Jace's weight on her shoulders before he stepped aside.

"Thanks,"
Jace said softly, offering his left hand again. His blue eyes met Rafe's brown
and held them. "You and Sparkle take a walk. Have some lemonade. Talk. Ask
her again, and advise that I think you'd make a fine husband." He glanced
down beyond Rafe's shoulder and spoke louder. "We'll talk later,
Sparkle."

There was no
response. Rafe turned. She stood at the base of the stairs, her face an ugly
mask. Her eyes glittered as Majesta and Jack disappeared and their bedroom door
closed. Rafe had seen hurt and anger in her eyes. Now he saw something else.
Incomprehensible and horrifying, but all too familiar.

He'd felt it himself
recently, watching her flirt with saloon patrons. He'd seen it in Sparkle's
aquamarine eyes before, the night she'd pulled the redheaded doxy off his lap.

Sexual jealousy.

Lord God Almighty.
It couldn't be…

'It's the first
I've heard of her seeing anyone…'

'We've known
each other for years. He doesn't see me the way you or the men downstairs do.'

'How big a fool
was I?'

Rafe all but flew
back down the stairs. "Goddamn you, tell me I'm wrong about what I see in
your eyes right now, Sparkle," he hissed. "Why are you upset they're
hitched? Sore because Majesta has what you yen for? Wish it was
you
in
that bedroom upstairs with him, don't you?"

He shook her
roughly. Her eyes left the empty stairwell and rested on his face, but Rafe
doubted she truly saw him. "No wonder my scar never bothered you," he
spat in disgust. "You were in love with a freak all along. Christ, that
freak's your own
brother
! He ain't
supposed
to see you like other
men do. I won't be able to after this, either. Never again. I should have known
you were too pretty, too perfect. There had to be somethin' rotten somewhere.
Now I found it. You're nobody's woman now."

His valise was
still by the front door, the Colt inside it. For one horrible second, his
revulsion was nearly overpowering. Rafe pictured the smooth grip, his thumb on
the hammer. One flick and Sparkle wouldn't be around to poison Jace and
Majesta's life with her sick desires. One flick and Rafe would never encounter
her again, never have to look into those damned treacherous eyes…

He didn't open the
valise. He opened the front door.

And struck out for
the depot, recalling a watering hole on the way. He purchased a bottle and took
it to the darkest spot, farthest from the doorway. He proceeded to get roaring
drunk, so drunk he could barely stagger the rest of the way to the train
station and buy a ticket. He tripped over his own feet inside the depot. He
spat, thinking how he detested bustling cities. Miserable, overcrowded places,
where folks lived on top of each other. He never should have come to one.

He hated Kansas
City and the uncomfortable jacket and boiled shirt he'd donned trying to
impress Jace LaFleur. Hated that hellish warning voice that had whispered to
him every night in Dodge that having a beauty like Sparkle was too good to be
true. He sunk to a nearby bench, belching and muttering curses, sick of life.
Resigned to half-dead whores in tawdry saloons, sandwiched between long nights
on the trail alone.

His words to Big Al
came back. He'd never find another gal like the fortune teller. Sparkle was
unique. That reassurance was precious little consolation. How many barrels of
bourbon or reward payments would it take to wipe her out of his heart and mind?
A hundred? Something had to sponge her away. Rafe had to forget the panel crib,
Wichita, tarot card predictions…everything remotely connected to Sparkle
LaFleur. He had to forget…

If he didn't, she'd
still be able to destroy him. Suck his soul straight down into Hell.

Sparkle hadn't
slept a wink all night. She gave up at last, sensing dawn's rapid approach. The
dresser mirror revealed purple smudges beneath her eyes. Her reflection was
grim. Her face had never looked so old and worn, so bitter.

The only face she'd
seen look worse was Rafe's when he walked out on her.

She'd made no
attempt to go after him. She'd been too frightened to even try. His warm brown
eyes, reliably so soft as they held hers, had turned into the unblinking pits
of a cobra. More black than brown, with no forbearance, only brittle hatred.

For the first time,
Sparkle had actually quaked in terror of him. Terror for her life. For one
fleeting instant, Rafe Conley had appeared
exactly
like what she knew he
could be:  a cold-blooded killer.

She'd bolted the
door behind him, fled upstairs, and barricaded herself in her room. How had
things gone so horribly wrong? she numbly asked herself. Her job at the saloon
was gone. She'd helped kill a man. Jace had taken another woman to wife. Solid
ground was now quicksand. Sparkle had never intended for any of it to turn out
this way. She'd worked hard, scrimped and saved. For what? Her dreams had blown
apart, her morals collapsed. She'd met Rafe and he'd changed everything. Then
she'd lost him.

She had nothing
left. Nothing.

Except a duty to
find both an explanation Jace would accept about Rafe's abrupt departure, and a
graceful way to resolve matters with the newlywed LaFleurs.

Sparkle swallowed
back tears at the memory of the awful things she'd said the day before in the
kitchen. She'd never liked Majesta; always been aware of the nurse's disdain.
But Sparkle was still honest enough—honesty being perhaps the lone virtue she
still retained—to admit she'd trusted Majesta implicitly to care for Jace. She
owed the woman a grudging respect and loyalty, for Majesta had done more than
tend Jace's withered body. She'd looked after his spirit and pride, as well.
Allowed him to grow to love the woman he depended upon, exactly as Sparkle had
intended…except
she
was to have been that woman.

But she hadn't been
here with Jace, night and day for the past several years. Hadn't helped him
mature from a gangly, withdrawn youth into the decisive man he was now. That
much Sparkle understood, despite her jealousy and wounded pride. Jace was the
man of the house. No spoiled tyrant, but sure of himself. He didn't apologize
for his deficiencies. How much of his inner confidence was due to Majesta's
influence? Sparkle needed to find out.

She went into the
kitchen, poured a cup of tea, and asked to see Jace alone. She wheeled him into
his study and took a long, revitalizing sip of the hot liquid.

"Jace, I'm
ashamed of the way I acted yesterday. My behavior was uncalled for,
unconscionable. I'm truly sorry for it. I don't expect you to forgive me. But
knowing you, you probably will."

"I already
have," he answered simply. "I should have told you last time you came
home that I was considering marriage. I knew my feelings for Majesta long ago,
but it took some months for me to work up nerve enough to propose. I admire
Conley for being forthright in stating his feelings. He says you haven't
accepted. I don't understand why. By the way, where is he this morning?"
he frowned, noting for the first time the study was empty.

"I, uh…Rafe
and I spoke after you went upstairs, and…I'm afraid he's gone."

"To a hotel,
after I told him there was no reason to stay elsewhere?"

Sparkle silently
sipped at her tea, shaking her head. Jace's expression darkened. "You
don't mean
gone
, as in not coming back to call on you again?"

She averted her
face, fighting back tears. She'd thought there weren't any left, after crying
late into the night. "I wasn't very ladylike, as I said. He's had a change
of heart. We broke it off."

"I'm so sorry,
Sparkle." Jace's voice held genuine sadness. "He impressed me as the
salt of the earth. Is there no chance you two might still work things out? That
upset yesterday was just an altercation between siblings. He realizes that. He
told me so at the time. I don't understand this turn of events at all. Is it
because of this other person he seemed to—"

Sparkle quickly
wiped at her cheek. "It's not important. Perhaps it's for the best.
Anyway, I just wanted to apologize and tell you I've lost my job. If you'll
give me a few days to find a room somewhere, I'll be out of your hair."

"Don't be ridiculous!
This is your home. My marriage has no bearing on that. There's plenty of room
for all of us to live here. And you don't need to seek a new post right away.
Take a rest. Regroup."

Sparkle set down
her tea. "That's not possible. I've been paying Majesta all these years
out of my wages. Unless you're planning to send her out to work, I have to find
something fairly soon. I have some money put aside, but it can't last forever.
Your trust fund won't support us all."

"Neither will
you," Jace asserted. "Go find another stint of drudgery, working long
hours and extra days whenever you can? Become a dried-up spinster with no
prospects? I can't abide the thought of that, Sparkle. Don't you think I took
our circumstances into consideration when I asked Majesta to marry me?"

"No, I
honestly didn't think you had. She didn't have any suggestions. She assumes
I'll work, as I always have."

"Well, it's
not right to have my sister supporting this household alone. We must reassess
matters, have a long talk…the three of us."

"Jace, please
don't take on. I'd prefer to work. There are other sa—schools." Her
spirits dampened as she realized what she'd almost blurted. And that she'd be
back reading cards in one before a month was out.

"I didn't
sleep very well," she mumbled. "I think I'll spend the day in my
room."

"Please, have
something to eat and get some rest," Jace agreed. "Conley seemed…an
understanding man, particularly with regards to family," he said slowly.
"If you think it would help, I'll contact him at his ranch."

Jace knew about the
ranch? Sparkle thought with horror. She immediately shook her head. "No,
Jace. This is personal. Please just leave it alone."

She left his study,
and went straight up the stairs. Majesta appeared in the doorway and met Jace's
troubled gaze. "Conley left yesterday," he informed her. "Seems
he withdrew his marriage proposal after our little family debacle. She's lost
her job, too."

"She told
me."

"I reassured
her that she's welcome to stay and gather her wits before making any decisions.
She's rather confused at the moment, which is understandable. Already talking
about finding another position somewhere. I don't want her pressured about
money. Life is difficult enough for her, having just lost both her teaching
post and her suitor."

"You mean her
lover. Your sister and that stranger were more than friendly
acquaintances."

"Oh, pshaw!
You know Mother raised us with strict rules. Sparkle would never let a man take
advantage. Besides, Conley never so much as held her hand."

Majesta crossed her
arms over her full bosom. "You watched them, did you?"

"Of course I
did. Tried not to make it obvious, but I was curious, so of course."