The Trailrider's Fortune (35 page)

At that very
second, the cabin door opened and Rafe barreled out, Colt in his hand.
"Just what in Tarnation you doin' with my horse?"

"Ain't yours
now," Travis corrected. "I sold him. Sorrel ain't done a thing but
turn hay into manure for months. Finally made a profit on him."

"Snatch is
mine
,
and he ain't for sale!" Rafe glared at Sparkle, then spoke to the animal.
"Snatch, johnnycakes"

Snatch shifted his
weight, but both forelegs remained on the ground. "I said
johnnycakes
,
you broomtail."

The stallion
offered Sparkle his warm nose. "You're welcome," she said softly
before meeting Rafe's murderous gaze. "I fed him a whole batch, Rafe. He
doesn't have to kick for them."

Rafe turned his
fury on his brother. "Ain't sellin' him to anybody, least of all
her
."

Travis crossed his
arms across his chest. "Miss LaFleur's offered top dollar. You weren't
cheated."

"The price
ain't the point," Rafe snarled, raising the muzzle of his pistol.
"He's
my
horse. Just like this here's
my
gun and that's
my
cabin. You don't want him eatin' up your fodder, fine. I'll ride out. Don't
need no—"

"Good,"
Travis interjected. "Because I been thinkin' I'd knock down the cabin,
since you're so positive you won't be back. Get rid of that foul smell."

Rafe looked
momentarily stymied. He glanced at Sparkle for a brief second, then seemed to
address the ground. "Give Snatch back. You ain't got no use for a
stallion, and I don't want your money."

Travis' tone was
all business. "Too late. She bought him and paid for him. You'll have to
buy him back. And while we're settlin' ownership issues…" His rifle
appeared out of nowhere. Sparkle hadn't even noticed he'd been carrying the
long gun. "This here's
my
gun, Raford, and it's loaded." He
pointed it squarely at his brother's forehead. "Step away from Snatch and
let Miss LaFleur go on her way. She's got a train to catch."

"Don't be a
jackass. You ain't about to shoot your own brother."

"Seems we need
a clear understandin' of who runs this spread," Travis replied, steel in
his voice. "You give me money for stock and such now and again, but it
hardly makes up for what it costs me to feed you and that sorrel for months at
a stretch. You're snarlin' at me for sellin' a horse for four times what he's
worth. Might take orders or advice from a partner, but you made it real clear
you're not my partner. Told me over and over
I'm
the owner of this
spread and you're just a visitor on it. Which way is it?"

Rafe fairly
vibrated with suppressed anger. "You're tearin' the scab off that, just
cause
she
showed up?" He reached to grab onto the reins Sparkle
still held.

"Sparkle bein'
here makes me realize it's time to get it straight. You want her gone, but you
wouldn't tell her. She wanted to do business, but you wouldn't talk to her. I
did, made a sound business deal for you, and you're carpin' about that. My
welcome mat's wearin' a bit thin."

"Fine. I guess
it's straight. You want me out, Mr. Boss Man? That what you want?"

Travis jerked the
reins so abruptly, both Rafe and Sparkle lost their grips."Nope. I want
Snatch back in my barn, where he belongs. I want your ornery butt beside Sparkle's
on the parlor sofa." He handed Rafe the bank draft and motioned with his
rifle barrel again. "Want my hands back to work, with no more excuses to
gawk at this pretty gal or the circus that's taken over my ranch. And I want
you to find your damned common sense, Raford. Now, git!"

Rafe defied Travis
by standing against the far wall, as far as possible from where Sparkle sat. He
told himself he wasn't going to look at her. He didn't dare. Not only because
she was still so damned pretty—in fact, if anything, it seemed she'd gotten
better looking in the months since he'd last seen her. Her expression outside
had been all crumpled, like any minute she was going to break down and cry. He
wanted no part of
that
. No way. He had to think about something else.

Money. That was
always a smart thing to ponder. He studied the paper Travis had shoved into his
hand.

Bank drafts in
Rafe's name, even for mind-boggling amounts, weren't all that rare. But this
one made him instantly curious, the prickly sort of curious that demanded
investigation. How the hell had Sparkle laid her hands on so much, and why
offer it to him? That second question burned in his mind. He'd walked out on
her…now this generosity out of nowhere. Didn't make any sense.

"There's three
thousand here," he said after a long, awkward silence. "Must want
that horse awful bad."

He hadn't actually
spoken to the woman across the room. He'd just been thinking out loud,
remarking to the furniture. But a soft feminine voice responded.

"I don't want
your horse. I just had to make you come out. That's a bounty you're holding. It
was buried in Texas near the town I lived in as a child."

Rafe extended the
paper toward her. "Naw, you earned your share of the Slocumb reward. Ain't
got to pay for them clothes or jewelry, if that's—"

"I told you,
this has to do with Hoffman."

"What, did he
take you to dig up some money?" He knew he sounded unreasonably sarcastic.
It was deliberate. She'd already convinced Travis to play along in her game,
whatever it was. If she thought she could use Hoffman as a wedge…

"No," she
answered smoothly. "I can explain how I got it, but it's complicated.
There's a critical point at the beginning of the story I'd have to relate
first."

Rafe muttered an
expletive beneath his breath. Of course, it couldn't be simple. "Spit it
out and let's get this done."

"Remember how
I swore I'd never lied to you…about being a virgin and everything?"

He groaned and
closed his eyes. "Stick to the money."

"I lied about
one thing, Rafe. The thing you got so distressed about."

His eyes popped
back open and he stared at her. He knew it was tantamount to lifting rocks and
hunting for rattlesnakes, but he lowered himself into an overstuffed chair.
"You didn't lie about it," he amended. "You took your sweet time
tellin' me, but you were straight enough in sayin' there was another fella.
Just didn't say
who
. The who made all the difference."

She exhaled
audibly. "You were partly right. Jace was the man I had feelings for. But
he's
not
my brother. We're not related."

For a second Rafe
wondered if Travis had somehow snuck into the front room and smacked him in the
head with his rifle butt. Not related? "There's no blood between
you?" he asked carefully.

She shook her head.
Rafe scowled. "They why'd you put on like he—"

"My mother and
I were boarders in the Flowers family home down in Texas. When I was nine, Jace
was shot along with his father late one night. A week later, my mother was
murdered. Jace's mother was the only adult left. She was certain the men would
come back to kill everyone in the household—especially if they learned Jace had
survived the shooting. His father helped an outlaw friend of his hide stolen
loot from a robbery."

"Big
trouble."

"Yes,"
she nodded. "She smuggled us out of Texas to her aunt's place in Kansas
City and changed her name to LaFleur. It was her idea to claim I was her
daughter. Jace was barely alive at that point. He didn't remember anything. She
didn't want him to. She made me promise I wouldn't tell him who I really was or
what happened. I agreed to wait and see if he remembered on his own."

Rafe said nothing
for a long moment. "Thinkin' you two were kin…You can understand that I
just couldn't stomach what I thought was goin' on." She swallowed and
bobbed her head, avoiding his gaze. Rafe thought back, hard.

"I recall you
askin' about his memory. Told me himself about bein' shot, and that he couldn't
remember what his pa looked like. I'd asked him which parent you favored.
Noticed you didn't look all that much alike. But it doesn't change the fact
that you were in love with him."

"I felt close
to Jace, responsible for him. Bound to him by all that had happened. He was the
only person left alive who knew where the stolen money was hidden. I'd always
had this silly notion that he'd remember and we'd dig it up and be rich. I'd
tell him I wasn't actually his sister. We'd get married and go to France. I'd
finally see Paris."

"All nice and
tidy."

She sighed and
ruefully shook her head. "I'd kept that fantasy alive for so many years. I
don't even remember when it began. You have to remember how young and naïve I
was when I started working in the bagnios. Jace never knew I had that silly
dream. Nobody knew. I'd held on to it, believed in it…When I found out he'd
married Majesta, I was shocked and hurt. He destroyed everything I'd worked
for."

Rafe offered a noncommittal
grunt.

She rose to stare
down into the glowing embers on the hearth. "I wasn't ever actually
in
love
with him. When I started constructing my grand plan, I had no idea
what love was between a man and a woman. I didn't know how it felt to love a
man." She turned and gave him a tremulous smile. "Until I met
you."

Rafe swallowed
hard. It would be so easy to get sucked into what she was spinning. The pain in
her voice and eyes seemed real. Nothing she'd said was hard for him to imagine
or agree with; most of it, entirely too easy. Nobody understood better than
Rafe about people hanging onto fables or fantasies to get through what had to
be done. Keeping secrets, being misunderstood or misunderstanding things
yourself. He could relate to all of it.

He cleared his
throat loudly. "You discovered
makin'
love with me. You were
lonely. So was I. Been that way most of my life. You never minded my scar, and
I couldn't help bein' all the more drawn to you because of that. The acceptance
meant a hell of a lot. Ain't gonna lie. And there's no denyin' that we're
damned good in bed together, but—"

"You expect me
to believe that's all it was?" she demanded. "You said you loved me.
You said it meant something, that I was your woman. We're not talking about
lust. It was more than that, more than loneliness. And I can prove it."

She pushed the
coffee table closer to his chair and quickly dealt tarot cards into a
formation. She'd pulled a deck from the pocket of her skirt. "Do you
remember when I told your fortune? Can you remember some of the cards? Tell me
what they were."

Rafe was about to
refuse, but she abruptly dropped to her knees across from him and closed her
eyes.

He was instantly
transported back to Dodge. To one night when she'd knelt before him and taken
him in her mouth. When she got so aroused pleasuring him, her eyes had closed
and—

"What?"
He jerked back to the present, realizing she'd spoken again. His fingers had
actually moved to the buttons of his fly. Thank God, her eyes were still
closed.

"I asked again
about the cards."

"Oh. Don't
recollect."

"There was a
snake on one, remember?" she coached. "Look down. You'll recognize
others. I did several readings for you. You must remember some of the
cards."

"Yep, this
one. DEATH." He studied the pasteboard images. "And STRENGTH, with
the gal and the lion. We argued about that one."

Sparkle nodded.
Rafe gazed at her and felt his mouth go dry. Damn, but he wanted her, despite
everything. Her hair was longer and even shinier than he remembered. He'd kill
to bury his face in it, to hold her close and kiss her.

"And the Five
of Swords is near THE LOVERS," she whispered. "Do you see those two
cards?"

"So what?
Those lovers supposed to be us?" he snorted in derision. "Is that why
you're reading my fortune again, to prove—"

"This isn't
yours
.
It's mine. The times you spotted me reading my own fortune, like in the panel
crib that night…You never saw the actual cards, did you? I never let you see
them."

"Reckon
not." Rafe couldn't say why all this made his skin crawl, but suddenly
every nerve in his body was taut.

"The central
card is the Queen of Swords, a woman. Me. I don't need to look to tell you
what's there. The cards have come up the same for awhile now. I know them by
rote." She clicked off names and positions. If he hadn't watched her
shuffle and deal…

A gunfighter
listened to his instincts.

He'd been watching
as she laid out the cards. He didn't think she'd rigged this. Didn't think she
could have, any more than she could have put that rattler on the trail in front
of Snatch.

"Sparkle,"
he croaked out. "I'm not mad anymore. Look at me," he urged.
"What does it mean, us havin' a lot of the same cards?"

Her eyes slowly
opened and met his. "You know. I've told you. We're meant to be together.
The hidden money belonged to a man named Roy McAllister, who rode with Micah
Slade. Just like your uncle did. That draft is part of Slade's money. I hoped
you'd look at it as your uncle's share."