The Trailrider's Fortune (21 page)

She nearly ripped
the door off its hinges. "Rafe, he's here! Tolover's sending the tub back
up. I'm going to insist on a bath. Slocumb's covered in trail mud, has to be
cold and wet, and he'll have to take his guns off."

Rafe never
answered. When the bedroom door opened, Sparkle was seated on the edge of the
brass bed, loosening her hair and removing her earbobs. Saloon help carried in
the copper bathtub and steaming buckets. Her "customer" stood
watching beside Tolover. "Boss says you give some fantastic baths. Damn
well better, for what I paid."

"She's worth
it," Tolover assured him. "Last man she had up here said he'd never
had better, and he's visited saloons from here to the Pecos."

Sparkle fought to
retain her fragile composure. "You'll be more than pleased," she told
Slocumb, drawing him further into the spacious room. "We're to be good
friends. I am Sparkle LaFleur. What do your friends call you,
monsieur
?"

"Ned."
The door banged closed and they were alone. Sparkle prayed the erratic pulse in
her throat wasn't visible. She gave her chin a haughty tilt and unfastened the
purple velvet dress.

"Sparkle,
huh?" Slocumb prowled the chamber. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry
when he checked everywhere, even under the bed. Rafe's pack was hidden with him
in the space behind the panel. Slocumb glanced at the steaming big tub. "Them
sweet tits are gonna be real nice, wet and bobbin' under my hands." At
last he seemed satisfied they had total privacy. He began shrugging out of his
wet coat.

"Oh dear, but
your things are so very damp." She was pleased by the petulance in her
tone. "They will soil my big bed. Allow me to take them," she purred,
stepping out of her gown and petticoats. Clad only in her corset and chemise,
she took his coat over to the dark corner.

"This chair is
for my visit. Your weapons and boots?" She reached out, palms up
expectantly. "I'll fold your things neatly. Ah, but you'll be a changed man
when you leave tonight, Ned."

Considering
Rafe's mood, you might just be a dead one. Don't make a stand, please. Let us
all live through this, Slocumb.

He unbuttoned his shirt,
but seemed leery of parting with his gunbelt. "Want a good taste of them
titties first. Without all the powder this time. Just sweet French skin."

She thought she
heard a muffled curse, but the outlaw didn't react. He stood waiting with a
distinct bulge at his fly. Sparkle reached back and untied her corset, then
sidled over next to the copper tub. She made a show of removing her stockings,
but didn't let him see her slip her garter knife into the stack of fluffy
towels.

"There's no
reason you can't enjoy my charms while you wash, Friend Ned. We will both enjoy
ourselves much more after your hot soak. Please, get in."

Slocumb hesitated.
Sparkle bent from the waist, offering her bosom through her filmy chemise over
the tub's rolled copper rim. The holster dropped to the floor with his filthy
work pants and underdrawers. He stumbled over the pile of dirty garments,
sloshing into the bathwater. Sparkle fought her rising fear. In a few more
seconds, Rafe could come out.

Slocumb yanked the
fabric of her chemise down with grubby fingers, splashing water over her
breasts with his free hand. "Oh yeah. You look mighty nice," he
growled as her nipples hardened. "Want the talcum off. There." He
leaned to fasten puckered lips over a dusky crest and Sparkle jumped. She
barely noted his guttural response, ignored the discomfort as his teeth raked
her hardening nipple. Her mind churned. Rafe's signal. She had to mention
oysters.

"I'll ask
Monsieur
Tolover to bring us some wine and oysters," she announced gaily, in a clear
voice. "You will need oysters tonight, yes?"

She tried to rise,
but Slocumb had her chemise in his fist. "I've never needed oysters in my
life, honey."

Rafe slid the panel
open and emerged with his peacemaker trained on the man in the bathtub.
"Conley!" the outlaw sneered. "Goddammit, you set me up! French
whore in a fuckin' panel crib. Hope you plan on drillin' the slut, too. Then
again, why waste a bullet on this tease?" he snarled as his fingers
tangled in Sparkle's hair. "I'll drown her, save you the lead."

He jerked her face
toward the waterline. She screamed and flailed with her right arm, frantically
grasping for the towels.

The hall door
banged open. Sam Parker entered, shotgun pointed at Slocumb's head. Rafe's
voice was calm and reasonable. "Stop, Slocumb. You're done. Got more men
downstairs. By now they've got your gang. Let her go. Paid the slut to play
along."

Slocumb froze.
Sparkle's heart thumped harder as she realized the outlaw was holding his
breath. Inches from his face and chest, she should have felt his breath, seen
his nostrils flare. He'd loosened his grip on her tresses, but he wasn't
breathing. He ignored Sam, kept his eyes glued on Rafe. She knew what that
meant.

She'd been trained
by the previous owner of the Scarlet Lady how to deal with dangerous men.
Forget where they looked. Some deliberately chose a focal point to throw
opponents off.
Stay calm, take a deep breath yourself. Use your head and
live.

Her fingers found
the stack of towels, then wrapped around the small handle of her knife.

Slocumb finally
inhaled and uncoiled his muscles, launching himself forward. He lunged at Sam,
never once tearing his gaze from Rafe's weapon, unaware Sparkle had pivoted and
extended her arm. Ned threw himself right onto Sparkle's three-inch blade.

"Murderin'
whore!" He reached for her throat with one hand, the other clapped over
his gut.

There was a loud
roar and Ned jerked, releasing her. The base of his skull whacked against the
tub's rim. A thin maroon trickle formed below the hole in his forehead. He
slumped back, unmoving, unseeing. The bathwater had already gone red from the
gash Sparkle had opened in his belly.

She was too shocked
to realize Ned Slocumb wasn't the only one bleeding.

Rafe holstered his
Colt and caught her to him.

"We got him,
Rafe." Her voice sounded strange, distant. The candles on the dresser must
have blown out. The room seemed dark and too cold. She began to shudder.

Rafe saw the blood
and rushed her over to the bed. "Son-of-a-bitch! Sam, get a doc up here!
She's hit."

Tolover sent for
the law. Rafe didn't say more than two words to Earp, walked the length of the
room as Slocumb's body was dragged out. He continued to pace while the doctor
stitched Sparkle, stepped over the employees sent to remove the tub and
Slocumb's clothing. Paused only to open the window when the doctor said Sparkle
needed fresh air, then resumed pacing. Rafe was still prowling after Parker and
Driscoll paid the doctor and saw him out.

Tolover spoke from
the doorway. "You wife's all right, Conley. Just a couple stitches in her
scalp. Doc says it was probably the murder itself sent her into shock, not the
flesh wound. He sedated her because she needs rest."

The gunslinger
paced without looking up. Tolover had known Rafe a long time, but had never
seen this odd reaction before.

"Dammit stop,
Conley! Your spurs'll put a track in my floors I'll never get back out. Come
downstairs and have a drink. She'll sleep for a spell. I'll send one of my
other gals to stay with her."

Rafe crossed the
room and doubled back. He never acknowledged Tolover's presence or indicated
he'd heard the words meant to console him. Just kept moving, staring at the
floor in front of his boots. That strange aversion sent Tolover across the hall
for help.

"Stop that
pacin' and set a spell."

Rafe ignored the
husky voice. It came again, this time in a harsh warning. "Set yourself on
that bed and start usin' your jaw instead of your feet. You don't stop wearin'
the wax off the floors, I'll take you down. You know I can do it. Set your bony
ass down."

Rafe had heard
Alice use that tone of voice with him exactly once before.

He stopped and sank
to the edge of the mattress. He scanned the huddled form beside him, spill of
mahogany hair on the pillow, then stared down at the bare floors again.
"Al, I'm busy right now…contemplatin'."

Alice pulled the
Victorian chair directly in front of Rafe and set her hands on her knees as she
lowered her bulk into it. "I can see that. Ain't never seen you
'contemplate' quite like this. Tolover, neither. Got him spooked, Raford, and
that ain't easy to do. Heard a bullet strayed and clipped your gal." The
big woman inclined her head toward the sleeping girl. "It happens. Can't
tell me you never had one stray before."

"It ain't the
scratch. Whole thing never should've happened. Should've known she'd try
somethin' with that knife. She didn't listen to me. All she had to do was get
the guns away from him and give me the signal." He rubbed his palms
together, still staring at the toes of his boots. "She shouldn't have been
there at all. My fault she was."

"I thought the
idea was to use her to bring him down."

"Bad idea.
Broke my own rule—never work with an amateur. Got stuck bringin' her into town
with me, and I thought…Naw, I ain't been thinkin'. Should've reckoned what
could go wrong, taken better precautions. Might have, if I'd been usin' my
brain half as much as my pecker lately."

"She wanted to
work with you?"

"Truthfully,
she hated the notion. But I didn't leave her much choice, cause before we rode
in, she'd—" He stopped, glancing up at Al for the first time. "It's
complicated."

"The best
stories always are. Got a customer sleepin' off a three-day drunk. He won't be
raisin' his flagpole anytime soon, unless rigor mortis sets in," she
snorted. "I got time to listen. You got somethin' better to do?"

Rafe heard himself
asking Sparkle that same question before making love to her on a long, sultry
morning. He'd forgotten where he'd learned the phrase.

"Met her
outside a saloon in Wichita. She was a waiter gal, told fortunes. Pretty good
income, but the owner wanted her on her back in his monkey hall. She wouldn't
do it. He booted her out, but I got him to take her back. She read my fortune.
I tipped her big, gave her a nice open-mouth kiss…Purposely tweakin' the fool
runnin' the place, you know?"

"So far it's
simple enough."

"Well, I liked
her too, naturally. Awhile later, I was in Wichita again on business. She came
runnin' up to me on the street. Some fella'd been pesterin' her on the stage
ride into town and she wanted me to play husband, get rid of him."

"
That's
how the matrimony tale started, hmm? And the ring?"

"Bought her
the ring to make things easier for her, so her boss wouldn't pressure her to be
whorin'. She was scared, hadn't never been with a man." Alice's eyes
narrowed, and he rushed on. "Know it sounds like hogwash, her bein' so
pretty and workin' in bagnios and still bein' pure. But she was tellin' the
truth. I proved it."

"Well,
well."

He released a heavy
sigh. "She told me earlier tonight she'd been savin' herself all that time
for some
other
fella. She's still got feelin's for him."

Alice drew in a
deep breath. "Well Raford, you got two separate wrinkles need ironin' out.
Let's take one at a time. You're lower than a snake's belly over the shootin'
tonight. Makes sense, but part of your guilt's cause you had her first, and you
ought to understand that."

"Come on, Al.
I'd feel like shit if anybody got hurt."

"I'd hope so,
but this ain't
anybody
, it's Sparkle. And it's worse cause you opened up
the world for her. Ain't all that different than if you save somebody's life.
Feel responsible for what happens to them afterward."

"Is that why
you're in here now?"

"Damned
straight it is."

He glanced at
Sparkle, then back at Alice. "How much did you tell her?"

Al shrugged.
"That you'd been a cowpuncher, pretty raw when we had our times. Didn't
tell her just how raw, how your uncle brung you to me at twelve for breakin'
in. And Lord Almighty, but I sure did, didn't I?"

Rafe got to his
feet again. "Already signed on to take out Slocumb when I got word some
fool had kidnapped her from the Wichita saloon. Thought she was my wife. It was
a
joke
. I played along like I was her husband, figurin' we might end
up…like this." He met Alice's searching gaze squarely. "Truth is, I
just wanted her in my bed, worse than any woman I've ever met, and I couldn't
buy her."

"This way
turned out a lot harder, huh?"

"Christ, it's
like I bought into a poker pot way too rich for my blood. Been anted and raised
about five times, and I'm only holdin' a pair of threes. Can't win this unless
I get real lucky on a bluff. Look at her, Al," he hissed. "Should I
feel lucky, or like shit, for what I've done?"

"Outlaw's
dead. You're alive; so's she. Some would call that lucky enough."