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Authors: Shannah Biondine

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BOOK: The Trailrider's Fortune
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* * *

 

Rafe hadn't planned
on roving back into the Scarlet Lady, but hell, it was a nice place. A notch or
two better than the Rusty Nail or the other bawdy houses along Wichita's main
street. The fact a certain fetchin' gal worked in this one didn't hurt, either.
Not that he'd been fooled by her little act earlier. She'd used him to get ride
of a problem. Didn't everybody? Wealthy cattlemen, bankers, politicians, the
railroads, even lawmen…They all used freelancers like Raford Conley to get ride
of problems.

He eased into a
vacant seat at one of the poker tables. His eyes were instantly drawn to the
small table where Sparkle sat reading fortunes. She'd changed her clothes, all
right. He hadn't seen her fully primped for the evening herds before. She sure
as hell did look pretty—all powdered and fresh, hair piled up, lips painted
nice and rosy. He grinned as she adjusted a shoulder strap on the hated red
dress. If she new the way it made a man feel to see her fine body wrapped up in
it, she would've thanked Frazer instead of cussin' at him.

The saloon was
getting noisy and a bit too crowded, though. Rafe was tempted to get up and
leave. He'd always been a loner, didn't care for a lot of other men so close.
He'd tolerate rubbing elbows for a spell. Sooner or later the little fortune
teller had to take a break. Maybe he'd convince her to step outside for a
chat…or another kiss.

"Your bride's
quite a woman." It took a second for Rafe to realize the comment had been
directed at him. He glanced up to find the chair beside him was now occupied by
the dandy from the stagecoach. "What's she dealing over there,
monte?"

"Tarot. She
reads fortunes." Instead of the caustic laugh he expected, Rafe found the
man beside him watching Sparkle all the more intently. Not good. The fella
suffered from a serious lack of judgment.

"Fortune
teller, eh? Believe she's the first I've ever met. She any good?"

The look in the
man's eyes implied he wasn't asking about card reading. "You in or
out?" Rafe asked with a deliberate edge of annoyance, motioning toward
their own card table.

"Quite an
unconventional occupation, particularly for an alluring young gal," the
idiot remarked as he tossed a few more chips into the pot. "Don't believe
I'd allow a wife of mine to work here, dressed in a revealing costume and
fraternizing with strangers. Of course, she's
paid
to, isn't she?"

Rafe threw down his
cards. "Getting' mighty sick of your mouth, friend."

"Name's
Brooks, Joe Brooks. Don't misunderstand. It's only that when I spoke to your
wife earlier, she seemed quite a proper woman. Not at all the typical soiled
dove. A gent might be misled, though—"

"She don't
take customers upstairs, Brooks. And it ain't healthy for you to be meddling in
her business. I catch you moonin' over my wife, Sparkle—"

"What's
this?" Frazer had come up behind Rafe, drawn by the edgy behavior at the
table. Several other men sensed Rafe's mounting irritation and looked nervous.
A few patrons had begun creeping toward the doors.

"Your
wife
?"
Frazer echoed. "If that don't beat all! She never said a word. So
that's
why she wanted the time off. I knew you were partial to her, but never figured
you two for tyin' the knot. Newlyweds, huh?"

Rafe immediately
regretted his words, but he couldn't retract them without giving Brooks an
opening to pursue the girl. "Yeah. Couple days back."

"Man alive! If
I'd known that…Hell, Conley." Frazer slapped Rafe on the back.

Rafe fought the
sudden urge to pistol-whip the saloonkeeper. "She didn't want to make a
big deal of it," he coughed, noting Brooks was eavesdropping with more
than passing interest.
Tough figurin' which of these two's the bigger
asshole
, Rafe silently told himself.

"I planned to
have her work late tonight, since she's been away," Frazer announced with
a speculative glance at Rafe's stacks of chips. "But it would hardly be
decent to ask a new bride to keep her husband waiting. We need to have a
private chat, Conley."

Rafe rose from the
table, leaving half his chips behind. "For the house."

Frazer smiled and
stuck out his right hand. "Believe we're going to become very good
friends. Come on back to my office. Got some whiskey there."

By the time Frazer
was done bleeding him, Rafe had paid Sparkle's room and board a month in
advance so she could finish her shift at midnight. Rafe was at the long bar,
nursing a bourbon and trying to figure out how he'd explain the mess when
Frazer hurried over and whispered something in her ear.

Rafe could guess
what. He felt himself flush as her eyes speared him. He'd had men gaze at him
with every dark emotion possible. Wanted men. Powerful and connected men.
Fearless men.

It was still tough
facing the fury in Sparkle LaFleur's aquamarine eyes.

She slammed her
drawer shut and got to her feet, giving Rafe a beckoning look. A look that
promised almost certain death if he dared to follow her up the stairs. No doubt
about the murderous intentions in those glittering blue-green eyes. She wanted
to kill him. But there was nothing he could do except face her.

Sparkle unlocked
her door and lit the lamp before perching on the edge of her bed. "I'm
sure you think this is hilarious. You're probably patting yourself on the back
for whatever ridiculous story you fed to Frazer. He says you paid my rent for
the month and then some, just so I can have the night off to be with you.
Thoughtful, husband dear. But as I told you, I don't have customers in my
bed."

Rafe locked the
door and moved to the window, checking the street through a crack in the
curtains. Nervous habit.

"I didn't set
out to lie, but your fella from the stagecoach is downstairs. He started askin'
questions. Frazer overheard me say we're hitched. What was I supposed to do
then, take it back? If I did, Brooks would be up here now. He'd pay Frazer for
a roll in your sheets. You can bet on that. Whatever you did to that fool, he's
randy as hell to get at you."

"I didn't do
anything." She sighed and shook her head. "But you're right, you
couldn't very well take it back. Neither of us can now. Frazer would throw me
out once and for all."

"So you got
yourself a visitor for the night. It's no big deal."

"What? I can't
let you stay here. You've got to crawl out the window or something, Rafe."

"Don't reckon
so, darlin'. Paid a lot down there to get you off work early. How would it
look? The fella who's supposed to be
your husband
goes creepin' out like
some busted cowpoke tryin' to get out of payin' for his fun?"

"I told you, I
don't sell myself. I'll pay back what you gave Frazer. How much?" she
demanded.

"Sparkle, I'd
pay for a room in a hotel or saloon somewhere tonight, anyhow. Promise I'll
keep my hands to myself. We'd only be sharin' the bed this one night. I'll be
out of your hair in the mornin'. Then you can get on like usual."

"You sell
snake oil, too?"

"Christ
Almighty, woman! I'm only askin' for a place to sleep for the night." Rafe
forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. She had a right to be
ticked. "Think on this a minute. With your boss and the others believin'
I'm your husband, isn't this my room, too? You'd have an advantage. Folks
thinkin' you're mine should keep strangers from pawin' you. I ain't around
Wichita often, but my reputation stays on."

She went as red as
her dress. "It might help for now in that sense, but someday I plan to
actually
have
a husband, and…well…"

Rafe unbuckled his
gunbelt and laid it over an upholstered chair, noting the room was small, with
faded curtains and a bed not much wider than his bunk at the ranch. She was
either on the short end of the horn, or truly didn't entertain customers. The
notion still seemed unlikely. No matter what she claimed. A fine filly like
her, men like Brooks lining up…Innocent? Like hell.

His own voice was
touched with sarcasm. "Darlin', you work in a saloon."

"Because
reading tarot's all I know how to do, and I can't get a job doing that in a
bank or tailor's shop. I haven't found a minister willing to pay me to tell
fortunes on the steps of his church. Just where else am I supposed to
work?"

"You're truly
savin' yourself for marriage?" he snorted. "A virgin in a
bagnio?"

Sparkle hadn't
expected a simple pretense on the street to escalate into this wholesale
disaster. And who the heck was this gunslinger to cast shadows on anyone else's
morality?

"Are you
saying it's impossible I could be?" she challenged.

Rafe shrugged.
"Folks are fond of swearin' that anything's possible. Doesn't matter,
since I already said I'd keep my hands to myself. I'm used to payin' for gals,
but I never forced one who wasn't of a mind to oblige. I'll leave my jeans
on."

"You actually think
I'm going to let you share my bed?" She'd made her stand very clear. She
wasn't going to relent. "You can have the chair."

"That horse's
ass you work for ain't about to keep his nose out of this," Rafe
countered. "These rooms and you gals in red get-ups are his gravy. He'll
come snoopin' to make sure we newlyweds are gettin' along. Won't fix his flint
till he's seen for himself. Husband sleepin' in the chair or on the floor while
you're alone in the bed? Won't cut it."

"This is
ridiculous. You don't
listen
. I've never had a man in my room,
Rafe!"

Her hissed
statement was punctuated by a sharp knock at the door. Frazer called out to
Rafe. "Wife's not decent, Frazer," Rafe announced. "Give us a
second." He jerked off his boots and turned his back, gesturing for
Sparkle to undress.

She struggled out
of her costume and pulled on her robe. Rafe unlocked the door and Frazer boldly
entered, leaving the door ajar. "I came to see if you two needed anything.
I couldn't help but overhear…She's telling the truth. Never had a customer up
here, Conley. I couldn't convince her it pays better than fortunes."

"What you
heard's between me and my woman," Rafe bit off. "Thanks for the
concern. Ain't in town much, Frazer," Rafe stated with his dark eyes
narrowed to a squint. "When I am, I'll be stayin' here. If I hear anybody
else comes a-visitin' while I'm away, both you and the stranger could wake up
minus your peckers."

"Whoa, there!
There's no need to take on so. I'll keep a close watch on Sparkle. You've got
my word."

"Good."
Rafe pushed the burly man back out the open door.

"Uh, Sparkle—"
Frazer called from the hallway, "Congratulations again, and take as long
as you need in the morning. I'll see to it that Ruby and the others don't come
rousing you early."

"You do that,"
Rafe growled as he locked the door again. He turned to face Sparkle. "I'll
keep my back turned until you're in bed. Then I'll put out the lamp and join
you. This," he announced as he pulled the Colt from his holster,
"stays on the table next to me."

"You make one
move to touch me, Rafe Conley, and I'll use it." Sparkle peeled off her
stockings and garters, then put on a sleeping gown.

He unbuttoned his
shirt and eased out of it, laying it over the empty holster. The unnatural way
he moved seemed to suggest he was leery of offending Sparkle by showing her his
bare chest. "Though I don't entertain in here, I've seen men without their
shirts before," she advised, crawling under the bedclothes. "I'm
ready."

He didn't move or
turn.

Honestly! He had to
be testing her now, probably thinking if she was truly pure, the mere sight of
a man's unclad torso would send her into a swoon. Men. Their notions that women
were either brazen sluts or complete ninnies made Sparkle want to scream. She
put on her haughtiest tone.

"Mr. Conley,
though I'm sure you've driven many a woman senseless merely by revealing your
hairy chest, I promise I'll control myself. You can turn around."
Forgetting she was clad only in a thin nightgown, she got out of bed and moved
toward the hurricane lamp.

"I said I'd
get that," he barked, but Sparkle had already stepped in front of him. She
glanced in his direction at his harsh words. Her thoughts went cold.

"What in the
name of God happened to you?"

CHAPTER 4

 

Rafe sighed and
closed his eyes. He'd wanted to avoid this conversation. It was never pleasant.
The inevitable question and its answer only evoked pity or revulsion, and he
didn't want to see pity or loathing in Sparkle LaFleur's pretty eyes. Neither
of those things showed in them yet. Only shock. That always came first.

"I was
eighteen and still pretty green. Snagged me a man with a huge reward on his
head. Didn't realize he had a Bowie hidden in the back of his overcoat. Guess
he figured another murder was better than swingin' from the gallows for his
previous crimes. Sliced me open, just like carvin' a turkey."

BOOK: The Trailrider's Fortune
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