The Trailrider's Fortune (3 page)

"Well, I keep
thinking sooner or later it will all come back to you."
It has to
,
Sparkle's mind screamed.
I can't tell you everything. You have to remember
some of it yourself, Jace.

He cleared his
throat and Sparkle's eyes narrowed. When Jace did that, it usually meant he
wanted her approval and wasn't sure he'd get it.

"Jace LaFleur,
don't you start with me about some of those bizarre new therapies you've read
about. No tobacco enemas. I don't care what sort of vile things people flush
through their bodies or stick in some orifice, you're not—"

"It's not
about me, Sparkle."

"Has Majesta
said or done something to upset you? I can find another nurse, Jace."

"It's you,
Sparkle! You said I look pale, but have you looked in a mirror lately? You look
as though this is the first time you've seen sunshine in over a month,
too."

His guess was right
on the money, but she couldn't admit it. "Had a touch of ague a few weeks
back. Working around children, there's so much sniffling and coughing, it's
hard not to catch something yourself. I'm fine, really."

"I think you
work too hard."

"I think you
worry too much."

Majesta came out,
starched apron immaculate, every strand of hair neatly tucked into a tight
coil. Her nursing salary wasn't high, but it was constant, and then there were
the other expenses of a household. Sparkle worked steadily to make sure Jace
had everything he needed. Put up with crude men and their vulgarities, the
spilled liquor and groping hands. The young cowherds with puppy-dog eyes. For
Jace.

"You two stop
carping and come in to supper. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I'll see to him,
Miss Sparkle. You go on and freshen up."

Sparkle put on her
best traveling suit for the stagecoach ride back to Wichita the next day. She
usually took the train on her visits home to Kansas City, but she'd opted to
take the stage back this time. She doubted anyone seeing her now would suspect
her of being anything but the prim schoolteacher Jace believed she was. The
elderly couple seated across from her dressed in their starched Sunday best
looked inhospitable and prudish. The man said nothing. His wife offered only a
thin smile and innocuous comment about the weather during the first hours of
their trip.

Sparkle didn't look
like a dancehall strumpet now.
Strumpet
. The word made her shudder.
She'd promised herself she'd never resort to earning money the way other saloon
women did. She hated bawdy houses, cowhands, gambling, and strumpets. Hated the
men like Benton Frazer who ran the trailhead watering holes. But all of it was
necessary for survival. When Jace's mother died, Sparkle had been left with few
options. She found a nurse to keep house and look after her brother, then set
out to earn a living the only way she could.

Her brother…

Everyone, Jace
included, thought that's who he was. Sparkle was the only person who knew there
was no common blood between them. She was a bastard. Her mother had never
spoken of the man who'd gotten her with child. Working as a laundress, Eliza
Cummings had been so dirt poor they could only afford to rent a small back room
in the Flowers' farmhouse.

Flowers had been
the surname of Jace and his family before the trouble came, before Mrs. Flowers
found herself and two children the only survivors of a storm of violence. The
widow Flowers had changed her name and taken the children to Kansas City from
Texas, passing Sparkle off as her own daughter.

Sparkle sighed and
shifted on the stagecoach plank bench. One day Jace would remember Texas and
realize Sparkle was only a longtime friend. Remember the night his father died,
how everything changed. When he told Sparkle about the traumatic nightmare, she
would ease his pain by confessing her love for him. They'd be married. She'd
give up the saloon work, let Majesta go, care for Jace herself.

Along with the
other horrific memories, Jace had buried in the back of his mind the knowledge
that would be their ticket to a new way of life. Sparkle's mother had told her
about the beauty of Paris, and one day Sparkle planned to see it for herself.
She and Jace would go to Europe, buy a cottage in some pristine valley, and
live in harmony.

The coach took on a
fresh team of horses and a new passenger at the way station—a young comer named
Brooks, who sandwiched himself in beside Sparkle and began relating the story
of his life. He'd just been hired as the head clerk at the Wichita drug store.
Sparkle was an expert at listening to men run on about themselves. She knew
when to smile, when to nod, how to affect the perfect tilt that made it appear
she was actually digesting the speaker's words. The couple across from her
hadn't had the same practice. The glowering husband looked patently unimpressed
by the young clerk's braggadocio.

After an
appropriate length of time, Sparkle yawned discreetly into her gloved hand and
let her head rest against the side of the coach. She prayed Brooks would hush
if she feigned sleep, but he continued to ramble on about Washington politics
and the price of coffee. He finally succeeded in boring her into a light doze.
Then sly fingers on her knee snapped her back to attention.

She brushed at
Brooks' hand, but it settled right back into place on her leg. His voice changed,
became silky in her ear. "What's a pretty little gal like you doing on
this stage unescorted, Miss?"

"Going to
Wichita, same as you," she informed him stiffly, removing his hand again. "Unless
you've made an error. In which case, you should ask the driver to let you out.
Put your hand on me again, Mr. Brooks, and I'll ask him for you."

"To the vast
relief of everyone within earshot," muttered the man across the way. His
jowls shook as he finally addressed the troublemaker. "I don't believe
this lady's itinerary is your concern. I'd ask that you comport yourself like a
proper gentleman."

"I don't
believe our discussion is any of your funeral, Fleshy," Brooks retorted,
glancing at the older man's paunch.

"Well, I
never!" gasped the man's wife.

"Imagine that's
true," Brooks snorted. "I've seen plucked chickens with more meat
than you, Missus. Luckily, not every female aboard suffers from the bony
uglies." He winked at Sparkle.

Time for the lie
that always got men's goats. "Mr. Brooks, I'm a married woman, on my way
to reunite with my husband. I hope you don't intend to make a pest of yourself.
He isn't the understanding sort. He won't be pleased to learn you've made bold
with me."

"Ha, you don't
look like a married gal," Brooks scoffed. "Married women don't appeal
to me. I can smell the taint of a boring husband a mile off. You, on the other
hand, are quite appealing, Miss…?"

"I'm not going
to introduce myself," Sparkle informed him, sidestepping the trap he'd
laid for her. "As I will no longer be in your acquaintance as soon as this
stage reaches town. I seldom visit the pharmacy."

Brooks contented
himself with pretending to steady her shoulders by sitting entirely too close.
Sparkle was irritated by every move he made, but grateful that at least she'd
found a way to keep him quiet.

They pulled onto
the main street in Wichita and Sparkle craned her neck to stare out the side
window. There were always men wandering around town this time of the afternoon.
She could hear
Dem Golden Slippers
being played badly inside the Rusty
Nail as they swept past. The street offered the usual wiry cowpokes and dusty
stragglers. Then she spotted a familiar profile. The answer to her prayers,
just coming out of the bank.

He glanced right at
her as the coach rattled by. Sparkle again noted the rugged features and square
jaw. Wavy dark hair grazed the collar of a faded denim shirt. His movements
were languid, yet somehow bolder than those of the other males ambling down the
sidewalk. And there was the reason:  that peacemaker slung low on his right
hip.

Oh, but she was
going to enjoy watching Joe Brooks run for cover when he met her
"husband."

The instant the
coach came to a stop, Sparkle flew out of it and jerked the handle of her
satchel away from the driver. Hitching up her skirts, she dashed into the
swirling dust of the street, dodging a throng of riders on horseback. She
dropped her bag on the wooden sidewalk and threw her arms around Rafe's neck.

"Lord, but I
missed you, Mr. Conley."

She glanced back to
verify Joe Brooks was watching. "I can't tell you how awful that
stagecoach ride was! There was a codfish aristocrat seated next to me, making
an absolute pest of himself. He didn't believe me when I said my husband was
meeting me here."

Rafe flashed her a
wicked smile, then curled his arms around her waist and pulled her against him
for a long, slow, very friendly kiss. Sparkle was mortified, but had no choice
but to play the adoring wife. She allowed Rafe to explore her mouth, then
peered up into his eyes with a silent plea for help.

He followed the
inclination of her head to check out the man watching them. Rafe picked up her
satchel and pulled Sparkle close to his side. "Sorry you had a rough ride,
Sparkle Honey. Got a friend owns a saloon here in town. Promised I'd stop by
and pay a visit." He gave the stranger a frown, then grinned as the fellow
scurried off to claim a faded valise. "Believe your admirer's seen the
error of his ways, darlin'."

"Thank
goodness. I was beginning to despair of ever being rid of him."

Rafe clucked his
tongue in amusement. "You know,
Miz Conley
, seems you're always in
one fix or another and needin' me to set things right. Maybe I better keep you
glued to my side, just to keep you out of trouble."

"I suppose you
figure I owe you another free drink at the Scarlet Lady."

Rafe studied the
dude again before meandering up the street. "Finicky little gal, ain't
you? He's sportin' a fancy waistcoat and still breathin'. For some gals in a
trailhead, that would make him prospect enough. Maybe you were too hasty…Or
maybe you just like throwin' yourself at me. It's getting' to be a habit."

"Ooh! You know
damned good and well I had nothing to do with—" Sparkle closed her mouth
as they entered the saloon. Frazer stood squarely before them, features aglow.

"Sparkle!
Conley
.
Great to see you again. Come on in." The look Frazer tossed Sparkle set
her teeth on edge. He hadn't missed Rafe's arm around her waist. Frazer was
clearly reveling in the mistaken belief she'd done as he'd asked and cozied up
to his new favorite customer. "Something to eat, Conley? I can have my
cook rustle up something."

"Could use a
meal," Rafe nodded, releasing Sparkle. "I'm sure you want to change
out of them travelin' clothes. Go on upstairs, darlin'. I'll just visit with
the boss here and have a bite."

"Thank you,
Mr. Conley," she ground out. Ruby Ann and Brenda greeted her in the
upstairs hall, but Sparkle was in no mood to discuss either her trip home or
the reason for her return with the gunslinger in tow. She prayed he'd grow
restless and leave the saloon before she went back down. She took a leisurely
bath and dawdled as long as she could painting her lips and powdering her
cleavage.

"Damned red
piece of trash." She fruitlessly tugged the hem down and jerked the fabric
at her bosom higher. It didn't do any good. The boned bodice pushed her breasts
up and made them look larger than they were. Seeing Rafe again brought back the
battle she'd lost over this dreadful costume. The bright claret flounces seemed
all the more objectionable now, perhaps because in Kansas City she'd worn plain
day dresses. Dull but proper clothes. Here she couldn't avoid the image of the
harlot in the mirror.

Fitting for a girl
who'd run across the street in broad daylight to fling herself at a gun for hire.
Rafe was bound to think she had some genuine hankering for him after that
display. She hated to admit that in an odd way she did. She liked the thump of
his spurs on the sidewalks and oak flooring. She liked the lazy drawl of his
speech, his easy sense of humor. How did a mercenary find so much amusement in
the world? Frazer had all but said Rafe Conley was a known cold-blooded killer.
A killer who could wrap his arms around a woman and make her feel…

No, she wasn't
going to ponder the sensations Rafe Conley stirred up. She wouldn't think back
on his deep soul kiss or how she'd been so brazen. The hired gun had served his
purpose. There was no point in thinking about him any longer. She had to get to
work.

He was gone when
she reached the gaming room, but a frequent customer was waiting for a reading.
Sparkle forgot about the aggravating trip back to town as the evening routine
began anew. The Scarlet Lady began to fill. Sparkle and the other girls laughed
and danced with customers. Dan Small tinkered away on the piano. Frazer had
hired a handsome new faro dealer, and Ruby Ann had more kohl than usual around
her eyes. She lingered near the new fellow's table, Sparkle noticed with a
smile.

This promised to be
a good night. Sparkle could feel it. The aura of the gaming room was
happy-go-lucky. Customers were boisterous and in a spending mood. A big cattle
drive had come into town; the men's high spirits were infectious. She accepted
the gold coin her next patron offered, sliding it into her bodice as she began
laying out the tarot cards.