The Trailrider's Fortune (34 page)

"We have a
dinner guest." Travis inclined his head toward the parlor.

Rafe followed his
brother's gaze and froze. He stared at the girl in the flowing rose skirts. She
stared back. The taut silence was finally broken by Rafe's snarl. "
You
have her, Travis. Lost my appetite."

Rafe bolted out of
his chair, jerked the back door open and disappeared in the housekeeper's wake.
The door banged shut so hard this time it nearly splintered off its hinges.

Sparkle took the
chair Travis pulled out for her, waited until he'd righted the one Rafe had
vacated, then offered a weak smile. "That went well, don't you
think?"

* * *

Travis spent the
evening with his guest, and rarely had he enjoyed himself so much. They sat in
the parlor after supper. Sparkle told his fortune with her tarot cards. He told
about starting the ranch. They talked about Miranda and her family in Omaha.
Sparkle asked intelligent questions and wasn't intimidated by verbal sparring.
She turned taunts right back, Travis noted, though her eyes misted over
whenever Rafe's name came up. Finally he escorted her to her room, squared his
shoulders, and went out to face his brother's wrath.

"You left this
by the back door," Travis announced, tossing Rafe's heavy coat near the
foot of the bunk. Rafe was seated on the edge of the mattress, swilling
whiskey.

"How could you
do that to me, Trav? Sending for her, after I told Rannie not to. After I told
you I wanted to forget I ever met the woman."

"Whoa, hold on
there! Rannie never said anything about sendin' for Sparkle. I didn't invite
her here. Seems
you
did."

"Like
hell." Rafe tunneled his fingers through his hair. Travis thought the
disheveled mop was symbolic of Rafe's general state nowadays. Ever one to see a
barber regularly, Rafe had abandoned the habit since he'd been wounded. He'd
let his hair grow into a mangy tangle—the perfect frame for his saturnine
features and bloodshot eyes. The man was one hell of a miserable wretch.

Travis shoved his
hands down into his jean pockets. "You're the one who gave her my name,
bragged how you stay here every winter. She showed up this afternoon in a carriage
from the depot. What was I supposed to do, tell her to get off my land? I
couldn't be sure you wouldn't want to see her."

"Well, now you
are," Rafe grumbled sourly. "Ain't talkin' to her. Said all I need
to, and she damned well knows it. Whatever excuse she used for comin' here—"

"Says she has
business to discuss." There was no reaction, so Travis unloaded his big
piece of news. "Told me she left some fella at the altar in Kansas City.
Maybe you were wrong about her preferrin' somebody else. She's even prettier
than you described. I'll admit I was wrong about saloon gals in her particular
case."

Rafe snorted.
"You weren't wrong, and neither was I. Entire time I've known that woman,
she never had but three or four dresses. Shows up here with a whole overflowin'
damn trunk. Now, what's she got in there, furniture? Never trust a goddamned
female. Especially not
that
one. There's no way I'm talkin' to her, about
business or whatever else. Man can't just
talk
to Sparkle LaFleur,
anyhow. Might start out jawin', but before long he's wantin' to do more."

"I spent a
fair amount of time talkin' to her," Travis retorted. "Don't know if
I should agree with you or not. Be lyin' if I said there wasn't at least a
couple minutes I thought what it would be like to cozy up to her. Damned
pretty. How could a man
not
think like that?"

Rafe's scowl
deepened along with the pits of his eyes. "Poison. That gal's worse than a
Gila monster. You see her tomorrow mornin', you tell her to get her little ass
right back on the next train."

"If that's the
way you want it, Rafe."

Travis headed back
to the main house, thinking he'd found two things mighty curious during his
visit to the cabin. Sparkle's trunk had been taken to the back bedroom before
Rafe returned that afternoon. So how'd his brother know she'd bought a large
trunk along, unless he'd been talkin' to some of the hands or snooping in the
guestroom window? If he had no interest in the gal, why bother?

That intrigued him.
So did the fact that despite forbidding Travis to ever mention the woman's
name, Rafe had done it. Her name had tripped right off Rafe's tongue, natural
as could be. He hadn't choked on it or hesitated, hadn't even noticed he'd
spoken it. Which meant, of course, the name was on his mind. A lot.

Natural to him as
breathing, because it was in his thoughts.

Travis grinned as
he stretched out in his double bed beneath a pile of warm quilts and blankets.
He wanted to be well rested for tomorrow's showdown. He had no intention of
asking his beautiful houseguest to leave. If Rafe wanted Sparkle off the ranch,
he'd have to tell her himself. And if his angry prediction was accurate,
telling Sparkle anything was liable to lead to an entirely different
interaction between them.

Travis laced his
fingers behind his head. Ranch life could be monotonous, especially during the
long winter months. But here was a situation to make every man on the spread
sit up and take notice, not to mention put up part of his pay. Sparkle would
get Rafe to change his mind.

She wasn't fooling
Travis. She hadn't come to talk business.

She'd come to hunt
down the man who made a living hunting down other men. Travis chuckled aloud at
the irony of that. After all those years of nailing men's hides to the wall,
Rafe's hide was the one in danger of being stretched now.

He'd stood up to
the Bowie knife that left him scarred for life. Faced guns, bullwhips, rope,
broken bottles, and just about any other weapon a man could turn against him.
Battered, scarred, even barely breathing like the last time, Rafe emerged
victorious.

But he was no match
for five little feet of Sparkle LaFleur…and he knew it.

The coward was
holed up in that cabin, afraid to get within arm's distance of her. Scared of a
little bitty gal—who didn't need any weapons beyond her clear eyes and soft
voice to bring the awesome Rafe Conley to his knees.

It was damned
comical. Rafe had always been rawhide tough. No one had ever seen him shed a
tear. Pa, then Simon, eventually Ma were all laid to rest. Rafe had stood
beside their graves in silence, features stoic as a headstone. Even as kids,
Pa's leather strap in the shed never made Rafe cry. Simon once or twice,
according to Ma. Travis had been too young to remember. He himself had bawled
and carried on something fierce after a whipping. Kept crying until Rannie or
Ma put honey in his oatmeal or held him and soothed him, made him feel better.
Not Raford. He'd rather starve to death than show weakness. Wouldn't break
down.

Travis was sorry Pa
and Simon hadn't lived to see tough old Raford now. Hiding in a hovel,
drinking…terrified of a pretty gal with a special deck of cards. Of course,
having seen the determination in those sparkling aquamarine eyes, Travis wasn't
sure Rafe had overestimated his opponent. The gal was plenty tough, too.

Come daylight, they
were in for one hell of a show.

Sparkle nodded as
Travis explained his brother refused to see her. She waited until they'd
finished breakfast and Travis headed out to start his chores. Mrs. Abbott was
baking bread. There was no one to stop Sparkle when she grabbed a kitchen chair
and dragged it outside. She huffed across the frigid crust blanketing the
ground and set the chair twenty feet from the cabin's steps.

She'd seen Travis
slip out the night before with Rafe's coat in his arms. She'd watched from her
window and made note of where he'd gone. The cabin's door was closed, the
curtains of the big glazed window beside the door tightly drawn. Sparkle knew
that wouldn't stop Rafe from detecting her presence. He had a habit of peeking through
window curtains, constantly checking his surroundings. She walked around the
side of the log structure and discovered another, smaller, window up high. It
was slightly ajar.

"Rafe,"
she called loudly from beneath it, "I'm not leaving until you talk to me.
It's about Hoffman and it's important." He gave no indication he'd heard.
"I'll be waiting outside your door." She plunked herself down on the
wood seat and started her vigil.

Rafe could have
incredible patience. She recalled waiting for Slocumb night after night in
Dodge. But she'd learned to wait too, sitting for hours at the beside of a
comatose Jace. And she had another advantage. Rafe hated feeling trapped. He
wouldn't be able to stay inside that small cabin long. Cold weather might nip
at her nose and fingers, but she could outlast him.

Or so she'd
thought. But she was still sitting there, bottom numb and feet frozen, at noon.
She retreated to the main house for some coffee and a sandwich, then returned
to her post. The curtains were still closed. She walked up and lightly pushed
the door. She was surprised when it moved, but the instant it began to swing
inward, she pulled her fingers back.

Rafe's voice came
low and menacing from the other side. "Push that friggin' door another
inch, I'll blow your fool head off."

She went back to
her chair. A cowhand squatted down beside her, offering a hopeful smile and a
pat on the shoulder. "Probably thought it was one of us. He wouldn't shoot
a lady."

"I'm not so
certain of that," Sparkle answered, thinking of the peacemaker against her
chin in the Scarlet Lady's hallway…and the hateful way Rafe had looked at her
before leaving the house in Kansas City.

"Nobody's
allowed in there," the stranger explained. "Even the foreman has to
knock and wait for Rafe to open up. It's one of the first rules you learn when
you hire on. Even after he goes in the spring, none of us set foot inside.
Believe me, the way those other fellas snore, many's the night I been tempted
to break the rule and take Rafe's bunk when he's away. Want me to try talkin'
to him?"

She shook her head.
"And tell the others to stay away, please. This is between the two of us.
He can't stay inside forever."

She wasn't feeling
so confident hours later, as she and Travis ate alone in silence. Travis hadn't
said a word about her failed mission. Sparkle wondered if he thought she was a
madwoman, or just bent on proving she could be more obstinate than his brother.
It didn't really matter, as long as Travis didn't sabotage her efforts.

"I'm going to
bed now," she announced, clearing her plate and utensils from the table.
"thank you for allowing me to stay. I know I'm imposing, but I don't want
anyone to bring food or coffee out to the cabin. I honestly need to speak to
Rafe. I need him to get cabin fever bad enough to face me."

"Miz Abbott's
already smuggled some vittles out to him," Travis admitted. "But if
you want to know my position…as long as you don't disrupt work on this spread,
you're welcome to stay until Doomsday."

Sparkle lay awake
for a long time before the solution came to her.

The next morning
she ate breakfast alone. Travis had already gone out. Sparkle asked Mrs. Abbott
to help her mix up a batch of johnnycakes. The housekeeper greased a big
skillet and showed Sparkle how to fry up the cornmeal cakes. Sparkle dusted off
her hands and returned the spare apron. Then she startled the older woman by
asking if Travis would meet her in the barn.

Mrs. Abbott frowned
as Sparkle filled a wooden platter with her creations. "Travis and the
hands don't eat in the barn, Miss. You'll have to take those to the
bunkhouse."

"These aren't
for the men. Please have Travis meet me in the barn. I want to buy a
horse."

He came stalking
through the barn door an hour later. "Sparkle, I don't know what this is
about, but I got no spare horses to sell. You'd need two. One just for the
trunk you're haulin' all over creation."

"I'm only
interested in the horse you're boarding. Snatch."

"Have you lost
your mind? If I tried to sell that sorrel, Rafe would—"

"Come storming
out of that cabin to stop you?"

Brown eyes widened
and a playful smile curved Travis' lips. "You know, Miss LaFleur, that's
one hell of a notion. Just sneaky enough to work, too. How much you offerin'?
Keep in mind now, I'm only negotiatin' on behalf of his owner, who'd set a
mighty high price. The horse is trained special."

"I know, but
he won't be showing off his trick today. I've already fed him a whole batch of
you-know-whats."

Travis guffawed.

"I've got a
bank draft made out to Rafe for three thousand dollars," Sparkle went on.
"I'll take this platter back to the kitchen and go get it. You take Snatch
out in clear view of the cabin. I'll meet you back here and we'll light your
brother's fuse."

They examined
Snatch from every angle. Travis raised his voice a notch and boasted he'd had
his blacksmith put a new set of shoes on the sorrel only weeks before. Sparkle
handed over the folded paper and they shook hands, then she reached for the
reins.