Her friend, Bertha, stood glaring beside her, both of them scowling at Malloy.
"Sorry," he choked out. "Come on, Elmira, we're going back to the rooming house." They left. Mumbling excuses, the other ladies wandered off too, leaving Sparkle and Rafe alone on the store's rear porch.
"Did you follow me here?" she asked.
"Nope. I came to buy a new shirt and coat with some of my reward money. Old coat's missin' part of a sleeve."
"I've encountered men like Elmira's husband before. I can handle his attitude. I'm used to it. Every card reader hears it at some time or another."
Rafe rubbed his boot sole along a protruding board on the porch. "Didn't like hearin' him call you a whore. I know better than anybody you ain't one, even though you work in the saloon. Couldn't let him insult you without speakin' up."
Sparkle was bemused by that admission. His face was partially averted. Was Rafe Conley embarrassed? It didn't seem possible. He'd taken on three rowdies at once. One small-minded bigot surely couldn't faze him. It was probably his recent injury bothering him. "You should go back up to my room and get some rest. I warned you it was too soon to be up and about."
He stopped her from gathering up the tarot cards. "How much of what you see is in those? They tell you everything, or you got second sight? I heard what the ladies said, how you're right most of the time. Snatch almost got bit by a rattler right after I rode out of here, just like you'd cautioned me. How much can you tell about the future?"
Sparkle saw he looked disturbed by more than Malloy's outburst. Had she foretold anything disastrous in Rafe's future? His reading had been so long ago now, she honestly couldn't recall. "Sit down, and we'll look at your cards again."
He dropped onto the rickety stool across from her and watched her reshuffle. "Them things look heathen."
"Some say they are." Seeing the furrow beneath the brim of his hat, she softened her manner. "But I don't know that the ideas of older religions and folklore can't be compatible with Christian teachings. Why would God give us abilities if we weren't supposed to use them?"
Rafe chose from the three stacks of cards before him. "How much of it's these cards?" he asked again.
"How much is your gun?" she countered. "I'm sure you keep it cleaned and oiled and working perfectly." He nodded. She smiled. "But if you didn't practice to develop your aim and skill in using it, even the best gun in the world wouldn't be of much value."
"Ain't the same." Sparkle was relieved to hear the slow rhythm back in his speech. He'd been too intense before. Now he was relaxing, becoming the Rafe Conley she found almost charming, although she doubted others appreciated this man the way she did.
"I need my thumb on the Colt. Got a strange feelin' you could look me in the eye and tell me things all on your lonesome. You don't really need those fancy painted cards. I don't recollect one with a snake."
Sparkle laughed, scanning the unused cards. "I doubt you can remember every card in the deck after one sitting, Rafe. This card has a serpent. You see the snake is behind Hermes, the figure with the jackal's head? In tarot, left represents what's behind you or what may come unexpectedly."
"So anytime that card's in someone's readin', he'll get snake-bit?"
"No. Part of it does come from intuition. It takes a long time to read tarot and learn what the signs mean. I've been doing this for years, just as you've been a hired gun for years. I'm sure you trust your gut feelings about outlaws."
"That's why I'm talkin' to you. Been trackin' a certain man for nigh on six years now. I wonder if you can tell me where to find him."
"I can't do that," she sighed. "I can't tell you where your lost money pouch is, or if Aunt Tess went to Purgatory. I can't simply lay out cards and get an image of some particular person sitting in a train station in Baltimore. It doesn't work that way." She saw Rafe didn't believe her.
"One snake took you from thinking I was a charlatan to believing I can predict everything." She folded her arms across her chest. "You didn't believe it was real when I read your cards before. I knew that, so I didn't tell you everything. Now you believe too much, so I still can't. You won't like what I see."
"Shit. I told you I'll die young. Ain't no big surprise. This is somethin' I got to do. You can help me. I know you can. You're just bein' contrary because you don't like what I do."
"I'm sorry. You're asking me to aid in your pursuit of this man, but judgment's already been passed."
His eyes became huge dark pools. "How'd you know that?"
She tapped JUSTICE, which had come up inverted, positioned beneath the primary subject card. "You're pushed by a desire to continue something wrong or biased. You believe an injustice was done."
"It was, dammit! Dan Hoffman shot my uncle in cold blood and got off. The very next year, he gunned down someone else. Then folks decided they'd made a mistake. Too late for my family."
"As I said, I'm sorry." Sparkle abruptly gathered up the cards and rose to leave. "I'm not going to help you kill someone in a vendetta. God will judge him."
Rafe bolted off his seat. "You don't agree that acquittal was unfair? How would you know, if you weren't at the trial?"
"I don't care," she answered slowly. "I've seen things happen, Rafe. Some of them cruel and unjust. But it's not for us to judge others, and I truly can't see a given person's whereabouts, anyway."
"Sparkle, listen. You got lots of folks passin' through this town. Cowhands, drifters, homesteaders come from the East, all manner of strangers. Someone might know Dan Hoffman, used to ride with an outlaw named Slade. You could ask, let me know what you hear."
"I won't do that, either. You don't expect to live very long. Why? Because you were just shot. Because you're out for blood. You live violently, which can only lead to dying the same way. Don't ask me to help you get more blood on your hands."
"It's my choice, ain't it? Don't I got the right to choose how I live, same as you or anybody else? You know what I do, but you ain't got to hold with it. What gives you the right to decide how I should live my life? You live like a sleazy, two-bit whore."
"A minute ago you were ready to push Mr. Malloy's face into the dirt for talking like that. You know, I actually thought you were different, Rafe. That underneath all that harshness…Oh, what's the point? I've got to get back to work." She pulled up the hood of her cloak and moved to the edge of the porch.
"Sparkle, hold on. I'm sorry. Please, will you just ask some of the men about Hoffman for me?"
"No."
His whole expression changed, turning rock hard. "Thought you were different, too." He pulled a fistful of gold eagles from his jeans pocket. "Here, I'll pay you! You owe me somethin', Miz Conley. Since the first day we met in the street. Bought you that gold ring. Paid your son-of-a-bitch boss not to give you a hard time. He's gone easier on you, hasn't he? Only cost me a hundred dollars."
"You paid Frazer a hundred dollars?" she snorted. "Are you insane? My rent's only twenty a month."
Sparkle could easily imagine such extortion from Benton Frazer. But Rafe was no imbecile or green dandy fresh off the train from back East. He must have believed he stood to gain form the transaction. You owe me somethin', Miz Conley. Then she remembered. Humans were just another commodity to Rafe Conley. He traded in their hides.
"You're an idiot, Rafe."
"Yeah, beginnin' to see that myself. You don't admire me or what I do, but you sure admire the fearsome reputation that goes with it. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm sayin'. Saw the damned card that sums us up, the one called STRENGTH, with a pretty gal pettin' a lion. I'm just some animal you like havin' around cause I frighten everybody else away. Like totin' your own peacemaker, without havin' to worry about it goin' off and shootin' you in the foot."
She clucked her tongue. "Please."
"But I ain't supposed to lay a hand on you, or expect nothin' from you in return. You're lookin' for somebody a whole lot finer than some scarred-up, ugly freelance gun, ain't that right?"
"You're ridiculous. I—"
"Nope, I'm honest," he growled, grabbing her and pulling her close. Their faces were mere inches apart. "I admit I want somethin' from you. I don't play like I just want to be your friend," he simpered. "We ain't friends, Sparkle. I want what any man would want, to screw you. So bad I can taste it, even while standin' here arguin'. Why the hell did I kiss you that very first mornin'? Why'd I ask about goin' upstairs? You know how it is, but you won't let it happen, cause you figure you're too good for the likes of me."
"Rafe, let me go."
"Hell, wouldn't want my dirty hands on you, would you? Just want to flutter by somethin' dark and scary, and pretend none of it'll rub off on you. Pretend none of it's in you. You're full of horseshit, Sparkle. Look down your own well sometime."
"If you'd calm down a minute—"
"Know what? Don't help me find Hoffman. Don't help me find myself. I didn't ask you for that. Asked for one favor, in return for the couple I've done you, but forget it. I don't need nothin' that bad. Just forget it and forget me."
CHAPTER 7
Sparkle was busy; still she found time between tarot readings to raise her eyes to the batwing doors. Not that she actually expected a certain pair of spurs would come through them. Rafe had told her to forget him and he seemed to be very much the kind who meant what he said. He's not coming back here, she silently whispered to herself. Do what he said, and forget him.
He'd left her too flabbergasted to respond to his outburst earlier. She didn't know how she would have replied if he'd given her the chance. Some of his accusations were true. She did like thinking she could associate with him and remain untouched. There was no chance she'd change her mind about helping him destroy himself or harm some man he'd sworn revenge against, but she realized she'd made a tactical error. Tried to take a spirited wild thing and cage it. Then been foolish and selfish enough to be surprised when it turned on her.
But Rafe was also wrong, because she didn't think she was above him. She wished she could have at least explained that, and that he'd listened about his impossible quest for justice. There was no such thing in this world. Sometimes bad things just happened.
You couldn't spend your life wondering why you'd been a victim or plotting to set things right. You couldn't spend your future trying to undo the past. Yesterday was gone. So was Rafe, and he'd departed without realizing that Sparkle hadn't condemned him for his chosen profession. She just couldn't fully support it. She shared his family's view, and indeed could see what his relatives couldn't: Rafe was headed for some dire cataclysm. She'd failed to sway him from his path.
She looked up again an hour later and felt her mouth go dry. He was seated at one of the poker tables with the newest addition to the staff on his lap. The strumpet had come from Abilene, and either hadn't been informed or didn't care that Rafe was supposedly married…to a woman employed in this very same establishment.
As Sparkle watched, the redhead gave Rafe a juicy kiss. His hand slid under the carmine skirt to caress a stocking-clad thigh. His fingers probed higher. The whore broke their kiss and giggled, squirming against Rafe's upper body, then leaned closer to whisper in his ear.
Had Sparkle just been berating herself for being unfair to this lewd, selfish beast? She began to seethe.
Rafe had obviously come here expressly to humiliate her. Playing her for a fool, embarrassing her before her coworkers…and getting plenty of help from the new girl. Sparkle rose. Her eyes were focused on the scene across the room. She never saw Frazer watching her with snorting glee, barely noted as Ruby's eyes widened in horror, paid scant attention to the customers edging out of her path as she crossed to the poker table. She rudely shoved the redhead off Rafe's knee.
"You've got the wrong man, Dixie," Sparkle hissed to the woman sprawled on the floor. She waved her gold band in the whore's face, practically rubbing it on the tip of her nose. The girl actually went cross-eyed trying to focus on the ring. "You can throw yourself at any other man in this place, but not this one. He's mine."
Ruby Ann arrived to drag Dixie away. Sparkle spun to discover Rafe was out of his chair, features taut. "Yours, am I? That works both ways, Sparkle Honey. Reckon it's high time we settled this hash."
Before she could say anything, Rafe caught her and tossed her over his shoulder. He carried her upstairs and set her down outside her bedroom. "Where's your room key?"
"Just because I didn't want you embarrassing me down there doesn't mean I'm going to play whore in the redhead's place."
He set a palm against the wall on either side of her so she was pinned. "Don't worry. We're done playin'. Give me the key, or I'll kick that door in."
"Just get out. Go over to the Rusty Nail or some other bawdy house. Wichita's full of pleasure palaces."
"My wife works in this one." His eyes narrowed and Sparkle realized he wasn't drunk, but certainly furious. "Come to ponder on that," he drawled in a deceptively easy tone, "I'm goin' to want that lock workin' once I get you on the other side, so I can't bust your door down." Now the gleam in his dark eyes made her shiver. "Can't be but one or two places you could hide a key on you."
He tore the camisole straps and jerked the top of her bodice down. Whalebone stays were no match for his ire. "No key," he announced, his breath hot and sour in her face. "But a better set of tits than the other gal had. Now give me that damned key, before I decide to do you right here, up against the wall."
Sparkle only glared back at him. He expected her to cover herself, break down and cry, act mortified. Stand there quaking in fear of his bullying, prove he'd been right about her. Too bad. There was no way in hell she'd give him the satisfaction.
She made no attempt to cover her breasts. She was breathing too fast and too hard. They both were. Fury and lust burned in Rafe's eyes. Sparkle was aware on a subconscious level that with every heave of her naked bosom, she skittered across treacherous ground. But damn the man, she'd worked in saloons and put up with men's foolishness too long to let Rafe grind her under his boot heels. He'd come looking for trouble, and now he had it.
Even Rafe Conley, gun for hire who took on three outlaws singlehandedly, wasn't going to make Sparkle back down or beg his forgiveness. She hadn't stirred up this hornet's nest. If he thought he could intimidate her—no, especially because he was sure he could—Sparkle wasn't about to mollify him. "You'll pay for this dress, Rafe," she informed him. "I have to replace it. That bastard Frazer makes us pony up to have them made by some dressmaker."
Rafe gave a caustic laugh. The ice queen was bein' stubborn again. Plumb asinine, too, if she didn't know she was playing with fire by this time. Shouldn't have let her know you're so sensitive about that scar. Shouldn't have been such a gentleman with her before. Now she thinks she can control you. Frustrate the hell out of you, and you'll just take it.
Well, he wasn't taking crap tonight. Not from anybody. Least of all from Sparkle La-Goddamned-Fleur.
He reached down and pulled his Colt, raising it slowly until the muzzle touched the point of her chin. "I'll pay for the dress, but I already paid for you." No drawl. Just harsh words bitten off crisp and clear. "Unlock the door."
"Or what? You'll shoot me?"
Brenda had come up with a customer. She burst into hysterics at the sight of Rafe holding his gun to Sparkle's chin. "Oh, my God! Frazer! Somebody get Frazer up here. He's going to kill Sparkle! Fra-zerr!"
The customer took one look at the pistol and left Brenda screaming in his wake. Frazer appeared seconds later and stepped in front of Brenda. The Winchester from behind the long bar was now leveled at Rafe.
"Put it away, Conley. You and your missus got an argument, take her outside and settle it. Don't want trouble in my place."
Sparkle's heart pounded in stark fear. She'd been perfectly safe until Frazer showed up, but now the situation was out of control. Rafe never would have hurt her, she was certain of that. He'd meant to force his will on her, frighten her. But now that a man stood pointing a weapon a
t him, everything had changed. You didn't face down a man like Rafe. No one so cavalier about his own demise could be intimidated. But he could be provoked into unleashing his lethal nature on those around him. Something she'd prayed never to witness.
Matters weren't improved by Deputy Thompson appearing out of thin air to point a shotgun at Rafe's chest. "Conley, I don't want to take you in, but—"
Sparkle broke in, "It's all right, Art. He won't hurt anyone. We play a sort of parlor game sometimes. I'm the outlaw; he has to bring me in." She thrust her wrists together toward Rafe. "Come on, honey, tie me up."
Frazer lowered his weapon. "Wipe my ass with a busted shingle! Sparkle likin' it rough. Kee-rist! Last cursed female I'd figure for them 'parlor games,' but I've heard stranger tales."
"You're sure there's no problem?" Art said, trying not to look directly at Sparkle. The flushed, peculiar expression on his face reminded Sparkle that now all three men were being treated to the sight of her bare bosom.
She felt her own cheeks flame in response. "It's all right. We're fine."
Rafe slipped his peacemaker back into its holster as he pressed himself against Sparkle, shielding her from view. "No problem, Art. Ain't figurin' to shoot nobody, least of all my lady here." He voice softened and his eyes melted over hers.
The room key magically appeared in Rafe's palm. He had no idea where it came from, but he unlocked the door and pushed Sparkle into the dark room, turning back to the other men.
"She got a mite upset with me, and I wanted to set her right. Little harmless fun down at the poker table, all it was." Rafe knew Frazer had witnessed the scene with the redhead. "She ain't been entertainin' gents, has she, Frazer? Could be she's so quick to take on all jealous cause she's been busy herself. Swore you'd keep an eye on my wife while I was away. But I see now there's another way up here."
Art Thompson's face and neck flushed even darker as he cleared his throat. "There's a flight of steps on the outside of the balcony. The windows don't lock in the monkey hall rooms. Couple fellas came running over babbling that you'd gone crazy. Figured I'd better calm things down. Didn't know you and Sparkle were married, but I know this barkeep's no match for you—"
The Trailrider's Fortune Page 7
