He returned moments later and pulled her back against his side. "You sorry, darlin'?" His hand absently stroked her upper arm and shoulder.
Sparkle heard an edge in his question. He was worried. "No, happy." She rolled slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his bare chest. "Did you feel that?"
"Yeah." There was a pause. "Thanks. Sparkle?"
"Hmm?"
"Means a lot that I was your first. Sorry for hurtin' you."
"This morning or just now?"
"Ever."
CHAPTER 8
Sparkle came up from the depths of slumber with a peculiar dull achiness between her thighs. Then she remembered why, and opened her eyes to find Rafe still asleep beside her. She felt an instant rush of tenderness as she stared at his face in repose. This violent man had taught her about loving. She'd been overwhelmed by the pleasure she experienced at his hands. Her recall of the night before was intensely sensual. She smiled, despite the vague discomfort, and stroked Rafe's bare shoulder with her fingertips. He'd been right about all of it, even consummation being no cure for the desire. She still wanted him.
"Rafe?" He was instantly awake, as might be expected of a man in his profession.
His features softened. "Oh. Mornin'. Sleep all right?"
Her cheeks flushed. She nodded, inexplicably shy. After all they'd done and some of the things they'd said last night, she should have no modesty left.
"Wasn't too rough with you, was I? Tried to go easy, but I hurt you, anyhow. Ain't had much experience breakin' gals in. I usually…"
She silenced him with her index finger over his lips. "Isn't this like when someone falls off a horse or something? I've heard the best answer is to get back on and try riding again."
"That why you woke me?" She gave a helpless shrug. Rafe's rumbling chuckle echoed off the walls as he gave one buttock a light squeeze. "Guess I did well enough, if you're already wakin' me up for more. Thing is, darlin', I tossed that bit of sheepgut while I was usin' the facilities down the hall last night. We need to get you a pisser."
"A…What are you talking about?"
"A thing gals use. Your friend across the hall would know." He began to dress. "I'll go to the drugstore. Reckon you'd feel funny goin', since that Joe Brooks fella works there. Like I said, you got a real habit of throwin' yourself at me. But I could get used to it." He winked at her.
"Oh, you could, eh? Well, I'll admit I did like last night. And I woke you up, so I guess that makes me a strumpet."
Rafe snorted and drew on his weathered boots. "Likin' what we did doesn't make you a strumpet. Takin' money for it would."
Sparkle sat up. "But liking it must mean something."
He reached over and tweaked the coral nipple peeping out from the covers. "Means you got a passionate nature, which is fine, unless you take to sharin' it with every fella who rides through here. But we both know you ain't about to do that. Cause you do recall what I said about my Colt," he emphasized, buckling his gunbelt. "And I ain't strollin' to the pharmacy to stretch my legs. I'll show you more to like later on."
Sparkle threw the covers aside and drew on her robe. "Thank you for…" She blushed hotter than ever. "For trying to be gentle and for…understanding. I think I'll go take a bath."
A rapping sounded at the door. She peered out to find Ruby Ann standing in the hallway looking tense. "Some men are here asking for Rafe. One's that tall Indian. Frazer's steamed again."
Rafe gave Sparkle a rueful glance. "Sorry, darlin', wasn't expectin' Sam and his buddy to come for me just yet. Got some important matters to discuss. I'll have that item sent over from the drugstore and catch up with you this evenin'."
"Rafe, is there some kind of trouble?"
He crossed back to embrace her. "I like hearin' that worry in your voice. Just somethin' I need to look into. Dammit, I'm tempted to rip this off you and have another go. Heard tell the best thing for gettin' thrown from a horse…" He grinned, but the gleam in his eyes was soft, not lecherous. "You ain't the only one who liked it." His hands roamed over her curves, proving how easily he could unsettle her.
"I'm not?"
He tilted her chin up to search her eyes. "Last night was about the best night of my whole life. Except tonight. It won't hurt at all next time. I'm buyin' you a pisser, and when I get back here…" He kissed the side of her neck and whispered into her ear.
"Good grief! Rafe Conley." Sparkle knew she didn't truly sound offended, and that he'd seen the laughter glinting in her eyes.
"You keep sayin' my name like that, I'm liable to forget you ain't ready for babies yet, Miz Conley. Start unpackin'. " He tipped his hat and went out, once again the casual rover with the lazy grin.
Sparkle closed the door after him and sank back onto the bed, uncertain her legs would carry her down the hall to the bathroom. It was at least twelve feet away. Too far for a woman whose heart was pounding so fast. Too far when the spot between her legs still ached and the legs themselves were limp as cooked macaroni. But she was certain her limbs would find the strength eventually. She had no intention of being anything less than fresh and nicely perfumed when Rafe came back.
* * *
Joe Brooks was straightening bottles of aromatic bitters and rheumatism balms on a shelf behind the counter. Boots thumped into the drugstore. He turned to find a dream come true. Rafe Conley had entered the store with two strangers. Three horses stood at the hitching rail outside.
"If it isn't my friend Conley," Brooks acclaimed cheerily. "Heard you put some ruffians to rout the other day and got injured in the fracas. Trust it wasn't serious. You need some dressings or liniment?"
"It's just a scratch, but I could use some more bandage cloth, thanks. I actually came by for—" Rafe paused, tossing the others a pointed look. They stepped back out onto the porch. Rafe's voice dropped a notch. "It's for my wife. She's havin' some…you know, troubles." He waved vaguely toward his nether region.
"Of a female nature?"
Rafe nodded and handed Brooks some money as Brooks held out clean bandaging. "Can you send a pisser over to the Scarlet Lady? I'd take it to her myself, but I'm headed out on business."
"Certainly. We carry a fine quality pessary from the East. Your change."
"Keep it."
A boy of about twelve popped in from a back room, smoothing his shirt collar. "I'm back, Mr. Brooks," he squeaked. "I can make another delivery."
Rafe nodded. "Better yet. Give him the change for makin' that delivery. Appreciate it."
Brooks handed a small package to the boy as Rafe and his associates mounted up. Brooks watched them ride off, smiling to himself.
Sparkle Conley wasn't going to need a pessary for a tryst with her husband. Not tonight, nor ever again.
Rafe Conley was, after all, in such a hazardous profession. Anything could happen to a fellow like that. To either of them, Joe supposed wickedly, when one considered Sparkle's equally dubious occupation.
Joe had telegraphed a certain man two days before, advising Conley was hold up with his bride here in Wichita. The wire had set everything in motion. Lovely Sparkle was on the verge of being widowed. So young, too. Fortunately, Brooks knew of several excellent preparations for melancholia, all much more effective when administered with a dose of personal sympathy from a congenial admirer…who she would never know had actually been the one who sprung the trap.
* * *
The item from the pharmacy arrived with printed instructions that referred to all manner of strange afflictions and maladies, none of which applied to Sparkle. Mortified, but sensing no alternative, she was forced to consult Ruby Ann about what to do with the pessary. Getting it positioned was a distasteful chore, and it brought Sparkle face to face with what she'd done.
She'd ventured into a whole new arena by giving Rafe her virginity. She not only felt no lingering regret, but acknowledged that she was fully prepared to experience lovemaking with Rafe again. Even though it meant betraying Jace.
It wasn't truly a betraya
l, was it? After all, it wasn't as though Jace had spoken of abiding love for her. He'd never asked her to be faithful. He didn't understand that they were meant to be together. And she'd already waited, shrouded in loneliness, for years. What if Jace never regained his memory?
He would, though. The cards predicted it. She had to believe one day they'd be together. She'd given her heart to Jace when they were children. She felt the same rush of tender emotion each time she visited and looked into his trusting blue eyes. She had a deep, abiding love for Jace. She didn't love Rafe. He was different, only a…Just what the hell is he, Sparkle?
A temporary diversion. Someone you're close to in a different way. A unique friend, but not a man you should entrust with your dreams.
It was late, time to stop spinning cobwebs in her attic and get downstairs for the start of her shift. She fussed one last time with the fit of her dress and checked her lip rouge. Not that she wanted to look especially nice tonight for any particular reason. Not that she hoped Rafe's eyes would light up when he came through those batwing doors. Not much.
She was dumbfounded when Michael Malloy appeared as soon as she'd reached the main gaming parlor. Face tight, he crossed to her table with jerky strides. Thinking he'd come to deliver another of his unwanted diatribes about her "witchery," she opened her mouth to shout for Frazer, but snapped it shut at Malloy's startling words.
"My wife's fearsomely distraught, Miz Conley. I was hoping you could come talk some sense into her."
"Elmira? What's the matter?"
"She took sick a few days back. Doc says it's nothing serious, but she's got it in her head that she's dying. Nothing I say can shake her feeling of doom. I don't know what more I can do."
"Dying? Oh Lord, she can't really believe that."
"But she does! That's why I thought if you'd bring your cards and come see her…I would've fetched her over here, but she won't leave her bed. And this isn't a fit place for a man to bring a decent woman." The last words came out in a hush.
Sparkle sighed and let the insulting comment go, mentally calculating how long she'd be working tonight. Whenever Rafe arrived, he'd expect her to stop telling fortunes and go upstairs. And she'd want to go, even if the saloon was still bustling. It was still late afternoon, too early for the evening patrons. If she visited Elmira and came right back, maybe she'd only have to endure a brief skirmish with Frazer when she put her tarot deck away later. Or let Rafe handle him…
"I'll get my shawl and cards and be right with you."
She dashed back upstairs to get her oversized flowered shawl. It covered most of her costume. She knotted it around her shoulders and put her spare tarot deck in her reticule, then hurried back down.
"Frazer, I have to go out for a little while."
"For Christ's sake, Sparkle, it's past four! I need you here to get the men soaking up the Panther Piss. What's the problem now? Husband shot up again?" The harangue started before she could get a word in. "Always some damned problem! I thought he'd be good for business, but I swear, having you working for me and married to that gunman is—"
"He wasn't shot again. This isn't about Rafe. He'll be back later. I'm going out to call on a sick friend. I'll be back by five, I promise."
Frazer watched her go and blued the air with curses. He scowled at a faro dealer who'd overheard the discussion. "Bobby, let that be a lesson to you. Should have left her ass out in the street, even if I had to lick that gunfighter's boots. She's been a royal pain since I bought this place, and so's he. Parlor games, one disruption after another. Those two deserve each other."
That prophetic statement was etched in Benton Frazer's mind two hours later, when Sparkle hadn't returned and a ransom note mysteriously appeared on the bar. After swearing there'd be no more trouble at the Scarlet Lady, Frazer had to hand a note over to the local law advising Sparkle had been kidnapped. He'd thought it rather unusual, that fellow coming to see Sparkle Conley. Gent wasn't a regular customer. But Frazer hadn't been concerned enough to send one of the dealers to follow them. Didn't even find out which way she'd headed. After promising that lethal husband of hers he'd keep an eye on her.
Now the man's wife was missing.
Well, Benton Frazer wasn't answering for that, no sirree! He had a saloon to run. He wasn't Sparkle Conley's private nursemaid. And as her employer, he could only take so much. He left the ransom note with Deputy Thompson, marched back into the saloon, and pulled the tarot deck from the drawer in Sparkle's table. He was disgusted with that girl, her ruthless husband, cow towns, the saloon business, and life in general.
It made Frazer feel one hundred percent better to dump those weird cards of hers into a brass spittoon and set them on fire.
CHAPTER 9
Sparkle was confused as Elmira's husband led her to an unfamiliar part of town. She'd questioned him when they headed west instead of east. He'd mumbled something about new quarters. She barely heard his words now before he abruptly ducked down a narrow alley. "So long, witch."
Then a new voice spoke. "Rafe Conley's little bride! This is indeed an honor. Tobias Bannister." Sparkle turned and met the gaze of a well-dressed stranger. Every instinct said he meant her harm, though she had no idea who he was or why he should put her off.
"Mr. Malloy went to get his wife. They're coming right back," she lied, edging against a building with paint peeling away from its rotted wood siding.
"Mr. Malloy will be only too glad to have you out of Wichita," the dandy assured her. "He thinks you're in league with Satan. He doesn't trust your influence on his wife and other local ladies. I'm more interested in your influence on your husband. Any time now, your employer will inform Wichita's lawmen you've been abducted. Conley will be told where to meet me if he wants to see you alive again."
"No!" Sparkle balked, but the man clamped a hand over her mouth. She kicked and tried to push his powerful hands away. Within minutes, he and another fellow had her hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth. They threw her over the back of a horse and rode quickly out of town. Sparkle couldn't tell which direction they'd gone or exactly how long and far they rode. Eventually they stopped and offered her some water and something to eat. Only a short while afterward, when she began feeling strange and woozy, did she realize she should have refused.
They'd drugged her. She had no idea where they were taking her.
She awoke still trussed, laying on a cot in a filthy shack. A tattered blanket provided limited warmth. Weak light flickered from a grimy lantern. Beyond the slatted walls, she picked up the voices of several men.
Where was she, and how long had they kept her in this rotten place? Not more than some hours, maybe a day. She was still clad in the infamous red trash from the Scarlet Lady and her shawl. The garments weren't torn or all that dirty, despite her dusty ride. She didn't feel famished, just thirsty…though she was nervous about accepting anything else from the men.
Where in God's name was Rafe? He'd been due back the same evening she'd been taken. He must know by now. Sparkle wasn't about to advise her captors they'd made a mistake about her marital status. If they knew the truth—that she was no more married to Rafe Conley than Ulysses S. Grant—they'd probably slit her throat and leave her body to rot in this hellhole.
She had one pressing, immediate problem. She needed to relieve her bladder, which seemed as good a reason as any to raise a ruckus. She began kicking and screaming behind the gag until someone came to unlock the door. Tobias Bannister appeared. "Mrs. Conley, I'm going to remove this cloth from your mouth. You're in my camp, a good distance from any other inhabitants. Shout your pretty little head off. No one will hear you." He untied the gag. Sparkle spat in his face.
"Here now. That's hardly the way to begin a new acquaintance," the flaxen-haired Bannister chided. He pulled a fine cotton handkerchief to wipe the spittle from his cheek. He smelled of talcum and pomade. Too much pomade.
"We aren't going to become friends," she replied. "I need to relieve myself."
/> "Don't be too anxious to make us enemies, dearie. That man of yours isn't going to be around much longer. A charming young widow needs protection from ruffians and scalawags." He cut the ropes on her wrists.
She rubbed the blood back into her hands. "As the saying goes, it takes one to know one."
"Madam, I may be considered a scalawag by some, but my manners are impeccable. I'd hardly be ranked amongst common ruffians."
She snorted in derision. "You drugged a woman and abducted her. No ruffian would do a thing like that, would he? Do you plan to stand around boasting about your manners while I disgrace myself all over your shoes, or take me somewhere to answer nature's call? My manners aren't like yours. I just might do it."
"I begin to comprehend what that ejaculating pistol you married sees in you. Quite the little hellcat, you are." He pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her outside, where two Mexicans sat on either side of a small fire. Bannister barked at one of them. "Ignacio, take the lady to the outhouse."
A slight man rose and led her a few yards into the darkness. He stood outside as she stepped into the small wooden structure. She thought she might pass out from the stench. At least there were no flies at night. She hated to consider what the outhouse would be like in the afternoon. She also hated to think the men were listening and waiting for her to urinate. Their laughter seconds later confirmed her suspicion. When Rafe arrived, she'd be only too happy to watch them pay for their humor at her expense.
She knew now there were at least four men involved. The overstuffed dandy, those two Mexicans, and some other Anglo she'd heard Bannister talking to earlier. There had been something about that fellow's voice. She couldn't place it, but she knew it. Rafe had been right…she'd still been too trusting.
The door creaked open. "Señora?"
She stepped past Ignacio and focused her fulminating glare on Bannister. "So, what did Rafe do to make such a lasting impression? Have your cousin tossed in jail? Point out to the world that your father never married your mother?"
The Trailrider's Fortune Page 9
