"Reckon you will, too," Tolover quipped, chortling. Sparkle buried her face against Rafe's shirt. "So this is a purely social visit?" Tolover ventured.
Rafe eased from her embrace, giving her a look of silent encouragement. You can be brave just a bit longer, darlin'. I know you can. God, now Sparkle could hear his thoughts. That couldn't be good.
Rafe turned back to Tolover and his demeanor hardened. "Business. We'll jaw on it later. Special ready?"
The saloonkeeper lifted the first of his chins. "You know it. Help yourself."
"Think there'd be a spare dress lyin' around Sparkle could put on till I can get her over to the store tomorrow?"
"Ask Big Al."
Rafe led Sparkle upstairs into a room and then pulled her into his arms even as the door slammed behind them. Sparkle barely heard it. She was lost in a long, hungry kiss. Eventually Rafe released her, and she turned to openly gape in astonishment at the opulent surroundings. The bedroom walls were covered with burgundy flocked wallpaper. Candles glowed in brass wall sconces that glittered with cut-glass teardrops around their bases.
Sparkle tested the mattress, gingerly sitting on its edge. She sank into pure luxury. "Heavens, I didn't know a bed could be this soft." Rafe chuckled at her comment. She turned her gaze toward him and released a startled gasp. Overhead loomed a huge gilt-framed mirror. "Land sakes! You called this Tolover's special? That's putting it mildly. How can we afford even one night in here?"
"Did some work for Tolover awhile back. He puts me up free when I pass through this way."
"He lets you stay free whenever you like?"
"Yeah, but usually in one of his ordinary rooms. This here's the panel crib."
Frazer had boarded up the two panel cribs at the Scarlet Lady when he'd taken over. Other than patrons being hustled into buying expensive drinks for themselves and the girls—whose "drinks" were nothing but diluted cold tea—Frazer's patrons pretty much got what they paid for at the Scarlet Lady. But Sparkle knew many bordellos had rooms like this, with trick panels in the walls. Strumpets got their customers undressed and otherwise occupied, while a thief working for the establishment rifled through pants and coat pockets or valises.
The ceiling mirror and pure opulence of this panel crib was so brashly ingenious, Sparkle couldn't help but admire the conceit. Tolover was betting men couldn't resist the allure of watching themselves and their whore cavorting on the big bed. Intent on the moving naked flesh overhead, they'd pay no heed to the dimmest corner of the bedchamber, where the panel was hidden. Sparkle guessed its location before Rafe confirmed it. One corner had a big Victorian chair for a man's clothes and no sconce nearby.
"If he keeps this one rented out, Tolover doesn't need his other rooms filled."
"That's the way of it." Rafe sounded weary. He dropped into the chair and tugged off his boots. His hand moved along one upper thigh as he winced. "Damn, but I'm stiff from the saddle. Nice hot bath's just what I need right now."
Stiff from the saddle, or that mural downstairs and this room? Sparkle wondered. "I hope you enjoy it, but I'd like to borrow some money. I lost my bag, as I told you, otherwise I wouldn't ask. I'll pay you back as soon as I can, either in person next time I see you in Wichita, or I can forward it to your brother's ranch. Which would you prefer?" She looked at him expectantly. "I need to catch the next train headed East."
Rafe stood up. His gunbelt and bandanna came off. "That's what you want from me, money and a train ticket?"
I want everything from you, Gunslinger. Everything I shouldn't, and you know it. This can't work. Let me go, Rafe. If I don't get out of this decadent room before anything else comes off that lean body, I'll never get out that door.
She cleared her throat. "Yes. I need to get back." Her words came out faster, more self-assured. "Thank you again for coming to my rescue. Did I thank you before? I meant to." She was rattling on, trying not to meet his dark eyes as she commanded her feet to take her to the door. "I still can't believe that idiot Brooks thought I'd want him, whatever happened to you. I should have slit his throat when I had the chance."
Rafe caught her by the shoulders. "Hold on. Are you sayin' he tried to—" Something ice cold glinted in his usually warm brown eyes. "The only reason any of those fellas are still breathin' is it didn't look like you had a scratch on you. I asked if you were all right. You tell me that bastard Brooks put even one finger on your flesh, I'll see him decoratin' a cottonwood."
She shook her head in dismay. "Rafe Conley's justice again. No, they didn't hurt me."
She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Some of it anger. Most of it a different emotion. One she was feeling herself.
"You got a problem tellin' when I'm funnin' and when I ain't. I don't fun about killin' people. If I say I'll see a man lynched, I will." His grip tightened. "And you ain't leavin'. What the hell's the matter with you? Think I only fetched you out of obligation? No more to it than that?"
"No, I think…" She gestured helplessly. "I just need to get back to Wichita."
He sighed heavily. "You got no job to go back to. Frazer told Art Thompson he wasn't takin' you back again, no matter what." His tone was offhand, but he turned and raked his fingers through his hair where his hat brim had flattened it. "Look, I can't put you on a train. Like it or not, you got to stay on with me for a few days here. I'll get you some money and a ticket out after I get paid."
Sparkle saw hurt in his eyes. Her palms lifted to his shoulders. "Can't you come with me back to Wichita? You can talk to Frazer."
He untucked his shirt and shook his head. "Sorry. I'll get you flush in a couple days. I'm workin' on somethin' big here, the business Sam came to see me about."
"But I don't have a dime!"
"You don't need money just now," he reminded her. "I hired on to do a job here. Ain't lettin' you out of my sight or puttin' you on some train by your lonesome. Forget tryin' to wheedle your way in this. I ain't listenin', Sparkle. Every time I turn my back, you're in some other fix and needin' my help."
"You're the cause of the last one!"
"Maybe so, but my point is, I can't take chances now. Got work to do. You're not the only one who has to think about employment. Can't do my job and keep an eye on you unless you're here."
"Wonderful. So you've taken me prisoner now?"
"Dammit, but you're a pig-headed woman! There's nothin' you need in Wichita. Got a hot bath, supper, a fine big bed, and a man to warm it right here. If you want him. If you don't…" His breath escaped in a harsh puff. "Reckon I've managed to share a bed without touchin' you before. Least this one's a lot wider."
"Rafe," she admonished softly. He made her sound more mercenary than he was. "You know things are different now." Her fingers curled into the dark mane at his nape. "We couldn't sleep like that again. Either of us."
Rafe moved to answer the rap at the door, admitting a troupe of visitors: two men bearing a large hammered copper tub, others carrying steaming buckets, and a woman with a tray of cold food and a liquor bottle. When the Adventuress employees left, Rafe turned back to Sparkle. "You were sayin'?"
"I think I'll stay."
His grin was back. "So…you hungry, or want that hot bath before we eat?"
She got no chance to answer. The door abruptly flew open, nearly torn from its hinges. A massive woman stood in the hall, faded chestnut braids pinned into a coil around her head and fastened with a feather plume. She waddled into the room beneath layers of shiny blue satin. "Raford Conley, you weasel! Heard you were back. How the hell are ya?"
She buried him in spongy flesh and body powder. The gaudy outfit, so much bare flesh, the feather, too much rouge and perfume…Sparkle realized with surprise that the beaming human mountain was a working doxy. She had to be well over three hundred pounds. Sparkle was amazed Rafe still had his spine intact after the all-consuming hug, but he calmly brushed excess talcum off his dark brown shirt. "I'm fine, Al. How you been?"
"Not bad. Gettin' fatter all the t
ime." She noticed they weren't alone. "Tolover didn't tell me we had us a new bedbug."
Sparkle crossed her arms over her breasts.
"She doesn't work here," Rafe advised. "She's my wife. Darlin', this is Alice, more commonly known as Big Al."
The whore's eyes widened as she spied the gold ring on Sparkle's hand. "Well I'll be jo-fired! Up and got yourself hitched? Raford!" A thick arm clamped around Sparkle's shoulders and drew her toward the hallway. "My room's over here, honey. Got something for you. She'll be back in a minute, Rafe, so keep your iron in the fire." She beamed at Sparkle. "What's your name, sugar?"
"Sparkle, and I'm—"
"Prob'ly smart enough to know, or at least ponder…" The fat woman's voice dropped as they stepped through the doorway into an overcrowded bedroom. Knickknacks and faded pink lace abounded. Her pudgy forefinger waved at the room's interior, then lifted to poke at Alice's scalp. She peered at a jumbled shelf of jars and bottles high on one wall, then glanced back at Sparkle. "You're reckonin' me and that husband of yours done tore up the mattress a time or two."
Sparkle tried to disguise her shock with a shrug. Alice sighed. "That was a long time back, when he wasn't but a spindly drag rider wet behind the ears."
Sparkle glanced back over her shoulder to see Rafe's bare buttocks sink into the steaming copper tub. Stiff from the saddle, after all. "He never mentioned he'd ridden herds."
"Didn't last long at it. Wasn't much of a cowpoke. Ah, here's what I wanted you to have." Alice held out a jar of pale green ooze. Sparkle's nose wrinkled. "What's that glop?"
"Cactus juice. Always thought Rafe should rub some into that scar. It softens the skin. He wouldn't set still for me to do it, but seein' has you're his wife, you might give it a try."
Sparkle didn't know how to explain that she wasn't Rafe's wife, only his mistress. As this woman herself must have been…still was? She obviously had genuine affection for him. Why would she hoard a jar of medicine specifically for him—aside from the fact she plainly hoarded everything, from the looks of her room—unless Rafe still visited her? He'd said Tolover usually put him in one of the other rooms. This one? Sparkle told herself she should feel resentment toward the big aging trollop, but she couldn't summon the harsh feelings. She instinctively liked Alice, and accepted the jar.
"Thanks. I'll try, but Rafe's chest is a sensitive point, even with me. Mr. Tolover mentioned you might know where I could find some spare clothing. I've been wearing this since Wichita. I used to be a pretty waiter girl in a saloon there."
The woman flashed a grin of pearly, well-worn teeth. "Sure, honey. Rafe's lookin' grim. He take somebody in today? His face says there was trouble. How many bad 'uns this time?"
"Two. Well, four actually, but he left the Mexicans to walk."
Big Al chortled and went purple. "How many did Snatch get for him?"
"God, that horse is incredible, isn't he?" Sparkle laughed too now, recalling Bannister helpless on the ground.
"Rafe needs you," Alice declared, sobering. "Spare clothes are in the trunk yonder. Help yourself to whatever you like, then get on back to your husband."
"We're not really married, Alice," Sparkle confessed quietly.
"And I ain't really fat. Deep inside I'm a slim-hipped wonder with nice, high teats like yours. But folks don't see what's inside, do they? They go by what they see on the outside."
Sparkle began rummaging through the musty trunk. "I see the future sometimes. I'm a fortune teller. I see trouble if you don't stay away from those rich cream pies you love so much. What do you see, Alice?"
"You and Raford tearin' up a dozen mattresses. Worse things could happen to a woman than havin' him crazy to pieces over her." Alice reached for a box of chocolates on a low table beside the bed.
"Alice, it's not good to keep stuffing yourself," Sparkle chided lightly.
"Miz Conley…" The fat woman sighed, rolling a chocolate cream into the inside of her cheek as she spoke. "And don't bother arguin' whether you is or ain't Miz Conley. I don't got me a Rafe, honey. Got no little ones, or a home of my own, or any other damned thing a woman can hold close to her heart. So I love my customers. Every blasted one of 'em. Plan on givin' every man who comes to see me plenty to grab hold of and suck on until the good Lord sees fit to take that skinny gal inside to a better place."
Sparkle pulled out a blue gingham cotton dress, calico skirt, and a faded blouse that looked like it might fit. She also found a chemise and some pantalets. She turned back to Alice, but the woman had her head stuck through an open window sash and was shouting to some man in the street to come up.
"Thanks, Al," Sparkle called from the doorway. Rafe was dozing with his head against the rim when she went back into the panel crib. She tossed the clothes on the bed and brought the jar with her beside the tub. He did look tired, bone tired. "Need any help, cowboy?"
"Yeah." He straightened and opened his eyes, tugging at her shawl. "Take off your duds and get in. You can scrub my back. Or my front. Ain't choosy."
Sparkle unfastened the red dress and drop-kicked it across the room. "That's for you, Benton Frazer."
Rafe's laugh came as a rich sound that pleased her immensely. "Probably should've let you do that when we first met." He continued to watch her undress. "What the hell's that mess?" he demanded, as she at last stepped into the warm water holding the jar.
"Cactus juice Al's been saving for you. She thinks it will help soften your scar tissue." Sparkle's eyes drilled his as she sat down across from him. "And I ought to be jealous."
"Of Al?" he snorted. "Hell, that was a way long time ago."
"Not that long, surely. She kept this for you. Do you stay with her when you come here to Dodge?"
Rafe barked out another laugh. "She'd crush me these days! We're just good friends. She was about a hundred-fifty pounds lighter when we met. Ain't funnin', neither. Jesus, last couple years she's gotten bigger than most of what's herded into boxcars. She worked at the Tinderbox down the street. It wasn't ever nothin', Sparkle. She was just my town whore hereabouts."
"Like me in Wichita."
He shook his head and handed her the soap and washcloth. "Nope. You were never a whore, and I wasn't your customer."
"But I shared my bed and gave you a ride upstairs. I'm…Bannister called me your mistress. How's it any different?"
"I never loved Alice."
The statement rolled so naturally off his tongue, Sparkle almost missed its significance. Almost. Her mind numb, she made the only reply she could think of at the moment. "Oh."
"Hurry up," he groused, rising to step out of the bath. "Got all pruny from waitin' on you. Take that mess in the jar right back to Big Al. You ain't smearin' none of it on me. I ain't no Nancy-boy."
Sparkle watched him wrap a towel around his lean hips and stalk across the room. He flopped onto the Victorian chair and tore into the meat and bread on the tray, washing them down with liberal swallows of whiskey. His skin was still glistening, the bottom of his hair wet and curling where it touched his bare shoulders. She was glad to see the fresh wound looked to be healing well. Then her gaze skimmed lower, to the edge of the white towel against his tanned belly.
He'd just admitted he loved her.
The tingling sensation in her breasts might have nothing to do with the tub of hot water and everything to do with the sight before her eyes. Sparkle had to admit she had a strong desire for Rafe. A powerful attraction she didn't have the strength to deny. She lathered her hair and body, gratefully erasing all traces of the dirty shack and her confinement.
She rinsed and stepped out, wrapping her body in a thick towel. She took up the jar of salve and slowly approached the armchair. "I think Al's right and this might help your scar. My mother used something like it when I got too much sun. It won't hurt."
He scowled in response, slowly shaking his head. She purposely softened her eyes and vocal tone. "Not that I object to looking at it or touching it. Your chest or…any of the rest of you. You're very
…"
Rafe squinted at her warily. "Very what, handsome? Manly?" A fingertip reached out to peel back her towel. He drew a damp circle around her navel. "A stark naked woman's drippin' water and sweet talk all over me, knowin' full well I want her body, not some mess in a jar. Wouldn't be tryin' to blackmail me, now would you, darlin'?"
"No, I'm suggesting you endure one thing you don't want to get the other, which presumably you do."
He snorted in disgust. "Surprised you didn't bargain your own way out with Bannister. This ain't always goin' to work," he muttered as he sat back and closed his eyes. He gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles taut and face set as Sparkle massaged the runny paste into his scar. His misery was so obvious, so palpable, she almost laughed out loud. What would Bannister and Brooks think if they could see Rafe being tortured by a woman with cactus juice?
"Sparkle…" His voice was slightly hoarse. "You ever get that delivery from the pharmacy?"
"Yes, that same morning."
His eyes smoldered with desire as he rose and abruptly caught her in his arms, then carried her to the big bed. "Then it's time to settle up."
He kissed and caressed every inch of her body, stroking and nibbling with sensual lips until she was certain he'd set the bed sheets on fire. He'd turned the bed down while she was across the hall. "Oh, Rafe," she breathed, twining her arms around his neck.
She burned everywhere and the only thing that seemed to help was saying his name over and over. When he finally loomed above her, this thighs between hers, she raised her hips to meet his deep thrust. He entered her smoothly and moaned her name in turn. "God, I been wantin' you," he whispered, tightening his embrace.
But his strokes were slow and deliberate, not frantic."I want you to enjoy this," he grunted. "Wrap your legs around me and don't let go." She gripped his muscular frame and let him guide her.
They made love three times, each more intense and delicious than the one before.
The Trailrider's Fortune Page 11
