Sparkle followed the doctor to his front reception room while Rafe collected his gunbelt and coat. There wasn't anything left of his shirt. Her voice was a hushed whisper. "Is there anything you can do about his big scar? He's very sensitive about it, though I've tried to tell him it's not significant."
Dr. Stone shook his head. "I'd advise to let it be. He's a strong fellow, with excellent recuperative powers. Here's some laudanum. There'll be pain in that arm. Give him a spoonful or two every few hours in a glass of water if it gets bad. Watch for signs of fever, redness or puffiness around the sutures. Any problems, get him back here or send for me."
Rafe joined them by the front door. "Won't be no problems, Doc. There's twenty dollars and thanks again." Rafe wrapped his good arm around Sparkle's shoulders and led her outside. They hadn't gone ten feet from the doorway before he pulled her against his chest and kissed her soundly.
"Tarnation, it's good to see you. Came into town a couple of days ago and went by the saloon. Gal there said you'd be comin' back in a few days."
"So you decided to keep busy killing people until I got here?" Sparkle snapped, jerking away from him.
Rafe saw the fire in her eyes and couldn't help laughing. "I didn't kill anybody. I caught a known rustler and two of his pals stealing horses from the livery. Turned 'em over to the law, very much alive. Made four hundred dollars while I was at it."
"Terrific. Do you have even the slightest notion what I thought when Frazer told me you'd been shot? I was afraid you were dying."
"Disappointed then, huh?" He couldn't keep the smirk off his face.
"You're…Oh, have absolutely nothing to say to you," she announced, striding off toward the Scarlet Lady, bustle twitching.
Rafe stared after her for a few seconds, thoroughly confused. When she'd walked into the doctor's office, he'd seen concern etching her face. The second their eyes met, Rafe had experienced that same amazement again—that her eyes were so alive and penetrating. That a pretty woman could possibly be gazing into his twin mud holes with something akin to genuine caring. His heart soared for an instant. Before she went weak in the knees, she'd looked about to cry. Perhaps she'd missed him, same as he'd missed her.
But now she was storming off, acting like she barely knew him. A horrible thought struck. Maybe he'd misunderstood. Maybe she was disappointed. She might have been hoping he'd solved her dilemma of how to get out of their "marriage." Maybe she'd prayed never to set eyes on him again. What seemed like wrath could be chagrin. Could be she wasn't at all glad to have her wayward "husband" back in town, looking to share her bed. Someone else could be sleeping in it these nights.
He caught up and stepped in front of her to block her path. "You sorry to see me again? Somethin's got your bustle bent. If you don't want me comin' over to your saloon, I'll go back to the hotel where I spent the past couple nights. If I'm in the way, just say so."
"In the way?" Sparkle repeated, awestruck. How could anyone be so dense? "You're not in the way, Rafe. You're hurt. And it's your own fault, because you carry that gun and look for trouble. You keep looking until it finds you. I'm sorry you were shot. I'm sorry you carry a peacemaker. But your decision to risk your neck has nothing to do with me. I have to get back to work."
He wouldn't let her by. "You're mad because I got shot? If I'd had those idiots arrested without a nick on me, that would've been just fine? This is nothin', Sparkle. I've had worse."
"Indeed."
She couldn't admit how terrified she'd been at the news he'd been injured or her overwhelming relief at learning he was all right. She certainly couldn't say she was thrilled to see him again. Yet it was true, against all logic. Her heart had begun to beat faster the moment their eyes met. It was insane. Especially after seeing the toll of his profession firsthand. She should be running down Main Street as fast and as far from this lunatic as she could get.
But one look at Rafe's dark eyes, his square jaw and slightly crooked nose…One touch from his damned talented lips, and she was limp jelly. Every other man just faded into obscurity, ceased to exist. Phenomenal, since Rafe wasn't exactly handsome. The new faro dealer at the Scarlet Lady was better looking. So was Joe Brooks, if a woman measured by facial features alone. But she didn't, and Rafe was pure male animal. Too much male animal.
She dodged his grasp and struck out again, ignoring his footfalls beside her. Pretending she wasn't secretly pleased he was headed back to the saloon, despite the fact she hadn't given him even the slightest encouragement. Telling herself step by stubborn step that she shouldn't feel attracted to a man so deceptively ordinary. She had no business with this man—whose speech rippled and flowed like a wide creek in the summertime—because it was a lie of the most insidious kind. Theirs was no safe association. That same man was likely to blast a stranger to Kingdom Come without a second thought.
She shouldn't feel drawn to Rafe. And she absolutely, without equivocation shouldn't even consider allowing him to spend another night in her bed. But she was.
The whole town believed he was her husband. Everyone would expect to see them together. Frazer would expect it. He'd told her to fetch her husband. She had myriad thoughts swirling through her mind, none of them framing a cogent explanation as to why Rafe would be up and walking around, but not staying with her at the Scarlet Lady. None of them adding up to a tale Frazer would buy.
She inhaled harshly. "What do you want me to say? That if I'd walked into that surgery and the doctor had pulled a sheet up over you on his table, I would have torn it back and wept over your dead body, like a real wife?"
Rafe thought there was more sarcasm than reality in that barb. Best to sidestep the gunshot argument. Women could be damned unreasonable about firearms. "Maybe we should talk about this later. My arm's throbbin' and you'll be late. If Frazer gets after you about this, I'll either have to shoot him or pay him to lay off. Got a preference?" He grinned even before she gave him the answer he expected.
"I think there's been enough shooting for one day. Come on."
Rafe chugged back three shots of straight Kentucky bourbon at the bar while Sparkle changed into her costume. He wasn't feeling much pain or anything else by the time Frazer and a faro dealer carried him up to her room, stripped him, and tossed the blanket over him.
Sparkle found him sound asleep when she came upstairs after her shift. She was exhausted, but pleased to tuck a nice roll of bills into her cache box. She'd donned her nightgown and settled beside Rafe when she heard his hoarse whisper. "Darlin', my arm's killin' me. Can you get me some more whiskey?"
She brought the bottle of laudanum and he took a dainty sip. "You can do better than that," she scolded mildly. "I don't want you waking me up again in an hour."
"Don't like medicine, but I don't want to trouble you." He grabbed the bottle and took another drink.
Sparkle put the vial on the bedside table near him and sighed as she climbed back under the covers. "Rafe Conley, I swear I'll divorce you one of these days if you don't hang up that goddamned gun."
CHAPTER 6
Sparkle opened the bedroom door at the soft knock. Ruby Ann stood in the hallway with lunch on a tray. "How's he doin', Sparkle?"
"He'll be all right." Sparkle yawned. It was almost noon, but she'd only awakened moments before Ruby Ann's arrival. Rafe was still sleeping, thanks to the heavy dose of laudanum she persuaded him to drink just before dawn.
"Don't it scare you, him goin' up against desperadoes like that?" Ruby set the tray on the dresser and glanced back at the sleeping form in the bed.
"Yes, Ruby. It scares the hell out of me."
Ruby rubbed her chin nervously. "Listen, you know enough to use a preventative, right? It wouldn't be sensible to get knocked up. Little one growin' up without a father case he got himself killed, ma workin' in a dump for some greedy bastard like Benton. Give him this if you ain't already wearin' protection."
Ruby produced an indescribable bit of something too disgusting to contemplate after just w
aking. Sparkle wasn't sure she'd ever be awake enough to want to look at it. Bad enough having the slimy object in her palm. "Finest sheepgut," Ruby asserted proudly.
"Sheepgut." Sparkle decided it was best to pretend she had full knowledge of what men and women did with animal parts in the bedroom. "Gee, uh, thanks. I'm still sort of tired. Maybe we can visit later."
She pushed Ruby out and locked the door before burying the indelicate offering in the back of a drawer. She took up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair, surprised to find Rafe sitting up, watching her.
"Sparkle, would you tell me somethin'?"
"Not about what I just tucked away. It's personal." Her cheeks burned, but Rafe didn't smirk. He seemed troubled or in pain. Before she could ask, he spoke again.
"Why'd you get upset over a bullet gougin' a little piece out of my arm, when this doesn't bother you?" He glanced down at his bare torso.
"I didn't know you then. I'm sure I would have been…" Out of her mind with grief and terror. "Don't try to tell me I'm stupid for being upset," she snapped. "A few inches over, that bullet could have killed you."
Rafe snorted. "Bowlegs Barker couldn't hit a bull's ass with a handful of banjos. He was aimin' for my heart, hit my arm instead."
"Damn you, Rafe, the point is, he did hit you!"
"Lucky wild shot."
"Next time you might not be alive to say that. Are you really so impressed by your own reputation that you don't realize sooner or later one of these men you go up against will be more ruthless or faster than you are?" She sat next to him on the mattress, legs tented under her nightgown.
"Naw, I know. Hope to be standin' in my own saloon by the time I meet up with that fella."
"You're risking your life to buy a saloon?"
Rafe heard the sharp disapproval in her tone. "Is that lunch over there?" He eyed the tray, hoping to shift the topic. Sparkle brought it over and placed it between them, tucking her legs back under. Rafe was reminded of Miranda. He and his big sister had shared tea parties until he'd wised up that it wasn't considered manly to drink from little toy cups.
"Yeah, I want to buy a saloon," he admitted, stuffing cold turkey into his mouth. "Or build one."
"Your brother's got a ranch. Why don't you work with him?"
"Now you sound like Travis. Cattle ranchin' ain't for me. Dust, cows. No thanks. Even when I can't see the barbed wire, I know it's there. Don't like bein' fenced in or starin' at the same plot of land day after day. This room's hard, now I see how small it is in the daylight."
"You don't like being confined," Sparkle nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Well, there must be other things you could do. Some profession where you'd still be able to go outdoors or move around from place to place. Maybe become a sales agent."
"I like what I do now. Like saloons and gamblin', wanderin' from town to town when I feel like it. If I didn't, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation, Miz Conley."
"You're hinting I don't have the right to nag you."
"Amen."
"Well, as I'm not really your wife, maybe I don't have the right to nag—but I'm the closest thing you've got to anyone who gives a hoot. Other than your brother."
"Got a big sister, too. She's never liked my way of life, either. She and Travis can't understand that I ain't like them. Bein' tied down to a place and their routines makes them happy. Same thing would make me miserable. But what about you?" he asked, studying her closely. "You don't belong in a saloon. You could take up with some banker or dandy fella, have a nice home and a passel of kids. You're after money, same as me. So what are you savin' for?"
"To see Paris."
Rafe nearly spit out the wad of food in his mouth. "Should have guessed it would be somethin' ridiculous like that. You women! What, you got relations there, your ma a Frenchie?"
"No, she just spent time in Europe when she was young and visited France. That's where she learned to read tarot."
"And met your pa. LaFleur. He was the Frenchie."
"I want to see the river Seine and watch the boats go by. I want to eat lunch like this out in the countryside. Have bread and cheese spread on a cloth in the grass. See the fabulous chateaux—those are big fancy country estates—and hear people speak the Language of Love. That's what some Americans call French."
What was it about gals, that they liked giddy talk? Rafe wondered. Never known one yet who didn't go mush-headed over fancy words. Like words ever settled any hash. He made a mental note to try flowery talk next time he came up against a Bowlegs Barker and see if that knocked him on his butt.
"After you see France, then what?"
"Settle down somewhere and never set foot in another saloon again."
Rafe eased back against the pillow, his face blanching. The pain was getting worse in his arm. "If you wouldn't mind fetchin' another bottle from downstairs, I'd truly appreciate it."
"You'd rather be drunk than take laudanum?"
"I can handle whiskey. Don't like laudanum. Never took more'n nine or ten swallows of it durin' all the months after the stabbin'. Just need some rotgut. Knowin' your boss, the cheapest watered-down bourbon is all I'll get." He realized she might not care for the sight or smell of a passed-out gunslinger in her bed. "I hope you don't mind me stayin' a spell. Arm's pretty sore, but I should be out of your way by tomorrow."
"Rafe, I told you, you're not in the way."
"You're still wearin' that ring," he said without looking to see if it was so. "Whore was talkin' like I was your man."
Sparkle's face instantly went pink. "You were listening?" She jumped up, fidgety all of a sudden. "I have to get cleaned up and dress for work. I'll get your bottle and whatever else you need before I go down for the evening." She paused to press her fingers to his forehead.
Rafe stared up into her eyes. "Damned nice to see you again. Glad you don't make me feel funny when I'm not wearin' a shirt. Be tough doin' that right now."
She shrugged noncommittally. "Get some rest. You don't feel warm, and so far your eyes look normal. If you start feeling hot or dizzy, make sure you let someone know so we can send for the doctor."
The whiskey bottle was nearly empty and Rafe was out cold when Sparkle came up to bed late that night. She undressed in the darkness and hesitated, nude, keenly aware there was a man just a few feet away. How would it feel to undress if he were awake? To truly have a husband and let him see her unclothed, see him the same way?
She donned her nightdress and struck a match, and reached to turn back the covers. She was ashamed for peeking, but sensed she might never get another chance to appease her curiosity. She'd never seen Jace naked. She'd worked in saloons for years, but hadn't seen a grown man without his drawers or pants.
Rafe was on his back without a stitch on. Male nudity was startling. Men certainly didn't look a thing like women. They were hairier and…well, peculiar. She didn't find his appendage frightening or offensive, just alien. He was well proportioned. Not too thin, but not at all fat. If not for the scar, Rafe probably would have been considered a fine example of masculinity, she decided. His hips were narrow and—
Gasping as the match burned her fingertips, Sparkle clambered into bed. Rafe rolled onto his side, curling himself around her. Her bottom was now pressed directly against the area she'd just been perusing. She tried to slide over, but he tightened his arm around her middle. "Don't," came a low mumble. "Please. I just need to hold you, darlin'."
She relaxed and heard a deep sigh. He probably didn't even realize he'd been talking in his sleep. She prayed he hadn't been aware of her bold scrutiny. Heavens, now she was in a most unladylike position. Only the thin fabric of her nightgown kept their embrace from being absolutely scandalous. Not that it felt at all unpleasant or wicked. Quite the contrary, it was comforting. She was feeling cozy in the gunslinger's arms. So cozy she yawned and promptly fell asleep.
Rafe awakened the next morning early, claiming no signs of a hangover or need for pampering. He was itching to be up and out of be
d. Sparkle argued that he shouldn't be walking around yet, but she couldn't persuade him to rest another day. He left the saloon in pursuit of his reward money and told her he'd see her later.
* * *
Sparkle also had business across town, Rafe discovered when he followed a small knot of customers out the back door of the general store. She'd set a checkerboard over a barrel and was giving free tarot readings. Local women were literally lined up to have their fortunes told.
"Priscilla, you and your husband will have a baby within the next year."
"Oh, Sparkle, are you certain? We've been trying."
"I'm sure. Now let someone else have a turn. You know I can't stay long," Sparkle teased, patting the matron's hand.
Rafe leaned against a post on the porch a few feet behind Sparkle to watch and listen. The womenfolk had plainly been coming to Sparkle for some time. She knew a lot about every one of them. Rafe smiled to himself. She could never tell folks their fortunes for free within a mile of her saloon boss. Frazer would've insisted she charge to tell a body the time of day. Wasn't likely any homesteaders' wives would be caught strollin' into a bordello like the Scarlet Lady, anyhow. Sparkle was here bein' neighborly.
"Elmira, get away from that witch!" a florid-faced man shouted to the woman who'd replaced Priscilla at the makeshift table. "I've told you I don't hold with such mischief. It's deviltry, and that harlot's from one of the bagnios. Nothing but a no-account whore. You'll not associate with that woman."
"She's my wife," Rafe spoke up. "And I don't hold with folks callin' her names. Your woman came seekin' advice. Sparkle's here as a kindness. You'll apologize, or answer to me." Rafe shifted his weight, but hadn't even reached toward the grip of his pistol before a woman shrieked.
"Oh, my God! Do you know who that is, Bertha? He's the one they took to Doc Stone's the other day. The fella who caught those horse thieves, and saved Dan Tucker's son." She glared at the unfriendly husband. "Michael Malloy, you should be ashamed of yourself, acting like that! Especially after what Sparkle's husband did for this town."
The Trailrider's Fortune Page 6