The Trailrider's Fortune

by Shannah Biondine

  She knelt beside him without a word and pulled him into her arms. It took awhile for the hoarse sobs to subside and the shaking to stop. Eventually he drew a ragged breath. "What was I supposed to do, Sparkle, just stand there and let him kill me?

  "That would have been easier for you. If he'd at least taken the first shot, you could justify it easier in your mind. But you defended yourself. No one would blame you. You didn't pick the fight."

  He pulled back and stared into her eyes. "Dammit, woman, you always goin' to understand?"

  "I'll always try," she answered truthfully. "Though I can see there will be plenty of times when we'll disagree. We have a lot of years ahead."

  Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. "I want to believe that. I love you so much."

  "Come here," she whispered, pulling him toward the bunk. They lay atop the covers, wrapped in each other's arms. She waited for his breathing to become slow and even, then she sat up. "I think I should tell you something."

  He sat up, too, watching as she fetched her tarot cards from her reticule and began shuffling them. "This was my mother's best deck."

  "Sorry. Tried to get your cards back from Frazer, but he got rid of 'em after you left."

  "I'd rather have these. My mother used them to tell Roy McAllister's fortune."

  She saw she had Rafe's full attention now. "McAllister was an outlaw on the run. His horse had thrown a shoe. Jace's father was a blacksmith and an old friend, so McAllister came to the Flowers' farmhouse late one night and they let him stay."

  "You and your ma were livin' there, too." It wasn't a question, but she nodded.

  "Tarot readers usually hold back negative aspects, things like fatal illness, financial ruin, other events a person wouldn't want to know. The one time I ever remember my mother telling someone about his own death was when she read these cards for that outlaw. She predicted he'd be dead in less than four days. The very next night he was shot and killed."

  "Maybe a coincidence," Rafe said quietly, though she could see he didn't really believe so.

  "That's always a possibility, but what I find fascinating is that was also the last reading my mother ever gave. This was her European deck, her favorite. Jace had burned her other set in his father's forge. He was a hellion as a boy."

  "Huh."

  "To spite her for making such a dire prediction, Roy McAllister took my mother's cards and put them with his stolen money in a strongbox. He swore he'd laugh in her face when he went back for his money later and dug her cards up with it." Now Sparkle stopped looking at the formation she'd laid out on the quilt and glanced into Rafe's eyes. "I know why she told him, Rafe. I knew the second I held this deck in my hands. She knew she herself was doomed, too. She'd given her final reading. She was murdered a week later."

  Rafe got off the bunk and backed away from her. "You're talkin' crazy now. Ain't natural for a person to know things like that. I can accept that maybe you get these inklin's or notions…but not like that. Not your own death."

  "But I do know when I'll die," she answered softly. "Shall I tell you where and how? I've known for a long time."

  Rafe vehemently shook his head. "Put them away. They're just painted pictures on paper. I don't want to know when you'll die or how…Why do you think I'm scared about marryin' you? I don't want nothin' to do with it, and I'm terrified I'll be the damned cause!"

  Sparkle's voice was barely above a whisper. "You won't have anything to do with it, because you'll be gone yourself by then. I'll be sickly and frail, over seventy years old. Ready, because I will have been widowed awhile by then, and I'll want so badly to be reunited with you."

  He blinked. "Widowed late in your life?"

  She glanced down. "It seems so."

  "And when you go, you're over seventy? Then how'd I go? Was I—"

  "I'm sorry, this isn't your reading. It's mine. Shall I shuffle again and look? I remember it's natural causes of some kind, but—"

  "You're lyin', Sparkle. Ain't no way I can live to be some wrinkled old coot, die from apoplexy or a bout of consumption. I can't make it that long, not with strangers gunnin' for me."

  "Think back to the first time I read your cards," she replied without rancor. "I only see the future. I don't determine it. Whatever takes you, our children will be grown and have children of their own by then. I'll be living in a big house that sits on a hill or rise. The children and grandchildren bring me back there after we lay you to rest…in a cemetery with a big tree in the middle of it. I can actually see the graveyard from the house, and—"

  He stopped her by abruptly kissing her. "I want to believe all that. Truly, I do. I just don't know if I can."

  She scooped up the cards and pulled him down onto the edge of the bunk, lacing their fingers together. "My mother was beaten to death on her way back from town. The Flowers lived outside Fire Thorn a few miles down a dirt road. She'd finished her laundering and been paid by her customers that week. I started whining because I wanted a dress made from some calico I'd seen at the mercantile. White background with flowers that matched my eyes. She couldn't take the pouting. She went back into town late that day, thinking she'd surprise me."

  "Christ. I'm sorry. That must have—"

  "So you see, I understand some of what you're thinking and feeling now. For a long time, I believed I'd killed her. With my selfishness. I've never liked my eye color or my name since she died. I haven't worn anything turquoise or aqua…until you bought me that beaded dress in Dodge."

  He tilted up her chin. "You could've told me. I would've bought you a different dress. There were plenty in that shop."

  "But you liked that one."

  "Aw, Sparkle." Despite his grumble, he offered a slight grin. The first since he'd come back.

  "It's like your scar."

  "You don't like to talk about what happened, you mean?"

  "No. From the first time I saw your bare chest in my room that night, I thought you made yourself be too concerned about it. I always thought you had a very fine body. The scar's only part of it."

  "You like my body? Well, I can tell sometimes, but from the first you thought that?" When she nodded, he actually colored slightly. "Thanks."

  "But it dawned on me that I'd spent most of my life being the same way over Mother's death. Refusing to wear greenish-blue or hating my eyes can't bring her back. Being so defensive and obsessive was only hurting me, just as feeling rejection over the scar hurts you."

  "Speaking of that, I had a doc take a look at my scar when I went to Kansas City."

  "You went back to see Jace?"

  "Had to apologize for leavin' the way I did that day. Wanted to make peace if we're goin' to be family. I was impressed that the surgeon got him up and walkin', so I thought maybe—"

  "Doctor Kent Barlow? You went to see him, knowing…" Sparkle couldn't believe it. It had never occurred to her that Rafe might do such a thing.

  Rafe at least had the grace to look chastised over the admission. "I had to know if you'd told the truth about havin' a shot at marryin' him."

  Her eyes flew wide. "You actually asked him?" She was mortified.

  "Nope, and I didn't ask how well he knew you. Just said you'd referred me for medical advice. But I could tell he's still sweet on you. When a man flinches at the mere mention of a gal's name, he's got it bad. I should know. Wouldn't let Travis say your name when I thought we'd busted apart for good."

  He squeezed her fingers and looked up into her eyes. "You're sure I got a long time? Sure life with me, however long we got, is what you want?"

  "Oh, yes, "she breathed, bending in to kiss him. "We'll have wedding anniversaries and children together. You like children; I saw that with Kayla. I only hope you don't have your heart set on a brood of ten or twelve."

  "Naw, three or four would be plenty," he chuckled, letting his hands cup her breasts as he continued to kiss and nibble. Then he suddenly stopped. "Christ, we're a pair, ain't we? Me thinkin' I'm ugly cause of my big scar, which the doc
says can't be fixed up any better. The whole time I've known you, I reckoned I didn't deserve a beauty with your incredible eyes. You hatin' the fact you got 'em. Prob'ly wish you were plain and ordinary."

  Now she felt the prick of her own tears. He shook his head, using a thumb to trace her cheek. "Sparkle, you listen to me now. Don't you ever apologize for bein' so pretty. Fact you are makes you all the more precious to me, and come Thursday mornin', you'll see exactly how much."

  "Thursday?" she repeated, trying to read the shift in his eyes. The clouds in them seemed to have parted. Suddenly they were warm again.

  "Our weddin' day. Preacher's comin' out here at eleven."

  "Eleven on Thursday? But you haven't promised to hang up your gun. You know I want that, and after all that's happened—"

  "I know. But it was chasin' rewards you fretted over, right? Me bein' a bounty hunter. You ain't figurin' I'll never use a gun again? Because I can't walk around unarmed. Could trade the peacemaker for a little derringer. I found somethin' not so dangerous to do, out in Denver. Consultin' work."

  "Consulting, and no peacemaker. You'll hang that up and stop hiring out to catch outlaws?"

  He lifted his right palm. "I swear I won't be trailridin' no more. That's best I can do."

  She thought for all of half a second. "Fine, as long as you're not constantly risking your life deliberately…then, I agree. Thursday. But I need to go into town without you before then."

  "Oh…right. Tell Travis to send Randy or Josh Abbott along, and keep that money I sent you. Just have the merchants put whatever you need on the Conley account. I'll settle up later."

  "No, you won't. Because what I want is to buy a special wedding present for you."

  He flushed. "Thought maybe you wanted to pick out a different weddin' dress. I asked you to wear that fancy cream gown with the beads we got in Dodge, but I didn't know then how you felt about clothes matchin' your eyes. You can pick out somethin' else. I'll pay for it."

  She leaned close. "That dress doesn't remind me of my mother. Just you…and the panel crib."

  Just then they heard riders approaching. Travis and the Abbotts bade Rafe good night and drew Sparkle with them through the back door into the main house. Rafe retreated to his cabin. Within an hour or so, the ranch fell quiet. Sparkle had brushed out her hair and donned her nightgown.

  It had been quite an evening. Filled with revelations, like the first time she'd lain with Rafe. He'd opened up the world of sensual delights to her. Tonight she'd returned the favor, opening up a world of future possibilities to him.

  Her conscience wouldn't let sleep come easily. While most of what she'd told him was true, she'd deliberately embellished a bit. More than a bit. She'd had to, she told herself firmly. Just like the showdown he'd described, he'd maneuvered her to where she had no choice. She'd almost lost Rafe so many times. To a horrible misunderstanding. To an assassin's bullet that left him feverish and weak. To his own bitter recriminations. And yet he loved her. She'd always been able to see the love in his eyes. She returned it just as intensely.

  Majesta was right, Sparkle reflected. Every woman needed certain qualities in her mate. Sparkle needed Rafe, maybe all the more for having been raised in a maelstrom of violence. She'd wanted to hide from it, just as she'd hated her eye color. Maybe all these years she'd been looking at that wrong, too.

  She needed Rafe. She wasn't going to lose him. Not now, not ever. She'd lie, steal, cheat…even kill to keep him safe and part of her life. She'd do whatever she had to. Just ask Ned Slocumb.

  * * *

  Tuesday afternoon the Donaldsons burst into the ranch house, filling the parlor with excited chatter. Sparkle had just returned from town less than an hour before, after purchasing Rafe's wedding present. Kayla trotted over and wrapped chubby arms around Sparkle's thighs, lifting a cherubic, smiling face. "Mama says I should call you Auntie now, cause you're marryin' my Uncle Rafe."

  "That's right, sweetie. The day after tomorrow. Then you'll be my niece, too. I'm so happy you're here."

  "Sparkle," Miranda called, beckoning to her. "You've never met my husband, Zachary. Zach, this is Sparkle LaFleur, the young woman who's finally turned my profligate brother's life around."

  "I can see why," Zach responded with a wink. "I must say, you've caused quite a stir in this family, Miss LaFleur. Rafe's an uncommonly fortunate fellow."

  "Your daughter looks just like you," Sparkle noted, glancing back down at Kayla, who still hadn't completely relinquished her hold on Sparkle's skirts. "Kayla, who is that Uncle Travis has over there? A new baby boy? Why, you're a big sister now, aren't you? How nice."

  Kayla glanced at the bundle of blue in Travis' arms and sent her head up, then sharply back down in the emphatic nod of a three-year-old.

  "Skylar's a miniature of Travis," Miranda observed. "I remember Ma saying he and Rafe both looked like our grandfather. I don't remember Grandpa, but there's both Wilmont and Conley blood in Sky. I see our mother around his eyes. I'm not sure what Zach threw into the mix."

  "A sizeable endowment, madam," Zach replied with a straight face. "All us Donaldson men have large endowments."

  Sparkle laughed as Miranda rolled her eyes. "And modesty. If only my son grows up with better manners than the uncouth menfolk around here…Speaking of which, where's Rafe?"

  "Staying in a hotel room in town." Everyone looked at Sparkle as if she'd just announced a new War Between the States. Then she realized they all knew why Rafe had taken a hotel room and found herself blushing. It had to be some sort of record, blushing after doing absolutely nothing with Rafe.

  "Well, er…I think we better get you folks situated," Travis said. "Zach, you and Miranda can take the Abbotts' room."

  "I don't want to displace your foreman, Travis," Zach argued mildly. " Don't mind if Rannie misplaces a mare, though. What do you think, honey, want to try out sleeping in a stall on some hay?" He waggled his brows at her suggestively.

  Travis barked out a laugh. "Naw. You and Rannie take the Abbotts' bed. They'll use Rafe's cabin temporarily. Now that Miz Abbott spent two days scrubbin' out the place, it's habitable. Expect you'll bunk Sky out there with you. Sparkle's stayin' in the guest bedroom. Maybe Kayla can sleep with her…" His voice trailed off as Zach carried the luggage down the hall behind his wife and brother-in-law.

  Sparkle told Kayla an elaborate bedtime story, then settled down for the night early herself. She was the first one dressed and into the kitchen the next morning. She rolled up her sleeves and borrowed Mrs. Abbott's apron from its peg, smiling as she set to firing up the stove and making coffee.

  She'd learned a good deal about cooking and running a home in the weeks Rafe had been gone, but this was the first time she attempted preparation of an entire meal alone. She usually baked biscuits or helped with some of the dishes, but felt she was up to tackling a full breakfast.

  When Travis came through the back door—Sparkle suspected he'd already awakened and gone out to check his spread—she had a fresh pot of coffee ready. A tower of hotcakes with syrup and platter of fried bacon already graced the table. Mrs. Abbott had taken trays of food out to the bunkhouse for the men. Travis looked pleasantly surprised.

  "Mornin', Sparkle. You're turnin' into some cook. You sure you don't want to stay on here? Maybe marry me instead?"

  "Coveting thy brother's wife already, Travis?" Miranda asked as she wandered in, her hair in disarray. She gave the air an appreciative sniff. "Bacon. Bacon I didn't have to cook? Marvelous." Sparkle gave her a sympathetic smile, noticing the milky stains on Miranda's shoulder. It seemed Skylar had just returned part of his breakfast.

  "You look like a wreck, Rannie," Travis noted.

  "That's because there's no such thing as Mother Nature, Travis. If a female being ruled the natural world, she would have put teats on the male of the species and let you fellas get up during the night."

  "Boy, havin' babies sure makes a gal grumpy," Travis informed Sparkle. "She could take a joke before
."

  Kayla bounced in just ahead of her father, and soon the table was cluttered with forks and plates. The juice pitcher shuttled back and forth between compliments to the cook. A loud thumping sounded at the front door. Travis got to his feet, frowning. "Wonder who the hell that could be. Everybody around these parts knows I don't bolt my door. The locals just barge right in."

  He went to the door and Sparkle waited, but the conversation was too hushed to carry into the kitchen. She peeked into the front room and let out a squeal. "Jace! Majesta. I didn't know you were coming."

  Travis stepped aside, or Sparkle would have plowed into him in her rush to embrace the couple crossing the threshold. "More kinfolk. Looks like I'm movin' to the bunkhouse," he muttered.

  "Or the barn with your mares," Miranda chided.

  "You're just in time for breakfast," Travis announced, ignoring his sister's taunt. "Sparkle's showin' off her new kitchen skills." He moved ahead to round up more chairs.

  Sparkle took Jace's arm and led him into the kitchen. "Let me make introductions. You met Travis, Rafe's brother. This is Zachary Donaldson and his wife, Miranda. She's Rafe's older sister. That's their little girl, Kayla. They have a new baby, too, but he's asleep. Everyone, this is…" She colored and whispered in Jace's ear. "I don't know what to say you are."

  He squared his shoulders and spoke for her. "My name's Jace LaFleur. Sparkle's my adopted sister. She's the only relative of sorts I've got. I couldn't be more proud of her, or love her any more if we truly were blood kin. And I'll prove it, by risking her cooking."

  "Jace!" Majesta squawked.

  "Oh, and this fine woman—who's reminding me I've just managed to embarrass her in the first five minutes here—is my wife, Majesta."

  Everyone laughed and adjusted positions as two more chairs were crowded in around the table. For Sparkle, the breakfast was an amazing thing to behold. She hardly ate herself, too preoccupied with watching the camaraderie develop before her eyes. The immediacy of the bonding was something she hadn't expected. The Donaldsons and LaFleurs hit it off at once.