The Trailrider's Fortune (5 page)

Sparkle sank to her
knees. Rafe thought she might pass out. He took a step toward her. She
instantly dropped her gaze, her cheeks stained a deep crimson.

He knew that
reaction, too. "Don't feel bad for gawkin' or what you said before. You're
embarrassed, but hell, you didn't know. I
should
have a hairy chest like
other men, instead of just a big ugly scar. Let's both be honest."

She gave him a
questioning look.

"You ain't the
sort of gal who can lie with any success, or I wouldn't be up here." He
kept his voice soft. "I look like a stick of dynamite went off in the
middle of me. I'm hard on a gal's eyes. I know it."

Sparkle recovered
enough to blow out the lamp. She crept back under the covers. There was an
awkward silence before she finally spoke. "You're lucky to be alive."

Rafe's soft drawl
told her he was still where she'd last seen him. The image of the horrible weal
of angry scar tissue hovered in her mind's eye. "Yeah, plumb lucky,"
he replied. "That's what the doc said when he patched me back together.
Course, it ain't him walkin' around like a freak of nature."

Sparkle sat up and
forced herself to take a deep breath. "Your recovery must have been
terribly painful and lengthy. My brother was badly injured years ago, and he's
never been the same. He's in a wheelchair. People stare at him, too. I don't
think they intend to be cruel. They're just curious. I'm sorry I hurt your
feelings."

Rafe's throat went
dry. He stuck with saloons and women he could pay for sex. Even so, he'd met
with reluctance. There were plenty of men in cow towns. A whore could always
find another customer—one who was normal.

But instead of
making him feel self-conscious, this woman was calmly talking about the pain of
being different. Sparkle, the proud and pretty little queen, understood how it
felt to be shunned.
She understood
.

Holy Jesus. Could
she also be telling the truth about being a virgin? He eased onto the mattress,
stretching out on top of the covers. He tried to take up as little of the bed
as possible.

"It gets
pretty cold in here," she whispered. "I don't have an extra blanket.
You're either going to need your shirt back on, or you'll have to get under the
covers."

"Hey…were you
gummin' me? Am I really the first man who's been in a bed with you?" There
was a long silence. "I mean, I understand you don't want me to touch you,
especially now that you've seen the scar."

"It's not
that." Her voice sounded funny. Strained. "Rafe, I'm eighteen and
greener than you ever were. Naturally, I've heard the other girls talk. That's
all I know about intimate things. From some of what they say, I'm not sure I
want to ever
do
them." She practically shuddered on those last
words.

Rafe had heard too
many lies not to recognize bald truth. He'd heard lies from whores who
pretended he was the best. Lies from wanted men who swore they'd been framed.
"Well, I'm sorry the first man in your bed has to be an ugly cuss with a
deformity."

Now she laughed,
but there was no rancor in it. The sound was light and actually warmed him in
the cool room. "It's not as though you've got three heads growing out of
your neck. It's just a scar, Rafe. Everyone has them. I've got one on my left
ankle from skinning it on a fence when I was a little girl."

"
Just a
scar
? Bring one of the other gals in to take a gander and ask what she'd
charge me. It's just a scar, but anytime I let a gal see it—"

"Rafe,
I've
just seen it."

He groaned and
rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. Yeah, she'd just seen it. And she
wasn't upset. Typical of his luck. The only woman who hadn't made him feel
ashamed of his nakedness in years, and she had to be a virgin.

Now he was ashamed
that she might discover the stiff brandin' iron in his jeans. She had him tied
in a knot. He'd thought she was amazing from the second he laid eyes on her.
Her shiny hair, her fierce pride, those damned gorgeous eyes…

Talking with her,
smelling the clean, flowery scent of her room and her body, he wanted her more
than ever. He was about to burst from it, and there was no way she'd
understand. She'd just hate him for it.

He silently cursed.
What kind of jackass promises a saloon gal he won't lay a hand on her? Rafe
fervently wished he'd kept his big trap shut. Wished he could just hold her,
feel her softness close beside him and be able to tell himself that one pretty
woman—a woman he hadn't paid to do it—had seen him shirtless and hadn't turned
away from the horror.

Sparkle
misunderstood his groan. "If any of the girls here would shun you because
of your scar, I'd tell then outright that's more shameful than anything they've
ever done. No one has the right to make you feel bad over something that was a
horrible ordeal."

"Sparkle,"
he said in a rough voice, "do me a big favor. Stop tryin' to be nice.
Ain't comfortable talkin' about this."

They lay in the
darkness for what seemed like an hour, neither speaking, neither asleep. Every
nerve on fire, each far too aware the other was still awake. Finally Rafe
released a long exhale. "This ain't workin' out, is it?"

"Because
you're angry. You probably think I should have thanked you for staying here and
keeping up the lie. Instead, I insulted you. I barely know you. I should have
realized you wouldn't want to talk about something so personal."

"You didn't
insult me. You're the first gal in a long time who hasn't."

"So why are
you angry?"

"I ain't.
Well, maybe a little. Hell, I don't know. Why can't you just go to sleep like
you would if I wasn't here?"

"Because you
are
!"
she snapped. "And you're tense, and I can feel it, even though I don't
know why if you're not angry."

A deep chuckle
filled the room. "If you don't know why a man lyin' in a bed beside a
pretty gal would be tense, you must be one pure virgin."

Sparkle's cheeks
instantly flamed. "Sorry. That was stupid, wasn't it? I don't know
anything clever to say. I've never been one of those flirty sorts who charms
men. I don't know how to act alone with one. I mean, if I'm not telling his
fortune."

"You don't
need to be flirty," he replied in his easy drawl. "You talked with me
and that was fine. I'd be obliged if you'd let me put my arms around you. Part
of the problem is it's damned unnatural, tryin' to sleep when you're so worried
you might move and the other person will think it means somethin'. Be easier if
we each knew where the other one was. Then we could stop fussin' about
it."

"Maybe so. But
you're not going to kiss me," she cautioned, her voice shaky.

"Somethin'
wrong with the way I kiss, too?"

"Nothing's
wrong with it. You're quite good at it. When we're both standing on our feet in
the light of day, it's fine. But I don't think it's a good idea to let you kiss
me here in the dark. Not a good idea at all."

He moved closer and
wrapped an arm around her waist. "Expect you know your own mind." He
grinned in the dark room. Nothing was wrong with his kissing. Everything was
right
with it. She didn't trust herself to let him. Interesting.

The grin faded as
he realized any hope he'd entertained of taming the monster between his legs
was gone. He was both blessed and cursed by being allowed to hold her. She felt
wonderful in his arms. So tender and soft. She smelled like lavender water.
Christ. He decided to concentrate on his next bounty. Money was a safe thing to
ponder. He kept on pondering about his next case until they both fell asleep.

* * *

Rafe became dimly
aware it was morning. He was lying on his side with a piss proud jabbing
uncomfortably at the fly of his jeans. He'd never been a man who favored
drawers beneath his denims. Sometimes the creased fabric made the head of his
shaft sore. He was used to waking like this after sleeping all night on the
trail. He rolled onto his back and was startled to feel something peculiar and
warm on his chest.

The something was
moving. His eyes flew open. He was momentarily disoriented, finding he wasn't
in his bedroll on the ground, but in a hotel room. A woman slept on her stomach
next to him.

The warm thing on
his chest felt almost ticklish, though he couldn't say for sure what the
sensation was. Most of the nerve endings in his chest were deadened since the
stabbing. Some of what he detected, the doctors said, was like when a man had
his arm or leg hacked off, but still thought it itched. Phantom something. Rafe
never listened too closely to that part of the doctors' explanations. He just
knew his skin deceived him. Sometimes he felt things that weren't there. Other
times he didn't feel things that were.

He lifted the
blanket and discovered the woman's hand rested on his scar. Her fingers were
moving ever so slightly, stroking the hardened central ridge where the Bowie's
blade had cut deepest. The girl murmured something as Rafe's fingers closed
over hers, quieting them. His nostrils caught the faint scent of lavender. He
blinked.

Something about
that scent and the shiny hair was familiar. He knew this gal.

Odd. He rarely
slept with women he knew. He generally took care of his needs, then left the
whore to her next customer. And he slept naked when indoors. So why was his
cock jabbin' his jeans?

Then everything
came back in a rush. He'd spent the night with Sparkle, the fortune teller.
This was her bed. It was Sparkle touching him intimately in a place no woman
ever wanted to caress. Rafe recalled pangs of jealousy when he'd seen Mary
Ellen Swanson lay a dainty hand on his brother's chest at a social, thinking
that simple gesture was forbidden to older brother Rafe.

But here was
Sparkle, still sound asleep, touching him that way. Gently. With trust and
reassurance oozing from her fingertips. Rafe wasn't wearing his shirt, and this
gal knew the monstrosity underneath her hand. She'd gotten a good look last
night.

It was damned hard
not to wrap his arms around her right then and kiss her. Harder still not to
move her hand down a foot to the swollen piss proud, a genuine arousal now for
all the right reasons. Rafe knew he was crazy for risking it, but somehow he
couldn't keep from pressing his lips to her hair.

And then to her
temple and soft cheek. When she opened those clear turquoise eyes, not the
least filmy or bloodshot from sleep, Rafe bent closer and kissed her lips.

The kiss was slow
and gentle. Carnal, but he didn't kiss her with urgency. She wouldn't have
sighed and met his tongue with her own if he'd frightened her by being
demanding. When he finally broke away to look down into her eyes, her voice was
scratchy. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"Not in the
dark, you said. It's mornin'."

"Yes,"
she sighed. "And now I have to face the others. I won't be able to bear
the supercilious look Frazer's bound to have on his fat face."

"Be back
directly." Rafe gathered his shirt and gunbelt before slipping out of the
room. Sparkle used the opportunity to dress. He was back a few minutes later.
"Sparkle, I been ponderin' our situation. Always do my best thinkin' when
nature calls." She smiled at that revelation, but his tone was solemn.
"Reckon I better buy you a weddin' ring."

She was certain she
couldn't have heard correctly. "A wedding ring?" He nodded. She
violently shook her head. "Rafe, the joke's gone far enough. Too far
already."

"Remember how
you said Frazer would react if he found out we lied? I think you're right.
Don't know why you're here at all, unless you need the job and money badly. You
explained part of it last night, but what you ain't explained is how your pa or
your brother can let you do this."

"My parents
are dead. And I told you, my brother's an invalid. He's why I need the money.
We have a small house in Kansas City. I have to pay the taxes, buy firewood and
matches, candles, and food. Because I can't be there with him, I also have a
nurse to pay. Someday I'll get out of saloons. Just now, I don't have much
choice."

"Then it's
best you go on callin' yourself Miz Conley and start wearin' my ring. Let's get
somethin' to eat across town. Saw a place I can buy you a cheap weddin'
band."

"Rafe, you
don't want to do this," she protested softly as he led her out of the
Scarlet Lady and down the street.

"Sure I do.
I'm hungry."

"I don't mean
that. You should buy a ring because you love the woman. I told you the cards
say you'll marry one day. You shouldn't buy a wedding ring for a lie."

He didn't say
anything. He just tucked her arm through his and strolled along the sidewalk,
down a few blocks to a small restaurant. After the meal, he crossed to a pawn
shop and bought the cheapest gold band the pawnbroker had in his case. Sparkle
didn't react when Rafe slid it onto her finger. He led her back outside and
donned his gray felt hat.

"Got to head
out, darlin'. Don't know when I'll be back up this way."