The Trailrider's Fortune by Shannah Biondine Read Free Book Online

off he heard the
distinctive dry sound of a rattler. He looked for the snake, but couldn’t spot
it amid the loose sand and rocks. Snatch danced back a few paces and suddenly
the rattlesnake struck at the horse. The fangs missed, but Snatch had pulled
his leg avoiding the strike.
    Now Rafe would be
holed up outside Tulsa for several days. He paid the horse doctor to tend and
stable his animal, then set out on foot to look for lodging. He found a hotel
with a clean room and a hot bath. He stripped down and lowered himself into the
steaming tub. His tensions ebbed as a tremor ran through his body—both from the
delicious heat of the water and Sparkle's caution to him when he'd left
Wichita. Could she really have the gift?
    It certainly seemed
possible, or Snatch almost being bitten by a rattler had been one hell of a
coincidence.
    It was late summer.
Rafe had some unfinished business here in Oklahoma, another fella to see down
in Texas. He'd be headed up through Kansas by mid-autumn. Maybe he'd stop in
Wichita and see Sparkle again. She might be able to tell him something about Dan
Hoffman, the one man Rafe had hunted without success for years.
    Rafe closed his
eyes and soaked, letting his head loll against the tub rim as he thought again
about Sparkle's aquamarine eyes and shiny hair. The smell of lavender, the way
she'd fit so perfectly within the circle of his arms. He'd slept like a baby,
cuddled against her in that soft bed. Then awakened to find her fingers on his
scar.
    The water was
steaming hot, heating his blood. Making his thoughts turn carnal. Sparkle.
Dainty fingers on his bare chest. God, he'd wanted to feel her hands on the
rest of his body. Wanted her to close her fingers around his length and stroke
it as she had the scar tissue on his chest. Even now he felt the ache of need,
lustful want.
    Hell, it wasn't
Hoffman or a need for information. Rafe could make that excuse to see her
again, but that's all it was—an excuse. He wanted to see Sparkle because she
was in his blood. He'd ridden away before and forgotten most of the females he
left behind. But not this one. He wanted to kiss Sparkle again, wanted her in
bed again.
    She liked him,
maybe more than a little. She'd asked how to get a message to him. When had a
woman other than his sister or ma ever given a rat's ass about Rafe Conley? But
that didn't mean Sparkle felt like he did.
    He told himself not
to lose sight of that. She was unsullied, despite working in saloons. Men were
after her all the time. Fellas like that Brooks. Probably dozens of men like
him, maybe a hundred drifters like Rafe himself. She wasn't intimate with any
of them. Which meant there could be a damned good reason:  like she was sweet
on somebody or some man already had a claim. But if so, why wasn't he takin' care of her, so she didn't need to work in a saloon? Why wasn't she
settled down with him, sleepin' beside him, with her hand on his bare chest?
    Rafe didn't like
the image of her that way with anyone else. There couldn't be anybody in
Wichita, or she wouldn't have asked him to play her charade. Her boss wouldn't
have tossed her out if some fella would get wind of it and march into the
saloon to punch him in the mouth.
    Sparkle wouldn't be
the ice queen if she had a man available to protect her.
    The more Rafe
thought on it, the more he felt baffled by the whole business. One thing he knew
for sure, though. Sparkle LaFleur was gnawing a hole deep inside his chest—and
this one would take more than some half-drunk country doctor's stitchin' to
close up.
     
    * * *
     
    Sparkle wasn't
surprised to find the gold band and Frazer's tales had a definite effect on
customers. She was busy as ever, telling fortunes and hustling drinks, but the
men no longer asked to dance with her. Whatever Deputy Thompson or Rafe himself
had divulged, Frazer had embellished the stories. Now Rafe Conley's exploits
were beyond bold, to practically legendary.
    The man himself was
conspicuously absent.