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

and took up her post at the
fortune-telling table.
    She hoped a
customer would come up quickly to distract her. She didn't want to face the
thoughts running through her mind just now. She wished she couldn't hear her
mother saying cryptic words about Indians. She wished at that moment that Eliza
Cummings had never spent time in Europe or met the Italian strege, or
witch woman, who taught her about tarot and helped developed Eliza's second
sight. And in particular, far above everything else, Sparkle vehemently wished
she hadn't understood exactly what Samson Parker had come to tell her.
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    Travis Conley was
two inches taller than his older brother and even leaner. His legs reminded
Rafe of a woodstove's flue pipe. Nineteen and positive he already knew
everything, Travis was used to bossing other men around and accustomed to his
men—most years older than Travis—following orders without question. The bluster
wasn't working on Rafe, though. He smoothed the saddle blanket and tightened
the cinch on his sorrel, barely acknowledging his brother's anger.
    "You know,
Trav, I don't get what the gals see in you sometimes." Rafe stepped past
Travis to lift his bedroll. "Might have Pa's looks, but you got his cranky
disposition too."
    "Rafe, you
know damned well I was countin' on you to stay on at least until March. You
never leave this early. If I'd known you'd be headin' out so soon, I wouldn't
have let three hands go this winter."
    "Your
bunkhouse ain't empty."
    "No, your
damned head is! There's still more than a foot of snow out there."
    "Should've
seen somebody in Wichita before I came this time, but I never made it. Got
sidetracked with Henry Tate Watkins. If I don't go to Wichita now, body's
liable to think I ain't never comin' back that way."
    " Body's liable to think?" Travis repeated, snorting in disgust. "A damned filly .
That's what you mean. You're leavin' me shorthanded to chase some skirt?"
    "Maybe. So
maybe you can understand why I'm itchin' to get out. Been holed up in the cabin
for weeks. Don't go to them dances and social like you, little brother."
    "You're shorter,
Rafe, and probably weigh less than I do. You're the little brother now. And
there's no reason you can't go into town with me. Hell, if it's companionship,
I can—"
    "No gal at
them town socials is hankerin' after the likes of me. This spread and every
other's crawlin' with menfolk. A woman round here can take her pick. Not by a
jugful am I lettin' you drag me to one of them barn dances, so I can watch
while the gals make eyes at you and Mick Keenan. Don't belong in no boiled
shirt at the meetin' hall."
    "The gals
don't know you got a scar under your shirt."
    "Ain't my
scar. Just time to mosey."
    "Saloon cats
givin' their payin' customers orders now, huh? You really got someone to see,
or is it a case of the French pox?"
    Rafe's right hand
balled into a fist. "You'll always be the little brother, Travis. I can
still whip you, so watch your tongue."
    "I know you're
never with any but rented gals. This painted cat…"
    "She ain't a
whore," Rafe insisted. "She works in a saloon, I grant you, but she's
a pretty waiter gal. She had some trouble, so I…we started puttin' on like
she's my wife."
    "Your wife ?
Jesus! You got a soiled dove in the family way?" Travis visibly winced.
    "I just told
you, she ain't no soiled dove. And she ain't expectin', just claimin' we're
married so she won't have to fight with the saloonkeeper about whorin'."
    "Great. She's
not some pregnant harlot. Just a sneak and a liar who favors the notion of
bein' hitched to a mercenary. Sounds like a slice of pure heaven."
    Rafe ignored the
sarcasm. "Screw you, Travis. All I tried to do was saddle Snatch and get
out. Don't remember invitin' your big nose into my life. But as long as we're
on the subject, the gal asked where she could get in touch with me. I told her
she could write me here. You hear from a gal named Sparkle, let Zach know. He
or Miranda usually know where