The Trailrider's Fortune by Shannah Biondine Page A

Hoffman shot my uncle in cold blood and got off. The very next
year, he gunned down someone else. Then folks decided they'd made a mistake.
Too late for my family."
    "As I said,
I'm sorry." Sparkle abruptly gathered up the cards and rose to leave.
"I'm not going to help you kill someone in a vendetta. God will judge
him."
    Rafe bolted off his
seat. "You don't agree that acquittal was unfair? How would you know, if
you weren't at the trial?"
    "I don't
care," she answered slowly. "I've seen things happen, Rafe. Some of
them cruel and unjust. But it's not for us to judge others, and I truly can't
see a given person's whereabouts, anyway."
    "Sparkle,
listen. You got lots of folks passin' through this town. Cowhands, drifters,
homesteaders come from the East, all manner of strangers. Someone might know
Dan Hoffman, used to ride with an outlaw named Slade. You could ask, let me
know what you hear."
    "I won't do
that, either. You don't expect to live very long. Why? Because you were just
shot. Because you're out for blood. You live violently, which can only lead to
dying the same way. Don't ask me to help you get more blood on your
hands."
    "It's my choice, ain't it? Don't I got the right to choose how I live, same as you or
anybody else? You know what I do, but you ain't got to hold with it. What gives
you the right to decide how I should live my life? You live like a
sleazy, two-bit whore."
    "A minute ago
you were ready to push Mr. Malloy's face into the dirt for talking like that.
You know, I actually thought you were different, Rafe. That underneath all that
harshness…Oh, what's the point? I've got to get back to work." She pulled
up the hood of her cloak and moved to the edge of the porch.
    "Sparkle, hold
on. I'm sorry. Please, will you just ask some of the men about Hoffman for
me?"
    "No."
    His whole
expression changed, turning rock hard. "Thought you were different,
too." He pulled a fistful of gold eagles from his jeans pocket.
"Here, I'll pay you! You owe me somethin', Miz Conley . Since
the first day we met in the street. Bought you that gold ring. Paid your
son-of-a-bitch boss not to give you a hard time. He's gone easier on you,
hasn't he? Only cost me a hundred dollars."
    "You paid
Frazer a hundred dollars?" she snorted. "Are you insane? My rent's
only twenty a month."
    Sparkle could
easily imagine such extortion from Benton Frazer. But Rafe was no imbecile or
green dandy fresh off the train from back East. He must have believed he stood
to gain form the transaction. You owe me somethin', Miz Conley . Then she
remembered. Humans were just another commodity to Rafe Conley. He traded in
their hides.
    "You're an
idiot, Rafe."
    "Yeah,
beginnin' to see that myself. You don't admire me or what I do, but you sure
admire the fearsome reputation that goes with it. Don't pretend you don't know
what I'm sayin'. Saw the damned card that sums us up, the one called STRENGTH,
with a pretty gal pettin' a lion. I'm just some animal you like havin' around
cause I frighten everybody else away. Like totin' your own peacemaker, without
havin' to worry about it goin' off and shootin' you in the foot."
    She clucked her
tongue. "Please."
    "But I ain't
supposed to lay a hand on you, or expect nothin' from you in return. You're
lookin' for somebody a whole lot finer than some scarred-up, ugly freelance
gun, ain't that right?"
    "You're
ridiculous. I—"
    "Nope, I'm
honest," he growled, grabbing her and pulling her close. Their faces were
mere inches apart. "I admit I want somethin' from you. I don't play like I
just want to be your friend," he simpered. "We ain't friends ,
Sparkle. I want what any man would want, to screw you. So bad I can taste it,
even while standin' here arguin'. Why the hell did I kiss you that very first
mornin'? Why'd I ask about goin' upstairs? You know how it is, but you won't
let it happen, cause you figure you're too good for the likes of me."
    "Rafe, let me
go."
    "Hell,
wouldn't want my dirty hands on you, would you?