Read Online The Trailrider's Fortune by Shannah Biondine - Free Book Online
Authors: Shannah Biondine
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your guns into the dirt. Try to be some pumpkins,
Barker'll be nothin' but a pair of bowed legs without a place to hang his
hat."
"Good seein'
you again, too," Barker sneered as he gingerly set his pistol down.
"You're makin' a mistake now, Conley. This sorrel's mine. Bought him
yesterday from a rancher."
"What's his
name?"
Barker shrugged.
"Hell if I know. Didn't give a crap. Fella just sold me the horse."
The Poe twin leading Snatch was unarmed. His brother made no move to put down
his pistol.
"Not the
rancher," Rafe drawled. "The horse . If he's yours, you must
call him somethin'."
"What's it to
you, what I call my horse?"
"Nothin'. But
that sorrel ain't yours, he's mine . I can prove it." Without
shifting his gaze, Rafe spoke to the animal. "Snatch, johnnycakes ."
The horse reared
and kicked viciously at the man holding his reins. Pandemonium broke out. By
the time Art Thompson and the marshal arrived, a group of local vigilantes were
gathered at the livery, threatening to string up the horse thieves. The young stable
hand who'd been on duty had been knocked unconscious by the twins, and finally
came back to his senses. Barker sat bleeding from the bullet Rafe sent through
his shoulder. After giving his statement to the two lawmen and making certain
Snatch was safely back in a stall, Rafe reluctantly agreed to visit the
doctor's surgery.
The town was abuzz
with the news of a shoot-out and the valiant gunman who'd been taken with the stable
boy to Dr. Stone's surgery. Swanie Johnson swore he'd been at Doc Stone's and
witnessed the gunslinger's refusal to be treated until after the doctor saw to
the youth. Then the stalwart fellow had given the stable boy a gold eagle and
sent him to find some johnnycakes, instructing him to feed them to the star
sorrel. He politely tipped his hat to the lad and ordered him to keep two cakes
and any money left for himself.
Sparkle heard the
gossip at the depot as she disembarked. The train butch and baggage handlers
were talking to some men about the ruckus at the livery. Apparently, the
episode had occurred less than an hour before. She found her bag and began
walking briskly toward the saloon, grimacing at the thought that Benton Frazer
would be agog like the rest of the men in town. As if trailheads weren't the
rowdiest places on the prairie.
Frazer barked at
her as soon as she stepped through the swinging doors. "Your husband's
been shot in some hubbub. He's over at Doc Stone's surgery."
She dropped her
satchel, numbly realizing the man everyone had been talking about was Rafe
Conley. "How bad is he?"
"Hell, I don't
know. But I'm telling you right now, LaFleur—excuse me, Conley —you can't
have another night off. I don't care if he's dyin'. You been out a week. Go see
what's up, then get your behind back here right quick."
Sparkle dashed the
few blocks to Dr. Stone's, fighting a stitch in her side by the time she
stumbled through the door. "Doctor? It's…Mrs. Conley."
"Back
here."
She followed the
voice to a small room, where Rafe sat calmly on a table watching the doctor
suture his upper arm. "He's lost some blood and a small section of
muscle." The doctor never looked up from his task. "Bullet missed the
bone, thankfully. If you can keep it from suppurating, he should be fine.
Provided no one else tries to steal his horse." Dr. Stone gave Sparkle a
look of wry amusement.
She moved closer to
the table, and felt her throat go dry.
"Hey,
darlin'," Rafe smiled in greeting, reaching for her just in time. Her
knees started to buckle. "Whoa! Got some smellin' salts handy, Doc? She's
lookin' kind of pale. Probably the sight of blood."
Sparkle steadied
herself, gripping Rafe' s good forearm. Some dim part of her mind wondered why
he'd bothered to put his hat back on. He was sitting there naked from the waist
up, and his denims were stained deep crimson in several places. He did indeed look
like a man who'd just been in a gun battle.
"I'm all
right," she mumbled. "It just
Barker'll be nothin' but a pair of bowed legs without a place to hang his
hat."
"Good seein'
you again, too," Barker sneered as he gingerly set his pistol down.
"You're makin' a mistake now, Conley. This sorrel's mine. Bought him
yesterday from a rancher."
"What's his
name?"
Barker shrugged.
"Hell if I know. Didn't give a crap. Fella just sold me the horse."
The Poe twin leading Snatch was unarmed. His brother made no move to put down
his pistol.
"Not the
rancher," Rafe drawled. "The horse . If he's yours, you must
call him somethin'."
"What's it to
you, what I call my horse?"
"Nothin'. But
that sorrel ain't yours, he's mine . I can prove it." Without
shifting his gaze, Rafe spoke to the animal. "Snatch, johnnycakes ."
The horse reared
and kicked viciously at the man holding his reins. Pandemonium broke out. By
the time Art Thompson and the marshal arrived, a group of local vigilantes were
gathered at the livery, threatening to string up the horse thieves. The young stable
hand who'd been on duty had been knocked unconscious by the twins, and finally
came back to his senses. Barker sat bleeding from the bullet Rafe sent through
his shoulder. After giving his statement to the two lawmen and making certain
Snatch was safely back in a stall, Rafe reluctantly agreed to visit the
doctor's surgery.
The town was abuzz
with the news of a shoot-out and the valiant gunman who'd been taken with the stable
boy to Dr. Stone's surgery. Swanie Johnson swore he'd been at Doc Stone's and
witnessed the gunslinger's refusal to be treated until after the doctor saw to
the youth. Then the stalwart fellow had given the stable boy a gold eagle and
sent him to find some johnnycakes, instructing him to feed them to the star
sorrel. He politely tipped his hat to the lad and ordered him to keep two cakes
and any money left for himself.
Sparkle heard the
gossip at the depot as she disembarked. The train butch and baggage handlers
were talking to some men about the ruckus at the livery. Apparently, the
episode had occurred less than an hour before. She found her bag and began
walking briskly toward the saloon, grimacing at the thought that Benton Frazer
would be agog like the rest of the men in town. As if trailheads weren't the
rowdiest places on the prairie.
Frazer barked at
her as soon as she stepped through the swinging doors. "Your husband's
been shot in some hubbub. He's over at Doc Stone's surgery."
She dropped her
satchel, numbly realizing the man everyone had been talking about was Rafe
Conley. "How bad is he?"
"Hell, I don't
know. But I'm telling you right now, LaFleur—excuse me, Conley —you can't
have another night off. I don't care if he's dyin'. You been out a week. Go see
what's up, then get your behind back here right quick."
Sparkle dashed the
few blocks to Dr. Stone's, fighting a stitch in her side by the time she
stumbled through the door. "Doctor? It's…Mrs. Conley."
"Back
here."
She followed the
voice to a small room, where Rafe sat calmly on a table watching the doctor
suture his upper arm. "He's lost some blood and a small section of
muscle." The doctor never looked up from his task. "Bullet missed the
bone, thankfully. If you can keep it from suppurating, he should be fine.
Provided no one else tries to steal his horse." Dr. Stone gave Sparkle a
look of wry amusement.
She moved closer to
the table, and felt her throat go dry.
"Hey,
darlin'," Rafe smiled in greeting, reaching for her just in time. Her
knees started to buckle. "Whoa! Got some smellin' salts handy, Doc? She's
lookin' kind of pale. Probably the sight of blood."
Sparkle steadied
herself, gripping Rafe' s good forearm. Some dim part of her mind wondered why
he'd bothered to put his hat back on. He was sitting there naked from the waist
up, and his denims were stained deep crimson in several places. He did indeed look
like a man who'd just been in a gun battle.
"I'm all
right," she mumbled. "It just
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