Out of the corner of his eye, Seth gave her a cocky wink and then turned his full attention to the host. “Alfred, please show us to a table.” The tone of his words sliced coolly through the silence like a filet knife cutting through flesh.
Alfred began to fidget. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Swallowing hard, the host lifted his chin another inch. Finding a point to stare at over Seth’s right shoulder, Alfred set his mouth in a thin line.
“Why may I ask is that?” Celia imitated Alfred’s haughty expression. Oh, yes, today was certainly one for confrontations. Celia took in the fact all eyes in the dining hall were on them and the patrons had grown hushed. Small town gossip, Celia mused. This little standoff would be fodder for the local gossips for days to come.
Seth broke the silence. “Alfred.” He drew the man’s name out on his tongue. “I believe the young lady asked you a question.”
Celia liked the way his voice resounded with authority. His challenge was clear. She appreciated his support. Apparently, no one was backing down.
Alfred’s nose wrinkled briefly with disdain. He never met her eyes as he uttered his next words with dry contempt. “Madam, I’m afraid this establishment has a policy of not serving Indians.”
They may as well have been vermin. Vermin always needed removing, Celia mused. With the blood, pumping in her ears Celia’s eyebrows flew up in exasperation. “Of all the nerve…” She made a show of fanning her face in agitation.
Alfred actually flinched, and then gave every indication he would run given half a chance head start.
Celia clamped her hands on her hips and stood up as straight as possible. “I suppose you’ve never heard of the Taylor-Bryant Treaty of 1856?”
Their reluctant host opened his mouth, but then shut it again.
Armed with her most proper English, Celia pounced. “Would you like me to contact the Fort and have the Major explain the finer points of the treaty to you?” Another beat passed as she tapped her slender booted foot. “I’m sure the Fort commander would be happy to enlighten you on your obligations and responsibilities as it pertains to Indians like us. Don’t you agree, Broken Horse?”
“Indeed.” Her cousin’s deep voice resounded with finality.
Alfred flinched when Broken Horse leaned in. “Show us to a table.”
Satisfied, Celia folded her gloved hands and waited. Having to keep the smirk off her lips was difficult. Alfred’s gaze ran right and then left as if seeking assistance. He tugged viciously at his starched white collar. Staring imploringly at Seth and then Claudette before dropping his eyes to the menus on the sideboard, Alfred swallowed hard. He desperately searched the hall for another employee, but none appeared.
It didn’t escape Celia’s cool gaze the host’s pallor had grown even whiter than before. Good!
Finally, without anyone coming to his aid, Alfred admitted defeat by unhooking the velvet rope from its brass pole and ushering them in.
Claudette took Broken Horse’s arm and preceded Celia and Seth to their table. “Well, that was exciting,” she said to the room at large. “We’ll have to eat out more often, won’t we Seth?”
The cool glance Seth gave her rolled off like water. Was she oblivious to what had transpired? Celia glanced at Broken Horse but gained no idea as to his opinion of her statement. Unwilling to offer any affirmation to Claudette’s babbling, Celia concentrated on arranging her suit in the tiny wooden chair and remained quiet.
After the waiter took their drink orders, Broken Horse leaned close to Celia. “You realize there is no such treaty.”
Unable to contain the genuine satisfaction she felt at having gained a small victory for her “kind”, Celia gave him a wicked grin before answering. “Really? Well, wherever did I get that silly notion then?” She shook her head gently as her words dripped with the warm southern belle dialect she’d mimicked so many times back east. She batted her eyelashes dramatically for her cousin while the corners of her mouth curled upward in a triumphant little smile. Broken Horse and Claudette’s laughter floated around them as Celia placed the napkin primly in her lap and concentrated on perusing the menu.
From across the table, she noted Seth shift his silverware and looked up in time to catch a glimpse of steely-blue eyes staring hard at her. He’d said nothing since they’d settled. It needled her she would’ve enjoyed some kind of reaction from him as well. Then from those dark blue eyes, Celia saw the briefest of flickers, something akin to admiration in his depths? The slight curve of her lips was the only sign she’d noticed the brief response. A small tingle of warmth spread through her. If the fates were with her, perhaps she could weather this brief repast unscathed.
“Honey, you sure told him.” Claudette smiled approvingly and patted Celia’s wrist.
Feeling exuberant, Celia smiled back at Claudette. So the blonde was a little slow on the draw, so what? With a wink, she turned her attention to her own menu.
The meal progressed without further incident. The conversation was light and centered on Tyler and its people. Claudette proved to be a virtual fountain of information. Celia was silently grateful for the knowledge Claudette provided. She learned there was a doctor in town and if there were medicines she needed, the man could be of assistance. Claudette continued to dominate the conversation until their coffee arrived.
“We simply must see more of you while you are here, my dear. Isn’t that right, Seth?” Claudette turned her pale lashes in his direction and reached out, taking his hand in hers. They exchanged a smile between them.
A small flicker of green curled in Celia’s belly before she pushed it down. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said.
Seth’s deep controlled drawl followed Claudette’s statement. “I’m sure Celia hasn’t come all this way to visit with a bunch of ranch riff-raff, Claudette.” Seth cut his challenging stare at Celia.
Her soundless oath was in Comanche and Celia’s breath came out short as she glared back at him. He thought she considered herself too good to associate with him then. How dare he mock her education.
“Perhaps though, she would like to attend the barn dance at the end of the round-up?” Seth continued his perusal of her in his cool discerning way.
Celia glared at him silently. Mr. Loflin could go to hell!
“Oh, what a splendid idea.” Claudette squirmed in her chair. Reaching out, she took Celia’s fingers. “You simply must attend the dance, Celia. Why everyone who’s anyone will be there. The Loflins put on the best round-up celebration these parts have ever seen. There’s a rodeo, a barbecue, a bake sale, and an auction.” Claudette paused to catch her breath. “We raise money for the orphaned Indian children.” Her smile broke briefly as she remembered whom she was addressing. “There are so many in need,” Claudette finished rather lamely.
Celia had gently removed her hand from the woman’s clutches and glanced across the table at Seth. She was reminded painfully of another round-up celebration many years before where she’d danced every dance with Seth. “We’ll see how things go.” Celia punctuated the statement with a thin-lined smile. “I won’t have much time. My father is ill and I came back to see what I can do.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Claudette’s simple enthusiasm overrode her sense of decorum and with eyes as wide as saucers, she leaned in unwittingly pushing for more information. “Is it serious?”
Glancing once more toward Seth, Celia saw his face grow dark. “Yes.” He was watching her with anger, concern, or maybe a mixture of both. If only she could answer and be done with it.
She glanced hesitantly at Broken Horse. “My father, Lone Eagle, is…is gravely ill…” her voice trailed off. She had to leave. “Will you excuse me? I think we’d best be going.” Celia stood and glanced toward her cousin. “It will be dark before we arrive.”
Seth was already by her side blocking her way. “I’m truly sorry to hear about Lone Eagle. He’s always been a good friend. Is there anything I can do?”
The sincer
ity in his words took the air from her lungs. Or maybe it was the heat emanating from his body so close to hers which disturbed her sense of balance. “Yes…I mean, no.” Her eyes burned with irritation and Celia fought to regain her composure. It was imperative to her pride she exhibit a poised, cultured young lady to the thoroughly infuriating Mr. Loflin at that moment. “Thank you, Mr. Loflin. I appreciate your concern, and will convey it to my Father, but there’s nothing the white man can do.” Celia quickly sidestepped him and took Broken Horse’s arm.
“It was good to see you again, Dark Wolf,” Broken Horse smiled as he called Seth by his Comanche name. “Come to our camp and we will smoke the pipe. Lone Eagle will be pleased to see you again.”
“Thank you, Broken Horse.”
Seth’s eyes flicked over her. Celia had enough and headed for the door. Was he remembering when he’d come to their camp all those years before? Celia quickened her pace. The sooner they left Tyler, the better.
“I’ll do my best to get out to your camp as soon as I can,” Seth said behind Celia as she exited the hotel. “We’re in the spring branding, and I’ll be getting back to it as soon as I deliver Claudette to her door.” Celia glanced back in time to catch Seth cut Claudette a wry grin.
“Now, Seth, you know you’ll be staying for supper.” Claudette leaned into Seth and smiled coyly as she batted her lashes for him.
Irritated and nauseated all at once, Celia rolled her eyes and turned away.
“I’ll meet you at the horses, Celia,” Broken Horse spoke low before smiling warmly for their companions and turning away.
Claudette reached out and gave Celia’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Think about the dance, won’t you? It’ll be such fun.” With that, she turned and waved before heading for the livery and Seth’s four-in-hand.
There she went, mused Celia, all she could never be.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Celia.” Seth’s mouth twitched with the statement.
Celia merely turned and followed Broken Horse toward their horses in the opposite direction.
From behind, she could hear his soft, throaty chuckle. Blinking back angry tears, she walked blindly toward the horses. If she hadn’t been a lady, she would’ve gone back and cheerfully explained where she wanted to see Mr. Loflin next time – in purgatory.
Broken Horse was waiting for her. “Are you all right?”
Celia heard the concern in his voice. “Yes. Let’s just go. Please,” she begged.
Her cousin studied her quietly, but said nothing.
Trying hard to quell the anger welling inside she came up short when she saw the saddle on her mount. A fit of hysterical laughter almost burst forth when she realized she’d worn the wrong outfit for a ride on a western saddle. Never one to be put off by a challenge though, she swallowed, and then took a deep breath. Reaching down, yanking the back hem of her suit through her legs, and clutching it tight in her left hand along with the horse’s mane, Celia proceeded to mount. When she was settled, Celia arranged the material over her pantalets and ankles as best she could.
Miss Elmore, the etiquette instructor at Our Lady of St. Francis all girl’s school, would be rolling over in her grave, poor dear, at the sight of one of her young ladies riding a horse in such a fashion. Miss Elmore’s high pitched nasal twang trotted through Celia’s mind’s eye as she realized how socially improper it was for her stocking clad ankle to show. Irritated at her own musings, Celia cast the small concern aside. This wasn’t Charleston, she reminded herself once more.
No, indeed, she was in Texas now. A very different world from the one she’d left behind and she’d better get used to it because Texas was cruel and mean. She recalled just how mean before shoving the memory to the back of her mind and focusing her attention straight ahead. She was here for better or worse. The voice of the stagecoach whip called out to those continuing on the Wells Fargo stage as Broken Horse and Celia pointed their horses west toward her father’s camp.
Broken Horse glanced her way and spoke in Comanche as he asked, “Are you excited to be home, Celia?”
“Yes.”
“Lone Eagle is anxious for his only daughter to return.”
“How is my father, Broken Horse?” Celia watched her cousin.
“There are days which are better than others. The episodes have increased. The Shaman tells Lone Eagle to visit the sweat hut daily. He says the demons must be driven out or they’ll kill your father.”
Celia listened quietly to Broken Horse’s words. Her father, the great chief of The People, had led the Comanche for over fifty years. There had never been a time in Celia’s memory when Lone Eagle hadn’t been able to perform his duties as chief. Tall and lean, he towered over most of the other men of their tribe. Piercing brown eyes set deep in his chiseled face saw everything. The thin line of his mouth creased in pleasure or tight with concern were private memories Celia cherished. His stoic nature intimidated most and when he spoke his words were heeded without question. For Broken Horse to say her father’s health had declined tore at Celia’s composure. Her father was supposed to live forever. She’d become aware of that belief after she received Broken Horse’s letter.
Celia had grown up with the love and protection of her only living parent and she loved Lone Eagle without end. Blinking back tears, which threatened now, Celia, considered what life would be like without her father’s love and understanding. The idea of losing her only parent was unthinkable. Shaking off the morbid thought, Celia found herself anxious and irritable. She had hoped the trip to her father’s camp would revitalize her spirits.
Gripping the reins tighter, Celia decided Seth was to blame. She hadn’t expected him to be at the stage when she’d arrived. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to say she’d created a sort of perfect scenario of how her first meeting with Seth Loflin would go and his surprise arrival ruined it. Celia’s self-deprecating smile testified to how different the scenario had actually played out.
Chapter 2
Welcome Home
The scream sounded like a panther. Seth came to attention atop the bluff and squinted into the sun. The bold, orange orb making a final decent over the horizon made it hard to see what was going on in the creek below. Having been one hell of a day already, Seth had no doubt things were about to get even more interesting.
There it was again! Below, Seth could make out a shadowy outline of a woman struggling against two men in the water. He maneuvered his horse in behind a copse of scrub trees before sliding silently out of the saddle. Crouched to get a better look, Seth could tell the woman was doing everything she could to stop the men from attacking her. They’d managed to tear her clothes off and all which remained was a set of pantalets and a camisole.
The bluff was too high to make out much of who was involved in the struggle, but Seth saw the woman yank free from one of the men, sending him sprawling with a high kick to his chin. Her long black hair fell forward obscuring her vision. The other man used the opportunity to grab her from behind while she tried to shove her lank hair from her face. Ironically, the fact she wore only pantalets and a camisole gave her the freedom to defend herself. The length of a dress would have burdened her and she might have already succumbed to their attack. Displaying a real fighting skill, the woman elbowed the assailant in the ribs with enough force to knock the air from him, before sending him wheezing into the muddy water.
“Grab her!” The younger of the two shouted to the other as the woman made a break for the bank.
The older man just getting to his feet splayed his arms wide and snarled at his companion. “Why don’t you grab her?” he growled out the challenge between gasps for air. “This was your idea.” He countered as he rested his hands on his knees and tried to breath.
“Yeah, but how was I to know she was such a hellcat.” The other yelled back over his shoulder as he snared the woman’s ankle sending her sprawling into the creek. “Grab her arms,” the younger man ordered, as he tried to tackle her
while she flailed wildly in the murky water. Seth watched in growing disbelief. The older man obeyed and made a lunge for her. She kneed him in the balls sending him face first into the brink.
The longer things went, the more confident Seth grew of the woman’s strength and prowess in the face of danger. She’d been trained in hand-to-hand fighting it appeared. Her blows were timely and accurate. This was no helpless female. He had to admit, she was doing a fine job of holding them off with nothing more than a parasol. The two continued to stalk her from opposite sides like wolves closing in on the prey. With whimpers of distress, she poked timidly at her assailants until they drew close enough. When they came within reach, the woman turned into a warrior with a loud war cry and charging both men using the parasol like a vicious weapon on their heads. Seth couldn’t help but smile at her grit. He settled his rifle on the low-slung limp of a sycamore and drew a bead on the younger one’s chest. “That’s it, honey. Keep ‘em occupied just a minute more…”
“Leave her be!” Seth’s voice reverberated off the bluff walls on either side of the creek.
The two men stumbled to a halt before searching the bank and undergrowth. “Who’s there?” the younger one called.
“Seth Loflin. Now back away from the woman slow and easy.” He watched as the younger one looked in the older one’s direction. “Fuck you, Loflin!” the younger yelled as he drew his gun and aimed it at the woman’s head.
The woman stumbled backward with a scream.
On a release of breath, Seth pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark. Seth watched as the man jerked before spinning away and falling backward in the creek making a loud splash. He was dead before he hit the water. Men who attacked women were lower than dirt in his eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sanction such behavior out of men he’d hired. Good riddance!
Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Page 3
