Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1)

by Catherine Wolffe

  She looked up bemused by his statement. “You’d make me drink whiskey?” Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

  He inclined his head toward the canteen in his outstretched hand. “You’re shaking and your face is still pale. The whisky would warm you faster than any fire. Drink.” He watched her jaw tighten at the command. “I’ll get you some when we get back to camp,” he assured her. “In the meantime would you please drink.”

  Celia took a swig. “Back to camp?” Celia’s repetition of his words reminded him of a parrot.

  Seth bent down again and rubbed her calves through the pants. “Yeah, I have a camp not a mile from here. It’s late and it’ll be dark soon. We’ll spend the night there and head out in the morning to find Lone Eagle. Are you feelin’ better?”

  Celia shivered again. “Yes. Thank you.”

  Seth cupped her hands inside of his while a grin teased his mouth. “Don’t thank me yet. Look, we’ll get you some warmer clothes and food soon. Just hang on, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You know I’m right. You’re still living and with your medical training, you know how quickly a person can lose consciousness from exposure to cold water, and besides which, shock is setting in.”

  She huddled deeper into the folds of the big coat.

  “Is Lone Eagle’s illness something you can deal with?” Seth’s question was low, almost a murmur as he busied himself adding wood to the fire.

  Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head. “Yes…I hope so.”

  Despite his effort to the contrary, Seth tensed. Silent as a cougar, Seth rose to stand in front of her. She’d composed herself. His question obviously had unsettled her. So be it!

  Rising to her feet, she began to explain, “Broken Horse wrote me and asked me to come. Lone Eagle is ill and Broken Horse hoped with my training, I could help. I have to see what I can do for him.”

  “So you’re what – a doctor?” Seth stared at her with dubious curiosity.

  Celia offered politely, “No, I’m a surgical assistant – a nurse back east.”

  “In Charleston?”

  “Yes.”

  Seth continued to stare into her eyes and let the air around them still.

  He took a step toward her and then another. He could feel the warmth of her as he rapidly closed the space between them. He forced the breath from her completely with his next move.

  “Celia,” he whispered, taking her chin in his hand. Gently tracing a thumb over her lips, he searched her face as if seeing her for the first time. The urge to pull back went to war against the need to stay. His calloused hand rubbed slowly over her bottom lip. Their breaths mingled. Was it his heart or hers beating in his ears? “You’re so beautiful.”

  She leaned in until their lips were almost touching. Then he felt it, like the snap of a whip, the change in her contact.

  He cursed low under his breath. Dropping her hands, Celia backed away as if he’d suddenly grown horns. Unsettled to find his breathing so rapid, Seth tried for calm. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.” Stepping back, he tried to reassure her. “It won’t happen again.”

  Celia’s chilled voice shot back, “You’re right, it won’t.”

  Seth slid his hands in his back pockets and took another step back. It hurt even more to see the regret cloud her eyes. Seth looked off into the distance and there was a pregnant pause before he spoke again. “I’ll take you to your father in the morning.” His anger like his words had chilled right along with hers. Seth turned on his heel and left her alone.

  ***

  He needed some air, damn it! The hunger burning in him was a treacherous betrayal as far as he was concerned. She’d humiliated him by refusing to kiss him. Damn, her to hell! He’d convinced himself, he was over her, hadn’t he? Seth headed back down the creek. The cool water sloshing under his boots was a welcome distraction to his sour thoughts. Taking care of her cousin would give his tormented mind something to think about besides her effect on him. Confound it! How many times had he told himself she was nothing more than a memory? But she’d come back! Then he’d almost kissed her. Well, he had to admit she was more than just a memory. The past came rushing back and throttled him completely. Blindly, Seth stalked further in the direction Celia had indicated. He’d find Broken Horse and do whatever came next.

  It would be ridiculously funny if it weren’t so damn maddening. Running a hand over his face, Seth slowed and took a deep breath. Okay, so he’d learned she’d traveled back east and gain an education. Exactly how she’d managed the small feat and why, he still didn’t completely understand. But he sure as hell intended to find out. It had been twelve long years since he’d last laid eyes on her and suddenly out of the blue she showed up. Not only shows up, but steps off the stage dressed like a lady and acting like one to boot. There sure as hell was more to the story than she was telling him. He’d bet money on it.

  Muttering low, Seth crossed the low flowing water as he searched the creek bank. In the distance, two booted feet stuck out from the brush along the bank. It had to be him. Seth drew closer. Broken Horse lay half in the water and from a check of his vitals, Seth was relieved to find his old friend alive but he’d taken quite a blow to the head. “Broken Horse?” Seth urged, patting him on the shoulder for a response. None came. Probably unconscious and Celia would be able to tell for sure. Rising, Seth took his knife from his boot and cut some young sapling to construct a sled for Broken Horse. As he worked, he brooded.

  Had time changed her feelings so much? Because time sure as hell had stood still for him. Denying she still made his heart lurch in his chest didn’t prevent it from happening every time she looked him square in the face. He made enough noise to wake the dead in the creek as he mulled over the events.

  On top of that, regret at having been the one to hire those two chewed at his insides. He’d have given anything to have her look at him with something other than the reproach she’d hurled his way when she found out the outlaws had been his men. Knowing she didn’t trust him cut deep. Fighting a good case of the red-ass, Seth chose not to listen to the voice, which persisted on reminding him he hadn’t trusted her since she’d left. Kicking at the iron-ore shale resting in the shallows and fuming with the frustration building inside him, Seth took solace in remembering how miserable he’d been.

  Why did he want to console her if he didn’t trust her? It unsettled him to find out how strong the urge was. Instead, he mentally shook himself and went about doing what needed doing. With the sled assembled and Broken Horse resting on it, Seth returned to the fire. Glancing at Celia who still sat huddled in his coat, Seth said, “He’s not dead. Follow me.”

  “What?” Celia scrambled to her feet despite the cumbersome coat and flapping pants. “He’s not dead? How is he? Is he hurt bad? Where?” She searched the trees and bank of the creek in the direction Seth had returned. “Take me to him, please.”

  Seth led Celia back to Broken Horse’s side. When she’d finished examining him, Seth secured him to Sarge. Extending his hand to Celia, he hoisted her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing. “It’s been a long day. You can lean into me,” Seth offered. Watching the negative shake of her head, he ignored the little sting of rejection. “Suit yourself.”

  The Comanche maiden had come home. But she no longer resembled the girl he’d loved on the banks of that very creek. He could still feel the kick to his chest when she’d first appeared in the stage doorway. The pain hadn’t eased as she’d displayed a very strong backbone when confronted with prejudice. Then her defensive skills had reminded him of the Comanche maiden he’d known before. The picture of her fighting off not one, but two attackers with nothing more than a parasol made him grin. She resembled a wild cat cornered and mad. What a lovely contradiction she’d become. Haughty, educated and hell to cross he decided and had to grin again.

  Then the thought of who she’d left behind struck like a thunder clap. She probably had a family back in Charleston. The thought knot
ted his insides good and proper. Twelve years changed things for sure.

  He remembered all too well the fact that upon his return from the Army, he’d found Celia gone. The whole tribe had just vanished. Sure, the fact that a nomadic tribe had moved on was normal, but no one could tell him where or why. He’d questioned everyone and searched for months, but not one person had seen her, or so they said. In the pit of his stomach, Seth harbored a bad feeling his father, the Captain may have had something to do with their disappearance. The old man had died soon after his father and he had come across another situation Seth hadn’t known about.

  Then the responsibility of running the ranch had fallen to Seth. It wasn’t long before he had reached all he could handle.

  Time had passed and he’d thrown himself into the work. It was a known fact Seth drove himself hard and took no less from his men. He found sleep to be something he could fall into only after coming to the mind-numbing brink of exhaustion. Then there was the whiskey. If a man had to have a vice, Seth guessed the bottle tucked away in his nightstand was his. Time and again, he’d rationalized it helped take the edge off the pain which ripped through him when he stretched out to try and forget her. Not wanting to admit the truth didn’t make it any less real, he mused.

  ***

  Seth’s camp, bathed in the shadows of the setting sun lay under a massive oak tree. Lavender and purple stripes streaked across a sky of molten orange as the sun made its final decent. Celia watched long spears of light filtering through the trees. Mixing with the dust floating in a great haze over the ground, the light seemed to a swirl through the trees like the spirits of the dead. Near the fire, a black and white cattle dog darted back and forth as if in welcome.

  Seth reined his horse in and walked the trail weary animal to the tie-out line.

  The smell of stew drew Celia’s attention toward a canvas-covered shelter tied between two large pines. The fire burning brightly was like a beacon in the chilled evening air.

  Thank goodness, there weren’t any men in Seth’s camp. Seth’s coat and the baggy pants did little to hide the fact things weren’t right which reminded her once more of the reason she was there. Her hair lay in a disheveled mess about her shoulders. Swelling bloomed under her right eye and along her chin. Tears had left her eyes swollen and burning. She had big, blue fingerprint marks all along her arms and wondered what marks were evident on the parts of her body she couldn’t see. It wouldn’t do to think about the attack - not now.

  The leather creaked under Seth’s weight as he dismounted. Turning, he reached up and took Celia in his arms settling her on the ground with care.

  “I’ve got stew in the pot. The bowls are in my knapsack.” He watched her hesitate when she saw the dog eyeing her curiously. “Don’t worry about Cutter, he won’t bother you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Celia moved toward the fire while watching the dog who continued to wag his tail. Glancing about, she noted how neat and orderly Seth kept his surroundings. Funny, but she wouldn’t have thought him to be organized. Perhaps the stint at West Point had brought it out of him. She found the bowls and spoons and then went about setting up a table of sorts out of a leather hide she found hanging on a pole.

  Seth drug Broken Horse up near the fire and came around to join her. “How long do you think he’ll be out?”

  “It’s hard to say. It may be only a little while or it could be months. The brain is a fickle organ.” Celia spooned stew up in the bowls.

  Reaching back into his knapsack, Seth produced a small brown paper wrapper. He carefully unwrapped two pones of hot water cornbread.

  With a glint of appreciation, she took the one he offered and settled down to enjoy her stew. As she ate, Celia noticed the cow-dog laid favor to a spot next to Seth. Wondering if he intended to sleep, Celia continued to watch him. The dog never moved, only continued to keep his eyes on his master. Soon Seth broke off a small bite of the cornbread and flicked it into the air. Cutter leapt off the ground and caught the bread cleanly, jaws snapping shut. Then he turned a circle and settled next to Seth once more.

  “Did you teach him that?” Celia asked.

  “What? Oh, the catching thing?” Seth glanced at Cutter and Celia could plainly see the pride in his eyes.

  “Yea, I guess you could say we perfected that move over time.” Reaching out, he rubbed the black and white canine behind the ear. A shaggy black tail thumped in the dirt.

  “Will he do it for me?”

  Seth looked up from his stew. His eyes held a curious gleam. “Yea, I guess so.”

  Scooting up on her perch, Celia broke off a piece of cornbread and waved it in front of the dog. “Here, boy. Come and get it.” With the last word, she flung the bread. Cutter sprang into action and before she could blink, the bread was history. “That’s really good.” Celia wiped the crumbs from her fingers on the leg of her oversized pants. “Does he know any other tricks?”

  “A few.” Seth never looked up as he worked at polishing off his supper.

  “Can you show me?”

  “Not right now. I’m eating.” Irritation rippled through his expression.

  Without saying more, Celia was undeterred and broke off another piece of bread. Taking deliberate action, Celia motioned for Cutter. The dog focused on the bread and when it was high in the air, he leaped.

  “Good boy!” Celia beamed for her new friend as Cutter settled next to her and sniffed at her pants. Apparently recognizing the scent, he laid his head on his crossed paws and closed his eyes.

  “I think he likes me.” Celia rubbed the dog’s ear again.

  “Hmph.” was all Seth said. Getting to his feet, he retrieved two bedrolls and handed one to Celia. “You’ll need this tonight.” Seth turned toward his side of the fire.

  “Would you mind if we talked? I can’t seem to settle and it might help.” Celia brushed the pants over her thighs.

  He stopped dead still as if she’d pulled a gun on him. Then with cool precision, he turned retraced his steps to sit on his haunches near the fire. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know. Umm…How’s your family? How’s your brother, Ty?”

  “Good.”

  Celia fidgeted with the cuff of the big coat. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rubbed. His answer held all the inflection of a board fence. Why couldn’t they at least be civil?

  “Are you cold?” Seth’s eyes were blue steel slits in the shadows from the firelight.

  Celia shook her head. “Not much.” She pulled her toes up and covered the socks Seth had given her with the baggy pant legs. “I thought you would’ve stayed at Claudette’s tonight.” Celia flushed at her own boldness.

  Seth cut his eyes at her once before setting the bowl aside. “She would’ve liked me to. But a man has responsibilities. Mine never end.” He glanced out into the deepening darkness. “You said Broken Horse wrote you.” He turned back to watch her intently as he skillfully changed the subject.

  “Yes.” Somehow, she wasn’t surprised at the move.

  “You knew then about his work toward a treaty settlement?”

  “Broken Horse described his work in his letters. He spoke of the tension between The People and the white man. There were times, he said, when peace seemed possible and then something would happen – a raid, a massacre, and fighting would break out again. So many of our people have died. Then some of those who had agreed to travel to the reservation have not stayed. Instead they choose to hide out and attack the white man.”

  Glancing back, she found Seth staring at her. Was it concern he regarded her with or pity? The sting to her pride fueled her next words. “The time has come for my cousins to take up the leadership of our tribe, and I fear for my people. Red Bear speaks of drawing blood and fighting the white man for our place on this land. Broken Horse seeks…” Celia sighed. “Broken Horse seeks the council and speaks on Lone Eagle’s behalf when matters necessitated he do so.” Celia watched the fire intently. “But many
times the white man broke his promises to the people. My cousin, Red Bear and those who follow him, want retribution for all the Comanche have lost.”

  “What does Lone Eagle want?” Seth’s question held uneasiness.

  Celia paused before answering. She considered Seth. Surely, she had seen genuine concern in his features a moment ago. Otherwise, why would he be taking her back himself? He could just as easily have sent one of his men with her. The fact remained he was a rancher, a white man. Those facts automatically made him the enemy of her father’s people. Seth could no more side with Lone Eagle and the Comanche than he could stop breathing. Yet here he was risking his life and reputation to see her safely back to her father. Something inside her gently tripped. It was enough for the time being she saw disquiet on his face. “He wants peace.” She purposely softened her words. “He wants the white man to leave the Comanche in peace.”

  Seth faced straight ahead, as he listened. “Don’t we all,” he said dryly.

  She glanced over and then dropped her lashes before she uttered the next words. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “What do you mean?” Doubt appeared in his eyes. Could it be that time had caused him not to trust the Comanche or the woman? She didn’t know which. “Broken Horse asked me to come back because Lone Eagle is dying.”

  “Dying? From what?” Seth’s scowl was deep.

  Celia knew Seth cared for her father. “They don’t know. I hope I can help him.” Her voice cracked and she dropped her head to hide the pain.

  Seth continued to stare deep into the fire for a long time. “You mentioned you’d been trained as a healer. How?”

  Celia shook her head. “My grandmother learned the art of healing from the Shaman. You knew that.

  He nodded affirmatively.

  “With what she taught me, I then gained as much knowledge as possible at school. I took grandmother’s natural remedies and combined them with wound care and healing at the hospital.”