“Miss Claudette, Mr. Loflin, may I be of assistance?”
Their host glanced briefly at Celia before his neck ran out of his starched, white collar like one of the cranes she’d seen along the inlets of the Atlantic.
Celia marveled at the man’s coloring. He reminded her of one of the cadavers they’d used in school to practice on. At least the cadavers had an excuse for being so pale. Celia raised an eyebrow at the man in mild irritation.
“Mr. Loflin, Miss Haden, would you like to be seated?” The man afforded Broken Horse and her one more frigid glance.
“Yes, Alfred. That would be lovely. Thank you.” Claudette’s reply was warm and seemingly clueless. With Broken Horse at her side, Claudette moved toward the velvet ropes barring the entrance to the room.
Celia’s internal battle over Seth’s close proximity became quickly forgotten as she sensed what was about to happen. Back east, an Indian provided the curious an exotic oddity to examine and appreciate like a fine wine. But in Texas an Injun was less than dirt to most whites. Alfred was most whites.
Lifting a skeletal hand, Alfred effectively halted their progress. “I’m sorry, Miss Harding.” The man then turned his attention to Seth with a chilly demeanor. “Mr. Loflin, we don’t serve Indians.”
Celia was familiar with the tone Alfred used. Prejudice was still the order of the day in Texas. Releasing Seth’s arm, she turned for the lobby once more. It would do no good to cause a scene.
Seth’s hand snaked out and gripped hers like a vice. Wheeling her to face him, his chin hard and unyielding, he commanded, “Wait.”
Celia was surprised. Would he argue the point?
Reluctant to stay, she stilled, offering him no resistance but watching his eyes.
Turning, Seth squared his shoulders and took a step in Alfred’s direction, making the host swallow convulsively.
His tone was pleasant with just an edge. “I’ll be paying with good ol’ American money, Alfred. I don’t think there’ll be any problem.”
He may have been trying to help, but the implication stung. She could pay her own way. Did Seth assume just because she was a woman and Comanche she couldn’t pay for her own meal? She might be overreacting, but she didn’t need his help. Celia took a step forward. “We’ll leave.” Her words came out cooler and more clipped than she’d intended. A quick glance at Seth told her he wasn’t happy with her interference as a muscle jumped in his jaw. Celia pointedly ignored him and turned to her cousin for affirmation. “Broken Horse?”
Broken Horse’s eyes remained on Alfred. “No, Celia, we’re staying.”
Celia blinked. She’d been so sure he would agree they should leave before causing a scene that she couldn’t speak. The decision had been made it seemed. Despite her misgivings, she had to admit she admired Broken Horse’s determination. He exuded the cool, stoic persona of The People. Intended to intimidate one’s enemy, his stance invited her to join him in standing up for themselves.
Glancing from Broken Horse to Seth, she made her choice and stepped in line with the men. She would discuss her displeasure with Seth later and she did intend to explain a few things to the arrogant Mr. Loflin. But for the moment, there was prejudice to defend against. Glancing back at Seth, who stood braced for a fight, Celia gathered her fortitude and nodded at him briefly.
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 unscathe
d.
“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 sincerity 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.
Read more of The Loflin Legacy series in Comanche Haven: The Loflin Legacy #1.
Books by Catherine Wolffe
Salvation’s Secrets (Prequel: The Loflin Legacy)
Seth Loflin didn't expect to discover the love of his young life bathing in the creek on Loflin land. Yet Celia satisfies his body and his heart the moment he sees her. But trouble isn't far away when his father finds out about his oldest son's summer romance with the beautiful Comanche half-breed.
Charles Harrington walks a thin line between right and wrong. One false step could land him in jail or at the end of a hangman's noose. His only friend, Seth Loflin guards his secret with his life. The burden of guilt he has carried weighs heavy on his heart for the family he unwittingly put in harm's way.
Salvation's Secrets (The Loflin Legacy Prequel) Page 8
