Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1)
Read Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Online
Authors: Catherine Wolffe
Tags: #romance, #love, #mystery, #texas, #sex, #horse, #historical, #passion, #medicine, #woman, #victorian, #cowboy, #ranch, #suspence, #indian, #steamy, #making love, #western frontier, #comanche
Comanche Haven
(The Loflin Legacy
#1)
By Catherine Wolffe
Copyright 2012-2013 Catherine
Wolffe
All rights reserved
Discover other titles by
Catherine Wolffe at
www.catherinewolffe.com
.
Cover design by Ally Thomas
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Adult Content
In order to protect minors from viewing
inappropriate material, please know that this book may contain
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Other Books by Catherine
Wolffe
A Dance in Time (J.T. Leighton, Time
Traveler #1)
The Lady in the Mist (The Western
Werewolf Legend #1)
Waking Up Dead (The Western Werewolf
Legend #2)
Table of
Contents
Chapter 11 Standing for the
Innocent
Comanche Haven
(The Loflin Legacy
#1)
Chapter 1
The Road Home
Texas 1858
Celia glanced out at the children
running alongside the stagecoach as it slowed. Their tiny feet
evoked a cloud of dust as they followed the newest visitor to their
part of Texas.
“
Have you been to Tyler
before?” the young blonde woman seated next to Celia inquired
politely. Her name was Claudette Harding. She had the most perfect
golden curls Celia had ever seen.
“
Yes, but it’s been a long
time.” Celia glanced back at the children, before examining the
wooden buildings dotting the street.
Nothing had changed
. Some were new
and some no longer stood. They’d been replaced in the name of
progress. Noting the result, she dropped the leather flap over the
small window, before swallowing a twinge of regret. A sharp
realization that nothing would ever be the same again moved through
her.
From the top of the stage, the Wells
Fargo Whip called out the name of the stop, “Tyyyler!”
“
I’m expecting my
gentleman-friend to pick me up.” Claudette glanced sideways at
Celia as she gathered her parasol along with her reticule. “Do you
have someone picking you up?” Tiny ringlets of gold bobbed about
the woman’s creamy, oval face. Celia smiled to herself as Claudette
continued to prattle on. The woman could talk. Claudette had
boarded the stage in Shreveport. Since she’d sat down, the three
other passengers listened to all manner of comments, stories and
questions.
“
Yes, my cousin.” Celia
peeked out of the window again. Dust swirled around the opening,
threatening to engulf them all. The two men seated in front of the
women waved at the dust as if it threatened their lives. The one in
a stylish stovepipe hat started coughing. Reluctantly, Celia
dropped the flap, waiting instead for the stage to come to a
complete stop.
The wooden door of the stage opened. A
calloused hand reached in.
Claudette took the hand, before winking
at Celia. “Enjoyed riding with you. Good luck.” Bending low in the
confines of the stage’s interior, Claudette exited through small
opening.
Celia considered the young blonde
woman’s words. Luck wasn’t going to help her. She would need
fortitude. Digging deeper, she found her determination once more.
Trouble had driven her out of Texas. Now she was returning for the
same reason. The letter she’d received stated her father, the
chief, had fallen “gravely ill”. So she’d packed up the belongings
she would need, sold the rest, and bought a one-way ticket back to
Texas. Her place as daughter of the great chief demanded she come.
Her love for her only living parent compelled her to make the
journey.
“
Ma’am?” The hand was
back.
Celia accepted the offer of assistance
from the porter, as she stooped to clear the small exit. The
brilliant sun, glared down unrelentingly. A thick humidity hung
heavy in the air. While most of Texas boasted hot, dry conditions,
Tyler was different. Situated close to the north Louisiana boarder,
the small stagecoach stop’s climate resembled the bayou state’s
more often than not. Celia remembered the local joke that the air
was so humid, it was like wearing a wet blanket. In contrast,
Charleston’s warm ocean breezes had been relatively dry. On a hot
afternoon, they’d even been enjoyable. Fighting a tiny twinge of
panic at actually being back in Texas after all the years away,
Celia adjusted her stays. With the Whip’s help, she stepped onto
Texas soil once more. Charleston was but a memory now. She was
home.
Celia tipped her head back, before
squinting into the sun for a brief moment as if Texas embraced her.
It was good to be home, she decided. Glancing back at Claudette,
who busily pointed out her bags to the coachman, Celia saw the long
hours on the stage in her mind’s eye. The trip had been grueling,
but she’d made it. Now she could face what came next.
Settling the black parasol trimmed in
white over her shoulder, Celia searched the faces of those closest
to the stage for anyone who might resemble her cousin, Broken
Horse. Reminded that he’d grown into a man over the time she’d been
away, she realized she wouldn’t have a clue what he looked like.
Yet if his boyhood good looks had developed, he’d became a striking
figure. Celia smiled inwardly. He was the closest thing to a
brother she had. The contact they’d kept over the years proved
precious to her.
Glancing about again, she wondered if
she would see Seth. After all this time, would he still remember
her? Probably not, she mused. After all, nothing remained of the
girl she’d been almost twelve years before. Frowning, Celia
reminded herself she’d made a life without the cowboy who’d
abandoned her then. She was a surgical assistant for the Army at
Fort Sumter, in Charleston. Educated and prepped in one of the
finest finishing schools in the south, Celia was her own woman
now.
“
Ma’am, which bags are
yours?”
Blinking, Celia met the porter’s eyes.
She pointed out her belongings, before stepping back quickly as
they landed unceremoniously on the ground in front of her. “Would
you have a care, sir?” Celia gave the man a withering look before
dusting off her new traveling suit. Glaring at the fellow, she
plucked them from the dirt.
The coachman’s feigned
concern was typical of the type of response she got from certain
people. “Sorry,
Ma’am
.” His emphasis on the word ‘ma’am’ held a distinct
callousness.
His reaction didn’t surprise her. Most
thought she was a whore. Celia tried to rationalize the assumption.
After all, one didn’t often come across women dressed in
fashionable clothing, nor traveling alone. Glancing about for her
cousin, she was so eager to see, she saw only townspeople who eyed
her warily. Ignoring the stares aimed her way she leveled her
chin.
After all, there was nothing she could
do to cover her bronze complexion or her jet-black hair. She
couldn’t hide her high cheek bones or her long straight nose. Celia
had her father’s face along with her mother’s eyes. The combination
was striking she’d been told. Her green eyes were one of two things
her mother had been able to leave her. Celia considered them a
gift. The broach pinned to her bosom was the other. Celia had kept
it safe all these years. Having been too young to remember her
mother, Celia relied on the images given to her by her father, Lone
Eagle. He’d shared stories of her mother with the young girl as she
rested on her pallet before falling asleep at night in their
tent.
Once more, she had to ignore the
matrons standing on the boardwalk openly eyeing her with a healthy
dose of disdain. Yes, she was her father’s daughter. She resembled
him in so many ways. She wasn’t a whore, though. No, her only sin
was being half Comanche.
Celia closed her eyes for a moment as
she considered The People. They’d taught her to always carry
herself with dignity and pride. As the years passed, she came to
understand just how important those teachings were to her survival.
She hoped her father would be proud.
Celia glanced back at the stage.
Despite the rude behavior of the man, Celia considered herself
lucky. At least she didn’t have to re-enter god-forsaken
contraption meant to test one’s fortitude. Certainly, a person
would repent for whatever sins he harbored deep in his soul after a
trip in that wooden box from hell. Celia adjusted her jacket while
searching further down the boardwalk for her cousin.
“
Let me help you with
those.” The voice was too close, and too familiar. Celia’s muscles
tightened before the need to escape overwhelmed her. She flicked a
hesitant glance over her shoulder at the tall, broad-shouldered man
bending to take her luggage from her hands. When he rose, she
looked into the same steely-blue eyes she’d known all those years
ago.
Seth!
Her
mind fairly reeled with the devil-may-care look he sent her from
under his dark Stetson. “Where would you like me to put
these?”
Celia’s heart tripped in her chest as
she recalled the taste of his lips. In defense of the traitorous
memory, she lifted her chin a fraction and managed to snatch one of
her bags from his clutches. The wry grin remained undaunted on his
handsome face. She wanted to scream as she wheeled away.
Nerves ran along her backbone like the
tiny legs of a spider. She could feel his eyes on her even as she
stepped onto the board walkway. “Right here is fine,” she said
curtly, pointing toward a spot on the planks. Doing her level best
to ignore him, Celia once again positioned the black parasol primly
on her shoulder and made a point of smoothing her skirt.
“
I never dreamed I’d see you
get off that stage,” Seth’s tone was cool sarcasm.
Celia watched his lips form a tense
line. Her own throat was as dry as dust.
“
There you are!” Claudette
came rushing up to Seth who dropped Celia’s bags to catch the
vivacious blonde as she flung her arms about him. “Oh, I’ve missed
you so.” She planted a big, noisy kiss on his mouth.
The blow, though not physical, hit
Celia directly in the heart.
“
Well now, darlin’, maybe
you should go shopping in Shreveport more often.” With the young
blonde wrapping her arms about him in a very public display of
affection, Seth‘s mouth crooked in a sardonic grin as his eyes met
Celia’s.
Celia could only stare. Her pain grew
as Seth’s attention shifted to Claudette’s account of Shreveport
and shopping. Gripping the parasol until her knuckles grew numb,
she watched the couple. If only she could escape. Unable to stand
the view any longer, she turned to search for her cousin among the
throng of people. With her back to them, she closed her eyes and
tried to ignore the ache settling behind her heart.
“
Celia! Celia, wait. You’ve
met my Mr. Loflin, I assume?” Claudette’s face was aglow with
affection and something akin to possessiveness when Celia turned
back to face them.