Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) (4 page)

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 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.