Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) (42 page)

“
Big Earl,” Celia fanned the
hanky again. “Well, how very sweet of you, Big Earl. “Why, I do
declare you are truly a gentleman.” Her southern drawl dripped of
honey for the burly, night watchman’s benefit. Batting her
eyelashes for a parting effect, she reached up and gave his scruffy
cheek a peak before turning in a flurry of skirts and lace and
disappearing into the alley, once more.

Safely ensconced again in the hotel
room, she breathed a sigh of relief. The little drama would work
perfectly with Big Earl’s help. She had no intentions of appearing
at the stage in a couple of days, but if her luck would hold, the
rumor that she was attempting to leave in secret would have the
Rangers watching the stage and every female that walked along the
streets. They certainly wouldn’t be looking for a man dressed in a
nutmeg brown suit riding a horse headed north. Rose was indeed a
wonderful seamstress, Celia mused.

At noon, when most of Tyler was busy
eating their lunch, Celia donned the man’s clothing, saddled up her
mare that Ty had given her and rode unnoticed out of town and
straight for the Oklahoma Territory.

***

The banging was insistent and Charles
had to take a moment to realize it wasn’t a dream. “All right, All
right, I’m coming. He did so enjoy his after lunch nap. What was
the incessant knocking at his door about? It was still the lunch
hour. Okay! Just a damn minute,” fumbling for his glasses, Charles
swore and unlocked the door.

“
Mr. Charles, Ms. Rose sent
me straight away.” The boy’s breath was coming in
hitches.

“
Roy? What…is something
wrong? Are the Jones all right?” Charles managed to open the door
without the aid of his glasses. The boy stood hunched and trembling
slightly.

“
Yes, sir, they’re fine. I
have a message.” Roy extended a shaky hand with a note in
it.

It was then Charles snatched his
glasses on and read. “Charles, I need your help. Please hurry!” The
note was signed Casey Loflin.

***

The heavily rancid smell of death and
decay wafted in and out of the pit with each gentle breeze that
blew. The stench of the body that rested at the other end of his
makeshift cell made Seth shift, trying for an elusive calm. He was
meant for a similar fate if he didn’t get away soon. The ditch was
dark now with the onset of nightfall. Resting against the earthen
wall stretching straight up ten feet, he heard the soft rustle of
field mice. He did his best to block thoughts of what they were
after. The damn hole was a mass gravesite.

Ty and the others would be looking for
him by now. Surely, his time wouldn’t run out before they found
him. Damn, he should have been more careful while he was tracking.
A kid in knee pants could’ve done better, he mused. His mind
clouded with concern for Celia and the distraction proved
fruitless.

Seth vibrated with temper when he
thought of what he’d overheard as two of Brannon’s henchmen
relieved themselves near the pit. Celia was here! She’d disobeyed
again! Closing his eyes, he tried to stem the swell of anger that
wanted to cloud his mind. Damn her! Of course, she’d fallen
unwittingly into Brannon’s hands. Now he would use her as bait to
catch Red Bear and worse. Those, who came to relieve themselves
near the hole, mentioned skirmishes they’d recently had with the
Comanche and the success of the massacre of Lone Eagle and the
People. The bastards joked about efforts to corral fleeing women
and children and the occasional target practice on those who tried
to run. It sickened him to listen to their banter.

He would do everything in his power to
get her out of this mess, even if it meant his life. Slowly, the
hours passed like molasses on a January morning. Seth came to make
his peace with himself during the wee hours of the bleak darkness.
The silence of the night echoed through his tomb and he could hear
Brannon all but mocking him. He vowed to see the Ranger in
Hell.

***

“
Get up you piece of shit.
The Captain wants a word with you.”

Seth awoke fast. Something poked
painfully in his side. Instinct told him to ready for an attack.
Seeing as how his opponent was a long pole attached to a man
holding a gun pointed directly at his head, he tried to regroup.
The guard, who prodded him persistently with the menacing pole,
spit tobacco juice into the hole just missing Seth’s most recent
resting place. “Grab hold, we’re gonna hoist you out.” It took two
of them to pull him out of the simmering hellhole.

Seth’s eyes adjusted slowly to the
bright light of the sun as the brilliant yellow orb came up over
the horizon. The tobacco chewing antagonist grabbed his arms up in
a tether behind his back. Seth sneered, bearing his teeth at his
tormentor. His grip on control waned.

Suddenly, a booted foot rammed into his
ribs and he got the other boot against his head on the way to the
dirt.. “Get on up there. We ain’t got all day.” The tobacco chewer
used the pole repeatedly to edge Seth in the direction of a
fire.

Will was all he had to control the
seething anger ripping through him. Rather than allow his jailer
the satisfaction of winning, Seth went inside his head and focused
on his surroundings.. As he limped toward the center of the
encampment, he could see two guards and two more on the opposite
side of the tents in front of them. He searched further out of the
one eye that wasn’t swelled shut, but saw nothing more than the
squaws Brannon had captured tending the fires.

Within seconds, he sprawled face first
in the dirt. The smell of burning hair permeated his nostrils and
Seth realized his hair was on fire. Another self-induced wallow in
the dirt and the scent dissipated. The red-hot gleam of an iron
poker rested in the midst of the flames. Rolling out of the reach
of the fire, he briefly considered what he would do if he got his
hands on the weapon. His fingers itched to take the cocky
son-of-bitch Brannon and ram the poker deep into his gut. He wanted
the man to suffer. Struggling with the burning fury that bubbled up
in his throat, he watched the object of his anger saunter into
view.

“
Well, Mr. Loflin, we meet
again.” Brannon lips curled up at the corners in a sneer as he
watched the rage come into Seth’s eyes. “You know, it’s a shame we
don’t have more time for a hunt, I would so enjoy tracking you
down. Such great sport,” he mused aloud. Smiling wickedly for his
compadras on either side of Seth, Brannon flicked a glance at his
captive’s enraged face. “From the look on your face, you aren’t
surprised that I survived our first meeting. Are you now?” Brannon
smirked callously. “I suppose, I should congratulate you on making
it as well.” Ideally, he slapped the palm of his gloved hand with a
quip. “It seems we’re cut from the same cloth, you and me. I find
that very intriguing.” He paced in front of Seth slowly as he
considered the idea. “You see, I see our meetings as part of our
destinies. Do you believe in such things, Mr. Loflin?” Brannon
stopped pacing and cocked a brow.

Seth heard little of the man’s
babbling. Instead, he imagined getting his hands around Brannon’s
neck.

“
It would appear that the
gods made us of sterner stuff than most men. It will take more than
mere bullets to stop either of us now, won’t it?” Brannon turned
and watched Seth patiently as he waited for an answer to his
question.

“
You won’t get away with
this, Brannon. The Army already suspects your part in the slaughter
of innocent women and children. There are those who will testify to
that in court. Even if you use the Rangers directive to get away
with raiding Indian encampments, you’re gonna hang, you
bastard.”

The quip shot out and struck Seth
across the face. Inwardly, Seth grinned. Apparently, the Ranger’s
good humor had faltered.

Brannon’s voice was cool and callous.
“You aren’t in a position to challenge my authority in this matter,
Mr. Loflin. I suggest you mind your manners or you’ll find yourself
at the end of a rope sooner than I had planned.” He turned as he
heard a commotion coming from the other side of the
encampment

Celia appeared from one of the tents,
fighting and tugging at her jailers. Her long black hair hung loose
and in disarray as she struggled with the two who held her in a
vice-like grip. He noted she wore pants and a man’s shirt. Probably
part of the disguise she used to slip away unnoticed by the guards
he’d posted before he left town. Her face, though, taught and
strained held those beautiful eyes. Sorrow and fear showed in their
depths. Still, he saw her soft mouth remained set in a hard line
and her head jutted in anger.

“
Ah, here she comes now.
Isn’t she lovely, Mr. Loflin? I must say, it will be hard to let
her go once I am done here, but since she can, as you say, testify
against me, it grieves me that I have no choice.” Brannon stepped
close to Celia as she struggled with the two who held her. “Now,
now, my dear. There’s no use in exerting so much energy in such a
fruitless endeavor.” Brannon bent slightly and took her jaw solidly
in his gloved hand.

She cut icy, green orbs at him, before
attempting to jerk free.

He held her fast.

Seth’s blood churned in his body! The
red haze began to move across the edges of his sight.

“
Tsk, tsk. Celia, my dear
girl, you have so little time to be with your husband. I would
think that you would yearn to spend what little time is left in
endearing words of love and undying devotion, not waste your
attentions on useless attempts at provoking me.” With that
Brannon’s other hand came up and slapped her hard across the cheek
sending Celia into the dirt.

“
I’m gonna kill you with my
bare hands.” Seth reared up and had the men who held him planting
their feet. Her pain was his, as if Brannon had hit him, instead.
His heart lurched in his chest and his anger surged at the thought
of the her pain. “Leave her out of this,” he growled, feral and
deep. “I’ll help you find Red Bear. Don’t drag her into this mess,
Brannon.” He knew it was useless. Still, he had to try to buy them
some time as he struggled to loosen the leather thong at his
wrists. Then, his eyes met hers across the fire. Tears pooled in
those hypnotic green eyes of hers before she blinked them back. A
dark red handprint welted on her lovely cheek and blood oozed from
a tiny slash near her hairline. He could see purple marks along her
neck and another along that regal jaw. Incensed, he lashed out with
curses and threats. “You son-of-a-bitch! I’m gonna gut you from
your neck to your dick and feed your bowls to the
coyotes.”

Brannon coolly ignored Seth’s outburst.
Instead, he reached out and grabbed Celia by the arm. “Now, my
dear, I am sorry for the conditions, but you must understand, I
can’t have you leaving without the information I need.” Brannon ran
a surprisingly elegant finger along her bruised jaw.

She jerked away.

Brannon snatched her chin
back.

Celia spat in his face.

Seth swore low and long as her green
eyes shot daggers of contempt at Brannon, while under her breath
she cursed him in Comanche and prayed to the great one for his
demise in a low, vicious string of chants.

Brannon hauled off and backhanded her
again.

Celia’s world went black. Blood
trickled down the corner of her mouth, before Celia again spat at
Brannon and cursed him in Comanche.

Coolly sauntering over to Seth as he
spoke, Brannon took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped
Celia’s spit from his face. “I believe this Comanche woman means
something to you, Mr. Loflin.” His tone was clipped and
calculating.

His lecherous perusal of her kicked
Seth’s rage up a notch. He saw the gun butt out of the corner of
his good eye only seconds before stars burst behind them. The last
thing he heard was Celia’s scream.

Brannon wheeled back to her. “You see,
my dear, I know a great deal about you and Mr. Loflin. I know that
you fancy him as your deliverance from your savage way of life. But
you have a duty to your new life.” He paused in his stride to
survey her. “You are duty bound to assist me in bringing this rouge
cousin of yours to justice. Red Bear must be punished for his
crimes against the white man.”

Celia couldn’t say anything. The man
wasn’t sane.

“
Oh, don’t look so
despondent, my dear. You help me and I will do what I can to help
you and Mr. Loflin here.” He turned then striding back to Seth.
With a vicious backhand he connected once more with Seth’s
jaw.

Consciousness once more, Seth groaned
in pain.

She muffled a cry.

Brannon’s cohort held fast until blood
mixed with spit dripped from his mouth making an ugly puddle on the
ground at Brannon’s feet. His jailers dropped him into the dirt
where his breath made small whiffs of dust plum upward.

“
Please…please stop!” Her
voice was nothing more than an agonized whisper. Her bottom lip
trembled with the effort as her own breath came in labored
gasps.

“
Yes, yes, of course, my
dear, I will stop.” Brannon’s eyes were cold and empty as he bore
down on her. He dug his fingers neatly into the flesh of her
shoulder. Pain shot out in all directions.