Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Page 16

  Chapter 7

  The Mirror

  Her mother’s gold broche lay heavy in Celia’s pocket. Fingering the delicate metal with the lovely painting of a woman in a ball gown painted on the white ivory nestled in the center, Celia reminded herself the broche was the only thing she had to remember her mother. Never would she part with it, but Celia had a plan.

  Making the trip to Tyler had been Maggie’s idea. The woman had finally hounded Celia into going. Apparently, they were on a mission. The barn dance, which culminated with the end of spring branding, was coming up and the housekeeper insisted Celia needed a dress.

  “When the woman’s mind was made up there was no stopping her.” That’s what Jake had told her when she’d confided in him about the situation.

  No one, not even Maggie, knew the condition of her pocketbook. Celia sighed quietly. She was broke. The robbers had strewn her bags everywhere when they’d attacked Broken Horse and her. Celia thought of the secret pocket, which had held her mother’s broche inside her chemise. It was the only reason she still had it. Planning to wire the Sisters of Our Lady of Faith in Charleston to request money from her modest account, Celia tried not to worry about her condition. Surely, the dressmaker was an understanding soul. She would simply explain the situation in private asking the woman to hold her mother’s broche as collateral until money came from Charleston.

  Glancing about, Celia realized they’d arrived.

  Joseph, who sat beside her was already shoving up to scramble out of the buckboard in a silent hurry.

  Celia had asked if Joseph could come too. She’d been surprised at the response she’d gotten. She hadn’t even had to argue with Seth. Glad the young Indian could accompany them, she watched his curiosity bloom.

  Joseph’s small head darted right and then left as his keen, dark eyes took in everything around him at once. He looked like a different child with his haircut, not to mention his bath.

  The fresh plaid shirt along with the coordinating pants Celia insisted on making for him fit him quite well, she mused. Added he now had a pair of brown boots similar to Seth’s on his feet, Celia was satisfied she’d been able to make a great transformation in the young boy who doted on her now.

  “Can I go down to the Chinaman’s shop?” The young Comanche boy’s eyes held Celia’s with their dark, brown, chocolate warmth.

  Looking from Joseph to Cutter, who’s tail thumped expectantly in the dusty street, Celia sighed. She knew she’d taken on a handful with the boy, but his stubborn bend had been harnessed for now. She found he didn’t seem to chaff too much under her direction. “All right, but don’t be gone long.” With a gloved hand, she pointed up at the sign above the mercantile. “Meet us either here, or at the hotel in an hour. Okay?” Celia waited for Joseph’s eyes to follow her direction to the sign above the store, ‘Smitty Jones Mercantile’. “We’ll be waiting on you, Joseph, so don’t dally.” She gave the boy her best schoolteacher’s impersonation.

  With Joseph and Cutter entering the Chinaman’s shop, Celia backtracked, allowing her eyes to wander over the town. Tyler, with its conglomeration of buildings, tents and shanties all shoved together, like steers in a holding pen, proved to be an odd-looking little community. There wasn’t much organization to it at all. Not like Charleston, with its brick streets lined with tree-covered sidewalks. Still, Tyler served one important purpose, Celia supposed, as way station for the Wells Fargo stage line. Businesses had mushroomed over night with the establishment of Tyler as a stop along the impressive stage route.

  Celia smiled to herself at the thought of what the boy might get into before he returned. She watched as Cutter trotted along beside Joseph down the street, their combined feet evoking a cloud of dust in their wake. Such a pair, she considered. Cutter would protect him.

  “Don’t worry. The Chinaman has a small candy display near the cash register and a fascinating small explosives lot in the back.” Maggie winked when Celia blanched at the statement. “It’s okay. The boy can’t hurt himself. They’re for entertainment only.” Maggie patted Celia’s leg comfortingly. “Nothing a ten-year-old boy can get in trouble with. Well, not much trouble anyway.” She grinned at the cool glance Celia sent her.

  The murmuring coming from the group sitting in front of the mercantile broke her train of thought. Turning her head, Celia saw several pairs of eyes met hers in an openly inquisitive stare.

  Old men sat on the boards of the walkway in front of the mercantile, like birds perched on a wood fence.

  Celia noted they also loitered on stools, or leaned precariously in chairs teetering on two legs. Checkers was the game of choice or watching passersby with a shrewd eye. She recognized there was more to their loitering, than merely a way to pass the time. These old men seated in front of the mercantile had a far more important occupation. They were watching the ‘goin’s on’ in Tyler.

  Haling those he knew, Seth greeted each one in turn, before reaching up to help Maggie out of the wagon. If he overheard their words, he paid no attention. “Come on, let me help you down.” His big hands reached out to assist Celia next.

  “It’s okay. I can manage.”

  “Celia…”

  She hated the tone. She wasn’t a cowhand to be ordered around by the Boss. Besides, she really didn’t want to get so close to him. Ever since that night in his room, she’d done her best to avoid the Boss. She didn’t trust herself, she admitted silently.

  Taking her skirt in one hand, she gripped the rail of the buckboard, before attempting to step on the wheel and dismount without his assistance. She liked her plan. It didn’t take but a second for the plan to change when her skirt hung in the metal spring under the seat.

  Seth watched as she swayed precariously with one foot in and one foot out of the wagon. Without fanfare, he merely gathered her up in his arms, before yanking hard on the tension holding her back. The material of her only skirt tore in a neat slit all the way down to the hem. Luckily, the rent went no higher than the back of her knee.

  Celia began to seethe. Her cheeks turned deep crimson with insult. The sense of outrage at his handling of the situation stirred even further, when he made a show of carrying her up the steps to the front door of the store before setting her on her feet once more.

  She could have sworn he intentionally meant to embarrass her by allowing her body to slide slowly down the front of his before settling her on the planks. His belt didn’t hide the fact that he was aroused by her nearness.

  Celia pushed at his shoulders to gain her freedom. Her cheeks were burning with the realization his touch ignited the embers she held for him. Why did he have to antagonize her so? Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? “Do you mind?”

  “Definitely not, Ma’am...” With his hand in the small of her back accompanied by a wicked grin on his face, Seth maneuvered Celia around the congregation of old men who now fell about in a noisy conglomeration of hoots mingled with catcalls. A tip of his hat combined with the cocky grin aimed at the menagerie of old men, and Seth smoothly managed to deposit her inside. Thankfully, before any more damage done, she mused.

  “Well bless my old cantankerous bones. How are you Seth? Maggie?” The owner hailed them with a flourish of agility that belied his frame as he made his way around the counter to greet them. “Come in, come in.” The stout proprietor offered Celia a pleasant smile.

  Courageously trying to regain her composure, she stared a bit owl-eyed at the fellow who displayed such jovial exuberance in finding the Loflins in his shop. Since Seth was answering the stout, balding storekeeper, Celia glanced about.

  The mercantile displayed a goodly array of frontier staples like barrels of grain, flour, meal and rice. There were bottles of this-and-that as well as baskets of everything from hardware to fishing tackle. A tall cabinet standing along the right-hand wall housed an impressive display of guns and rifles. Celia glanced up to see all manner of cooking utensils hanging from the bare rafters of the ceiling. Farming tools lined the wall
facing the street and ropes of all widths skirted the windowsill neatly displayed on hooks. Colors bloomed from deeper into the length of the store were display cabinets with cherished pieces shipped from back east gleamed. Ladies toiletries filled another cabinet. The pretty display drew Celia’s attention. A few steps toward that area found Celia interested in a wide array of material lining the walls, three shelves high. She admired the iron dress form displaying a lovely day dress in burgundy and gray, while Seth spoke conversationally to the proprietor.

  “Fine, Smitty, just fine.” Seth said. Glancing in Celia’s direction, he asked, “Have you got a place where a lady could sit a few minutes to rest?”

  Celia glanced back, her curiosity getting the better of her. What was he up to now? Mattie would have answered the question for her, except she breezed by her heading for the back of the store. Her last chance of support vanished with the shopkeeper’s wife. There was nothing to do but go with the little man.

  Beaming as he waddled in Celia’s direction, Smitty extended his thick arm to direct her toward the curtained doorway in the rear. “I’ve got a cot in the back room that you can use.”

  Surprisingly, Smitty moved quickly for a rotund little man. Smooth as water, the squat proprietor patted her hand as he guided her to the small room at the back. They wove their way through the maze of merchandise until they reached a cheerful curtain over the door. His warm brown eyes twinkled.

  Celia detected a southern drawl to his voice. Savannah, she guessed.

  As promised, Smitty led her into the tiny room with a small cot covered in a cheerful, homey, patchwork quilt.

  “There you are.” Maggie smiled cheerily at Celia before returning to her task of lining up material bolts and trims in coordinating groups nearby. Turning her attention to Smitty, Maggie waved a hand at the shopkeeper for assistance. “Before you go, Smitty, do be a dear and fetch me that bolt of bronze taffeta on the top shelf out front would you?” With that, Maggie disappeared again into yet another adjoining room.

  “Sure thing, Miss. Maggie...” With a wink for Celia, Smitty bowed as best he could. “The misses is fixing you some tea. You must be plum tuckered out after that long ride. Here you go.” He smoothed the cover as he directed her to sit on the old, comfortable looking iron daybed. “I’ll be right back. Oh, and by the way, my name is Smitty, Smitty Jones. Now let me see about that material and the tea,” he said and disappeared out the door. The squat little fellow beamed and gave her a full-toothed grin before scurrying away like a balding rat.

  Filling the doorway in Smitty’s absence, Seth leaned an arm against the door jam.

  Celia couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him. The devil-may-care way he had of looking at her made her insides tingle. Why did he have to look so damn good? Moreover, why did he have to parade in front of her with his shirt open down his chest? Of course, the afternoon heat had necessitated he try and stay cool. God forbid he removes it altogether, Celia thought anxiously. It was bad enough that it gave her a rather pleasant view of that luscious, dark chest hair she couldn’t stop fanaticizing about fisting her fingers in. His pants rode low on those narrow hips molding to his body perfectly. Damn him! Ladies weren’t supposed to swear, but war chiefs’ daughters could get away with it, she mused. He was intent on riling her sensibilities. Of course, he was with his brash hold on her only minutes earlier. Fleetingly, Celia wondered what the vapors felt like. Damn Seth Loflin to hell for having such an effect on her!

  “I’m going to start on Maggie’s list. When you feel like it, Maggie’s going to help you pick out some clothes. Seth’s eyes never left her face.

  Celia nodded.

  Settling his Stetson firmly on his head, he turned disappearing the same way he’d appeared.

  The doorway seemed so big and empty. Celia considered her hands in her lap. So many emotions tumbling through her at that point.

  A few minutes later, a woman, Celia could only assume was Smitty’s wife came in carrying a tea tray followed by Maggie carrying a tray of sandwiches.

  “Well now, here we go, dear.” The woman sat the tea tray down with a flourish. Rising again, she clasped her fingers together before smiling broadly for her guest. “You must be Celia. My name’s Rose. I’m so pleased to meet you,” she gushed. “Seth spoke of you last time he was in.” The warm smile split her face, all the while her bright eyes roamed over Celia. “Why you’re prettier than a picture.” Rose smoothed at her apron satisfied at her on opinion.

  Since Rose was examining her with rapt interest, Celia didn’t consider it too impolite to do the same. The years had been kind to Rose. Delicacy and strength radiated in her face. She looked to be in her mid-forties. Casting a regal pose, her posture spoke of breeding. Her features had turned heads at one time, while gently aging with the years. Her dark hair, done up in a stylish bun, showed only light streaks of gray. Her smile, still brilliant and genuine, made Celia comfortable despite Rose’s perusal. Smiling to herself, she supposed curious people were the same everywhere.

  In the lull, Maggie spoke up. “Rose, dear, we’d like to look at some dresses including matching accessories. We’ll need everything from start to finish.” Her crisp but polite tone brooked no argument.

  Rose gave Maggie a genuinely baffled look. She wanted to ask questions, Celia could tell, but Maggie’s request left the woman without a chance to continue. Rather than commit a merchant’s mistake, Rose smoothed her skirts, patted her bun and smiled, though a bit stiffly. “Certainly, I believe we’ll be able to fill your needs.” With a thin-lipped smile, she nodded at both women before turning for the doorway.

  Maggie seated herself across from Celia in the confines of the small back room. She smiled warmly, while pouring tea in the fragile china cups on the tray.

  “Isn’t this nice, dear? We’ll have a small rest before we shop.” She glanced over at Celia who held her hands clasped in her lap. “Tell me about the clothes back east, dear. You must have been able to secure the best dress makers in Charleston.” She ran a surmising eye over Celia before continuing. “Why, with your bone structure and figure, I’ll bet you had those Charleston dress makers simply begging you to wear their designs.” Maggie’s expression, while warm proved gently teasing.

  Celia recognized the housekeeper’s attempt to put her at ease as the older woman passed her a cup. There was no evading Maggie. “There were times when I was afforded the attentions of a ‘broad-minded’ dressmaker.” Celia glanced pointedly at Maggie. “Most found my money worthless and one even told me so.” She knew she’d been holding on to those slights for much too long. Celia felt a significant weight lift from her shoulders with the confession.

  Maggie smiled understandingly, while continuing to fill a tiny plate with slender sandwich squares.

  Watching the older woman go about serving her, as if they were discussing the weather with their tea, Celia sighed. Perhaps it would be best to explain her lack of a social life. It would certainly be better than continue to have Maggie probe. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide, Celia mused. “The men I went out with while in Charleston were few.” Another wave of relief washed over her. There, she’d released another stone that had weighted her down for too long.

  “But you turned heads, none the less. I would stake a hard claim on that fact.” Maggie sent Celia a hearty Irish wink. “I know I speak the God’s truth on that. The young men must have been seeking you out at every turn to fill your dance card, not to mention sit beside you at the Sunday socials.” Warm blue eyes focused on dark green ones as Maggie put a voice to the vision she had of Celia’s social encounters.

  Celia shook her head gently with a resigned laugh. “No, I wasn’t without dance partners or attentions at the picnics. But Maggie you have to know none of them were serious.” She rested her elbows in her lap, before gazing into Maggie’s face with all honesty. “It was intriguing for most of the gentlemen to be in the company of such an ‘exotic creature’ as one eloque
ntly spoken rake informed me.” A twinge of frustration at the memory had Celia pushing off her elbows and leaning back once more against the back of the daybed. Still watching Maggie, Celia had to admit that speaking of it aloud was comforting.

  Maggie didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The hand she extended for Celia to grasp was enough. With a gentle, but firm squeeze, both women contemplated the tea in their cups in silence, before Maggie rose and deftly wiped her hands together. “Why don’t we see what Rose has for us?” She suggested. “Let’s get those buttons undone. Shall we?”

  It was Celia’s turn to smile then. “Thank you, Maggie.”

  The elder woman looked at Celia with a face full of love and understanding. Patting her hand again, Maggie whispered with another wink, “Don’t mention it, love.”

  As if on cue, Rose appeared in the doorway, her arms full of all manner of material, dresses, petticoats and corsets.

  Celia could only stare as the woman’s rush of words flowed out like a stream over its banks. “I’ve got several nice day dresses to get started with. Don’t worry about the fit, we can take them in. I always leave room in my ready-made dresses. When the ladies buy them, then I do a fitting. Now you just stay right here. I’ll go and get started on gathering some shoes for you. Within minutes, she was back. Rose picked up right where she’d left off. “When Seth told me you wanted to look at some dresses, I told him that while we couldn’t boast the wealth of creations they have back east in South Carolina, I could promise you, you’ll have heads turning on each side of the street when you step out in my designs.” With that, she unloaded her arms before resting her hands across her ample bosom as she smiled down at Celia. “Yes sir, mighty pretty. You’ll do me proud to wear my dresses.”

  Celia considered Rose’s exuberance a bit overwhelming but managed to relax fractionally. It was faintly enjoyable to have Rose fuss over her.