Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Read online

  Maggie didn’t say anything for a minute. “What about your marriage?” Reaching out, she traced fingertips along Celia’s cheek. “What about what Seth wants?”

  “Maggie, be reasonable. He doesn’t need this.” She turned toward the bed. Her words came out in a whisper. “He’d be better off without me.” Looking again into Maggie’s compassionate face, she straightened once more. “Besides, the marriage was nothing more than a ploy to keep me safe.” Realization at what she’d said came too late. Her eyes widened before she dropped them to her lap.

  “I don’t believe that for one minute. Seth has feelings for you, feelings that confuse him, feelings that maybe he doesn’t understand, but they’re there all the same.” Maggie smiled confidently for Celia.

  With a pat of the hand, Maggie reminded Celia so much of her own father and how he’d always known the right of things.

  “I diapered his bottom when he was a baby. I wiped his nose and dried his tears when he was a toddler. I watched him grow into a brave and good-hearted man, despite his father’s tirades. Deep down under all the cocksureness and pride, he’s a good man. Celia, give him time. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

  She considered Maggie’s words, smiling inwardly as she thought of how Maggie’s opinion was most probably biased. She couldn’t blame her for that. She simply said no more about it. When the time came, she would be the one to have to make a decision.

  Maggie took her hand and drew her out of her head again. “It’s not good for a body to go without so much rest. I’ll take over from here and I want you to go back and lay down for a spell. Do you kin?”

  Celia stood up and stretched her back as she smiled for Maggie’s benefit. “I kin. You’re a dogged woman, Maggie McVey. I’ll do as you wish. Does Casey need anything?”

  Maggie’s grin was broad. “No, Charles Harrison is with her. I believe she has everything she needs.”

  It took a moment for her mind to follow the implication of Maggie’s words. “Charles?”

  Maggie nodded, “Yes, Charles Harrison.” Taking a sip of tea, she cut Celia a sidelong glance. “You see, not everything is as proper would have it.”

  The mischievous grin Maggie sent her had Celia shaking her head. No, everything wasn’t as proper would have it. “Has Ty said anything about what the men from Shooter Creek found?”

  “Ty spoke with Jake. He said the posse still hasn’t found a trail yet.”

  Celia sighed. “I wished this was over.”

  “Charles told me that your court order came through. You won’t be forced to go after your cousin. It will bar Brannon, or whoever he is, from coming around you as well.”

  “I understand why the Texas Rangers would want my cousin, but if Brannon is an impostor, why would someone who really isn’t a Ranger want him so badly?”

  Wondering aloud, Maggie glanced at Celia with pursed lips. “Maybe it isn’t your cousin they’re after. Perhaps it’s you, love.” Her brow arched. “Didn’t Seth say there were rumors that the man we know as Brannon had been selling women to the Mexicans?”

  “It was rumored, yes.” Celia paused. “Perhaps it is me he’s been after all along.”

  After Maggie left, the possibility that Brannon wasn’t a Texas Ranger but an outlaw who saw slave trading as his ticket to greater wealth worked its way into Celia’s head. If so, wouldn’t it be feasible to lay a trap and possible catch the bastard in the act?

  Lying across the bed, Celia closed her eyes. She could see the plan in her mind. Details would need working out. Could she enlist the help of any of those around her? That point stumped her already exhausted brain and soon she floated away on a soft, cloud void of all conscious effort.

  Chapter 12

  Conspiracy

  The breaking of glass woke Celia. Rising, she stepped to the side table. The lamp’s light cast an eerie glow about the room. His groan came out involuntary. Quickly reaching for the lamp, she illuminated the bed. Seth fixed on her vision and one word came out.

  “Celia.”

  Relief, like a river flooded her. Celia caught herself before she cried out. Tracking her movements, Seth’s fevered eyes traveled over her as she laid her hand against his cheek. Her hand against the stubble on his cheek felt good. He closed his eyes briefly with the sensation.

  “Cool, the fever has broken.”

  “How long?” His cracked lips all but mouthed the question. Water would be a blessing, he mused.

  “Five days,” she breathed, cupping his cheek in her hand with tears swimming in those exquisite green eyes.

  Seth couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked fragile and exhausted. Her face reflected the strain of the vigil. Shadows rested beneath her swollen eyes and the hollows of her cheeks seemed deeper. As she moved from the bed to the water basin and soaked the cloth once again, he could see she looked thinner. Fatigue had him slumping back against the pillows, but he couldn’t close his eyes. His gaze filled with her – watching as she sat back down on the edge of the bed and straightened the cover over him. She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen. Somehow, he’d made it back to her. Letting her go wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t – ever.

  Raising a hand, Seth brushed at the silken hair that had escaped the coil at the nape of her neck. With his hand on her wrist, he searched her face. “It’s all right, Celia, it’s all right,” he whispered weakly.

  The struggle to remain awake was short lived and he closed his eyes. Receding into the web of sleep once more, he dreamed of soft hands holding him and firm breasts against his back.

  ***

  After Seth had fallen back to sleep, Celia continued to wait near his side. He’d been conscious only a minute or two before fading back into the arms of oblivion. He resembled a wayward angel, her angel.

  Silently, Joseph saddled up close and tugged at her skirt. “Miss Celia?” His warm brown eyes imploring, “The Boss, he’s gonna to be all right, isn’t he?” His small mouth trembled as he asked the question in his stilted English.

  Taking the cloth and moistening Seth’s fever parched lips again, she busied herself with making him comfortable and keeping her mind focused on the moment. She couldn’t dissolve in front of Joseph. she nodded. “Yes, Joseph.”

  “Bad men hurt him like they hurt my maw.” Joseph’s young face twisted into a grimace and he lowered his head to the bed between his hands.

  Celia laid a hand on his shoulder. She understood his pain. “Yes, but Ty and the men will find him. Don’t you worry.” She pulled Joseph up to face her. “Would you sit with him a little while?”

  The boy’s face relaxed into a positively, beaming, young man. “He had a job to do.” Joseph would be all right as well, she told herself.

  Exhaustion was taking the place of the sheer will and determination she’d held herself together with over the last week. Looking down at her hands, she realized they wouldn’t stop shaking. Quickly crossing the hall to her old room with Cutter in tow, Celia closed the door and latched it behind her. In the darkness she lay across the bed. Cutter spooned his warm, furry body next to hers as she wept.

  ***

  “You’ll want to send these back to the hotel,” Rose said, pointing to the large packages on the counter. She patted the bundle and smiled, “Less conspicuous that way. I think you’ll like the results, but if something needs taking up just let me know.” She laid a companionable hand on Celia’s. “How are things, dear?”

  “Fine,” It was a pat answer and Celia wallowed in the guilty of the little white lie. “To tell the truth, Seth’s been a bit grouchy these past several days. Ready to get back to the ranch, Ty says.” She smiled faintly for Rose as she fingered a bolt of cloth in a stack on the counter. “Are these new?” She asked the question without much interest.

  “Yes.” Rose offered her a better look at the bolt by placing it between them on the elegant, walnut counter of the display cabinet. “I can understand his feelings. He’s healed now and wants to get back to what he
knows best. All this business with the Rangers has him on edge. We both know no restraining order is going to keep Brannon at bay.” Rose’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Being a rancher, he feels he can protect what’s his better, within his own compound.”

  Celia glanced up. She clinched and released her fists. “Yes, of course.” With a curious gaze for her new friend, she cocked her head. “How did you know about the restraining order?”

  Rose waved a hand and gave an off-handed smile. “Oh, word travels.” Glancing at the clock before Celia could comment, the merchant’s wife rang a tiny bell.

  Soon a redheaded, freckle-faced youth appeared in the doorway to the stock room. His complexion had yet to see a razorblade and his blush was sweet and innocent, Celia thought.

  “Roy, take these things over to the hotel for Mrs. Loflin, will you?” As the boy disappeared with the bundles, Rose stepped around the counter and pulled Celia’s broach out of her pocket. “Here you go, dear. I’d imagine you’re glad to be getting this back. Such a lovely piece,” she said admiringly. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  “Me too.” Celia fingered the broach before slipping it into her pocket. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Jones.”

  “Rose, please, dear,” the woman admonished with a laugh for Celia’s proper address. She and Celia were well past the need for proper addresses. “Don’t mention it. Anytime I can help, you just let me know.” Rose reached out and hugged Celia. “Take care of yourself and your man.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She gave Rose a good-natured wink. “Give my regards to Mr. Jones, won’t you?”

  “Of course, dear.” Rose held Celia’s hand a moment longer. “The minute he gets back from the posse with Seth and Sheriff Cole.”

  “Posse? They went out again?”

  “Why yes, I thought you knew. Your man and as many volunteers as possible have gone after Brannon before daylight this morning. They said an Indian came in and told them where to find him.”

  Celia’s interest perked up. Could Broken Horse have found out where the Ranger’s camp was located?

  Rose leaned in closer and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Word is Brannon’s not who he said he is.”

  Celia attempted a weak smile for Rose’s gossip. “Yes, it would seem,” she said distractedly. Why hadn’t he told her he was going? Furious at being the last to know warred with her ability to remain calm at that point. Celia said nothing. Training her face to remain bland, she only nodded. Again, the thought crossed her already troubled mind, why hadn’t he told her he was leaving? It cut like a blade. Naively, she’d assumed he was about town tending to last minute business before they left for the ranch. A nagging voice in her head offered up the answer that really bothered her. He didn’t trust her. She toyed with the tassel on her glove. Her plans had certainly jumped the track, if she was waiting on Seth to keep her abreast of his.

  With a sudden gleam in her eye, Celia straightened. “I have to be going, Rose, thank you for everything.”

  “Certainly, dear, anytime.”

  ***

  The next morning, Celia woke ready to set her plan into motion. Daylight was creeping through the heavy drapes at the window. Not knowing what time it was, she left the bed and sought the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The face of the overgrown timepiece displayed six o’clock. Good! She tiptoed to the door. Easing it open, she saw the guard still slept. A lot of good he was doing the second floor occupants of the Loflin clan. Soon someone would replace him she hoped. Forcing that worry to the back of her mind, she tried to focus on getting dressed. If she hurried, she might be able to slip past the guard and complete the first step in her plan to bring about justice.

  The Wells Fargo office was thankfully, at the other end of town. Though, the stage coach stop was directly in front of the Tyler Inn, the office for the stage line was nestled into a small, non-descript office between two saloons. Celia slipped out of the hotel’s back door and down the alley until she saw the office across the street. At six-thirty in the morning, the saloons were silent. Not a soul stirred. Cautious as a mouse, she made her way to the stagecoach line’s office door. With a light rap, Celia then adjusted her bodice and slicked her hair in place.

  The night watchman roused from sleep, sliding his feet off the desk. Slowly gathering himself, he made his way groggily over to open the door. “Ma’am. May I help you?”

  “I’m so sorry to trouble you this early in the morning, but I simply must get a ticket to Charleston. Celia began to use her southern drawl on the man. She batted her eyes and smiled primly. She could tellthe man’s eyes focused on her starting at her head and slowly traveling downward. Then, as if poked by a straight pin, he swung the door wide and offered her entrance with a grand sweep of his beefy hand. She was glad she’d taken a few extra minutes to put on one of the dresses Seth had procured for her.

  With a breathy flourish to her voice, she gave the man her best come-hither smile. “Why thank you. My apologies, kind sir, but I simply must secure a seat on the next stage. Can you help me

  “Well…” Looking her up one side and down the other, the guard seemed mentally stricken as to what to do. “I suppose so. Which way are you headin’?”

  Celia continued the act by making a show of sweeping into the room, her hooped skirts billowing around trim ankles. “Back east. I need a ticket for Charleston.” She fluttered her handkerchief in front of her bosom with a dramatic flourish in hopes of keeping the man’s attention on her and not the strange hour of the day for a lady to be procuring a ticket. When he opened the ticket book and searched out a pencil, Celia gushed, “I really appreciate this. You have saved me.” She hoped her southern dialect wasn’t too much. He seemed too enthralled with her performance to notice anything amiss. The drama classes of Mrs. Lucy Longheart’s School for Young Women proved beneficial after all, Celia mused. Laying a hand on the man’s knuckles, Celia confided, “I need you to be as discreet as possible, kind, sir. You see, I’m being followed.” With a quick glance over her shoulder as if the perpetrator would appear at any moment, she turned back with alarm registering on her face. “I know you heard about the gun fight between Brannon and my husband, Seth Loflin?” She batted her eyelashes at the burly fellow and then wrinkled her forehead in consternation. “It would seem the Texas Ranger, Brannon, demands I not only tell him where my cousin, the Comanche, Red Bear is, but take him there as well.” She paused a moment, appearing to consider the frightful possibility. The handkerchief waving began again in earnest.

  The night watchman nodded obediently at her tale of woe.

  Confident she had the man’s complete attention, Celia continued. He had botched printing her ticket three times and was again starting over She took the opportunity to paint a very vague but disquieting picture of the gossip regarding what Brannon would do to a woman once he had her. In hopes her performance would be the news of the day shortly afterward, Celia finished with a near fainting spell and sat as the night watchman scurried away to get her some water.

  With the ticket purchased and the night watchman nodding in consideration of her plight, she was certain her ploy had worked. Soon word would spread throughout town about the young Mrs. Loflin’s escape from the perils of danger at the hands of a scoundrel. Unable to keep his mouth shut, she envisioned him racing next door as soon as she left to alert the patrons inside about her plan. What no one knew was her plan to slip out incognito. “I’m staying, at the Tyler Inn. When the coach gets here, I’ll need someone to come for me. You do understand, don’t you? I can’t be seen waiting on the street. Brannon or his men might be watching.”

  The man nodded like his head was a cork on a fishing line.

  Waving a hand, Celia rushed on. “I know its horrid to think of why a married woman isn’t safe on the streets these days, but that’s the predicament I find myself in. My husband, Mr. Loflin is, even now, on the trail of the villainous Brannon.” She reached out and gripped his fingers
tightly in her gloved hands, pulling him closer. “Oh, you simply must help me. Won’t you please?” Her dramatic show of desperation did the trick.

  Soon the man was handing her a ticket and escorting her out the back door.

  “You’ll be safer leaving this way, ma’am. I’ll have someone come around in a couple of days when the stage gets here. In the meantime, take care of yourself.” He patted her hand in a sympathetic show of concern. “If you need anything, you just send for me. Okay? Name’s Big Earl.”

  “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.