Salvation's Secrets (The Loflin Legacy Prequel) Page 4

  She paused in mid sniff. Glancing up slowly, her eyes narrowed. “I’m your best girl?” Shaking her head, her forehead furrowed. “What about the others? Won’t they be upset?” Her jaw tightened over the words as she turned away.

  Seth doubled over with the laughter. “Ah, Little One, you are the only one.” He raised a hand as if swearing. “I promise.”

  “You are not serious.” Her chin jutted as she started to shift out of reach.

  “No, I am serious. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t have the right word in Comanche to explain how I feel about you. The feeling is enormous. It’s more than I could ever imagine.” Reaching out, he took her hand between his. “Here, feel this.” Laying her hand over his heart, he smiled when she looked up surprised. “See what I mean. My heart is thudding against my chest. I can’t get it to slow down when I’m with you.” Lifting her chin with a finger, he examined her face. “There’s no good words for what you do to me.”

  Her expression took on such a tender bend, Seth had to still his breath rather than loose it completely. “I have feelings for you, which are strong and difficult to explain, Seth. All I have to do is see you riding up and I get warm all over.” Her eyes grew big and her hands brushed down her body as if wiping the heat of passion away. “I asked Maylia what the feeling was and she said I yearned for my mate.” Dubious yet serious, Celia garnered his attention. With her fingers, she trailed a slim digit down the side of his cheek. Where she touched him felt like hot embers but in a good way. His whole body relaxed and went on alert all at the same time.

  “You’re experiencing an attraction to me, the same way I am to you. Do you understand what I’m saying, Celia? There’s an emotion forming between us like a bond. If it’s tight enough, no one can severe its hold. Distance may keep us from each other. I’ll know I love you here.” He laid her hand over his heart again as his rhythm didn’t subside. The pounding grew stronger with each pulse of blood through his body. “Come, lay with me.” His hand reached for her. “I only wish I had a decent place for you to rest your head.” His eyes traveled over her slim curves before settling on her mouth, moist and soft as a rose covered in morning dew. “No one has ever made me feel like you do, Little One.” His hand trailed down the front of her tunic, grasping the hide and shoving it up and out of his way. Soon, her skirt followed and she lay bare before him. “You’re so lovely. A real vision for me to feast on and I want to remain right here to fill my soul with you.” His dark hair dropped forward when he lowered his lips to hers. Not a sound was needed as they kissed with their tongues mating in a ritual as old as time. Soon, he entered her. She arched in hunger and called out in pleasure as he rode the passion between them. Small, innate sounds like those of a distant harp’s song called to him, begging him to follow. Seth picked up the tempo with an urgency brought on by need. He wanted to give her the pleasure she needed yet the siren’s call of completion was too strong. In the end, all he could do was whisper his words of love for her ears only and hope she understood. Rolling from atop her glistening body, he reared up in the darkness and raked a hand through his dark chestnut strands. “It’s late. We better get back.” Stepping aside to don his pants and boots, he glanced at her form as she rose. The golden light of a candle burned bright, sending shadows fleeting in their wake.

  “One should think you were pressed for time, Seth Loflin.” Her emerald eyes flicked up at him as she slipped into her skirt. “I scarcely touched you and you rush headlong into desire’s end.”

  Plainly spoken, Celia’s words salted an already festering cut. His father’s demands made meeting her all the more dangerous. Why couldn’t the world go away? “I’m not in a hurry, if that’s what you mean,” he said with a crook to his mouth. He’d never been any good at lying and his attempt at meeting her insistent stare made matters worse. “Just ache to see you. Sometimes it’s too much for a body to bear.” Reaching for her, he gathered her close. “I’ll make it up to you next time. You’ll see. I’ll make love to you like there’s no tomorrow.” The tightening of her jaw being her only response, he realized he had blundered and excuses were worthless. Nuzzling her neck, her shoulder as well as down her arm, he vowed to take as much time as necessary to instill a kind of bliss guaranteed to keep her happy long after they’d parted ways.

  She took a step backward. “Lone Eagle wishes you to visit our tent two nights from now. There is a special celebration planned. You will come?”

  More a statement than the question, Celia stood, straight and tall, her chin just above level. “Yes, tell you father. I will attend.” When she turned without so much as a nod in his direction, he reached out, taking her arm and pulling her into his. No real need in saying anything, he let his mouth do the talking for him. Soon, she was gasping for air and plying him with her own kisses. A small sound of pleasure broke the silence as his hand slid up under her tunic to cup her firm breast. “I can’t get you out of my head, Celia. You’re all I can think of anymore. What am I going to do?” Pulling back a fraction, he stared into her face. Those almond shaped eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “We mustn’t talk of such things, Seth Loflin.” Her lips quivered as she dropped her head. “I have no answers for your dilemma. I cannot sleep nor eat and father is concerned. He asks me what is wrong.” She shook her head sadly. “I cannot bring myself to tell him about this thing between us.” Reaching out, she grabbed his forearms. “What if he sends you away?” With emerald eyes searching his, Seth swallowed over the greater risk of his father finding out.”

  Whistling for Sarge, Seth led her to the horse and helped her into the saddle. Her presence didn’t upset Sarge like he thought another rider would. Perhaps even Sarge had grown accustom to her presence in his life. “Don’t worry, Celia. I won’t let anything happen to you or your people. You have my word.”

  The words eased her tense shoulders some and she leaned back against his chest to doze. In the distance, he saw her father’s camp, the world of the nomadic Indian, a warrior and statesman, leader and mediator, widower and father. Whatever he did, he’d make sure nothing happened to her or her people. This he would assure Lone Eagle of at their upcoming meeting. She’d phrased the meeting as a celebration and certainly the deer kill proved worthy of celebrating. Still, Seth understood the meaning concealed in her invitation. Her father wanted peace and the prosperity, which came with abundant game, water for all and a warm bed at night. They’d most likely smoke the peace pipe, a symbol of alliance and peace among The People and with the settlers living in the area. Praying he could pull off such a grand demonstration of trust and good will, Seth said a silent prayer everything went well in two days.

  ***

  “Where in tarnation have you been?” The hall glowed with so many candles the entry resembled a wake in progress. “I’ve had every hand on this spread searching for you. Did it ever occur to you to let somebody know where you’re going when you leave the house?” Earl’s dusky blue eyes, still as keen as the days when he was a sharp shooter for the Army, bore into Seth’s face mere inches from his own.

  The smoke from tobacco lingered on Earl’s shirt. His silver gray hair, severely parted on the right side fell forward despite the strong pomade infused hold. Wagging a long finger at his first born, Earl scowled. “Don’t try lying to me, Seth. I know you haven’t been in a damn poker game. I had somebody check at the Double Bar M, the Rolling Star and the Switchin’ J. Now come clean or I swear you’re on the next train out of here.” His finger thrust in determined persuasion, Earl glowered at Seth.

  “I went out to the Comanche camp on the bluffs.”

  “You did what?” Earl’s voice boomed with anger as well as innuendo.

  “I went to see the Chief, Lone Eagle.” Seth hoped if he sounded noble enough, he could get his father’s blessing to visit the camp and ultimately not have to tell his father about Celia.

  “Why?”

  “Because, he wanted to discuss his reason for being here. He offered me the peace pip
e as well.”

  “The peace pipe?” Earl’s voice filled with incredulousness. “Do you think I was born yesterday, boy?”

  “I’m not your boy!” Seth’s teeth clenched over the words and the memory of his skin burning as he lay atop the asphalt shingles of a new ranch house some ten years earlier. He’d helped his dad raise the barn and the house. Yet, Earl never treated him like he could be anything but a burden. Certainly not an asset Earl could rely on. Seth swallowed hard. He’d listened to Earl yelling at his mother while she labored to bring his sister into the world. Laura told him she hoped she died. She’d gotten her wish. Pain crept back up his throat as thoughts of his father beating Celia’s people into submission when plans changed to see the Comanche and settlers leave in peace. Earl proved capable, after all Laura, his maw, had suffered under his hand before. Neither had realized their young son watched as his father beat his mother.

  “You worthless piece of shit.” Earl’s hand came back as he meant to strike Seth across the face. “You’ll respect me because I’m your father.”

  “Yeah, the almighty Earl Loflin, cattle baron and land owner in three counties.” The sarcasm dripped from Seth’s words. He’d not spoken to his father so in quite some time. The mere thought of the night Earl lashed out, cutting him across the face, leaving a scar he carry forever made him sick to his gut. This time, he vowed he’d be prepared. This time, the bastard wouldn’t win.

  “You better mind your tone, boy. I’m your father. You don’t talk to me that way or else.”

  “Or else what?” Realizing he treaded on shaky ground, Seth took a deep breath. “We ain’t got no rights!” Seth shouted above the standoff, his arms thrust wide in abject submission.

  Charles eased out the door and down the hall.

  Earl stepped closer. “You got one.” His breath smelled like mint and his color was high. The bastard had been drinking heavily. Waiting until Seth met his bloodshot eyes, Earl sneered. “The right to leave this house and never come back if you can’t abide my rules.”

  The bedroom door swung wide, rebounding off the wall. Jake stood in the opening.

  “We got trouble, Earl.” The tight-lipped scowl Jake shared for the room’s occupants didn’t indicate anything was wrong with the scene. He was simply relaying ranch information.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sweat beaded along Earl’s upper lip.

  Seth held his tongue, though he wanted to take a jab at the man standing in the center of the room. Fed up with Earl’s tight-fisted tactics, he wanted something else, he wanted her – Celia. They’d run away together. That’s what they’d do! Armed with a newfound plan, he sidestepped Earl and headed for the hall.

  Jake never flinched. “We got Injun’ trouble.”

  One word and Seth stopped dead in his tracks. His heart rate increased three fold. A glance at Charles as he met Seth in the hall and a cold chill swept over him.

  “Are you sure?” Hating the defensiveness in his tone, he headed down the hall, his boot heels echoing in his wake.

  “From what he said, Jake thinks its Comanche.” Charles sounded serious and much older all of a sudden.

  Cutting his buddy a hard glare, Seth murmured something under his breath. “Ain’t Comanche.”

  ***

  The four rode hard, arriving in a cloud of dust at a small patch of grazing land for Shooter Creek stock.

  “They killed them all. The whole damn thing makes no sense.” Unsure why he didn’t believe the Comanche caused the carnage, Seth allowed Sarge his head as they moved among the dead steers. Some had arrows protruding while others held bullet holes. “Lone Eagle and his tribe had nothing to do with this.” Emphatic and sick to his stomach at the same time, he steadied his breathing in the hopes his next words came out plainly. “I’m going to their camp to talk to him.”

  “Like hell you are.” Earl spat chewing tobacco on the ground and leaned a forearm on his saddle horn in his quiet, yet serious way. The squint-eyed stare he used to survey the damage was calculating and cold. “Jake, I want you to round up the men and get them to meet me at the base of Bonnett’s Bluff. “I’m gonna put the fear of God in these Injuns’.”

  Alarm washed over Seth like ice water on a cold day. Catching his breath, he wheeled Sarge and tore out in the direction of Lone Eagle’s camp.

  Since all eyes were on him, no one saw Charles slip away to follow.

  ***

  “They’re cattle rustlers, Charles. Same as the low life scum you hire out to kill. We gotta get the chief to explain how it wasn’t them that did it.”

  “Come on, Seth. Be reasonable. You’re grasping at straws here. Do you think Earl’s gonna believe Lone Eagle over what he saw out there in the field? Even if Lone Eagle could prove it wasn’t them. What makes you think Earl will believe him?” Charles rode alongside Seth with a scowl on his face. This is the kinda mess I was talking about. You’re fixin’ to put us right in the middle of a standoff with the Comanche.”

  “Me? I didn’t start this. Whoever killed the cattle started this. I just aim to set the record straight.” His mind made up, Seth stared straight ahead in anticipation of seeing the campsite up ahead. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I can handle this.”

  Charles shook his head. “Somehow, every time I’ve ever heard you say those words, you always end up in trouble.” The horizon loomed ahead and Charles gave the terrain a hard study.

  “That’s a lie and you know it.” Seth shot him a hard look of disbelief before slapping Sarge’s flank with the reins. Digging spurs into the horse’s flanks, he kicked up dust as man and horse galloped ahead.

  Charles finally caught up with Seth. “Let’s see if we can track these rustlers and give Earl proof it wasn’t Lone Eagle.”

  Unable to stop the urge to get back at Charles, Seth pulled hard on Sarge’s reins. “Now you want to reason? Thought you said it wouldn’t make no difference. Earl wouldn’t believe it wasn’t them.”

  “We don’t have much time or many options. It’s worth a try.”

  Soundless but for a slow release of breath, Seth reined Sarge in and stared hard at Charles. “Why are you doing this?”

  Charles pursed his mouth over the question. “I guess I don’t wanna see you hurt. Come on, Seth. You know this could be messy.” He steered his roan into the lead. “Besides, you aren’t any good at negotiations or tracking. You go off halfcocked. You need me.”

  Huffing out a breath, Seth spurred Sarge to catch up. “You arrogant, mule-headed fool.” Peering sideways, he shook his head. “Seems to me like you care ‘bout my hide even if we ain’t blood.”

  Charles cut him a dark glance from beneath his weathered Stetson. “Ain’t got too many I care about. So what if you are one of ‘em? Seems to me you ought to be grateful for the help, blood or not.” Charles galloped ahead allowing Seth time for consideration of his friend’s gesture. Truth be told, he didn’t have many he could depend on either. Maggie, Jake and Ty all loved him. Yet, who could he count on in a fight or defending his woman? The thought of her brought such a pain to his chest, he rubbed without being mindful of why. The why didn’t matter, it’s simply the way things were. He loved Celia. If he wasn’t totally mistaken she loved him too. The struggle to remain unscathed by the path he’d chosen could get them both killed. Yes, he needed Charles’ help and was thankful to call him brother.

  ***

  Word spread fast regarding the cattle slater. Tyler was abuzz with the incident. Gossip grew at a steady pace and soon the Comanche were the enemy of all settlers, black or white, Spanish or Texan.

  Charles traveled into town one evening after a long day of tracking. His clothes, covered in trail dust, hung in sweat stained wrinkles over his aching muscles. He and Seth had searched every inch of ground north of the slaughter. Tomorrow they’d search south if the weather held out. Thinking back, he revisited the threats Earl had for Lone Eagle the night after the discovery of the dead cattle. He’d sat comfortably leaning on h
is saddle horn while six men pointed rifles at Lone Eagle and the warriors gathered nearby. Like lighting a match under dry wood, Earl had laid down the law. The Indians were to ‘move on…to get off Loflin land and never return’. The scene swam like rancid meat in his gut. The whole thing was wrong.

  Nearing the saloon, he slide from the roan’s back and wrapped the rein around the nearest post. A drink and a bath were first, followed by a lovely young thing called Carmela. He smiled inwardly as he decided he might even forgo the drink to get a glimpse of her tender flesh sooner than later.

  The smoke hung thick in the air of the dimly lit saloon. A tinkling piano and the murmurs of patrons all there for one reason slid past his consciousness like mist in the wind. The Silver Spur proved the best of three saloons in the town of Tyler. The booze wasn’t watered down and the girls didn’t rip you off while you slept. So Charles planned on some much needed relaxation in the arms of an amply busted girl with a smooth hand. A wave from Sam, the bartender had Charles making his way across the crowed floor full of bodies, tables and liquor to the bar. The dark oak top ran the length of the room and was smooth to the touch. Sam prided himself on keeping a gleaming waxed shine on the surface and whiskey moving all the time for the men saddled up to rest booted feet on the low slung brass rail below. Charles passed several on his way to the bartender.

  “Hey, Sam. Whiskey and leave the bottle.”

  Sam nodded. With a jerk of his head sideways, he flicked a glance at two well-suited fellows standing at the far end of the bar. One wore chops and a handlebar mustache. Portly, the one stood a good six foot tall with broad shoulders. The perpetual scowl he wore earned him the nickname Grump. Charles recognized him as the foreman for the Triple M Ranch. His companion was the son, of the owner, Jesus Martinez. The son, named Carlos, was clean-shaven with dark skin and Spanish features. His aloof arrogance had always irritated Charles. Not believing Carlos was honorable, Charles kept a close eye on him.