Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Page 8

***

  The sound of a birdcall woke Seth in the early hours before dawn. He moved from Celia’s side, careful not to wake her. With her head resting on his bedroll, Seth followed the direction of the call. A fog had seeped in during the night like death’s own hand. Seth returned the call and through the fingers of the fog, a dark figure emerged. Seth uncocked the hammer on his revolver and re-holstered it. “What took you so long?”

  “I rode out when night fell and you hadn’t come home, brother. What happened here? You can smell smoke a mile away.” The lanky, younger version of Seth slid from the horse’s back and landed lightly in front of his older sibling. Reaching out, Tyron Loflin grasped Seth squarely by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake. The man’s face, haloed by long dark hair, resembled a warrior. “Are you all right?”

  “I am.” Seth shoved his hand through his hair and wished for coffee.

  Instinctively, Ty searched his brother’s face. “What did you do? Stumble onto an Indian war?”

  Ty’s observation was too close for Seth’s frayed disposition. “We don’t have time for your jokes, Ty. We’ve got trouble here.” Seth broke the contact by taking a step backward. He didn’t want to have to explain things again, but it didn’t matter. Still trying to wake up, he scratched at his chest and glanced around for the coffee pot.

  “Well, excuse me. Seems I’m mistaken in worrying about my big, fearless brother,” Ty snorted with sarcasm. “What happened here anyway?”

  Seth didn’t answer. It would be hard to relive the details. “I’ll make coffee first. You want some?”

  “Yes.” Ty’s questioning tone spurred Seth to busy himself with the coffee tin.

  With the fire going and the coffee brewing, Seth took a deep breath before beginning the hard task of relaying the gruesome details of what they’d found. “It looks like soldiers. From what I could tell there are army issued weapons and horse tracks littering the scene. The camp was burned and…and they’re all dead...” Seth voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother. The pain of what he’d seen had his eyes burning.

  “Dead… All of them?” Ty’s voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper as his dark eyes searched Seth’s face.

  “Everyone except Lone Eagle. He was alive but just barely when we got to him and he died before we could learn who did it”

  Ty’s sigh was audible. “Holy mother of…” Flicking a stick into the fire’s smoldering heat, he dropped to his haunches and slowly shook his head. The fire’s light mirrored Seth’s disgust in his brother’s face.

  Seth re-settled the coffee pot on the hook above the fire. Reaching out, he warmed his hands while his mind ran back over the incident. He was working on the repercussions to come.

  Neither one of them heard her slip up. Celia materialized near Seth’s side. With features frozen in dazed shock, she simply stood with her arms wrapped about Seth’s oversized coat.

  Ty rose quickly. Yanking off his hat, he inclined his head toward her. “Celia, it’s been a long time. I’m…I’m really sorry," he offered in Comanche.

  Celia’s eyes were open, but she didn’t see him. Her gaze fixed on a spot just over Ty’s shoulder. The only visible response she gave him was a nod of her chin. Tears swam in her eyes. Soot mixed with so many tears had stained her face. The thought crossed Seth’s mind to reach out, take her in his arms, before gently wiping the dirt away. He shook off the urge and stood quietly.

  Stepping toward her, Ty extended his hand and touched her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry none. We’re gonna find out who did this.”

  “Ty.” Seth garnered his brother’s attention while his eyes never left Celia’s face. “I’m taking Celia back to the ranch with us.” Apparently, it brought her back because he saw the stunned look she gave him and missed Ty’s equally surprised expression.

  ***

  Ty wiped the sweat from his brow with a faded kerchief. The sun was high in the sky. Noting how the mid-day heat was setting in, he glanced again at his brother as Seth watched Celia make her way among the graves. “She’s been at it all morning,” he stated flatly. Soaking the kerchief with water before tying it around his neck again, Ty started forward. “I’ll see if I can get her to stop long enough to rest.”

  “Leave it.” Seth didn’t need to glance at Ty as he issued the directive. He simply dropped his spade and walked to the horses. With his canteen in his hand, he headed for her spot next to a newly dug grave. “Celia.”

  She turned before looking up at him. Her expression emptied his heart. Lines of strain marked the corners of her eyes while dark smudges lay beneath them giving her a gaunt appearance. He recognized the exhaustion. She’d spoken over every grave they’d dug. Her words meant to aid the People in their journey to the next life came back easily.

  Seth figured he’d listened to her speak them enough times e might be able to do the ceremony himself if it came down to it. “Celia, you need to sit down.” Handing her the canteen and a piece of hardtack, Seth hunkered down beside her, resting his elbows on his thighs.. “You’re working too hard. Ty and I can take care of things here,” Seth urged. “Why don’t you try and get some rest in the shade?”

  “Thank you.” Celia said. Her voice was fragile, a cool, brittle sound , which made Seth’s gut tighten.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She reminded Seth of a china doll, all beautiful composure and control, yet delicate and fragile.

  Broken Horse spoke up, suggesting, “Why don’t you take a break and rest? We still have a great deal of work to do here.”

  It took her several beats before she turned to face him rather than continue over the current grave she was trying to bless. “All right.”

  Turning her attention to Seth, she motioned for him to follow her. With the eyes of one who’d just emerged from a trance in a sweat lodge, Celia requested, “Walk with me.” Stepping away from the graves, Celia headed for the trees.

  They wandered silently among the grasses and saplings until they came upon a large Sycamore tree.

  Settling down in the dapple shade, Celia motioned for Seth to join her. In the stillness, with the only sound being Ty’s spade removing more dirt from the earth, Celia sighed and rested her back against the tree trunk. She pulled the long length of her hair away from her neck and closed her eyes.

  The woman who spoke to him then was not the same one who’d given such a weak reply only minutes earlier. If anything, she was cool and composed. He could hear her striving for logic now. “Seth, you know as well as I do y people’s rites of passage have to be honored to help them survive in the next world.”

  Seth understood to what Comanche tradition she referred. He’d learned much in the time he’d spent with her and the People.

  The heat was gathering as the day wore on. Not so typical for early April, Seth thought. A stiff breeze kicked up and rustled in the treetops. He waited patiently. Celia opened her eyes and glanced up to where a mother bird feed her babies. She smiled at the soft chirps they made. Seth leaned on an elbow and stretched his long legs out as he watched her. Again, she closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them looking directly at him. Reaching out, Celia took his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

  Seth felt the jolt of her touch and glanced up. The contact stirred his senses. He was helpless to contain the sensation she’d summoned. It was as if there was a connection of sorts, a mental perception.

  “This is something only I can do.” Celia’s jaw firmed. “I will help you with each grave.”

  “You’ve been at since first light. Why don’t you rest awhile?” Seth understood what her response would be before he spoke the words.

  The crease of her mouth spoke of appreciation laced with stubbornness, a trait he knew she had in abundance. “That won’t be necessary. I’m used to long hours in surgery. There are no breaks from the work when you’re dealing with a person’s life and even though they are dead to this world, we’re still dealing with lives here.”
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  “But we can handle this.” Seth tried to reassure her. “I think I can even recite the prayer of the dead from memory.” He sent her a rueful smile to lighten the mood.

  Her face relaxed and creased into a discerning grin. But Seth could see he’d had no effect on her decision at all. Her willful nature hadn’t changed with time. Seth dropped his head before he shook it in a sign of resignation. Arguing with this woman would bring little gain indeed. He watched as she rose and made her way back to the graves. Admiring the view as she left, Seth considered her independent stance. He’d been trying to convince himself she needed him, but Seth began to realize the very essence of the woman lay in the fact despite the obstacles, despite all the heartache, Celia would survive – alone if she had to. He went over again what she had told him the day before. Her graduating from finishing school, her being a surgical assistant in Charleston was all the result of determination and grit. Oh, yes, the woman had a lot of grit.

  There were times when despite himself Seth found Celia infuriating. Then there were times like this morning when he’d realize how marvelous she was. She was exceptional. On a slow release of breath, Seth considered her courage again. Nevertheless, even strong women needed companionship, didn’t they? Perhaps a man to shoulder the burden or lighten the mood? Glancing around, Seth thought about braving this territory as a woman. Most women would’ve collapsed by now from the sheer heat of the day, not to mention the gore of the death lying all around them, but not Celia. Was the young, affectionate maiden, he bedded so long ago, still inside the self-sufficient, fearless woman who’d come back into his life?

  What had her life been like back east? It had to have been very different. With her looks, Seth knew she should have had all manner of invitations. Had she accepted any of them? Did she in fact have someone waiting for her return? What kind of man would let a woman travel to the territory alone? A stupid one, Seth surmised and threw down the grass he’d been chewing on.

  What would it take for her to stay? Seth realized Celia would want to find her father’s killer. But then what?

  Pushing the Stetson to the back of his head, Seth glanced up at the sky. Crystal blue smiled back at him. It wouldn’t be easy. Nothing worth keeping ever was. Rising to return to work, Seth promised himself, he’d be there when she needed him.

  ***

  The four of them stood over the body of Lone Eagle as Celia began to pray to the Great Spirit. Seth and Ty removed their hats. Besides the one outward show of respect, there was little the brothers could do except stand in silence as Celia and Broken Horse turned their faces toward the sky and focused on the Comanche prayer of passage.

  She wore a beaded dress of soft deer hide confiscated from the wreckage and had chosen to paint a red strip down the part in her hair in respect of the ceremonial custom. Soft moccasins covered her feet and she appeared almost as Seth remembered. He saw Celia’s hands tremble when she placed Lone Eagle’s tomahawk in his crossed arms. She adjusted his beaded headband and gently smoothed the feathers. The fox fur she had asked Ty to gather served as a warm, soft pillow to rest her father’s head on. Finally, laying a buckskin hide they’d managed to salvage over him, Celia said good-bye to her father.

  The pain in her face was something Seth would remember forever. Listening silently to the cousins chants, Seth chaffed at the ineptness he harbored. His hand itched to reach out and console her openly. Though he knew she wouldn’t welcome it, he found he wanted to sooth her, to somehow remove the anguish from her heart. Seth banked the urge as he watched her complete the ceremony. She had to do this alone.

  “Good-bye, Father. I love you.”

  The sound of the spade of dirt hitting the buckskin seemed to echo through the trees around them.

  ***

  Ty banked the fire to chase away the chill. Moving to where Seth lay, he crouched down and gave his brother’s shoulder a good shake. “Wake up. It’s your turn.”

  Darkness surrounded them and a cool dampness had set in overnight.

  Seth stretched his stiff muscles under the cover of his bedroll and shifted slightly, peering at his sibling from a sleep-clouded face. “What?” Seth managed the one word question while he glared at Ty out of one eye.

  “It’s your turn at watch.” Ty grinned.

  “What’s so damn funny about that?” Seth scrubbed at the growth of hair on his chin.

  Ty shook his head in resigned amusement. “How you can wake up with a scowl on your ugly mug when you’re the one who’s got the sleep under his belt is beyond me.” Ty pivoted on his haunches and picked up the cup of coffee he’d poured earlier before passing it to his brother. “Here”

  Watching him from the other side of the steaming cup, Seth only grunted.

  “Broken Horse has gone out tracking. He left a little while ago after he said goodbye to Celia. He said to tell you he’d get in touch as soon as he had something to report,” Ty told his brother. “I did some looking on my own.” Ty searched the horizon as he changed the subject. “The tracks leading away from Lone Eagle’s camp are army issued shoes. You were right. I even found an army issued rifle stock broken in the bushes. But the Army, at least the soldiers I know from Fort Tyler, would never even consider a massacre like that.”

  “Whoever’s responsible did a hell of a lot more than just consider it. That’s for damn sure.” Seth sat up and flung the blanket aside.

  Ty continued to rest on his haunches, his arms hanging loosely over his knees in a position he’d learned as a young boy at the knee of his mother’s Choctaw father.

  “I think you’re right about the Army, though.” Seth turned to Ty as he spoke. “As far as I can tell, Major Chance’s men have followed their orders to a tee. They’ve done nothing more than round up the Comanche and escort them to the reservation.” Seth got to his feet and stretched.

  Nodding in agreement, Ty watched his brother search the depths of the darkness. “The chore of keeping them there has been more than they bargained for. Still, I don’t think they’d have taken to murdering innocent women and children. At any rate, the townspeople would’ve heard talk about any suspicious activity.” Ty topped off his coffee.

  “That means what then?” Seth looked back at his brother, his investigative instincts kicking in.

  “Well, since Fort Worth is over a hundred miles away, I think it’s safe to say it wasn’t another company.” Ty shook his head in consideration and poked at the nearby fire. “No, the Army being responsible for this doesn’t feel right. Lone Eagle’s people were murdered as they slept. Some were even scalped. That’s not the Army’s way.” He peered up sideways at his brother with a grimace he couldn’t hide.

  “What about another tribe? Maybe Apache?” Seth asked.

  “I guess it could be possible.” Ty poured another cup of coffee as he considered. “What Apaches do you know of who ride Army issued horses with U.S. issued shoes?”

  “Stolen?” Seth pulled on his boots.

  “Maybe,” Ty considered as he stood back up. “But the slaughter of the horses doesn’t seem like Apaches.”

  “What about the Texas Rangers?” Seth’s jaw went rigid with the question he’d rather have not considered.

  Ty spit into the fire. A hiss rose into the waning night air. “Damn the governor of our great state.” Ty’s oath followed his sneer. “Whoever heard of releasing prisoners and giving them a badge along with the power to dictate right from wrong anyway? You know the directives as well as I do, especially the one which went something like – ‘Inflict the most severe punishment on those Indians who are considered hostile or suspected hostile’.”

  His quote punctuated with his search of the sky above told Seth what Ty thought of the directive, seeking help from the gods when no help existed below.

  “I know. It’s all the townspeople can talk about. ‘Hostile’ could be explained away simple enough with no witnesses.” Seth ground the stick he’d produced to stoke the fire into the dirt with more effort than was necessary. �
��Damn vigilantes.”

  “Yeah…no witnesses,” Ty repeated as he stretched forward to pick up the pot of coffee. Pouring himself another steaming cup, he considered the situation. “They say the one in charge is called Brannon – ‘Backbone Brannon’. The townspeople quote him as saying the reservations are overcrowded. They say he likes killing. He feeds off it.” Ty’s expression was grim. “Settlers don’t care much how he goes about it. They just want the Indians gone.”

  A hush fell over them both. Finally, Ty spoke up again. “You know we’re on our own with this one?”

  “That’s just the way I like it.” Giving the coffee cup a hard fling, Seth watched the flames hiss and spew as the dregs from his cup hit their mark.

  ***

  Three weary shadows on horseback slowed to a halt at the top of the western ridge overlooking the Loflins’ ranch. Shooter Creek spread before them in its natural splendor.

  As Seth leaned over the saddle horn, he glanced in Celia’s direction. Inclining his head, he asked simply, “What do you think? Has it changed much?”

  Celia straightened in her saddle as she rode up beside Seth. A breeze tugged at her hair. She pulled it to the side of her neck and peered out toward the shallow valley below. The ranch had always seemed like an endless beautiful place. She felt a twinge in her chest as she looked at what Seth had once told her was one of the biggest cattle operations in Texas.

  She recalled the first time she’d seen Shooter Creek. The lush, green grass had been so thick it seemed to swallow the cattle grazing in its pastures. The smell of warm sunshine and sage had filled Celia with a sense of peace as she’d watched in awe while a herd of horses galloped by. Cowhands, with lariats raised high over their heads, moved the herd with ease. Celia searched and found the tall oaks still lining a meandering path which led to a marvelous structure Celia remembered as the ranch house.

  She recalled her first impression of the ranch house, a sprawling whitewashed affair. The house boasted long porches meant to catch the lazy breezes. The house, constructed with comfort in mind, sat with open arms. Warm and inviting, the structure’s demeanor said all would be welcome. Adjacent to the house had been a large rustic barn and corral. Both seemed to have stood the test of time. It was as beautiful today as it had been when she first laid eyes on it. It was home, Seth’s home.