Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1)

by Catherine Wolffe

  Comanche Haven

  (The Loflin Legacy #1)

  By Catherine Wolffe

  Copyright 2012-2013 Catherine Wolffe

  All rights reserved

  Discover other titles by Catherine Wolffe at www.catherinewolffe.com.

  Cover design by Ally Thomas

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

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  Adult Content

  In order to protect minors from viewing inappropriate material, please know that this book may contain language, situations or images inappropriate for children under 18 years of age.

  Other Books by Catherine Wolffe

  A Dance in Time (J.T. Leighton, Time Traveler #1)

  The Lady in the Mist (The Western Werewolf Legend #1)

  Waking Up Dead (The Western Werewolf Legend #2)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 The Road Home

  Chapter 2 Welcome Home

  Chapter 3 Smoke Clouds

  Chapter 4 The Homecoming

  Chapter 5 The Truth

  Chapter 6 Decisions

  Chapter 7 The Mirror

  Chapter 8 Family Secrets

  Chapter 9 A New Truth

  Chapter 10 False Truths

  Chapter 11 Standing for the Innocent

  Chapter 12 Conspiracy

  Chapter 13 For Love

  Chapter 14 To Win the Day

  Comanche Haven

  (The Loflin Legacy #1)

  Chapter 1

  The Road Home

  Texas 1858

  Celia glanced out at the children running alongside the stagecoach as it slowed. Their tiny feet evoked a cloud of dust as they followed the newest visitor to their part of Texas.

  “Have you been to Tyler before?” the young blonde woman seated next to Celia inquired politely. Her name was Claudette Harding. She had the most perfect golden curls Celia had ever seen.

  “Yes, but it’s been a long time.” Celia glanced back at the children, before examining the wooden buildings dotting the street. Nothing had changed. Some were new and some no longer stood. They’d been replaced in the name of progress. Noting the result, she dropped the leather flap over the small window, before swallowing a twinge of regret. A sharp realization that nothing would ever be the same again moved through her.

  From the top of the stage, the Wells Fargo Whip called out the name of the stop, “Tyyyler!”

  “I’m expecting my gentleman-friend to pick me up.” Claudette glanced sideways at Celia as she gathered her parasol along with her reticule. “Do you have someone picking you up?” Tiny ringlets of gold bobbed about the woman’s creamy, oval face. Celia smiled to herself as Claudette continued to prattle on. The woman could talk. Claudette had boarded the stage in Shreveport. Since she’d sat down, the three other passengers listened to all manner of comments, stories and questions.

  “Yes, my cousin.” Celia peeked out of the window again. Dust swirled around the opening, threatening to engulf them all. The two men seated in front of the women waved at the dust as if it threatened their lives. The one in a stylish stovepipe hat started coughing. Reluctantly, Celia dropped the flap, waiting instead for the stage to come to a complete stop.

  The wooden door of the stage opened. A calloused hand reached in.

  Claudette took the hand, before winking at Celia. “Enjoyed riding with you. Good luck.” Bending low in the confines of the stage’s interior, Claudette exited through small opening.

  Celia considered the young blonde woman’s words. Luck wasn’t going to help her. She would need fortitude. Digging deeper, she found her determination once more. Trouble had driven her out of Texas. Now she was returning for the same reason. The letter she’d received stated her father, the chief, had fallen “gravely ill”. So she’d packed up the belongings she would need, sold the rest, and bought a one-way ticket back to Texas. Her place as daughter of the great chief demanded she come. Her love for her only living parent compelled her to make the journey.

  “Ma’am?” The hand was back.

  Celia accepted the offer of assistance from the porter, as she stooped to clear the small exit. The brilliant sun, glared down unrelentingly. A thick humidity hung heavy in the air. While most of Texas boasted hot, dry conditions, Tyler was different. Situated close to the north Louisiana boarder, the small stagecoach stop’s climate resembled the bayou state’s more often than not. Celia remembered the local joke that the air was so humid, it was like wearing a wet blanket. In contrast, Charleston’s warm ocean breezes had been relatively dry. On a hot afternoon, they’d even been enjoyable. Fighting a tiny twinge of panic at actually being back in Texas after all the years away, Celia adjusted her stays. With the Whip’s help, she stepped onto Texas soil once more. Charleston was but a memory now. She was home.

  Celia tipped her head back, before squinting into the sun for a brief moment as if Texas embraced her. It was good to be home, she decided. Glancing back at Claudette, who busily pointed out her bags to the coachman, Celia saw the long hours on the stage in her mind’s eye. The trip had been grueling, but she’d made it. Now she could face what came next.

  Settling the black parasol trimmed in white over her shoulder, Celia searched the faces of those closest to the stage for anyone who might resemble her cousin, Broken Horse. Reminded that he’d grown into a man over the time she’d been away, she realized she wouldn’t have a clue what he looked like. Yet if his boyhood good looks had developed, he’d became a striking figure. Celia smiled inwardly. He was the closest thing to a brother she had. The contact they’d kept over the years proved precious to her.

  Glancing about again, she wondered if she would see Seth. After all this time, would he still remember her? Probably not, she mused. After all, nothing remained of the girl she’d been almost twelve years before. Frowning, Celia reminded herself she’d made a life without the cowboy who’d abandoned her then. She was a surgical assistant for the Army at Fort Sumter, in Charleston. Educated and prepped in one of the finest finishing schools in the south, Celia was her own woman now.

  “Ma’am, which bags are yours?”

  Blinking, Celia met the porter’s eyes. She pointed out her belongings, before stepping back quickly as they landed unceremoniously on the ground in front of her. “Would you have a care, sir?” Celia gave the man a withering look before dusting off her new traveling suit. Glaring at the fellow, she plucked them from the dirt.

  The coachman’s feigned concern was typical of the type of response she got from certain people. “Sorry, Ma’am.” His emphasis on the word ‘ma’am’ held a distinct callousness.

  His reaction didn’t surprise her. Most thought she was a whore. Celia tried to rationalize the assumption. After all, one didn’t often come across women dressed in fashionable clothing, nor traveling alone. Glancing about for her cousin, she was so eager to see, she saw only townspeople who eyed her warily. Ignoring the stares aimed her way she leveled her chin.

  After all, there was nothing she could do to cover her bronze complexion or her jet-black hair. She couldn’t hide her high cheek bones or her long straight nose. Celia had her father’s face along with her mother’s eyes. The combination was striking she’d been told. Her green eyes were one of two things her mother had been able to leave her. Celia
considered them a gift. The broach pinned to her bosom was the other. Celia had kept it safe all these years. Having been too young to remember her mother, Celia relied on the images given to her by her father, Lone Eagle. He’d shared stories of her mother with the young girl as she rested on her pallet before falling asleep at night in their tent.

  Once more, she had to ignore the matrons standing on the boardwalk openly eyeing her with a healthy dose of disdain. Yes, she was her father’s daughter. She resembled him in so many ways. She wasn’t a whore, though. No, her only sin was being half Comanche.

  Celia closed her eyes for a moment as she considered The People. They’d taught her to always carry herself with dignity and pride. As the years passed, she came to understand just how important those teachings were to her survival. She hoped her father would be proud.

  Celia glanced back at the stage. Despite the rude behavior of the man, Celia considered herself lucky. At least she didn’t have to re-enter god-forsaken contraption meant to test one’s fortitude. Certainly, a person would repent for whatever sins he harbored deep in his soul after a trip in that wooden box from hell. Celia adjusted her jacket while searching further down the boardwalk for her cousin.

  “Let me help you with those.” The voice was too close, and too familiar. Celia’s muscles tightened before the need to escape overwhelmed her. She flicked a hesitant glance over her shoulder at the tall, broad-shouldered man bending to take her luggage from her hands. When he rose, she looked into the same steely-blue eyes she’d known all those years ago. Seth! Her mind fairly reeled with the devil-may-care look he sent her from under his dark Stetson. “Where would you like me to put these?”

  Celia’s heart tripped in her chest as she recalled the taste of his lips. In defense of the traitorous memory, she lifted her chin a fraction and managed to snatch one of her bags from his clutches. The wry grin remained undaunted on his handsome face. She wanted to scream as she wheeled away.

  Nerves ran along her backbone like the tiny legs of a spider. She could feel his eyes on her even as she stepped onto the board walkway. “Right here is fine,” she said curtly, pointing toward a spot on the planks. Doing her level best to ignore him, Celia once again positioned the black parasol primly on her shoulder and made a point of smoothing her skirt.

  “I never dreamed I’d see you get off that stage,” Seth’s tone was cool sarcasm.

  Celia watched his lips form a tense line. Her own throat was as dry as dust.

  “There you are!” Claudette came rushing up to Seth who dropped Celia’s bags to catch the vivacious blonde as she flung her arms about him. “Oh, I’ve missed you so.” She planted a big, noisy kiss on his mouth.

  The blow, though not physical, hit Celia directly in the heart.

  “Well now, darlin’, maybe you should go shopping in Shreveport more often.” With the young blonde wrapping her arms about him in a very public display of affection, Seth‘s mouth crooked in a sardonic grin as his eyes met Celia’s.

  Celia could only stare. Her pain grew as Seth’s attention shifted to Claudette’s account of Shreveport and shopping. Gripping the parasol until her knuckles grew numb, she watched the couple. If only she could escape. Unable to stand the view any longer, she turned to search for her cousin among the throng of people. With her back to them, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the ache settling behind her heart.

  “Celia! Celia, wait. You’ve met my Mr. Loflin, I assume?” Claudette’s face was aglow with affection and something akin to possessiveness when Celia turned back to face them.

  “Yes, Mr. Loflin was kind enough to help me with my bags. Thank you, sir.” Her pointedly vague reference to her knowledge of him as well as her cool show of appreciation brought about only the slightest of tips from his Stetson.

  “My pleasure, Ma’am.”

  Celia’s breath caught, as she understood he would continue the ruse they’d just met. The ache in her chest swelled as she glanced into those intense blue eyes.

  “Come in and have a bite to eat with us, won’t you?” Claudette reached out and took Celia’s gloved hand in her own. “My word, dear, you’re trembling. You simply must come in and rest. The trip was grueling, wasn’t it?” She motioned in the direction of the Tyler Inn. “Come in out of the heat for just a few minutes. The repast will do you good.”

  Celia’s eyes darted from Claudette to Seth. He simply smiled knowingly at her. Surely, he would object.

  “Celia!”

  Breaking away to the sound of her name, she searched through the crowd.

  “Celia?”

  Turning to the sound of the deep voice, Celia spotted the tall, muscular figure of a man dressed in buckskin striding toward her. Recognition had her heart tightening and tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Seth and Claudette were forgotten as her face broke into a grin and she broke into a very, unlady-like run. Squealing in sheer delight as her cousin grabbed her up in a bear hug, and spun her around, Celia buried her face in the crook of his neck. Joy filled her as he spun her around again.

  Easing her down, Broken Horse smiled broadly. “Little One, look at you.” Holding Celia at arm’s length, he let his eyes travel over her. The expression on his face said he was pleasantly surprised at what he saw.

  Celia noticed him peer over her shoulder with a bewildered brow as if he was searching for something. “What?” Bemused, Celia turned, trying to decipher his point of focus.

  With his face shadowed in seriousness, Broken Horse confided, “I was expecting a girl with scraped knees and a dirt-smudged face. Instead, I’m to believe this beautiful, young woman before me is my cousin?”

  Relaxing backward in his hold, Celia couldn’t help the smile that creased her lips. “Cousin, you stretch the truth too far.” Her eyes twinkled as she laughed. “Besides, you’re biased.”

  With admiration, Broken Horse eyed her. “I promise you this, you’re the most beautiful creature in these parts, Celia, and that’s the truth.”

  Her color rose at the complement.

  Kissing her gently on the forehead, he gave her one more hug.

  When he straightened once more, she touched his arm. “Oh, Broken Horse, it’s so good to see you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Broken Horse appeared wounded. “Haven’t I?”

  She peered up at him in mock consideration. “Well, maybe some. You’re certainly taller.” Celia squeezed his upper arm and her eyes widened in true astonishment. “What have you been doing? You’re strong as a horse.”

  His laugh was deep and genuine. With a grin on his handsome face, Broken Horse shook his head. “You’ve been gone a long time, cousin. Things change.”

  Celia nodded in agreement. Cutting her eyes fleetingly behind her, she caught Seth watching her intently. At his side and seemingly undaunted by his lack of attention, Claudette fiddled with his lapel and continued to bombard him with her latest adventure. On that point, she could agree with Broken Horse. Some things certainly did change, so she held her tongue.

  Broken Horse nodded toward two well-stocked horses standing a few yards away at a hitching post. “We’ve got a long ride. Are you ready to go?”

  Celia glanced at the two rich coated Paints standing down the boardwalk. Their saddles held supplies enough for a long journey. Was she ready to see her father after all this time and face what came next?

  Before she could answer, Claudette approached them. “Celia, won’t you and your cousin join us?”

  Celia hesitated glancing from Claudette to Broken Horse and back. A sudden need to leave overwhelmed her. The mocking glare Seth sent her had her stiffening. She wouldn’t allow him to see her disquiet at being in his company. If they joined the couple, she would be civil for the sake of her pride.

  Broken Horse’s curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him as he studied Claudette’s sun-kissed complexion. “We probably need to eat before starting out,” he said.

  “We would enjoy the company,” Seth offered companionably as he appe
ared at Claudette side, offering Broken Horse his hand. “The name’s Seth.”

  Turning his attention more closely to Seth, Broken Horse admonished, “I recognize you. You’re Loflin. You own the Shooter Creek ranch, right. You spent time with our people one summer when we camped along the creek bank. Didn’t you go off to West Point?”

  Seth nodded in the affirmative. His eyes were sharp and accessing as he considered the tall, dark Comanche warrior. “Broken Horse?” he asked as Celia’s cousin gripped his hand. “Well, it’s good to see you, blood brother. How have you been?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Fine. Your memory is good.” Using the Comanche form of a friendly greeting, Seth gripped Broken Horse’s shoulders and smiled in recognition. Stepping back, he shook his head slightly. “But we were both a lot younger then, and things were a lot different. You speak English now.”

  “Yes, learned your language at Fort Tyler.” Broken Horse smiled wryly. “I represent the Comanche in treaty talks. You’re right about the difference the years can make. I guess my people would consider you the enemy now.”

  Seth nodded solemnly for his old friend and then turned. “Miss Claudette Harding, this is my blood brother, Broken Horse.”

  Claudette smiled. “So you and Seth are blood brothers? How fascinating,” Her light brown eyes danced from Broken Horse’s tall frame to Celia who stood like a plank in a wooden fence. “I guess the trouble between the Comanche and the settlers keeps you busy with parlays and such.”

  Calculating was the word which came to mind this time as Claudette’s eyes traveled the length of Broken Horse once more. Celia’s stomach muscles tightened even more.

  “Yes, I’m just back from yet another attempt to settle things between our people. If the Texas Rangers have their way, we’ll all be relocated to the reservations soon.” Broken Horse’s mouth firmed into a somber line as he addressed Celia and Claudette. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant circumstances, ladies.” Then he turned his attention to Seth and grinned. “Time has been good to you, my friend.” With a hand resting on her shoulder, he said. “This is my cousin, Celia. ‘Little One” is her name among The People. She’s the daughter of Lone Eagle.” Broken Horse glanced down at his cousin. “I’m taking her to her father’s camp.” He peered at Celia closely as if trying to determine her state. “The trip didn’t seem to agree with her.” He cocked a dark brow when Celia cut him a sidelong glare.