Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1)

by Catherine Wolffe

  Chapter 3

  Smoke Clouds

  Smoke rose in the sky in alarmingly, dark clouds. Seth tried to ignore the way the hairs on his neck raised at the sight such a large cloud of smoke ahead. Crossing the high ridge, which led down to the creek, he’d spotted it the same time as the others. Something wasn’t right. As they topped the hill overlooking the creek, he gauged the distance to be about a half a mile away.

  Suddenly, Celia slid under Broken Horse’s arm and off the horse. She landed in a heap but got up quickly. Without anything to encumber her, Celia flew over the ground. Down the steep bank, she ran and was at the water’s edge before Seth had time to react.

  “Celia, wait!” Seth cursed as he held out a hand to Broken Horse.

  He took the offer of assistance in sliding from Sarge’s back.

  The damn woman was going to be the death of him yet. With Broken Horse’s help, he unhitched the sled and took off the knapsacks full of supplies while he berated himself for getting involved in the mother of all follies.

  “Easy now…woe, boy.” Seth patted Sarge, who’d started to skitter with his master’s evident agitation. When he got his hands on the little fool, she was going to pay! “I’m sorry, old friend. But I have to go after her. If you’re scattered over kingdom come when I get back, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Absently, Seth patted Broken Horse’s shoulder.

  “No need to worry. I’ll be along.” Gathering the saddlebags, Broken Horse started walking. “Just go on and get the stubborn little wench.”

  Wheeling, Seth leapt onto the horse’s back and tore out.

  “Celia, slow down!” Seth managed to catch up with her finally and was mildly surprised to watch as she cleared a fallen tree and sprinted under low hanging limbs. Grabbing her by the cuff of his coat, he lit in.

  “You stupid, little fool! You can’t go charging in there without knowing what we’re up against.” Taking a breath, he forced himself to soften his next words. Concern etched his features as he pointed to the fire up ahead. “Easy, Celia, we don’t know what we’ll find. You’re going to have to let me go in first and have a look at things.”

  “Let me go!” She yanked away and kicked at the horse’s flank. With her breath coming in pants, she strained to get free.

  The horse balked at the nearness of Celia and shied away. Celia screamed as the horse stumbled and if not for Seth’s quick wits would have fallen head first onto the ground.

  Kicking and cursing like a sailor, Celia sprung up from the ground in time for Seth to grab her about the waist. She beat at his chest and slapped at his face as she made small feral, whining pleas for freedom. Remembering the knees she used so effectively, Seth pinned her to a tree and eased back only when she stopped wiggling. Her eyes darted frantically back and forth from him to the dark smoke. “Are you going to behave and let me be the one to check out the smoke or am I going to have to tie you up?”

  “Despite what you think, Mr. Loflin, I don’t need your help. So, would you kindly let go of me, so I can gather my horse.” Her nose turned up slightly with the request.

  “Look, I know you’re used to taking care of yourself, but I need you to listen to me. This isn’t Charleston. We could get killed slipping up on something we have no business sticking our noses in.”

  Cursing mentally, Seth tried again, “Listen to me. Let me go first and see if things are okay. Understand?”

  “Those are my people, Seth. I’m going with you.”

  “No you’re not. Can you shoot a gun?”

  She nodded. “But…”

  Giving her the revolver, he repeated the question, “Can you shoot?”

  “Yes, I can shoot,” she snapped.

  Her mouth had thinned into a tight white line, as she looked at all the smoke again. Seth could see the wheels of her mind turning. With his own heart pounding in his chest, he commanded, “Stay put, do you understand me? You’re gonna have to wait. It may not be safe.” He hated the tone he used, but the woman seemed hell-bent on doing as she wanted.

  Even with the exasperation running through him, Seth had to admit he admired her guts. He could see the inner war she waged. He’d be hard pressed to obey orders himself if it were his people under attack, so he tried to sound sympathetic with his next words. Reaching out, he touched her arm. “Look, it’s probably nothing, just a share-cropper burning some brush or clearing a field.” Taking Celia’s hand in his, he squeezed her fingers. “I’ll go check, if you’ll promise me, you’ll stay put. Okay?”

  ***

  Slowly, Seth advanced, using the scrub bushes as cover. The undergrowth kept him concealed for the most part, but he’d decided to dismount and leave his horse tied to a tree some distance back just in case. If those responsible were nearby, he didn’t want to alert them. Hefting his rifle, Seth bent and moved silently forward. When the flames were visible, he stretched out on his belly and inched his way forward the last few yards until he had a clear view. He’d tried hard to convince himself what he saw wasn’t Lone Eagle’s camp, but he failed.

  The sickly sweet cooper smell of blood hung heavy in the air. What assailed his senses was staggering, even for a former army lieutenant. Seth covered his face as best he could with the kerchief around his neck. Smoke plumed up in thick clouds and burned his nose and eyes. He’d never forget the bodies littering the ground. Mangled and covered in blood were the remains of warriors, women and children. To Seth’s mind, the people awoke unaware. Women lay sprawled face down in the dirt still gripping a spear or stick. Clay bowls used as weapons lay splintered around the bodies of fleeing families. Innocent children, terrified and dazed rested in slumped heaps still clutching their mothers, their small faces frozen in horror. Some had made it out of their tents to either run or try to make a stand. Others died in their beds. The attackers had scalped a number of the victims.

  He knew the Apache sometimes used this tactic to keep survivors, bent on revenge, from following. Over the ringing in his ears, the only sound he could hear was the crackling of the flames as they greedily consumed everything flammable. Moments passed as he stared horrified at the mutilation. Celia couldn’t see this. Seth shook himself to focus on a plan to prevent her coming here.

  What possible reason could someone have had for wiping out an entire band of Comanche? He searched hard through the smoke, looking for movement of any kind. No one, not even the horses, remained alive. Apache would’ve taken the horses. Something didn’t feel right about the whole mess. He surveyed the charred remains of the teepees, the broken pots, and tanning poles littered about. Hell, even the dog lay dead from a gunshot wound to the head! It was slaughter, pure and simple. These people had been his friends and now…they were dead. Sicker still it had occurred on his land, he stared blindly at the charred remains of Lone Eagle’s camp.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Celia raced past Seth into the midst of the carnage. His heart lurched even as his mouth opened to form useless words. Coughing and gauging with smoke, she staggered among the death and destruction. Her features were wild with shock as she frantically searched for her father.

  “No, Celia, don’t!” Reaching her at the same time she found Lone Eagle, Seth gripped her by the shoulders. Great trembling sobs echoed into the smoke as Celia simply crumpled to the ground. The keening sounds she made tore at him, and he knew a terrible sense of helplessness.

  “Father!” Celia hunkered over Lone Eagle. Her hands trembled as she checked his wounds.

  Seth knelt by her side.

  ***

  Lone Eagle lay as he had fallen. Celia’s ran her hands quickly over the bullet wound in his chest. Tearing his tunic back, she examined the wound. “It just missed his heart. The blood – there’s too much!” Staunching as much as she could with a nearby piece of cloth, Celia spoke gently to her father. “Father, it’s me, Father! It’s Little One.” As she tore the tunic from Lone Eagle’s chest, she turned to Seth and said, “Get me some water and all the cl
ean cloths you can find. I’m going to need your knife and some whiskey.”

  Lone Eagle’s eyes opened and he reached up with his quivering hand. He spoke in a rasp as his gaze settled on his only child. “Celia, I’m…grateful to the Great Spirit…you live.”

  Her fingers tenderly caressed his cheek. “Father, I’m here now. You’ll be all right. Seth, the Dark Wolf, has saved me and brought me back.” She sobbed. “I will take care of you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and mixed with her father’s blood. She tried desperately to get the tunic open in order to tend the wound further.

  “No, daughter, it’s too late…for me. The time has come. I want you…to leave…this place.” His breathing ragged, he gripped her hand, urging her to listen to him. “Leave here…go with Dark Wolf…don’t look back. Remember you’re my daughter. I…I love you.” Looking then to Seth, he spoke weakly. “Dark Wolf, take…take my daughter. Protect her. Promise me this … my son.”

  “No, Father, I can help you. Let me try.” Her voice broke on the last words. She tore a piece of cloth from her chemise trying to stop the blood flow.

  Seth gripped his old friend’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her, I promise. Who did this, Lone Eagle?”

  Lone Eagle attempted to answer. His harsh coughs lead Celia to try soothing away her father’s discomfort with tender words near his ear.

  “They came in…the rising of the sun,” he gasped. His eyes grew wide with the effort. Lone Eagle’s features constricted. Within seconds, peace came over his face as his eyes clouded and fixed in a sightless stare.

  “Noooo…! Father!” Calling his name, Celia began to sob uncontrollably. She clutched her father’s shoulders and shook him. Frantic to get a pulse, Celia checked her father’s throat, then his wrist. Great sops racked her body but she continued to check for a pulse. Tears mingled with her father’s blood and ran as she struggled to gain a response from her only parent. Seth tried to gather her in, but Celia shoved and groaned a misery filled “No!” before taking her fists and beating on her father’s chest.

  His friend was gone. He’d been too late. The tribe, which had taken him in when he was a yearling in need of sanctuary, was no more. Seth’s gut clenched in knots. Some said the trouble brewing between The People and the white man was going to boil over eventually. He even agreed with the line of thinking, but he’d never dreamed it would be on his land and with his adopted family. How would Broken Horse handle it, he mused. What about Celia? He’d given his word he would take care of her. He’d given his word…Seth gripped her shoulder. “Easy, Celia. He’s gone.”

  As the realization took hold, Celia threw back her head and screamed at the sky. Finally, in utter defeat, she collapsed across her father’s body and dissolved.

  ***

  Saplings snapped and swayed. Soon, grunts mingled with labored breathing as someone struggled to get through the thicket. Broken Horse came stumbling through the undergrowth and trees dragging a bundle and leading Seth’s horse. When he saw Seth carrying Celia, he halted. “I heard screams, what happened?”

  Seth kept moving. “There was an attack.” Dodging trees and briars, he strode further and further from the blood. Unable to stop, he didn’t take a full breath until the campsite was no longer visible when he turned to look.

  “An attack? Was she hurt? How many more?” Broken Horse took Seth’s arm to still him. As he slowed, Seth realized he must’ve been feeling the horror himself.

  “They’re all gone.” The finality in Seth’s words permeated the air around them.

  “No.” The one word was all Broken Horse could utter before breaking into a mad run for the campsite.

  Seth could only watch as the great warrior charged into the thicket and disappeared.

  Carrying her gently, Seth whistled for his horse. Spooked, Sarge appeared but danced sideways at the sight of his master agitated and upset. “Easy, boy.” Seth’s voice soothed the animal before he gathered a blanket from his pack and wrapped it tightly around Celia. Leading her to an oak, Seth gently settled her against the great trunk. The next thing to do was build a fire. Seth wiped sooth from his face and stared back at the smoke still billowing from the tree line. He glanced back at Celia who huddled against the trunk rocking gently. Her tears mingled with the soot, which floated aimlessly in the air, making dirty little trails down her face. Seth took his kerchief and gently rubbed at the smudges.

  He’d never really grieved for anyone who’d died before. The death of his father had stung, but they hadn’t been close. There were those he’d killed out of survival.

  These people had been his friends. They’d been Celia’s family. The indescribable emptiness in the pit of his stomach was painful for Seth. He wanted to hurl things at the moon as it appeared over the ridge. He felt battered, bruised, and wanted to yell obscenities until he couldn’t anymore. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Celia needed him. Then he’d made a promise to his old friend. He had to protect her.

  Seth watched her propped against the old oak. Cutter lay with his head in her lap. Celia started to shake once more. Her dazed eyes still sought the smoldering camp.

  The flames still licked at the teepee poles. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the growing dusk. Even from the cover of the trees, smoke and flames still lurked like evil.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks and muffled sobs racked her frame as the mournful realization engulfed her again. Seth tugged the blanket, which had fallen over her shoulders once more. He let her sob out her grief, his face grim with the knowledge he couldn’t have stopped what had occurred. After a while, he went to his saddlebags and pulled out a flask, placing the silver container in her hand. “Drink some of this. It’s whiskey so be careful.” He guided the flask to her lips and watched, as she tasted the amber liquid.

  Grimacing when the strong liquor burned the back of her throat, Celia gagged and coughed.

  “Take another. It’s easier the second time.” She eyed him with an incredulous look mingled with the pain. Seth made her take two more swallows before letting her rest again. The whiskey seemed to do the job. The trembling had stopped. Now, she simply sat.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Seth watched Celia resting against the strength of the oak.

  Her eyes, glassy and red rimed, followed him as he worked on a campfire. In silence, Seth went about the business of getting her warm. He knew she needed all the heat Seth could provide. “We’ll rest here tonight.” The crackle of the oak and cedar chips soon gave way to glowing embers, which breathed with the gentle breeze. Settling beside her, he covered them both with another woolen blanket. She’d been so still. Tucking the blanket gently around her legs, he watched her reddened face. She needed a sedative. Hopefully, by morning, someone from the ranch would find them.

  Celia shifted slightly and looked up. Though her eyes were on him, Seth knew she didn’t see him. Her suffering tugged at his heart. “You’ve got to rest now.”

  The flask was still in her hands as she shifted her gaze straight ahead. Her body began to rock back and forth. “Who could have done this?” Her words, the first she’d spoken since he’d carried her away, were so forlorn it made Seth’s heart ache.

  “I don’t know yet, but I aim to find out. You can count on it.” He wanted more than anything for the finality in his words to bring some small measure of comfort.

  She shivered and shook with a new spell of riggers.

  Seth wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her skin was so cold. A fresh wave of ineptness washed over Seth. Though he tried all he knew to do, he feared he wouldn’t be able to ease the pain and the chill which came with it. “Why?” She looked into his face now.

  The wound was too raw to answer the one question he had dreaded since finding the attack, so he gently tugged her closer and rubbed her arm. “We’ll sort out what we can tomorrow in the light of day.” Seth pulled her into the warmth of his chest. She went willingly like a lost kitten. “In the meantime, try and rest. I won’t let you g
o. I promise, Little One.” It pained him to know he had no good answer for what had happened.

  In the stillness, Seth mulled over the facts. It had been such a gutless, horrible act. The whole thing would’ve made more sense if the culprits had taken the horses. As it was, the only reason he could think of for such a vicious act was hatred. Someone’s hatred was so strong they’d decided to commit murder over and over again. He had ideas about who it could be, but he knew too sometimes things weren’t always, as they seemed.

  The soft mewling brought him out of his head. He heard her before he felt Celia’s shoulders start to quiver once more. “Easy now, I’m right here. Shhh… I got you.” He hunkered down a bit further and secured her in the crook of his shoulder. With her securely nestled in his arms, Seth tried not to think about how right she felt in his arms.

  She drew her face against his chest and moaned.

  Seth held her as close as he could and whispered innate words while she clutched at his shirtfront. The thought drifted through Seth’s mind that Celia had only been back two days and already suffered so much. Exhaustion finally took over and Celia was silent.

  Seth caught himself watching her breath. He began to pick at the puzzle of her words…“But I would’ve come back if I’d heard from you.” Was she telling the truth? He’d never gotten any letters. If she was telling the truth, then what had happened to those letters? Was someone hiding a secret? Seth vowed to find out why she’d left and who had intercepted her letters.

  When Celia shifted restlessly and murmured in her sleep, Seth ran a hand over her hair. Cradling her in the crook of his arm, his voice low and soft, he spoke to her. “Don’t worry, Little One. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” A lone coyote’s howl carried mournfully over the ridge. As night enveloped them in its inky blackness, Seth and Celia finally dozed in each other’s arms resting against the great oak with Cutter at their feet.