Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) (22 page)

Joseph glanced up at her and blinked
his large almond shaped eyes.

“
What do you
say?”

His body relaxed
fractionally.

Celia reached out and offered her
hand.

The boy took a slow couple of steps
backward, watching her the whole time. His small dirt encrusted
fingers sunk deeper into the pockets of those baggy
pants.

“
I am sorry. Can we try
again?”

Glancing at her, Joseph considered.
Slowly, the young Indian reached out and then faltered. His hands
folded over his chest and he turned fractionally, eyeing the
doorway like a feral animal considering flight.

Celia recognized the move. “It’s okay.
It’s all right. I won’t hurt you, Joseph. I’d like to be your
friend.” Celia spoke the words in Comanche hoping he would
understand.

His face brightened fractionally. She
noted his dark eyes peered at her with renewed interest.

“
I’d like very much to be
your friend, that is, if you’d let me.” Celia watched as the boy
considered her words.

The uncertainty was plainly visible in
his tender face. His young life had been fraught with turmoil and
upheaval. He was only ten.

Celia motioned to a bench near the back
entrance to the barn. Motioning to him, she slowly moved toward the
old wooden perch. “Come over here. Sit with me a few minutes.”
Celia patted the boards beside her. “You know I’ve been given a job
in the barn as well.” Celia watched out of the corner of her eye as
the boy’s eyes darted side to side before landing on her
face.

He remained where he was.

“
Ty has asked me to tend the
horses. I will need someone to help me take care of those who are
ill or injured and keep an eye on them for any signs of
disease.”

The spark of interest in Joseph’s eyes
warmed Celia.

“
I’ll need a great deal of
help. Do you happen to know of anyone who might be able to help
me?” She waited a beat.

Joseph’s black eyes fixed on hers as
the boy’s mouth formed a serious line across his young
face.

“
Of course the ones who are
injured will need to be kept comfortable in their stalls. There
will always be the threat of coyotes or cats. I would need someone
who could watch out for their well-being and keep them safe.” Celia
looked toward the pastures before cutting her gaze back to
Joseph.

A spark ignited in the boy’s eyes. “I
can do that.” His small feet shuffled in the dust. Joseph took a
tentative step toward her. “The horses don’t fear when I’m with
them.” His face glowed with the light of pride.

Celia smiled her warmest smile for him.
“You’re so brave to offer to do that for me, Joseph. I would be
honored to have a brave, young man perform such an important job
for me.”

Joseph stepped closer. Crossing his
legs before settling on the hay near the bench, he gave her a
hesitant glance.

Celia realized it was as close as he
was going to allow anyone to get to him and she understood. “You’ve
settled the concern I had for the welfare of the horses. Thank you,
Joseph. Thank you very much.”

Joseph gave her a big smile.

“
Come on. Let’s go see if
Maggie has any cookies.”

***

Trouble would show up whether she was
there are not. That’s what he’d told her. Well, she seemed
hell-bent on bringing trouble with her.

Cutter thumped his tail in the dust as
he eyed Seth intently.

Damned if he knew where her willful
bend had come from. She’d been an agreeable sort when he’d known
her before. Celia had been happy and trusting, never argumentative
or combatant. Where was the girl she’d been?

Seth shook his head before working the
nail loose from the post. He dropped the hammer in the dirt and
tugged hard on the wire he was using to re-strand the
fence.

Her laughter and flirtatious bend had
been addictive. Whether they were sitting with her people around
the campfire or alone in some secluded lovers haven, Seth
remembered a pliant, willing girl in his arms. Black silken hair
falling about her shoulders as she dropped her hide dress for him.
Soft whispers in her native tongue as he trailed hot, wet kisses
along her smooth skin. A flaming fire of passion threatened to
consume them both with its intensity back then. Where was that
girl?

Chapter 7

The Mirror

Her mother’s gold broche lay heavy in
Celia’s pocket. Fingering the delicate metal with the lovely
painting of a woman in a ball gown painted on the white ivory
nestled in the center, Celia reminded herself the broche was the
only thing she had to remember her mother. Never would she part
with it, but Celia had a plan.

Making the trip to Tyler had been
Maggie’s idea. The woman had finally hounded Celia into going.
Apparently, they were on a mission. The barn dance, which
culminated with the end of spring branding, was coming up and the
housekeeper insisted Celia needed a dress.

“
When the woman’s mind was
made up there was no stopping her.”
That’s
what Jake had told her when she’d confided in him about the
situation.

No one, not even Maggie, knew the
condition of her pocketbook. Celia sighed quietly. She was broke.
The robbers had strewn her bags everywhere when they’d attacked
Broken Horse and her. Celia thought of the secret pocket, which had
held her mother’s broche inside her chemise. It was the only reason
she still had it. Planning to wire the Sisters of Our Lady of Faith
in Charleston to request money from her modest account, Celia tried
not to worry about her condition. Surely, the dressmaker was an
understanding soul. She would simply explain the situation in
private asking the woman to hold her mother’s broche as collateral
until money came from Charleston.

Glancing about, Celia realized they’d
arrived.

Joseph, who sat beside her was already
shoving up to scramble out of the buckboard in a silent
hurry.

Celia had asked if Joseph could come
too. She’d been surprised at the response she’d gotten. She hadn’t
even had to argue with Seth. Glad the young Indian could accompany
them, she watched his curiosity bloom.

Joseph’s small head darted right and
then left as his keen, dark eyes took in everything around him at
once. He looked like a different child with his haircut, not to
mention his bath.

The fresh plaid shirt along with the
coordinating pants Celia insisted on making for him fit him quite
well, she mused. Added he now had a pair of brown boots similar to
Seth’s on his feet, Celia was satisfied she’d been able to make a
great transformation in the young boy who doted on her
now.

“
Can I go down to the
Chinaman’s shop?” The young Comanche boy’s eyes held Celia’s with
their dark, brown, chocolate warmth.

Looking from Joseph to Cutter, who’s
tail thumped expectantly in the dusty street, Celia sighed. She
knew she’d taken on a handful with the boy, but his stubborn bend
had been harnessed for now. She found he didn’t seem to chaff too
much under her direction. “All right, but don’t be gone long.” With
a gloved hand, she pointed up at the sign above the mercantile.
“Meet us either here, or at the hotel in an hour. Okay?” Celia
waited for Joseph’s eyes to follow her direction to the sign above
the store, ‘Smitty Jones Mercantile’. “We’ll be waiting on you,
Joseph, so don’t dally.” She gave the boy her best schoolteacher’s
impersonation.

With Joseph and Cutter entering the
Chinaman’s shop, Celia backtracked, allowing her eyes to wander
over the town. Tyler, with its conglomeration of buildings, tents
and shanties all shoved together, like steers in a holding pen,
proved to be an odd-looking little community. There wasn’t much
organization to it at all. Not like Charleston, with its brick
streets lined with tree-covered sidewalks. Still, Tyler served one
important purpose, Celia supposed, as way station for the Wells
Fargo stage line. Businesses had mushroomed over night with the
establishment of Tyler as a stop along the impressive stage
route.

Celia smiled to herself at the thought
of what the boy might get into before he returned. She watched as
Cutter trotted along beside Joseph down the street, their combined
feet evoking a cloud of dust in their wake. Such a pair, she
considered. Cutter would protect him.

“
Don’t worry. The Chinaman
has a small candy display near the cash register and a fascinating
small explosives lot in the back.” Maggie winked when Celia
blanched at the statement. “It’s okay. The boy can’t hurt himself.
They’re for entertainment only.” Maggie patted Celia’s leg
comfortingly. “Nothing a ten-year-old boy can get in trouble with.
Well, not much trouble anyway.” She grinned at the cool glance
Celia sent her.

The murmuring coming from the group
sitting in front of the mercantile broke her train of thought.
Turning her head, Celia saw several pairs of eyes met hers in an
openly inquisitive stare.

Old men sat on the boards of the
walkway in front of the mercantile, like birds perched on a wood
fence.

Celia noted they also loitered on
stools, or leaned precariously in chairs teetering on two legs.
Checkers was the game of choice or watching passersby with a shrewd
eye. She recognized there was more to their loitering, than merely
a way to pass the time. These old men seated in front of the
mercantile had a far more important occupation. They were watching
the ‘goin’s on’ in Tyler.

Haling those he knew, Seth greeted each
one in turn, before reaching up to help Maggie out of the wagon. If
he overheard their words, he paid no attention. “Come on, let me
help you down.” His big hands reached out to assist Celia
next.

“
It’s okay. I can
manage.”

“
Celia…”

She hated the tone. She wasn’t a
cowhand to be ordered around by the Boss. Besides, she really
didn’t want to get so close to him. Ever since that night in his
room, she’d done her best to avoid the Boss. She didn’t trust
herself, she admitted silently.

Taking her skirt in one hand, she
gripped the rail of the buckboard, before attempting to step on the
wheel and dismount without his assistance. She liked her plan. It
didn’t take but a second for the plan to change when her skirt hung
in the metal spring under the seat.

Seth watched as she swayed precariously
with one foot in and one foot out of the wagon. Without fanfare, he
merely gathered her up in his arms, before yanking hard on the
tension holding her back. The material of her only skirt tore in a
neat slit all the way down to the hem. Luckily, the rent went no
higher than the back of her knee.

Celia began to seethe. Her cheeks
turned deep crimson with insult. The sense of outrage at his
handling of the situation stirred even further, when he made a show
of carrying her up the steps to the front door of the store before
setting her on her feet once more.

She could have sworn he intentionally
meant to embarrass her by allowing her body to slide slowly down
the front of his before settling her on the planks. His belt didn’t
hide the fact that he was aroused by her nearness.

Celia pushed at his shoulders to gain
her freedom. Her cheeks were burning with the realization his touch
ignited the embers she held for him. Why did he have to antagonize
her so? Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? “Do you
mind?”

“
Definitely not, Ma’am...”
With his hand in the small of her back accompanied by a wicked grin
on his face, Seth maneuvered Celia around the congregation of old
men who now fell about in a noisy conglomeration of hoots mingled
with catcalls. A tip of his hat combined with the cocky grin aimed
at the menagerie of old men, and Seth smoothly managed to deposit
her inside. Thankfully, before any more damage done, she
mused.

“
Well bless my old
cantankerous bones. How are you Seth? Maggie?” The owner hailed
them with a flourish of agility that belied his frame as he made
his way around the counter to greet them. “Come in, come in.” The
stout proprietor offered Celia a pleasant smile.

Courageously trying to regain her
composure, she stared a bit owl-eyed at the fellow who displayed
such jovial exuberance in finding the Loflins in his shop. Since
Seth was answering the stout, balding storekeeper, Celia glanced
about.

The mercantile displayed a goodly array
of frontier staples like barrels of grain, flour, meal and rice.
There were bottles of this-and-that as well as baskets of
everything from hardware to fishing tackle. A tall cabinet standing
along the right-hand wall housed an impressive display of guns and
rifles. Celia glanced up to see all manner of cooking utensils
hanging from the bare rafters of the ceiling. Farming tools lined
the wall facing the street and ropes of all widths skirted the
windowsill neatly displayed on hooks. Colors bloomed from deeper
into the length of the store were display cabinets with cherished
pieces shipped from back east gleamed. Ladies toiletries filled
another cabinet. The pretty display drew Celia’s attention. A few
steps toward that area found Celia interested in a wide array of
material lining the walls, three shelves high. She admired the iron
dress form displaying a lovely day dress in burgundy and gray,
while Seth spoke conversationally to the proprietor.