Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) (41 page)

Chapter 12

Conspiracy

The breaking of glass woke Celia.
Rising, she stepped to the side table. The lamp’s light cast an
eerie glow about the room. His groan came out involuntary. Quickly
reaching for the lamp, she illuminated the bed. Seth fixed on her
vision and one word came out.

“
Celia.”

Relief, like a river flooded her. Celia
caught herself before she cried out. Tracking her movements, Seth’s
fevered eyes traveled over her as she laid her hand against his
cheek. Her hand against the stubble on his cheek felt good. He
closed his eyes briefly with the sensation.

“
Cool, the fever has
broken.”

“
How long?” His cracked lips
all but mouthed the question. Water would be a blessing, he
mused.

“
Five days,” she breathed,
cupping his cheek in her hand with tears swimming in those
exquisite green eyes.

Seth couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She looked fragile and exhausted. Her face reflected the strain of
the vigil. Shadows rested beneath her swollen eyes and the hollows
of her cheeks seemed deeper. As she moved from the bed to the water
basin and soaked the cloth once again, he could see she looked
thinner. Fatigue had him slumping back against the pillows, but he
couldn’t close his eyes. His gaze filled with her – watching as she
sat back down on the edge of the bed and straightened the cover
over him. She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen.
Somehow, he’d made it back to her. Letting her go wasn’t an option.
He wouldn’t – ever.

Raising a hand, Seth brushed at the
silken hair that had escaped the coil at the nape of her neck. With
his hand on her wrist, he searched her face. “It’s all right,
Celia, it’s all right,” he whispered weakly.

The struggle to remain awake was short
lived and he closed his eyes. Receding into the web of sleep once
more, he dreamed of soft hands holding him and firm breasts against
his back.

***

After Seth had fallen back to sleep,
Celia continued to wait near his side. He’d been conscious only a
minute or two before fading back into the arms of oblivion. He
resembled a wayward angel, her angel.

Silently, Joseph saddled up close and
tugged at her skirt. “Miss Celia?” His warm brown eyes imploring,
“The Boss, he’s gonna to be all right, isn’t he?” His small mouth
trembled as he asked the question in his stilted
English.

Taking the cloth and moistening Seth’s
fever parched lips again, she busied herself with making him
comfortable and keeping her mind focused on the moment. She
couldn’t dissolve in front of Joseph. she nodded. “Yes,
Joseph.”

“
Bad men hurt him like they
hurt my maw.” Joseph’s young face twisted into a grimace and he
lowered his head to the bed between his hands.

Celia laid a hand on his shoulder. She
understood his pain. “Yes, but Ty and the men will find him. Don’t
you worry.” She pulled Joseph up to face her. “Would you sit with
him a little while?”

The boy’s face relaxed into a
positively, beaming, young man. “He had a job to do.” Joseph would
be all right as well, she told herself.

Exhaustion was taking the place of the
sheer will and determination she’d held herself together with over
the last week. Looking down at her hands, she realized they
wouldn’t stop shaking. Quickly crossing the hall to her old room
with Cutter in tow, Celia closed the door and latched it behind
her. In the darkness she lay across the bed. Cutter spooned his
warm, furry body next to hers as she wept.

***

“
You’ll want to send these
back to the hotel,” Rose said, pointing to the large packages on
the counter. She patted the bundle and smiled, “Less conspicuous
that way. I think you’ll like the results, but if something needs
taking up just let me know.” She laid a companionable hand on
Celia’s. “How are things, dear?”

“
Fine,” It was a pat answer
and Celia wallowed in the guilty of the little white lie. “To tell
the truth, Seth’s been a bit grouchy these past several days. Ready
to get back to the ranch, Ty says.” She smiled faintly for Rose as
she fingered a bolt of cloth in a stack on the counter. “Are these
new?” She asked the question without much interest.

“
Yes.” Rose offered her a
better look at the bolt by placing it between them on the elegant,
walnut counter of the display cabinet. “I can understand his
feelings. He’s healed now and wants to get back to what he knows
best. All this business with the Rangers has him on edge. We both
know no restraining order is going to keep Brannon at bay.” Rose’s
tone was matter-of-fact. “Being a rancher, he feels he can protect
what’s his better, within his own compound.”

Celia glanced up. She clinched and
released her fists. “Yes, of course.” With a curious gaze for her
new friend, she cocked her head. “How did you know about the
restraining order?”

Rose waved a hand and gave an
off-handed smile. “Oh, word travels.” Glancing at the clock before
Celia could comment, the merchant’s wife rang a tiny
bell.

Soon a redheaded, freckle-faced youth
appeared in the doorway to the stock room. His complexion had yet
to see a razorblade and his blush was sweet and innocent, Celia
thought.

“
Roy, take these things over
to the hotel for Mrs. Loflin, will you?” As the boy disappeared
with the bundles, Rose stepped around the counter and pulled
Celia’s broach out of her pocket. “Here you go, dear. I’d imagine
you’re glad to be getting this back. Such a lovely piece,” she said
admiringly. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

“
Me too.” Celia fingered the
broach before slipping it into her pocket. “It was a pleasure doing
business with you, Mrs. Jones.”

“
Rose, please, dear,” the
woman admonished with a laugh for Celia’s proper address. She and
Celia were well past the need for proper addresses. “Don’t mention
it. Anytime I can help, you just let me know.” Rose reached out and
hugged Celia. “Take care of yourself and your man.”

“
I’ll do my best.” She gave
Rose a good-natured wink. “Give my regards to Mr. Jones, won’t
you?”

“
Of course, dear.” Rose held
Celia’s hand a moment longer. “The minute he gets back from the
posse with Seth and Sheriff Cole.”

“
Posse? They went out
again?”

“
Why yes, I thought you
knew. Your man and as many volunteers as possible have gone after
Brannon before daylight this morning. They said an Indian came in
and told them where to find him.”

Celia’s interest perked up. Could
Broken Horse have found out where the Ranger’s camp was
located?

Rose leaned in closer and her voice
dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Word is Brannon’s not who he
said he is.”

Celia attempted a weak smile
for Rose’s gossip. “Yes, it would seem,” she said distractedly. Why
hadn
’
t he told her
he was going? Furious at being the last to know warred with her
ability to remain calm at that point. Celia said nothing. Training
her face to remain bland, she only nodded. Again, the thought
crossed her already troubled mind, why hadn
’
t he told her he was leaving? It cut
like a blade. Naively, she’d assumed he was about town tending to
last minute business before they left for the ranch. A nagging
voice in her head offered up the answer that really bothered her.
He didn’t trust her. She toyed with the tassel on her glove. Her
plans had certainly jumped the track, if she was waiting on Seth to
keep her abreast of his.

With a sudden gleam in her eye, Celia
straightened. “I have to be going, Rose, thank you for
everything.”

“
Certainly, dear,
anytime.”

***

The next morning, Celia woke ready to
set her plan into motion. Daylight was creeping through the heavy
drapes at the window. Not knowing what time it was, she left the
bed and sought the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The
face of the overgrown timepiece displayed six o’clock. Good! She
tiptoed to the door. Easing it open, she saw the guard still slept.
A lot of good he was doing the second floor occupants of the Loflin
clan. Soon someone would replace him she hoped. Forcing that worry
to the back of her mind, she tried to focus on getting dressed. If
she hurried, she might be able to slip past the guard and complete
the first step in her plan to bring about justice.

The Wells Fargo office was thankfully,
at the other end of town. Though, the stage coach stop was directly
in front of the Tyler Inn, the office for the stage line was
nestled into a small, non-descript office between two saloons.
Celia slipped out of the hotel’s back door and down the alley until
she saw the office across the street. At six-thirty in the morning,
the saloons were silent. Not a soul stirred. Cautious as a mouse,
she made her way to the stagecoach line’s office door. With a light
rap, Celia then adjusted her bodice and slicked her hair in
place.

The night watchman roused from sleep,
sliding his feet off the desk. Slowly gathering himself, he made
his way groggily over to open the door. “Ma’am. May I help
you?”

“
I’m so sorry to trouble you
this early in the morning, but I simply must get a ticket to
Charleston. Celia began to use her southern drawl on the man. She
batted her eyes and smiled primly. She could tellthe man’s eyes
focused on her starting at her head and slowly traveling downward.
Then, as if poked by a straight pin, he swung the door wide and
offered her entrance with a grand sweep of his beefy hand. She was
glad she’d taken a few extra minutes to put on one of the dresses
Seth had procured for her.

With a breathy flourish to her voice,
she gave the man her best come-hither smile. “Why thank you. My
apologies, kind sir, but I simply must secure a seat on the next
stage. Can you help me

“
Well…” Looking her up one
side and down the other, the guard seemed mentally stricken as to
what to do. “I suppose so. Which way are you headin’?”

Celia continued the act by making a
show of sweeping into the room, her hooped skirts billowing around
trim ankles. “Back east. I need a ticket for Charleston.” She
fluttered her handkerchief in front of her bosom with a dramatic
flourish in hopes of keeping the man’s attention on her and not the
strange hour of the day for a lady to be procuring a ticket. When
he opened the ticket book and searched out a pencil, Celia gushed,
“I really appreciate this. You have saved me.” She hoped her
southern dialect wasn’t too much. He seemed too enthralled with her
performance to notice anything amiss. The drama classes of Mrs.
Lucy Longheart’s School for Young Women proved beneficial after
all, Celia mused. Laying a hand on the man’s knuckles, Celia
confided, “I need you to be as discreet as possible, kind, sir. You
see, I’m being followed.” With a quick glance over her shoulder as
if the perpetrator would appear at any moment, she turned back with
alarm registering on her face. “I know you heard about the gun
fight between Brannon and my husband, Seth Loflin?” She batted her
eyelashes at the burly fellow and then wrinkled her forehead in
consternation. “It would seem the Texas Ranger, Brannon, demands I
not only tell him where my cousin, the Comanche, Red Bear is, but
take him there as well.” She paused a moment, appearing to consider
the frightful possibility. The handkerchief waving began again in
earnest.

The night watchman nodded obediently at
her tale of woe.

Confident she had the man’s complete
attention, Celia continued. He had botched printing her ticket
three times and was again starting over She took the opportunity to
paint a very vague but disquieting picture of the gossip regarding
what Brannon would do to a woman once he had her. In hopes her
performance would be the news of the day shortly afterward, Celia
finished with a near fainting spell and sat as the night watchman
scurried away to get her some water.

With the ticket purchased and the night
watchman nodding in consideration of her plight, she was certain
her ploy had worked. Soon word would spread throughout town about
the young Mrs. Loflin’s escape from the perils of danger at the
hands of a scoundrel. Unable to keep his mouth shut, she envisioned
him racing next door as soon as she left to alert the patrons
inside about her plan. What no one knew was her plan to slip out
incognito. “I’m staying, at the Tyler Inn. When the coach gets
here, I’ll need someone to come for me. You do understand, don’t
you? I can’t be seen waiting on the street. Brannon or his men
might be watching.”

The man nodded like his head was a cork
on a fishing line.

Waving a hand, Celia rushed on. “I know
its horrid to think of why a married woman isn’t safe on the
streets these days, but that’s the predicament I find myself in. My
husband, Mr. Loflin is, even now, on the trail of the villainous
Brannon.” She reached out and gripped his fingers tightly in her
gloved hands, pulling him closer. “Oh, you simply must help me.
Won’t you please?” Her dramatic show of desperation did the
trick.

Soon the man was handing her a ticket
and escorting her out the back door.

“
You’ll be safer leaving
this way, ma’am. I’ll have someone come around in a couple of days
when the stage gets here. In the meantime, take care of yourself.”
He patted her hand in a sympathetic show of concern. “If you need
anything, you just send for me. Okay? Name’s Big Earl.”