Free Salvation's Secrets (The Loflin Legacy Prequel) by Catherine Wolffe

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