Before the Dawn (20 page)

He replied, “I'd be lying if I said I was disappointed.”

Leah took the compliment but said nothing in response.

“Who knows,” Seth added, “maybe after everything's all said and done, I can convince you to stay here permanently.”

Leah had no trouble reading between the lines; Seth found her attractive. Admittedly, Leah found the golden-skinned Creole and his thin moustache attractive as well, but she didn't see the two of them advancing any further in their relationship, at least not in the near future. She wouldn't be ready for any commitments or promises until the events swirling around her life were settled and laid to rest.

The young clerk sat watching them as if they were in a theater show.

Leah ignored him, and said to Seth, “How about we let the future take care of itself for now and just enjoy each other's company?”

“I've no problem with that. Do you want to wire the judge anything else?”

She shook her head.

“Then let's get you back to Eloise's.”

 

When they returned to Eloise's, Leah told her about the telegram from Judge Raddock. “He seems to think the court ruling can be reversed.”

“That's promising news,” Eloise replied. She was seated in her small parlor. Having just returned from driving her pastor back to his home, she was still dressed in the black dress she'd worn to the funeral.

“I suppose, but he wants me to stay here while he looks into it. Sam says you have a cabin out back you sometimes let?”

“I do.”

“No offense, Seth, but I don't wish to stay with your aunt a moment longer.”

He smiled. “I understand.”

Eloise asked brightly, “Does that mean you want to move into my cabin?”

“Yes, if I could.”

“I think that's a great idea. Me and Alice would love the company.”

Leah smiled.

Eloise hoisted herself off the flowered love seat, and said, “Well, let's go take a look at it then.”

The cabin had one room. There was a fireplace, a bed, a table and chair, and little else. It was clean however. There were leather shades over the paneless windows and a hooked rag rug on the plank floor.

As Leah set her handbag on the bed and removed her veil, Eloise said, “It's not a palace.”

“But it will do nicely,” Leah replied, looking around. “How much do you want a week?”

“If you help out around here, I won't charge you a thing. The place'll be here whether I get any money for it or not.”

“But Eloise—”

“Don't insult me, child. Right now you need a haven, and this is it.”

Leah wanted to haggle over the issue a bit longer, but the sparkle of warning in Eloise's eyes made her keep her mouth closed.

Eloise smiled knowingly and nodded at Leah's wisdom. “Now. Seth, all her trunks are still in the parlor where Sam left them yesterday. Once you bring those, there's a dresser in my back room we can move in here.”

Leah didn't know what she'd done to have such an angel come to her rescue, but she dearly appreciated the woman's many kindnesses.

Once Seth had moved in the trunks and the dresser, it was early evening. He stood with her in her sparsely fur
nished new place, and said, “I need to be getting back to town, Leah.”

“Thank you for all your help,” she told him genuinely. He'd stood by her at the funeral and for most of the day. He'd been an angel of sorts as well.

“You're more than welcome. In reality I'm hoping it'll get me some points.”

She grinned. “It has.”

“Then I leave here a happy man.”

Their eyes held for a long moment. She felt the pull of his maleness but noted it lacked the power and intensity of his brother's. Banishing thoughts of Ryder, Leah walked with Seth out to the road, where his carriage waited.

He got in. Looking down at her, he said, “I know you're grieving and you have a lot on your mind right now, but friends of mine are having a dinner Saturday night, and I'd be honored if you'd let me escort you.”

Saturday was a few days away. Leah didn't know how she'd feel by then, but decided she'd go, if only so she wouldn't sit in the cabin and brood. “I'd like that, Seth.”

“Careful now,” he cautioned with a smile, “you're giving me hope.”

She laughed. “What time Saturday?”

They spent a few more moments discussing the details of their outing. When they were done, Seth said, “Get some rest.”

“I will.”

He slapped down the reins and she waved good-bye.

Leah walked up to the house and went inside. Eloise had on her hat.

“Are you going out?” Leah asked.

“Yes. Old Lady Crumwell needs more salve for her arthritis. Promised her I'd bring it this evening. Will you be all right alone?”

“Sure.”

“Well there's chicken and dumplings in the icebox if you get hungry. Me and Ol' Tom'll be back late.”

“Who's Ol' Tom?”

“My mule.”

“I see.”

Miss Eloise smiled. “You sure you don't want someone with you?”

“No, I'll be fine. Truly.”

“All right then. You can have full run of the house. Take a bath if you like. Ryder fixed me up one of his fancy bathing rooms, and there's plenty hot water in the boiler.”

Leah thought that a grand suggestion.

“There's only one place you're not allowed, and that's the room down at the end of that hallway there. It's where I keep the paintings and sculptures I'm working on. I don't like them seen until they're finished.”

Leah had no problems respecting Eloise's privacy. “Don't worry.”

Eloise's voice turned serious. “Things didn't work out with you and Ryder, I take it.” It was a statement not a question.

“No, they didn't,” Leah admitted.

“Well, I won't pry, your spirit's been bruised enough I sense.”

Leah was grateful for the woman's understanding.

Miss Eloise said encouragingly, “You'll survive. We women always do. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Eloise.”

 

Slowly nursing a drink, a brooding Ryder Damien sat on his fancy, black Victorian sofa, his well-polished boots resting comfortably atop an equally fancy coffee table. When Sam came in, Ryder looked up at him and raised his glass in silent salute.

The gray-haired Sam took one look at Ryder's feet, and barked crossly, “If you don't get those boots off my table…”

Ryder smiled. “Your table? As I remember, I signed the bank draft.”

“Did you go all the way to San Francisco to get it? Do you dust it and polish it so it'll stay nice?”

Because Ryder knew he couldn't answer yes to either of the questions, he put his feet down. “Happy?”

“Very. What're you so riled about?”

“Saw Mrs. Montague, this afternoon.”

“After the funeral?” Sam asked.

“Yes, she was in town with my gentleman brother.” After a few moments of silence, Ryder added, “Tried to talk to her—”

“But she told you to go waltz with a bear.”

Ryder smiled. “Something like that.”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“Just what I got, I suppose.”

“Give you guff?” Sam asked.

Ryder thought back. She challenged him in a way no woman had ever done before. “Lots of it.”

Sam's voice intruded upon his thoughts. “She says you were mad and asked her to leave Sunrise because you want her to be someone she's not.”

“I was mad because she was a virgin and didn't tell me.”

“
I
told you she didn't belong in a cathouse, but did you listen?”

“No, Sam, I didn't.”

“Well you should've.” Sam then added, “But if she was a virgin—does that mean she wasn't married to your pa?”

Ryder shrugged. “See the problem I'm having? Who knows what the truth is?” Ryder drained his drink. “Maybe I'll just let Seth have her.”

“Pigs'll fly first.”

Ryder raised his glass in yet another salute. No, he'd
never surrender anything to Seth, certainly not the black jewel Leah Montague, even though that was a direct contradiction to the vow he'd made this morning.

“Well,” Sam said, “I'm going over to see Mable. You?”

“Going to sit here a minute or two more, then work on some reports.”

“Okay then. I'll see you later, and keep those boots on the floor.”

Amused, Ryder nodded.

Sam's exit left him alone. As the quiet resettled, Ryder set down his empty glass and stretched his tired arms and shoulders. He had a stack of papers on the desk in his study a foot high and he wasn't looking forward to them. After being tossed out of Dinah's by Leah this afternoon, he'd gone back to the office in so foul a mood none of the clerks wanted to approach him, and that suited him fine because he hadn't wanted to be bothered. The only thing he'd wanted was the woman who'd been sharing a meal with his Creole brother.

Ryder stood and ran his hands through his unbraided hair. What was wrong with him? He was mooning over her like a lovesick cowhand. He'd never let a woman claim his mind this way before and it had to stop. He was a mixed-blood Cheyenne brave. He had no business running behind a woman with his tongue dragging on the ground, especially one he was having investigated. There were other, more agreeable women available.
But I don't want them,
the voice in his mind echoed.

 

Leah's bath had been just what she'd needed. Tired after the long, trying day, she sat in the cabin before the fire she'd made, oiling and combing out her freshly washed hair. When it was satisfactorily free of tangles, she divided it in half, then put in the familiar French braids. After twisting the trailing ends together into a coil, she pinned it low on
her neck. Dressed in a thin nightgown, she walked barefoot across the wooden floor and turned down the lamp until only the faintest of flame showed. There in the dark, Leah sat on the bed and let the grief of the day rise up and fill her heart. She was alone in the world now, no mother, father, Monty, or Cecil. Thinking about Cecil made the tears rise once more. Their trip to Colorado had been so full of promise, and now—Leah dashed her palms across her eyes. Cecil, just like her mother and Monty, wouldn't want her wallowing in grief and self-pity; they'd taught her better than that. So there in the dark, Leah sat. But in the end she gave in, put her face in her hands, and silently surrendered to the grief.

B
y Saturday, Leah was looking forward to the idea of going out with Seth. She and Eloise had spent the past few days planting vegetables, gathering medicinal plants, and weeding the flower beds. Leah found the work exhausting but far less so than hauling kegs or scrubbing floors, even if it did seem as if she'd spent the entire time either bent over or on her knees.

Seth arrived promptly at seven Saturday evening. Leah had chosen to wear a navy, black-tipped gown cut low on her arms. To guard against the late-evening chill, she grabbed a matching silk shawl and settled it around her bare shoulders.

She told Seth, “I didn't know how formal your friends' gathering would be. Is my gown okay?”

Seth nodded approvingly. “I'll be the envy of every man there.”

Leah had to glance away from the flashing interest in his
light brown eyes. Although Seth's manner was less intense than his brother's, it held its own power.

Eloise came out of the back. She scanned the elegantly dressed Leah and smiled approvingly. “My, don't you look lovely. Seth, you're going to be with the prettiest lady in the county tonight.”

“That I am.”

Leah felt embarrassment warm her face.

Seth made a show of politely extending his arm. “Shall we?”

Leah placed her hand lightly on the offered limb. “By all means.”

“Have a good time,” Eloise told them both.

Leah hoped she would. After the events of the last ten days, she needed a bit of good time in her life.

“So, where are we headed?” Leah asked once they were on the road.

“Their names are Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. He's a barber, she—well. Folks around here call her the Great Cordelia.”

“The Great Cordelia,” Leah echoed skeptically.

“Yes, more ambition than three men. Were she White, she'd make some politician a great wife. As it stands she isn't, so she spends her time trying to advance her husband's aspirations.”

“Which are?”

“To be a barber and to be left alone.”

Leah chuckled. “Sounds like an interesting marriage.”

“It is. He's rich as Midas—she's as beautiful as Venus. She grew up dirt poor in Mississippi, he resembles a toad.”

“Should be quite the evening.”

There were dozens of buggies, buckboards and carriages parked up and down the narrow road leading to the Waynes' Victorian mansion. A bit taken aback by the sheer number of vehicles, Leah said, “I thought this was going to be small affair.”

“Cordelia never does anything small, and besides, I'm sure some of these folks came just to get a look at you.”

“You told her I would be attending?”

“I did.”

“I'm not sure I like that.”

Seth turned her way, and said kindly, “When my father left here thirty years ago, nobody knew if he'd been killed by renegades or swallowed by a whale. I think those who were around back then are hoping you can shed a little light on the mystery.”

Leah thought about Reba's words. “My mother once said, ‘A man's past is his own.'”

“But a son is a part of that past. Surely, he has a right to know?”

He found a place to park the carriage in the jumble of vehicles, then set the brake. In the quiet that followed she told him earnestly, “Your father deeply regretted leaving you and your brother.”

Seth's jaw tightened. “Were these deathbed regrets?”

Leah felt his underlying anger, and said quietly, “You sound like your brother.”

“Touché.”

It didn't surprise her to learn Seth harbored bad feelings, too. Had he spent his young life hoping his father would return? “He spoke of you on his deathbed, yes, but he said the guilt had been eating at him for many years.”

“Did you love my father, Leah?”

Leah knew he meant as a husband. Since she did love Monty in her own way, she didn't feel wrong in saying, “Yes, I did love him. He was very special to me, and I to him.”

“That's good to know.”

Leah swallowed her guilt for partially deceiving him and walked with him to the door.

As Seth escorted her inside, the one hundred or so for
mally dressed guests standing around Cordelia Wayne's vast, well-furnished parlor all went silent. Leah could see them see staring at her speculatively. It was a decidedly awkward moment for Leah, but Seth cleared his throat, and said. “Everyone, I want you to meet Leah Montague.”

Leah said, “Hello, everyone.”

There were a few false smiles and nods, but Leah felt no more welcome. Not one person ventured over to introduce themselves. She assumed that some might be here to have the mystery of Monty unraveled, but others came just to get a look at the scandalous woman who'd been purchased by Ryder Damien. She could see it in their eyes.

Only then did the tall, storklike Cordelia Wayne step up. Leah wondered if she'd been waiting to make certain she didn't scratch in public or could speak properly before deeming her suitable to approach.

“How are you, my dear?” Cordelia asked after Seth made the initial introductions. The Great Cordelia was dressed in an elaborate gray gown that outshone every other woman's in the room. She appeared to be just a few years older than Leah. Her eyes were sharp and her skin the color of chocolate. As Seth had noted, she was indeed beautiful.

“My condolences on your loss,” Cordelia offered, seemingly genuinely. “Louis was quite a figure in his day, I hear. Let me take your shawl.”

Leah handed over the soft silk. “Thank you.”

“And how are you, Seth?”

“Fine, Cordelia. Lot of people here tonight.”

“Yes, but Lewis Price couldn't join us this evening, I did so wish to hear about his latest investments.”

Leah had no idea who Lewis Price might be, but from the pretty pout on Cordelia's face it was apparent that she was quite disappointed.

“Well, Leah,” Cordelia said, gazing down at her from her towering height, “I must say, that accent of yours is quite—quaint.”

Leah smiled falsely. “My mother was British.”

“One could almost mistake you for royalty, except we all know there's no Black royalty over there in England.”

Some of the guests standing nearby chuckled at Cordelia's wit.

Leah took pleasure in saying, “Ah, but you're mistaken. Many coats of arms in Great Britain have Moors on them. Have you never heard of Queen Charlotte Sophia?”

“No. Who is she?” Cordelia looked so irritated, Leah could only assume she was unaccustomed to being corrected.

“A former queen of England and consort to King George III.”

“I see. Ah, there's my husband, Barksdale.”

Barksdale Wayne, drink in hand, stepped forward. He was an oily little man with too much pomade on his thinning hair. His pocked skin and fat jaws did resemble a frog's. The bright glitter in his eyes told Leah he'd begun drinking long before tonight's reception began.

“Welcome to Colorado, Mrs. Montague,” he said, his bulbous eyes ogling her bosom above her neckline.

“Thank you,” Leah replied coolly. She wondered if he always addressed a woman's anatomy when introduced. She'd been prepared to feel sorry for him after hearing Seth's story about the Waynes' marriage, but now—

Behind Cordelia stood Helene Sejours, dressed in a blue gown that though clean, appeared as old and worn as her furniture. The ghostly white makeup on her face was punctuated by the bright red paint on her thin lips. She purred in an accent much more pronounced than usual, “Ah Seth, and Leah. How nice to see you both.”

Leah simply nodded rather than lie and say it was nice to see Helene, too. She didn't want to risk being struck down by lightning.

“Are you enjoying your stay with Eloise?”

“I am.”

“So, when will you be leaving us?” Helene asked.

“Soon, I hope.”

“Well, we'll say a prayer.”

Inwardly, Leah snarled.

The guests filling the room had seemingly come back to life now that Leah had been seen, and at first glance appeared far more interested in their conversations and drinks than in her, but upon closer inspection, Leah could see them studying her covertly. She smiled at a few who caught her eye, but they nodded impassively before turning away.

Cordelia gently took Leah by the arm. “Let's meet all these folks. Like me, they're so glad you're here.”

Leah doubted that, but let herself be led away.

For the next three-quarters of an hour, Leah was shuttled from person to person. She met businessmen, cattlemen, farmers, and their skeptical-looking wives. A few of the guests offered condolences for her loss, but others gave the impression that they'd come simply to stare. Some of the women were whispering behind their hands as she passed by, and a few of the men were looking her over as if she might be the evening's dessert. By the time the introductions ended and Cordelia sent everyone to the beautifully laid-out buffet, Leah had been gawked at so much she felt like a beached albino whale. She wished Sam or Eloise were there, but doubted these were the kinds of people they rubbed shoulders with.

“How long were you and Mr. Montague married?” Barksdale Wayne asked as he stood beside Leah in the buffet line.

Leah watched a few people standing nearby immediately stop what they were doing in order to hear her reply. Did they not teach manners on this side of the Mississippi? she wondered testily. As for Barksdale Wayne's question, Leah knew he and his wife were probably very influential community leaders. In the end it probably wouldn't pay to offend either of them, but she had no intentions of feeding the gossips by telling them her business.

Leah replied politely, “Unfortunately, we weren't married long enough.”

His plump face hardened; it was not the answer he'd been after. Cordelia and Helene, standing on either side of him also looked perturbed that Leah's response hadn't been more specific.

Leah turned to Seth, and asked, “Do you think we might find a place to sit?”

But he didn't reply. He seemed frozen by the sight of something on the far side of the room. Leah also noticed that the surroundings had taken on an eerie quiet. Confused, she turned to see if she could determine the cause.

Ryder.

She had to admit he was riveting. Tonight, the long black hair was pulled back and tied. The dark vested suit and the snow-white shirt fit him impeccably as always. The strength, pride, and masculine beauty of his mixed ancestry showed in the rich dark copper skin, the prominent nose, the cut of his jaw, and the fullness of his lips. His shoulders seemed wide as the mountains, and the black eyes stared around at the silent, gaping guests with a superiority usually reserved for monarchs.

His stony gaze locked with Leah's, and her chin instinctively rose. In spite of what had passed between them and who he thought her to be, she didn't much care for being scrutinized like a woman on the block. She was certain her
face mirrored that, but her feelings obviously didn't matter because his gaze didn't waver.

Ryder didn't know why she looked so offended. Every rube in attendance had come to get a good long look at the woman Louis Montague had taken as his last wife and who had been purchased by Ryder for fifteen thousand dollars. Because Ryder hadn't seen her in nearly a week, he proved no exception. She was still as beautiful as the night sky. The feline eyes beneath the winged brows could stir a man's soul, and he knew from experience that her mouth could tempt a brave into giving away all he owned. A few days ago, Sam had mentioned tonight's party, then let slip, very deliberately Ryder noted, that according to Mable, Seth would be escorting Leah. Ryder initially dismissed the information as having little value; he'd sworn off Leah Montague and would continue to do so until he received the Pinkerton report. However, the closer it got to Saturday, the more intense became his need to see her again. He'd never gotten along with Cordelia and her Black elite set, and all the way down the mountain he'd fought the idea of attending her soirée just so he could see Leah again, but he'd lost. It seemed the lure of his father's widow was far more powerful than his vows to keep her at a distance.

From behind her, Leah heard a tight-lipped Seth ask Cordelia, “Did you invite him?”

“Of course not,” the hostess hissed.

When he walked over and joined their small group, Cordelia said stiffly, “Good evening, Mr. Damien.”

“Cordelia.” The voice was low and rich, the black eyes mocking, cold.

Ryder turned to the tight-lipped Seth. “Good evening, big brother. Good evening, Mrs. Montague.”

“Mr. Damien,” Leah said.

Addressing each other with such formality was ludicrous
in light of their past dealings, but for Leah it set up an artificial barrier she sorely needed.

The guests were all buzzing, and Leah had no trouble imagining what they were buzzing about.

Seth asked Ryder bluntly, “Why'd you come?”

“Barksdale invited me. Didn't you?”

Barksdale sputtered hastily, “Of course, of course. Cordelia and I are honored to have you in our home.”

Leah didn't believe a word of it, and judging by the crossness on Cordelia's face, the hostess didn't either.

He seemed to have saved Helene for last. “And how are you, Helene?”

“We were having a lovely time until you arrived.”

Helene's sharp tongue didn't seem to pierce him at all. “We had an appointment earlier today,” he told her. “Did you forget?”

Helene suddenly began to fidget with the gold bracelet on her wrist. “I had to help out here.”

Leah noticed that Helene avoided looking directly into Ryder's eyes and wondered what they were supposed to have met about.

“Tomorrow morning. Ten.”

Helene's chin tightened, but she nodded affirmatively.

Ryder then looked around at all the smoldering, displeased faces, and smiled. “Think I'll help myself to the buffet now.”