Before the Dawn (29 page)

The noon hour brought the end of the rain. It also brought Ryder to Leah's door.

“You're awfully early,” she said, pleased to see him.

“Have you slept with Seth?”

Caught very off guard by the abrupt demand, Leah observed him silently. What had happened since last night's parting? He had thunderclouds in his face. His jaw was tight, his lips thinned. “No. Did you think I had?”

It was an obvious question, she knew, but she needed to hear him say it. When he didn't respond, she asked him again, pointedly, “Did you think I had?”

“It's what I was told.”

“By whom?”

“Seth.”

“And you believed him.” It was a statement not a question.

Ryder met her pain-filled eyes and tried to deny the effect the sight had on him but couldn't. “I want you to tell me about your marriage to Louis.”

“No.”

As if stunned, he stared. “No?”

“No,” she repeated firmly. “I realize you don't know me as well as you'd like, and I don't know you either, but for
you to believe I'd do with someone else what we shared last night—?” Leah was so outraged and yes, offended, she couldn't even find the words to continue.
How dare you,
she wanted to scream at him.
How dare you!

“A man has to be sure—”

“Sure of what, that's he's the only bull in the pen?”

He looked away.

Leah lowered her voice. “Get out, Ryder. Now.”

He was angry.

She was angrier. “Now! You haven't earned the right to know about my past. You don't have enough trust inside you to handle the present.”

She walked to the door and snatched it open. She waited.

Ryder sighed bitterly. Well, he'd certainly messed this up. It wasn't an admission he made easily. Obeying her request, he left. Leah slammed the door behind him.

Leah hated crying, always had, but she couldn't help herself. Tears made of rage, pain, and loss all slid from her eyes. “Damn him,” she whispered emotionally. She should have known this was coming. Damn him!

She dashed away the wetness staining her cheeks.
And damn Seth for his hatefulness.
His lie had plunged her and Ryder back into the abyss. Why would Ryder suddenly take the word of a man he'd been at odds with his entire life? She had no answer. It had been obvious from the beginning that she and Ryder weren't meant to be together, and now she had the broken heart to prove it.

 

Back at home, Ryder stormed into the house.

“What's the matter with you?” Sam asked, looking up from the kitchen table with great concern.

Ryder told him about the article in Cordelia's paper, the confrontation with Cordelia and Seth, and the angry words he'd had with Leah.

Sam shook his head. “I told her you were slow, but you win the prize today. Since when did you start believing anything your snake of a brother has to say?”

All the way home, Ryder had asked himself the same question. He had no answer. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Certainly was. Broke her heart, I'll bet.”

Ryder paused and scanned Sam's face. Broken heart? Did she care for him in that way?

Sam seemed to read his mind. “Don't know why you're looking like that. She cares a lot about you. After today, though, she probably won't care if you get run down by a streetcar.”

Ryder couldn't deny that, and he didn't really blame her. He hadn't handled their meeting well. Damn Seth! “I need to go back and talk with her.”

“Why, so she can shoot you this time? You'd be better off just leaving her alone for a couple days—give you both time to simmer down.”

To Ryder it sounded like good advice; however, he kept seeing the pain he'd put in her eyes. He'd hurt her, badly. He needed to try and fix that, but he had no idea how. He let out a resigned sigh. “Why did I let Seth bait me that way?”

“Because, whether you're up to admitting it yet or not, you care a whole lot about that little lady. I do, too.”

Ryder didn't know what to admit. He did know he never wanted to see her look so hurt again.

Sam said sagely, “If it's meant to work out, son, it will.”

Ryder was a man of action. He didn't have the patience to stand around waiting to see what the fates had in store. “I need to see her, Sam. Try and straighten this out.”

“I know, son, but let her be for now. Go saddle up that nag of yours and take a ride. I'm going over to see Mable later. You'll have the place all to yourself.”

Realizing there was nothing else he could do concerning
the
Morenita
just then, Ryder nodded. “I'll see you this evening, then?”

Sam's old eyes took on a mischievous light, and he waggled an eyebrow. “Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Depends on Mable.”

Ryder chuckled lightly, then went upstairs to change into his riding gear.

 

Ryder mounted the stallion and rode toward the setting sun. For seemingly the hundredth time he asked himself: Was Sam right? Did he indeed care for the
Morenita
but was simply too pigheaded to admit it? The answer kept coming up yes, and Ryder knew no more what to do with that truth than he knew how to clear up the mess he'd made. By the Spirits he'd been stupid, stupid and prideful and arrogant, so arrogant she'd probably never speak to him again. That thought didn't sit well. Now that he'd begun making peace with his feelings for her he certainly didn't want it to be all for naught. He'd never been made this loco by a woman before; never. The idea that Seth might have made love to her had momentarily cost him his sanity. Sam would probably define that as jealousy, another emotion Ryder had no experience with, but it was exactly what he'd felt in response to Seth's vicious taunt—green-eyed, white-hot jealousy. She'd somehow gotten into his blood, and he hadn't even known she was there. How long had she been simmering below the surface of his being? When had he become so possessive that he wanted to paint himself for war and hunt down her enemies? Had his father found her that moving?

Ryder dashed that thought aside. He needed to stop thinking of her in those terms if he really wanted to be truthful about how he felt, but could he? He'd spent his entire life hating his father and everything connected with his name. That hate had driven him to succeed in the face of all
odds; it made him work tirelessly and become wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. It had taken him abroad, and into the inner sanctums of well-heeled boardrooms, where he and the servants were the only men of color. Wanting to be better and mightier than Louis Montague had been his reason for living. If he gave that up, what would fill the void? In reality, he already knew.

A few days later, Leah received a letter from Judge Raddock. It read:

Leah showed the letter to Eloise. They were having dinner.

When Eloise finished reading, she handed it back. “Sounds promising, if nothing else.”

Leah frowned. “At this point I don't care how it comes out. I just want to go back East so I can be myself again.”

“Well, if it's any consolation, I like having you around. Alice likes you, too.”

Leah laughed at the idea of the statue having likes and dislikes. “Well, tell her I said thanks.”

Eloise nodded. “I will.”

Done with the meal, Leah followed Eloise into the kitchen to help with the cleanup. Eloise washed while Leah dried.

“So, no word from Ryder?” Eloise asked.

“No.”

Eloise studied her for a moment. “He hurt you bad this time, didn't he?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must care for him,” Eloise remarked.

“I thought I did.”

Eloise glanced at her. “You still do. For all of his Cheyenne ways, Ryder's insides are soft as pudding. Always have been, always will be. Seth, on the other hand, knows that. He's made it his life's work to wound his brother anyway he can. It's one of the things he does best, I'm afraid.”

“Well, he gave a grand performance this time.”

“I'm sure Ryder is somewhere kicking himself for letting Seth send him around the bend. He'll be around to see you soon, I'm betting.”

Leah shook her head. “I don't think so. He and I are back to being oil and water.”

“You know, if you add a little seasoning and a few herbs to oil and water and give it a good shaking, you get a passable vinaigrette.”

Leah chuckled. “Well with all the shaking we've had we should be more than passable.”

Eloise smiled as she handed Leah the last dish to dry, then said, “The church is having a box lunch auction this weekend. Do you want to go? We're raising money for a new building.”

“Will Ryder be there?”

Eloise studied her. “Maybe, but probably not.”

“How about Cordelia and her stuffy friends?”

“Nope. Just plain old folks like you and me.”

“Then I'd love to tag along. I could use some cheering up.”

Eloise smiled. “You have to bring a box lunch for the gentlemen to bid on though.”

“No one's going to bid on mine. Folks here barely know me.”

“Don't worry, by now every man of color within thirty miles has heard how pretty you are. They'll bid.”

“But I'm also a widow, Eloise.”

“Leah, around here men have been known to show up on a widow's doorstep less than an hour after she's put her man in the ground.”

Leah smiled. “Okay, if you say so. What should go in the lunch?”

“You just leave that to me. When I make mine, I'll make one for you too.”

 

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. As Eloise drove, Leah took in the glorious surroundings. The sky was blue, the sunshine warm. The gorgeous weather was the best she'd experienced here so far and she hoped it would be indicative of how the day would be. She was nervous. After the hostility she'd had to endure at the Wayne's reception, she didn't know what to expect from the folks she'd meet today, but rather than worry herself into a fit, she decided to accept Eloise's word that everything would go fine.

The people were gathered in a wide, rolling meadow edged by multicolored wildflowers and towering pines. As Eloise drove them closer, Leah spotted children playing among the blankets and quilts spread over the ground. Men were setting up tables and chairs, and women were talking in groups and holding baskets covered with colorful cloths. A few of the faces were familiar from Eloise's church, but most weren't.

Eloise pulled the buckboard to a halt in an area of the meadow that held a number of other wagons and buckboards. As they stepped down, a passel of eager children ran to Eloise as if she were the Pied Piper of legend. They swarmed her with smiles and hugs and requests for peppermint which she handed out gladly. Leah recognized some of the children as members of Eloise's Sunday school class. Only that class had gotten Eloise out of the studio last week.

“Children, you all remember Miss Leah?”

Leah scanned the happy faces of the ten boys and girls, and said, “How are you all?”

“Did you bring a lunch?” one of the little girls asked. She was short, with two thick plaits, and had lost both her front teeth. Leah guessed her to be six or seven years of age. The gap added charm to her small brown face.

“Yes, I did,” Leah replied kindly as she indicated the basket on her arm. “How about you?”

The girl, whose name was Dorcas, looked so surprised by the teasing question, the other children laughed.

“I'm only six,” the girl answered. “But my sister Callie did. She's sweet on Mr. Ryder.”

Leah raised an eyebrow. “I see.” She wondered if sister Callie knew Dorcas was over here spreading her business.

Miss Eloise promised the children a game of hide-and-seek later. Content with her promise and her peppermints they ran off to resume their play.

“They like you a great deal,” Leah noted to Eloise as they began the walk across the meadow to join the rest of the gathering.

“I like them too. Always have loved children.” Leah looked around the open meadow. “Is this where the new church is going to be built?”

“Yep. Ryder owns this land, but he's offered to donate it once the building's up.”

In spite of her personal problems with Ryder, Leah found his generosity impressive. “When will that be?”

“We hope very soon. The money brought in today should put us over the top.”

Leah thought the meadow would be a wonderful setting for a house of worship. Churches and schools were often luxuries in small communities of color, but once erected became rallying points of pride and purpose. The small A.M.E. church she'd attended back home served not only its people's spiritual needs but fed the hungry, gave clothes to the needy, and agitated on behalf of the race. She hoped the folks here would get their new church building soon.

Leah could see people watching her curiously as she and Eloise approached. Again she worried how she'd be met. Did Monty have enemies here, too?

The pastor of the church stepped away from a group of women to greet them. The tall, light-skinned Reverend Garrison was dressed in a worn black suit and a clerical collar. “Good afternoon, Sister Eloise. Sister Leah. Glad you could come.”

Pastor Garrison had performed the service for Cecil's burial, and Leah would be forever grateful for his assistance that day.

“Reverend.”