Before the Dawn

by Beverly Jenkins

  The server said then, “Be at the Denver courthouse at nine tomorrow.”

  “But what is this about?” she demanded.

  The little man shrugged. “They just pay me to deliver. You’ll find out tomorrow, I reckon.”

  The conductor looked so pleased with himself Leah wanted to punch him. “Thank you,” she told the process server frostily, then turned her back.

  Once they were gone, her eyes frantically searched the platform for Cecil. She saw him a ways off accompanied by a porter pushing their trunks on a cart and hastened to meet them.

  Cecil must’ve seen the distress in her face because he asked, “Leah, what’s wrong?”

  She handed him the summons. He scanned it and then raised his widened spectacle-aided eyes back to her. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Process server. He must’ve been waiting for the train because the conductor brought him over to me. What is this about, Cecil?”

  “I’ve no idea, but someone is challenging your right to inherit the estate.”

  He looked as stunned as Leah. Cecil took a moment to reach into his pocket and extract a tip for the still-waiting porter. The man nodded and departed.

  “Could it be his other son, or some long lost relative?”

  Cecil seemed at a loss for further words.

  Leah had a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I. Once we secure a room, we’ll see what we can learn.”

  The elderly Black driver of the hack they hired ferried them and their luggage into the city. Once again she was struck by how well built Denver appeared to be. The street they were traveling down was choked with vehicles of every kind. Because of the slow pace she had an opportunity to view all the glass-windowed stores, the fancy hotels, the sturdy plank walks, and the fashionably dressed people of all races going about their day. The city even had a streetcar system.

  As their journey continued, the traffic thinned and the area became less impressive. The big buildings and glass windows gave way to an area of saloons, small clapboard houses, and stores that appeared to serve a different segment of the population.

  “This is our side of town,” the driver confirmed. “You folks got a preference for where you want to stay?”

  “Where would you suggest?” Cecil asked. “I haven’t lived here in thirty years.”

  “Right here,” the driver declared as he brought his ancient mule and buggy to a halt. They were in front of a large ominous-looking place that stood like a sentinel amongst the smaller houses nearby. The weathered two-story Victorian house with its faded green paint, gables, and cornices reminded her of the mountains—grim, imposing, bleak.

  The driver said, “This here is the best Denver has to offer. Lady named Miss Helene owns it. She looks down her nose at most folks, but she runs a decent place.”

  Cecil seemed to have turned to stone.

  Concerned, Leah asked, “For heaven’s sake, what’s the matter?”

  Cecil didn’t reply. He instead asked the driver, “What’s her full name?”

  “Helene Sejours. Been here a long time I’m told. Fancy Creole woman.”

  Cecil looked to Leah, and said, “This is the house Louis built for his wife, Bernice. I never imagined it would be still standing.”

  Leah’s eyes swept the foreboding-looking place once again. That same odd chill she’d felt before crept over her skin.

  Cecil explained further. “Helene Sejours is the sister of Bernice.”

  Leah could just imagine how the woman might react to having Monty’s new wife under her roof. “Maybe we should stay somewhere else, Cecil.”

  “We’ll stay here,” Cecil replied as if he’d made some type of decision.

  Leah didn’t like the idea. “Cecil, I don’t think—”

  He cut her off. “It’ll be fine.”

  Leah didn’t believe it for a minute but followed him out of the carriage and up the walk to the door.

  Their knock was answered by a suspicious-eyed, light-skinned woman, who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. She wore the black dress and white apron of a servant. Her silver-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun. “May I help you?”

  “We’re in need of a room,” Cecil answered.

  The woman looked them up and down. Her eyes settled on Cecil’s face, and she asked, “Aren’t you Cecil Lee?”

  Cecil didn’t deny it. “Yes.”

  “Do you remember me?” she asked coolly.

  Cecil shook his head. “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

  Her reply was frosty. “I’m Mable France. I’ll get Miss Helene. Wait here.”

  Leah wondered why the woman thought Cecil should remember her. This was not going to be a pleasant stay. The specter of tomorrow’s court summons played on the edges of her mind, but she refused to think about it now.

  Mable France returned accompanied by a woman whose true features were hidden beneath a thick dusting of white face powder. It was impossible to tell her age, but if she were using the powder to highlight her youth, she’d failed. She was taller than most women. Her green gown looked as weathered and old as the house. “So, you’ve returned,” she said to Cecil.

  Cecil replied emotionlessly, “I’m here to settle Louis’s affairs, nothing more. The driver said you have rooms to let.”

  “I do.”

  She then turned her eyes to Leah. “Who’s this?”

  “Louis’s widow, Leah.”

  The woman couldn’t hide her surprise. She looked Leah up and down as critically as Mrs. France had done. “What is she, all of twenty-five?”

  Leah told her coldly, “No, I’m thirty-two.”

  “So old? What was Louis, sixty? You must’ve been quite a comfort to him in his final days.”

  Leah’s chin rose angrily, but she didn’t respond.

  Cecil asked crisply, “Do you have rooms or not, Helene?”

  “Oh, I have rooms. Poverty dictates that I open my sister’s home to anyone with the coin to pay.”

  The blue eyes staring at Leah were frosty. “Seven dollars a week. Six more if you want meals.”

  “That’s fair,” Cecil allowed.

  “Mrs. France will show you up.”

  After giving Leah one last look of dislike, Helene Sejours turned and disappeared back into the house.

  “This way,” Mrs. France told them.

  The interior of the house was dimly lit and literally choked with furniture. Fat, overstuffed, fringed chairs and settees competed for space with fringed lamps, short ornate tables, and large footstools. The burgundy-velvet furniture and the matching fringed drapes had probably been fine and costly once, but were now shiny and faded by time.

  Leah and Cecil followed Mrs. France up a short staircase to the house’s second floor. She opened one of the doors, then turned to Leah. “This one’s yours. Mr. Lee’s down the hall.”

  Leah stepped into the small room and looked around. Its two windows offered an unhindered view of the trees and bleak gray mountains off in the distance. The brisk air rivaled outdoors.

  Mrs. France offered, “I’ll bring up some wood for the grate. This room’s rarely used.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Leah responded, trying not to shiver visibly.

  The bed appeared comfortable enough and was covered by a heavy navy quilt. The bureau and a small dressing table with a vanity mirror were the only other pieces of furniture.

  “Are there any other tenants here?” Leah asked.

  “No. Facilities are down the hall. I don’t carry water, so if you want a bath, heat it yourself.”

  Leah wondered if the place’s lack of tenants could be traced to Mrs. France’s unfriendly attitude. She also wondered if they were being treated this way because Cecil didn’t recall ever meeting her before, or if the housekeeper was always this brusque.

  While Mrs. France showed Cecil to his room, the driver carried in Leah’s trunks and set them by the door. He couldn’t ma
nage it all in one trip, so it took two. After he did the same for Cecil’s things, Cecil paid the man, and he departed with a smile.

  “Dinner’s in an hour,” Mrs. France announced. That said, she headed back down the hall to the stairs.

  Leah shared a silent look with Cecil, who shook his head, and said, “The sooner we get away from here, the happier I’ll be.”

  “I feel the same way. So do I really have to go to court tomorrow?”

  “Yes. We need to find out what this is about.”

  “Do you think Mrs. Sejours might know?”

  “Miss Sejours. Helene never married.” He shrugged. “I’ll ask her, but there’s no guarantee she’ll tell me the truth.”

  “You don’t trust her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are we staying here?” Leah asked, struggling to keep her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Because this house and everything in it was left to Ryder and his grandmother. Why Helene is living here instead is beyond me, but I plan to find out.”

  That gave Leah pause. “First the mine interests that Ryder said he never received and now this house?”

  “Exactly. Can you think of a better place to get at the truth?”

  “Given a few minutes’ time, I probably could, but I’ll follow your lead.”

  He smiled. “Good. Once we get this lawsuit question out of the way, time here should be easier.”

  Leah hoped he was right.

  Dinner was a tense affair. Although Helene had seemingly nothing to say to Cecil, she kept viewing Leah as if she were an exhibit at a fair. At one point Helene remarked, “I never imagined Louis would marry a woman younger than both his sons.”

  Leah sensed the barracuda beneath all that white powder. “To be truthful, I was surprised to find out he had sons. I only recently learned of Monty’s family here.”

  “Is that an English accent I hear?”

  “A small one. My mother was British.”

  “And your father?”

  “American.”

  “And did your parents approve of this marriage?”

  Leah answered without hesitation. “My father died when I was young, and Mother passed away last year, but yes, she would’ve approved.” Leah knew she was right. Monty’s attempts to secure her future might have been unorthodox, but Leah sensed Reba was applauding his ingenuity from her spot up in heaven.

  Helene’s blue eyes were bright and sharp as a hawk. “How long will you be with us?”

  “Once our business is completed, Cecil and I’ll be in a better position to know.”

  They were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. France. “Mister Seth is here, ma’am.”

  Helene’s face brightened. “Ah, send him in and bring him a plate so he can join us.” As Mrs. France went off, Helene said to Leah, “Aren’t you fortunate, you’re going to meet Louis’s son.”

  When Seth walked into the room, he looked so much like Monty, Leah felt gooseflesh run up her arms. Helene said something else, but Leah heard nothing; she was too busy staring at the wavy black hair, the pale golden skin, and the familiar hawklike features. He was as urbane in his appearance as she imagined a high-toned Creole would be, and the thin moustache seemed to enhance his handsomeness. The frock coat he handed to Mrs. France appeared to be very costly, as did the brown suit he wore beneath. He had dark hazel eyes instead of Monty’s midnight blue, but the shape and sparkle were the same.

  Leah gathered herself and looked over at Cecil seated on the other side of the table. He, too, looked stunned.

  Helene called affectionately, “Darling, there’s someone here I believe you should meet.”

  Leah noted that in his own golden way, Seth Montague was as handsome as his brother.

  As he neared the table, his aunt said, “Seth, meet your father’s last wife, Leah Montague. Leah, my nephew Seth Montague.”

  If his aunt’s surprising introduction caught him off guard, he hid it well. He bowed his head respectfully in Leah’s direction, and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  After enduring his brother’s rudeness, Leah was touched by his sentiment. “Thank you.”

  Helene waved a hand toward Cecil. “And this is your father’s business partner, Cecil Lee.”

  Cecil stood, “Good evening, Seth. You were very young the last time I saw you.”

  Seth grasped Cecil’s hand in a solid greeting. “No more than seven or eight if I remember. Sorry we couldn’t have met again under better circumstances.”

  “So do I.” Cecil replied, still staring at the son who so resembled his late father.

  “Did he pass peacefully?” Seth asked of Leah as he took a seat at the table.

  She nodded gently. “Yes, in his sleep.”

  “That’s good to know. I’ve been in Carson City for the past few weeks. I didn’t know you’d wired until I returned home today. I’d hoped to meet your train and help get you settled in, but I was too late.”

  Leah said, “We appreciate the thought.”

  Helene drawled, “Well, now that we’ve all gotten reacquainted, shall we finish our meal?”

  Leah didn’t care for the woman’s sarcastic tone, but picked up her fork and resumed eating.

  As the meal wound to a close, Cecil took a sip of water from his heavy glass goblet, then set it back down and said, “Leah was served with a summons when we arrived today. Either of you have any idea what it might be about?”

  Both Seth and Helene stiffened noticeably. Leah watched them share a look, then Seth asked, “The summons didn’t say?”

  “No,” Leah responded. “I’m to appear at the courthouse tomorrow morning at nine. I’m assuming it has something to do with Monty because he’s the only tie I have here.”

  Seth shrugged, “Then that could be anything. Louis didn’t leave behind many friends.”

  Cecil asked, “So, you’ve no idea?”

  “I’m afraid not. Aunt Helene?”

  “No, but as my nephew said, if it does have to do with Louis, it could be anything. He was not well liked, by anyone.”

  “Yourself included?” Leah asked.

  Helene took a moment to scan Leah’s face. “You’re not the mouse I assumed you to be, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Good for you. Well the answer is yes, myself included. Louis killed my sister. I will hate him for the rest of my life.” Evidently finished with her dinner, Helene stood. “I’m sure Seth can answer any other questions you two might have. Excuse me.”

  And she left the room.

  Seth broke the silence that followed. “You’ll have to forgive my aunt. She holds my father responsible for everything bad in her life.”

  Leah replied, “No apology necessary. Her pain is her own. Who are we to judge?”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Cecil stood. “Well, I hate being ambushed, so I’m going out to see if I can learn anything about this summons. Seth, it’s nice to see you again. Leah, we’ll speak when I return.”

  She nodded.

  Cecil’s departure left her alone with Seth. “Please,” she told him, “if you have an appointment, you should go ahead. I’m fine here.”

  “Trying to get rid of me?”

  Leah smiled. “No, I just—”

  “When I’m ready to go, I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.” Leah noted how comfortable she felt in his presence.

  “Now, tell me about yourself.”

  “Well, I’m from a small village on the Massachusetts coast.”

  “A seafaring woman.”

  Leah’s smile peeked out again. “Not really. I went to England once. My father did all the sailing. According to my mother, he’d been as far as China and Egypt. He died before my birth.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you. What about you? Have you ever sailed anywhere?”

  “France once when I was twelve. Been all over the West though.”

  “I hope to see
some of the world after Cecil and I are done here.”

  “I hope that wish comes true.”

  After meeting Ryder, Leah hadn’t expected Seth to be so easygoing or so nice. His hazel-eyed handsomeness made Leah wonder if there was a Mrs. Seth Montague.

  “I met your brother on the train,” she confessed.

  Seth showed only faint interest. “Did you. Wasn’t on his best behavior, I’ll bet.”

  “You’d win,” Leah admitted. Ryder hadn’t been very respectful, and she could still feel the chill from his penetrating dark eyes.

  “The only good thing I can say about Ryder is that he’s my half brother. Did Louis tell you about him?”

  “No.” Leah didn’t reveal the fact that she’d not known about either son until the night before Monty died. She didn’t know if the revelation would bruise Seth’s feelings.

  “Well, there’s no reason for you not to know about the skeletons in the Montague closet. After my mother’s death, my father had an unfortunate liaison with a half-breed, an African-Cheyenne woman. Ryder was the result. It’s been rather, shall we say, awkward living in the same town with him.”

  With those words, the golden Seth became brass in Leah’s eyes. Because the sea had taken her own father’s life before he could return and marry her mother, Leah had grown up hearing the same contemptuous sneering from the busybodies in her town about her own illegitimate birth.

  Seth then added, “You’d be wise to avoid Ryder. He’s trouble. Always has been.”

  Leah stated the obvious, “The two of you don’t get along, I take it.”

  “No.”

  His curt tone made Leah believe the brothers were at odds over more than just Ryder’s out-of-wedlock birth but Seth changed the subject. “That’s the oddest thing, that summons.”

  “I agree. I’m also puzzled as to how someone would know Cecil and I were traveling here. I don’t believe he wired anyone other than you and your brother.”

  Seth replied, “That’s no mystery. The telegraph operators aren’t exactly sphinxes. They could’ve told anyone about those wires.”

  Leah supposed he could be right. “Well, I certainly would like to know what it’s concerning. I don’t like being ambushed either.”