Before the Dawn

by Beverly Jenkins

  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.

  Chapter 7

  By 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 formally 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.”

  “Be my guest,” Cordelia offered frostily.

  His eyes brushed Leah in parting, and he moved on.

  Leah didn’t know what to make of any of this. The hostility in the air around the table was thick enough to cut, but Cordelia and the others had been as deferential as if Ryder were some dangerous predator they didn’t want to rile.

  When Ryder was out of earshot, Helene cracked nastily, “Squaw Boy.”

  Leah couldn’t help herself, she had to know. “So, it’s true? People here really did call him Squaw Boy?”

  Seth admitted drolly, “Yes.”

  “Everyone?” she asked, unable to keep the temper out of her voice.

  Seth shrugged as if he didn’t wish to answer.

  Helene had no such reservations. “Yes, because that’s who he is.”

  Barkdsale cracked drolly in response, “Now Squaw Boy owns everything and eve
rybody around.” He then added, “Excuse me, folks, but I need another drink.”

  The subject of Ryder was dropped. Leah and Seth made their round of the buffet table then found seats, but she noticed that all the guests seemed to be covertly watching the younger Montague son, and she proved no exception.

  It seemed not all of the women were as averse to his presence as Cordelia and Helene however. More than a few gave him secret smiles as he passed by. Dorthea Ross, the pale, red-haired wife of one of the cattlemen, had been very chilly when introduced to Leah, but now she looked as warm as a hot rum toddy as she stood across the room talking and smiling up at Ryder with flirty eyes. Her elderly husband stood beside her, jaws tight, trying to appear cordial.

  Seth must have noticed where her attention lay, because he said, “Dorthea’s new around here, only been married to Charlie Ross six weeks or so. She wouldn’t know Ryder’s reputation with women.”

  He paused in his eating. “I’m sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear that.”

  Leah had to know. “Is he very popular with the ladies?”

  “Let’s just say, he has a well notched bedpost.”

  And now, Leah was one of those notches. She decided to change the subject. “Tell me about this town you want to start.”

  So for the next ten minutes Leah listened to Seth’s hopes and dreams for his town. At least, she tried to listen. Ryder had positioned himself in a spot across the room at his brother’s back. Every time she looked up his eyes were waiting. Even though she would hastily glance away, it was never quickly enough to avoid the heat of his silent touch.

  “Leah—”

  She quickly gave her attention back to Seth. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. Go on, you were saying?”

  He chuckled. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else. Financial talk’s always pretty boring for most females.”

  Leah hated to be judgmental but found his words mildly condescending. “I see. Why do you think that is?”