Before the Dawn

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Yep, I think I am,” she responded matter-of-factly.

  Eloise then looked over at Leah’s concerned face. “Don’t worry about it though. I know the cure.”

  Leah felt relieved. She didn’t want anything untoward to happen to one of the genuinely nice people she’d met here so far. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  Eloise nodded, saying, “I will.”

  Chapter 8

  Later that Sunday afternoon, Ryder’s knock on Helene’s door was answered by Mable France.

  “How are you, Mr. Damien?” She stepped back so he could enter.

  “Fine, Mrs. France. Is Helene here?”

  “Yes, I’ll get her.”

  Ryder nodded as Mable went off. While waiting he looked around. The place was as stuffed with furniture as always, making Ryder feel a bit claustrophobic. Having spent most of his early years living beneath the sky, he didn’t like the sensation of being hemmed in. He supposed it was the reason he’d built Sunrise on such a grand scale. He remembered the first time he entered this house. He couldn’t have been older than four or five. His grandmother had some business with Helene, who wouldn’t let either of them enter; too dirty, she’d said. She’d been in her glory back then; the profits from the mine left to her by Louis were enough to make her a queen, and she’d basked accordingly. She had the fanciest clothes, the finest horses, and an attitude concerning the tribes that mirrored the general populace: Indians were lazy lying thieves. When Miss Eloise and Little Tears enrolled him in school, Helene and a few others in her circle had protested Ryder being educated along with their own. Even though he went on to prove innumerable times that he was by far the brightest student in the small segregated classroom, Ryder spent more time in detention than he did with his books. The almost daily fights he’d had were a direct result of being teased about his parentage, taunted about his mother’s death, and being made to take his lessons seated on the floor at the back of the room; he might contaminate the other children had been the claim. He supposed they’d all expected him to turn the other cheek as the missionaries kept preaching to the reservation Cheyenne, but that rarely kept the bullies out of his face or off his back. So he’d retaliate—swiftly, openly. He didn’t care that they expelled him; he’d do his studies with Miss Eloise at her kitchen table, but he did care about standing up for himself, and he always had.

  Helene’s glory days were over now. When her mine had gone fallow back in the late seventies, so had her world. Presently she didn’t have two coins to rub together. Three years ago, when she walked into his office to offer him the deed to her house in exchange for some much-needed cash, he hadn’t laughed or turned her away. If she were coming to him, he knew she’d exhausted all other sources and was at the end of her rope. She’d had to come to him, Squaw Boy, and that knowledge alone made up for all the verbal abuse he’d endured under her sneering presence while growing up. He’d taken the deed, given her her asking price, then signed the note at a percentage rate so high, she’d still be paying him ten years after she died and went to hell.

  Helene entered the room. He noted the anger on her pale powdered face, but he didn’t care. “Your note was due on Friday, Helene.”

  “I can’t pay it.”

  He surveyed her. She looked uncomfortable, and well she should be. He had the power to put her fancy Creole self out on the street for all the world to see. “Are you planning on moving out?”

  “Of course not. I’ll have the money for you in a week.”

  “It was due last week,” he reminded her pointedly.

  “Surely seven days won’t much matter to you.”

  “If the shoe were on the other foot, would you be benevolent?”

  They both knew the answer.

  Her blue eyes were as frigid as a Minnesota winter. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

  “My enjoyment isn’t a factor. I carried you for six months last year. I told you then that was the last time.”

  “You’ve more of your father in you than you think,” she retorted nastily.

  “From you, I’ll take that as a compliment. It doesn’t change matters though. Either pay me or prepare to move.”

  “But this was my sister’s house.”

  “A house you thought me too dirty to enter when I was young, remember?”

  She looked away.

  “So,” he told her coldly, “you have until four on Friday.”

  He touched his hat and left.

  When Ryder got back to his office he wondered how long it would be before Seth came barreling in to plead his aunt’s case. He looked at his watch. He figured sometime after lunch.

  He was correct. At half past two, one of the clerks came to the door and announced that Mr. Seth Montague was in the outer office demanding to speak with him.

  “Send him in.”

  Seth barged in. “How dare you threaten Helene.”

  “And good afternoon to you too, brother.”

  Seth glared. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

  “For my money. Yes, I have.”

  “That isn’t what I mean, and you know it.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  Ryder hadn’t risen from his chair behind his desk. He sat there, his arms folded casually across his chest.

  Seth declared, “You can’t just toss her into the street.”

  “Sure I can. The deed she signed over to me three years ago gives me that right. Are you by chance here to pay in her stead?”

  Ryder knew the answer to that. Seth owed so many people so much money, he couldn’t get a loan to buy penny candy. That was partly the reason why he hadn’t been able to find backers for his homesteading plans. Only a fool would lend money to a man apt to lose it an hour later in a card game. “You haven’t answered, Seth.”

  Seth shot him a malevolent look. “You have a lot of Louis in you. Do you know that?”

  “Second time I heard that today. Thanks for the compliment. Anything else?”

  Seth’s eyes blazed angrily.

  Ryder drawled, “Guess not. Close the door on your way out.”

  As if Seth were already gone, Ryder went back to reading the mining reports on his desk.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Seth promised.

  Ryder didn’t look up. In the resulting silence Seth stormed out.

  As the echoes of the slammed door faded away, Ryder looked up with a smile that did not reach his dark eyes. Like Seth and Helene, many folks abhorred the idea of a rich Black half-breed owning so much; but like a moth in a buffalo robe, he’d wormed his way so deep into the fabric of the economics here, they couldn’t separate his money from their own without bring financial ruin raining down on all their heads. He had his fingers in so many pies, no one dared call him Squaw Boy anymore, at least not to his face. In reality he didn’t care what they called him behind closed doors because thanks to hard work, a quick mind, and the strengths inherent in his mixed blood, he now had more wealth than even his father had at his age.

  Louis.

  Thoughts of Louis made memories rise, memories of the dark lady, the Morenita. Ryder had been trying not to think of her, but to no avail. His manhood stirred every time he thought about last night’s tryst. She’d been bewitching, passionate, his. It didn’t make sense why he was still so hell-bent on pursuing her in the face of what he knew about her, or what he thought he knew about her, he reminded himself pointedly. He knew very little, thus the Pinkerton; but he seemed to be the only person disturbed by the shadows shrouding her marriage. It was quite apparent that Sam and Eloise had taken her into their hearts unconditionally. They cared about her. He, on the other hand, had angrily rebuffed her attempts to explain that night, and he continued to kick himself for being so pigheaded. He hadn’t expected to be her first, let alone be bothered by the fact that he was. In hindsight, he should have listened, but because he hadn’t, they were forced to dance around each other instead of with each othe
r. Last night he’d boldy tossed down the gauntlet, and he’d meant it. The Cheyenne always like a good hunt, especially if the prize was challenging, and Leah Montague was all that and more.

  A few days later, Leah and Eloise drove Ol’ Tom into town to pick up the new paints Eloise had ordered and to see if there were any messages for Leah at the telegraph office.

  The telegraph clerk recognized Leah right off. “Hi there, ma’am. Telegram came in for you a few days ago. I sent it around to the address your man left here.”

  “Oh.” The news surprised her somewhat, mainly because Seth hadn’t been out to Eloise’s to let her know about it. She assumed he’d gotten busy with his land-development project and had let the telegraph slip his mind. “Well, I’ll go over and see him. Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  Outside, Leah and Eloise walked back up the crowded street to retrieve the wagon tied up at a post a few shops down. “Do you know where he lives?” Leah asked Miss Eloise.

  “Yep. Not too far from here.”

  As they were walking they saw Cordelia and Barksdale approaching. “Man the harpoons,” Leah cracked sarcastically.

  Cordelia, wearing an expensive wine-colored ensemble and matching hat, stopped and said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Montague. Did you enjoy the Hyers?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  Cordelia barely smiled. “Well, where I’m from it’s very impolite to leave someone’s home without saying good-bye to the hostess.”

  Leah winced inwardly. “My apologies. In the crush I didn’t think I’d be missed.”

  “You were. As was Ryder. Hello, Eloise.”

  Eloise nodded.

  Leah could see Barksdale looking her over hungrily. “Hello, Mr. Wayne.”

  He grinned and nodded.

  Cordelia asked, “I’m wondering if you’d like to be profiled in my newspaper, Mrs. Montague. It isn’t often a widow takes up with her late husband’s sons. I think everyone would be very interested in your story.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Surely you don’t wish me to write it without having all the facts.”

  “I doubt that will matter,” Leah replied.

  Cordelia gave her a rattler’s smile. “You’re right. The paper will be out in a few days. Happy reading. Come, Barksdale.”

  Barksdale winked boldly at Leah, then did as he was told.

  Leah eyes were narrowed as she turned to Eloise, and asked, “Maybe I should’ve knocked her into the street and really given her something to write about?”

  Eloise chuckled. “Now that, I’d’ve loved to see.”

  They continued on up the street. Leah asked, “Does she really have a newspaper?”

  “More of a social rag than anything else. Folks try to stay on her good side lest they wind up skewered on her front page.”

  Leah could almost feel herself being poked through like a kabob. She vowed to steer clear of Cordelia in the future.

  The street was so crowded with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, it took Eloise a moment to get Ol’ Tom and the wagon into the flow of traffic. When they were finally under way, Eloise told Leah, “That building over there is where Ryder keeps his offices.”

  Leah studied the two-story place. The sign across the front read: DAMIEN MINING CO. The brick building looked new and sported quite a few windows. She wondered if he were inside and what he might be doing. Telling herself she shouldn’t be thinking about him, she set her attention forward.

  Eloise drove them to a section of town Leah had not seen before, and it contrasted sharply with the other areas. There, instead of windowed shops and fancy eating places, poverty reigned. There were shacks with rusted tin roofs and listing, poorly maintained boardinghouses with hard-eyed men congregated out front. Dirty children ran through the rutted streets, playing in the dust with misshapen hoops and skinny barking dogs. There were garishly dressed women standing in front of saloons and vice dens. The women eyed Leah and Eloise suspiciously as they rode by.

  “Where are we?”

  “Still in Denver.”

  Leah saw tents so dirty they’d taken on the color of the dust. In front of them tired-looking women in drab clothing cooked on open fires while their smudged-faced children ran nearby. Leah could smell bodies, burned food, and despair.

  “This is where the poor live. The tourists who come here to see the mountains and the old gold areas aren’t shown this part of town. Many of these folks came out here hoping to strike it rich, but those days are gone.”

  “So they wind up here?”

  “Yep. Here and other places nearby. Some folks want to leave but don’t have the money to make it back home. Most of the stories are real sad.”

  Leah found the conditions heartbreaking and thought the town fathers should be made to lend these folks a hand. “Are there any aid societies in town?”

  “Cordelia and her cronies pretend to help out, but most of the work is done by the churches and those genuinely interested in improving things.”

  Eloise stopped the wagon in front of a small clapboard house that needed paint. It was in as much disrepair as the rest of the area’s buildings. The houses on either side had collapsed into piles of weathered, rotting wood. “Well, we’re here.”

  Unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, Leah asked, “Is this where Seth lives?”

  “Yep. I’m going to let you out and go see one of the families a few houses down. Their eldest was sick last week, and I’d like to see how she’s getting along. I’ll swing back by when I’m done. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  Leah nodded and got out. As Eloise drove away Leah marveled that this could possibly be the place the elegant and urbane Seth called home. Making her way up the weed-choked path, she stepped up onto the dilapidated porch and heard angry voices coming from inside via the paneless window. The higher-pitched voice belonged to Helene. The deeper one sounded like Seth. Although Leah had never been one to eavesdrop, the voices drew her like a moth to a flame. She stood quietly and listened.

  “I want him dead!” Helene snapped. “I don’t care how or by whom.”

  Seth laughed cynically. “You can’t kill him!”

  Leah’s eyes widened. Who in the world were they talking about?

  “That dirty nigger half-breed! How dare he threaten to put me out of my own house!”

  Leah had the answer to her question.

  “You were the one who borrowed the money from him,” came Seth’s voice. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

  “I had no choice. Where else was I going to go, to you?”

  “Then sell some of your furniture,” Seth told her casually.

  “No,” she shot back. “I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

  “You won’t have anything to maintain when he evicts you. The house is his after all. Didn’t Louis leave it to him and that grandmother?”

  So Cecil had been right, Leah thought. The house had been left to Ryder and Little Tears.

  “I was not going to turn my sister’s house over to ignorant savages. I gave the old woman some money for the deed and sent her away.”

  Stunned and disgusted, Leah shook her head.

  Seth said, “Well, whatever happens with you, my own problems may be solved. Here, read this.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then Leah heard Helene ask, awestruck, “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  “Yes. She’s got some White judge back East trying to get the settlement overturned.”

  Leah realized they were talking about her now.

  Helene asked sarcastically, “And how’s this going to help you?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Maybe the will will be reinstated. Then I’ll court the widow.”

  “Ha! As if she’d have you. Your brother’s already mined that claim.”

  “But that’s over. He sent her packing. She told me so herself.”

  Helene’s voice held a bitterly amused tone. “You must be blind. That night at Cordelia�
��s, he never took his eyes off of her. Wake up, Seth. To have her you’re going to have to go through that Indian. A woman like her will spread her legs for any man if the price is right, and your brother can pay.”

  Leah wanted to burst in and straighten Helene out once and for all, but forced herself to stay put. She needed to hear more.

  “Well, I’m not going to worry about her and Squaw Boy,” Seth said confidently. “He only wants to bed her, and once that’s accomplished, he’ll discard her like the rest.”

  “And she’ll need a sympathetic shoulder to cry on,” Helene replied knowingly.

  Leah imagined them both smiling triumphantly, and her lip curled disgustedly. She’d fallen into a nest of vipers.

  Seth spoke then. “I will see what I can do about keeping Cordelia under control though. She’s threatening to write about Leah if I don’t keep my distance. I’d no idea she’d come so unglued over a few innocent evenings.”

  “Jealousy does that. I told you she’d be a liability one day. She’s not going to let you discard her so easily.”

  Leah’s eyes went round. Seth and Cordelia?

  Helene added, “Tend to Cordelia, but continue to pursue the widow. If Ryder wants to interfere, let him. In the end, he’ll be doing us a favor.”

  Leah didn’t know what to say or think. They were trying to weave her into a malevolently spun web that would reach her no matter where she turned.

  Helene asked, “Do you really think you can gain her heart?”

  “I know I can.”

  Leah rolled her eyes sarcastically.

  “Well if you can, our financial worries will be over. It may be a lengthy court fight to get back Louis’s estate for Leah, if the court entertains it at all.”

  “This Raddock sounds pretty influential, but I don’t care about the time. Once I have the pigeon in my coop, I can wait until I’m seventy for an estate that size.”

  “Just so you understand it may take years.”

  “Oh, I’ve already thought about it. I’ll do whatever’s necessary.”

  “Even marry her?”

  “I’d marry the devil himself if gets me close to Louis’s money.”