Before the Dawn

by Beverly Jenkins

“I know, the letter implied that this person knew about the deaths of Bernice and your mother, and could be responsible for them.”

  Ryder agreed. All his life he’d believed Louis Montague guilty of his mother’s murder, and now he found himself questioning that assumption. Had Louis really been innocent? On the surface the letter seemed to indicate he may have been. If so, that changed things; it wouldn’t bring his mother back nor erase all the emotional pain he’d suffered as a child, but finding the real killer might bring him the inner peace he had been seeking. “I’d prefer you stay here until this is sorted out.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He stared down at her face. “Scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d be worried if you’d said no.”

  “I’m not naive. Someone in this town wants my life. Only a simpleton wouldn’t be afraid.”

  “They’ll have to go through me.”

  She cuddled closer. “I know.”

  For a long while neither of them spoke. Each seemed content just to pass the evening cozied up on the settee, but as dusk faded and night rose, the room filled with darkness. “Should we light a lamp?” he asked softly.

  “If you want. Sitting in the dark like this is fine.”

  And it was. His heart was beating steadily beneath her ear. Being held by him this way made her feel sheltered, treasured, almost loved, even though she knew his feelings for her weren’t rooted in that. He cared for her, yes, but love? To love someone involved surrendering parts of oneself, and she didn’t think Ryder’s past would allow him to do so. It made her no never mind though, even if she were to leave him tomorrow and never see him again, the memories of him and what they’d shared would remain with her forever.

  “How’d your meeting go with lawyer Morton?” Ryder asked.

  “Quite well. He asked a thousand questions, though. He’s thorough if nothing else.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “He thinks the other side will probably attack my relationship with you.”

  They shared a look, then he asked, “Will you be able to handle that?”

  “I believe so. People keep forgetting that I don’t care whether the estate comes to me or not.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “No. All I want is my staid, uneventful life back. If I have to return home penniless, so be it.”

  Her talk of returning home didn’t sit well with Ryder. “I don’t want you going home.”

  “I’ll have to eventually. If the estate falls through, I’ll have to make a living.”

  “Not if you stay here with me.”

  Leah searched his face. He was so handsome and so awe-inspiring, a woman would have to be a fool to want to leave him, but she knew eventually he’d move on, and she’d be left with nothing but those aforementioned memories. “I won’t have you making a commitment you’ll come to regret.”

  “You underestimate me.”

  “I don’t think so. When I was young, I’d always hoped to meet a man like you. One who’d teach me what it meant to be a woman, and who’d keep me safe, but one who’d be my husband. I’ve enjoyed this time we’ve spent together, but I can’t live my life wondering if this is going to be the day you decide to take your kisses elsewhere.”

  “So you want me to marry you?”

  “No, Ryder, I don’t, because that isn’t what you want.” She cuddled back against him again. “How about we just be happy with where we are right now. The rest will take care of itself.”

  Above her Ryder nodded, but didn’t know how he felt about what she’d just said.

  The sweet slow sounds of a guitar slid through the open windows on the breeze. Leah slowly sat up. “Where’s that music coming from?”

  “Sam serenading Mable.”

  “I didn’t know he could play.”

  “Yep. He learned from a Mexican guitarist when he was in southern Texas with the Ninth. Spanish tunes are the only ones he knows though.”

  The music was haunting, sensual. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is.” Much like the woman being held against my heart, Ryder thought.

  The two of them sat in the dark and listened to Sam’s Spanish nocturne. The notes rose and fell, exuding desire and longing. Leah had never been aroused by music before but felt her body beginning to slowly blossom in response. Ryder seemed to be affected, too, because he raised her chin and began brushing his warm lips across her own. He whispered to her in a mixture of Spanish and Cheyenne; expressing his need, his fire and once again his apologies for the hurt he’d caused. “Let me love you…” he murmured. “Let me take you away from all this for a while…”

  Leah accepted his kiss eagerly, hungrily. As it deepened they gathered each other closer. Heat sparkled and flared. In the passion that followed, the buttons gracing the front of her dress were undone as were the thin rawhide ties crisscrossing his shirt. Leah ran a lusty hand over the rock-hard softness of his now bared chest, then leaned up for another taste of his lips. Fueled by the magic of the music, they embarked upon a slow, erotic journey that rose and fell with the notes. He removed her clothes languidly, pausing between garments to make sure her mouth stayed kiss-swollen. Once she was undressed he treated her body to a thorough, wanton conquering that left her panting and pulsing on the big bear rug on the floor. Only then did he remove his own clothing. Nude he stood over her in the moonlight and she swore no handsomer man had ever been made. He looked sculpted, powerful. Shameless anticipation licked at her thighs.

  He joined her on the rug and moments later they were both riding the storm. When they were done the only music they heard were the raw hard notes of release. He carried her back to the bed, and they slept.

  Leah had never awakened in a man’s bed before, but being with Ryder seemed to be a series of new experiences. She turned over slowly and found him propped up on one elbow seemingly waiting for her to open her eyes.

  “Good morning,” he said softly.

  She smiled sleepily, “Good morning.”

  The room was filled with the soft light of a new dawn.

  She scooted back so she could lie spoonlike against his warmth. He draped a possessive arm around her waist and held her close. “Did you sleep well?” He kissed her hair.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going into town later on, want to come?” he asked.

  “Yes. I think I should let Daniel Morton see that letter. Maybe he can get the sheriff to do something about it.”

  He looked down at her. “I’m going to see the sheriff too, but investigating crimes against folks of color isn’t a high priority around here.”

  “I sensed that.” Receiving justice under the law was becoming more and more rare for members of the race as the reforms of Reconstruction continued to be eroded. “I need to wash before we go anywhere.”

  “How about a nice hot bath?”

  Leah found the invitation intriguing. “In that fancy red tub?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled saucily. “It looks big enough for two.”

  “It is.”

  Leah had never shared a tub with a man. Once again he’d offered her a novel experience, and just the idea of it filled her with sensual anticipation.

  Grabbing one of his shirts from the dresser drawer, she put it on and went downstairs to start the morning’s coffee. She tiptoed to the stairs to listen for sounds. She didn’t know if Cecil and Mable were in the house. Silence greeted her, so she dashed to the kitchen. She wanted coffee, and knew Ryder would also.

  When she rejoined Ryder in the bathing room, she could see the water rushing into the tub. “Now tell me the story behind this,” she asked, indicating the tub.

  “Card game in San Francisco. Won it off of some French count from Mexico.”

  “That would account for the fleur-de-lis.” The red tub was decorated with gold renditions of the stylized symbol of France.

  “Probably. It was all he had left to wager. He’d been cleaned
out of everything else, including his saber and his boots.”

  Ryder opened the drapes on the room’s French doors. The sunrise filled the glass. “This is my favorite time of day. Just before the dawn. The world has a freshness to it, a newness. It’s as if the Spirits are giving you yet another chance to walk the right path.”

  Leah had never seen this side of him. He was always so cynical, she hadn’t known he could be philosophical as well.

  He turned to view her.

  “I like the dawn also.”

  The tub was full by then, and he turned off the spigot. Silence settled over the room. Under his glittering eyes, she undid the buttons on her borrowed shirt and slowly slid her body free. She felt a womanly power as she watched him taking in her dark nudity. His gaze was appreciative, admiring, lustful. In her mind he was already caressing her, teasing her.

  However, reality was far more intense than fantasy. He had her stand in the heated water while he knelt beside it, then took an inordinate amount of time soaping her up and down. The soft cloth lingered over her peaks and explored her valleys. His free hand joined in to spread the slick soap and she trembled as he played wantonly. He rinsed her off with handfuls of cascading warm water. When he was done, she could hardly stand.

  He joined her in the tub. Unable to contain himself, he sat and then eased her down onto his ready manhood and slid inside. Bliss filled him. He wanted to thrust himself to paradise then and there, but he also wanted to savor her for as long as he could. “Comfortable?” he murmured.

  “Mmmm,” she replied pleasurably, answering his strokes.

  Smiling, he took that as a yes and continued to guide her in a slow, tempting rhythm. He thought this a delightful way to begin the morning and hoped it would be just the first of many more to come.

  He brought her forward so he could kiss her lips, and slide a hand over her breast. The nipple was berry-hard against his palm. His hand followed the flare of her lines down to her hips and squeezed them possessively while she continued to rise and fall lustily.

  Leah was hazy with desire. She admittedly liked this position; she could move at whatever pace she chose and he could touch and tease whatever and wherever he wished. Soon, all that riding and touching and teasing sent her over the top. The orgasm grabbed her with such force, she had to bury her face in his strong shoulder to keep her screams inside.

  His release followed a heartbeat later, making him thrust strongly and, unlike her, yell loud enough to be heard around the world.

  Two hours later they were riding into Denver. As it was Monday morning, all the shops were open and the plank walks were teeming with people, as was the street they were trying to drive down. All manner of vehicles were clogging the road as folks went about their business. Leah didn’t mind the congestion, though; she’d started the day by being loved to within an inch of her life and all she could do was smile.

  “You have an awfully pleased look on your face,” Ryder told her as he finally found a place to park his rig.

  “I wonder why?” she teased back.

  He grinned and got out. Coming around to her side, he gave her a hand to help her down, saying wolfishly, “And if you’re a very good girl, there’ll be more of the same tonight…”

  A spurt of flame sparked between her thighs. “Is that a promise?”

  Ryder wanted to drag her off someplace private and reward her for being such a sassy temptress. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her that morning. “I promise.”

  “Then I’ll be…very good…”

  Ryder smiled the smile of arousal. “Let’s go inside before I lift your skirts right here.”

  She reached up and fleetingly touched her navy gloved fingers to his lips. “You can do that later too…”

  Eyes glowing, he kissed her fingertips, then gestured her toward the door of his office building.

  Chapter 11

  Inside, Ryder introduced Leah to his small staff.

  “Pleased to meet you all,” Leah said to the two young men and lone woman. The woman appeared to be early twenties. Leah noted the barely veiled hostility in the girl’s eyes and wondered if she had a crush on her employer.

  Leah followed Ryder into his well-furnished office and sat down. The first order of business was to send one of the clerks over to Daniel Morton’s hotel with a note asking him to visit Ryder at his earliest convenience. When that was accomplished, they sat back to wait.

  Daniel Morton was shown into Ryder’s office less than an hour later. He was impeccably dressed in a brown suit and there wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen. “Good morning, Mrs. Montague.”

  The seated Leah inclined her head. “Good morning, Mr. Morton. I hope you’ve recovered from your long train ride.”

  “I have, thank you.”

  He then turned his attention to Ryder, who came out from behind the desk and shook Daniel’s hands. Ryder gestured for the blond gentleman to take a seat.

  Leah opened their meeting. “Mr. Morton, I believe you should see this.”

  He read the letter, and his reaction mirrored everyone else’s. “Where did this come from?”

  Leah explained, and when she was done, he continued to stare wide-eyed. She then told him of her frustrating encounter with the deputy.

  Daniel seemed unable to speak.

  Ryder added, “I’m going to visit the sheriff later. Want to come along.”

  Daniel nodded. “Yes, I do. This is outrageous.” He then reread the threatening letter. “And you have no idea who may have left this on your door?”

  Leah saw the seriousness in his blue eyes. “No.”

  “How much do you know about these other deaths?” Daniel asked.

  She told him what she knew from the bits and pieces she’d learned about the deaths of Bernice and Songbird since her arrival in Denver.

  He heard her out, then asked Ryder, “So Songbird was your mother?”

  “Yes, she died when I was very young.”

  “And the culprit was never found?”

  Leah said, “Everyone here seems to think Louis Montague was responsible.”

  “But you don’t believe that?” Daniel asked.

  “Monty didn’t kill anyone,” Leah said with conviction.

  “Mr. Damien, what do you think?” the lawyer asked.

  Ryder looked over at Leah, then replied, “I believed him guilty too, but now? I don’t know.”

  It pleased Leah to hear Ryder admit he had doubts. When they first met he’d been so adamant about Monty’s guilt, she was sure he’d never change his mind. Who’d have ever thought so much would happen since then, or that she’d be in love with him and possibly carrying his child.

  She turned her attention back to the matters at hand, and said to Morton, “There’s also another potential piece to this conundrum.”

  She told him about Cecil’s death and Helene’s theory that he’d been poisoned. “Ryder’s making arrangements to have the body exhumed.”

  Morton shook his head at the enormity of what he’d just heard. “And on Wednesday, we go to court.”

  It was quite a full plate, Leah knew, but Wednesday’s date meant nothing when compared to the threat left on her door.

  Morton said, “I’m going over to the courthouse to see if we can delay the proceedings for ten days or so. This threat against your life may be tied to this case, and it may not. Either way there’s a whole lot to look into before I can consider myself prepared to represent you to the best of my abilities. Judge Raddock will never make me a partner if the client winds up dead.”

  Leah liked his dry wit. “The client won’t be pleased either.”

  He nodded, then began replacing his papers and pens in his valise. “Are you ready to take on the sheriff, Mr. Damien?”

  “Ready whenever you are.” Ryder stood, and asked Leah, “Do you wish to come along?”

  She shook her head, “No, if I have to put up with the same treatment I received the last time, I’ll probably be arrested and thrown into the
cell with poor Andrew Green.”

  An amused Ryder said, “Then you should stay here. I didn’t bring any bail money.”

  Democratic Sheriff Frederick Cramer had been elected to his post in last November’s election, a decision some of the city’s electorate had come to regret. Ryder didn’t like the man, not because of his questionable character or record of improprieties—he was, after all, a politician—but because he’d appointed the Cheyenne murderer Chivington as undersheriff. That appointment said more about his character than all the other accusations levied against him combined.

  Cramer wasn’t in. The deputy at the door took their information and promised he’d let the sheriff know. Since the man didn’t write down any of the details, neither Daniel nor Ryder believed a word of it.

  As they stood outside the jail, a frustrated Daniel Morton remarked, “Well, looks like we’re on our own.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I’ll see about the stay and start digging.”

  Ryder gave him a calling card. “If you hear anything or need something, here’s my address both in town and at home.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in touch. Keep Mrs. Montague safe.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  They shook hands and parted.

  Daniel Morton sent word the next day that the judge had denied the stay. Leah was instructed to report to the courthouse at ten o’clock Wednesday morning.

  As Ryder drove within sight of the courthouse Wednesday morning, Leah had butterflies in her stomach. Evidently, she and her case had become news. Yesterday’s papers had all carried sensationalized stories. In lurid tones they’d described her as a conniving young woman who’d married an old man for his estate. There had even been a quote from Seth, who supposedly speaking on behalf of the family had voiced his concerns about her possibly ulterior motives for marrying his late father. The reports went on to regale the scandals surrounding the deaths of Bernice Montague and the Cheyenne woman, Songbird, and Monty’s possible connection to them.

  Ryder parked the rig a few doors down and the reporters surrounded them, circling like a pack of barking dogs as they shouted questions. Their clamoring and efforts to get answers resulted in the jostling of the rig, and Leah looked to Ryder with concern. He grabbed up his rifle and fired a couple of shots into the air.