Before the Dawn
Page 34
After Ryder dropped off Daniel, he went by his office to pick up a few things, one of which was the unread Pinkerton’s report delivered a few days ago. Then he drove to Eloise’s house. Getting out, he looked at the place standing so innocently in the dark. Who knew a murderess had hidden there all these years? The sheriff would be out tomorrow sometime, but there was something Ryder needed to do before then. He hopped down from the wagon, and went inside.
His familiarity with the place made a light unnecessary but he lit one anyway because he wanted to be able to see. Using the lamp to show him the way, Ryder went down the hall to the studio. Leah had described the macabre interior, but he wanted to view it for himself. The door was unlocked of course, and as he entered he saw the signs of struggle everywhere. Paints of all colors were splattered over the tables and floor, and broken glass made him step carefully. His eyes searched for the paints he needed: yellow for his forehead; black for his chin; blood red for his nose. Only after he’d painted himself for war did he turn to view the monstrous portraitures. And they were monstrous. He could only imagine how Leah must have felt stumbling upon them. Some made even his skin crawl. Using the lamp as a lantern he scanned the walls until he came across the paintings of his mother. Eloise’s great talent made the horrid characterizations even more perverted. Ryder turned away. Hate filled him, as did anger and most of all grief. Songbird’s only crime had been her love for Louis, yet for that Eloise had taken her life.
Ryder took down the three paintings of his mother and placed them on the floor. He extracted some matches from his pocket and set fires in all four corners of the room. Because his mother’s body had lain at the bottom of the Faith Mine for days before she was discovered, he was certain no one had sung the Death Song for her. He did now. Nothing lives long. Only the earth and the mountains.
As the flames rose around him, Ryder’s song came to an end. He took one last look around, then left the house to burn. Outside he watched the eerie glow. He felt no remorse. Although Eloise had shown him many kindnesses in his life, she’d killed his mother and tried to take the life of the woman sent by the Spirits to heal him and to love. With her death and the death of her work, maybe now he would know peace.
It was very late when Ryder returned to Sunrise. The house was dark, and he thought everyone asleep until he noticed Sam standing by the windows. In the half-light provided by the moon, Ryder knew the paint on his face could be seen, so he asked quietly, “You waiting up for me, old man?”
“Yes,” Sam responded simply. “Wanted to make sure you got back all right.”
There was silence then.
Sam finally asked, “Is it done?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Leah’s asleep.
“Do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“The Pinkerton’s report was waiting at the office. Toss it into the fireplace.”
Sam took the package from his hand. “But it doesn’t even look like it’s been opened.”
“I know. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Sam.”
Sam smiled in the dark, “G’night, Ryder.”
Ryder climbed the dark stairs and went first to shower. He wanted to remove the paint from his face and the smell of smoke from his body and hair before going to bed. When he finished, he padded nude into the bedroom and silently slid between the sheets. Leah stirred and he pulled her back against him.
“That you?” she whispered.
“No, it’s a strange brave come to steal you.”
Leah smiled sleepily. “Did Daniel get back to his hotel?”
“Yep.”
Ryder savored her smells and warm skin. His eyes settled on her bandaged arms. “Are the cuts still burning?”
“Not as much. Sam said to give the salve a couple of days.”
He kissed her ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, especially now that you’re here. I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares of her stalking me and how she died for quite some time though.”
“The fear will fade.”
“I know.”
She then said, “Your brother stopped in.”
Ryder stiffened. “Why?”
“To say good-bye. He’s leaving Denver.”
“When?”
“Very soon. He wants to start life someplace else. He said to tell you good-bye, and that maybe one day in the future the two of you can set aside the past. He left us Helene.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
Leah smiled. “Be nice, now. She did save my life.”
He kissed her hair. “Yes she did, so I guess I should be grateful.”
Silence slipped between them for a moment, then Leah said, “Guess what?”
“What?”
“We’re having a baby.”
He sat straight up. She turned over and smiled up at him in the dark.
“A baby?!”
“A baby,” she responded. “Late winter, if my counting’s right.”
“Damn!” he declared happily.
“Maybe it’ll be that daughter you wanted,” Leah whispered in response to his obvious joy.
“I could teach her to hunt and ride—”
“Yes, you could,” Leah admitted. She could see father and daughter now, still trying to bring down the King.
He eased himself back down to her, and said, “Thank you for coming into my life, Leah.”
She noticed he’d addressed her by her name for the very first time, and her heart swelled with happiness. “And thank you for coming into mine.”
“Will you love me forever?”
“And a day…”
He kissed her soundly, and when they slept there were no nightmares, only dreams of love.
Author’s Note
I do hope you enjoyed the story of Leah and Ryder. Thought I’d throw you a curve and treat you to a book with a cast of all new characters. I’ve let my fans pick a few of the last stories, so this time it was my turn. (Smile.) I’d like to thank Anne Sulton for her help with the legal case. She advised me, but the words are mine, so if there are any mistakes, they rest solely with me.
Unfortunately, the tragic events at Sand Creek did occur, and for the Cheyenne it was the beginning of the end of all they held dear. A year after the massacre, Congress condemned Chivington’s heinous attack. Reparations were promised, but never came. On November 7, 2000, President Bill Clinton signed a bill creating the Sand Creek Historic Site. This is the first national historic site created to commemorate Native American massacre victims. Please honor those who lost their lives that day by taking the time to not only visit the site but to do some reading on the history of America’s Native Peoples. Their stories continue to be a valuable though often neglected part of the American History Quilt.
Andrew Green was a real historical figure, and his public execution was a circus. Thousands came to watch, but as with most hangings, the apparatus used was not weighted properly. The horror some in the crowd felt watching him being slowly strangled to death, moved the legislature to finally outlaw the practice of public hangings. Their decision made Andrew Green the last publicly executed man in the state of Colorado.
The prayer Ryder recites is part of a prayer titled An Indian Prayer. So far, I’ve been unable to find the name of the author. If anyone out there can help me give credit where credit is due, please write me at my PO Box. A special thanks to Ana Kinnison for helping me with Ryder’s Spanish endearments and for introducing me to the word “Morenita.” Leah’s prayer is a verse taken from Psalm 67.
Here’s a partial list of the books and articles I consulted while writing Before the Dawn.
Abbot, Carl. Colorado: A History of the Centennial State, Revised Edition. Boulder: Colorado Associated University Press, 1982.
Brown, Dee. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West. New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1970.
Hine, Darlene Clark, and Thompson, Kathleen. A Shining Thread of Hope: The History of B
lack Women in America. New York: Broadway Books. 1998.
King, William M. Going to Meet A Man: Denver’s Last Legal Public Execution, 27 July 1886. Niwot Colorado: University Press of Colorado, 1990.
Schultz, Duane P. Month of the Freezing Moon: the Sand Creek Massacre, November 1864. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990.
Armitage, S., Banfield, T. “Black Women and Their Communities in Colorado.” Frontiers. V. 2, No. 2, 1977.
Riley, Glenda. “American Daughters: Black Women in the West.” Montana: The Magazine of Western History. Spring 1988.
While on tour last fall I met fans of all races, creeds, and ages. I heard stories about my books that made me laugh, and felt such love I was reduced to tears everywhere I went. Although everyone touched my heart, a few folks deserve special recognition. In Baltimore: Anna Curry and her sister Clara, joint owners of Sepia, Sand, and Sable Books. In Dallas: Emma Rodgers and her staff at Black Images Books; and also Cindi Louis and the Romance Noir Book Club of Dallas. In Atlanta: Nia and the staff at Medu Books; Sylvia’s of Harlem Restaurant for hosting the fan dinner; Hazel Clark and TLC Book Club; Charmaine Françoise and the Savy Sisters Book Club; Linda Gaddis; Carla Fredd; and Monica and Paul King. Thanks also to Shirley Covington and her husband Fred for driving all the way from Greensboro North Carolina to see me in Atlanta.
In Austin: Joyce Hunt and the great fans and folks at Mitchie’s Fine Black Art and Gifts. Thanks for flying me in, Joyce. The alligator was great!! Thanks also to Yvonne Williams for gifting me with a pair of Worf and Guinan Star Trek action figures. She will be pleased to know they’re fearlessly guarding my computer from all intruders, 24/7.
My biggest hug however goes out to Ms. Lois Ann Clark of Atlanta for coordinating the fan dinner at Sylvia’s. Lois, you did a fantastic job. Stand up and take a bow!
Last but not least, a special thanks to my publisher HarperCollins and to Heather Garvin in Publicity for their support at the Miami Bookfair. Without them my appearance wouldn’t have been possible so, thanks again, Heather. Thanks also to the fans who were in Miami, especially Ms. Jackye and the members of Miami’s Onyx Book Club.
In closing, I give thanks to you my fans for your continued support. I still get letters every day, and I still open them like a little girl at Christmas. I’m also as behind in responding as ever, but please keep those letters coming. Your continued faith, prayers, and love fuel me more than you’ll ever know. Until next time. Peace.
About the Author
BEVERLY JENKINS has received numerous awards, including three Waldenbooks Best Sellers Awards, two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times magazine, and a Golden Pen Award from the Black Writer¹s Guild. In 1999, Ms. Jenkins was voted one of the Top Fifty Favorite African-American writers of the 20th Century by AABLC, the nations largest on-line African-American book club. To read more about Beverly, visit her website at www.beverlyjenkins.net.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BEFORE THE DAWN. Copyright © 2001 by Beverly Jenkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition January 2007 ISBN 9780061737671
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