Before the Dawn (19 page)

 

Ryder had had enough of the mystery surrounding Leah Montague. The tall red-haired man seated on the other side of Ryder's desk was Pinkerton Agent George Taggart.

Taggart was taking notes. “What did you say the name of the tavern was again?”

“The Black Swan.”

“But you don't know the name of the city?”

“No.”

The man scanned his scribblings once more. “Okay, Mr. Damien. I believe you've given me enough information on her to get started. If I find out she's wanted by the law or something serious like that, I'll wire you immediately. If not, you can expect a report soon as I'm done.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The man stood and smiled. “Never worked for a half-breed before.”

Ryder burned him with an icy stare.

The Pinkerton visibly gulped. “Sorry. I-I'll be in touch.”

“Make sure you do,” Ryder warned. “Pick up the advance on your expenses from my clerk outside. Good day, Mr. Taggart.”

Taggart's face was as red as his hair, his exit hasty.

In the silent aftermath, Ryder mused over what he'd just set into motion. He was certain she'd throw a fit were she to learn he was having her investigated, but it was something he should have done the day they met. He could still remember how beautiful she'd looked standing on the platform of that fancy railroad car and how surprised he'd been seeing her there. Little did he know she'd become the one thing he couldn't allow himself to have.

Ryder stood up and walked over to the windows. Now that she'd buried Cecil Lee, he assumed she would be heading back East as soon as the arrangements could be made,
but he didn't care if the report came in after she was gone. He needed to know.

He looked down on the busy street below. Had Louis sent her here as a cruel joke, his final flourish in the tragic opera that was his life?

How could she have been a virgin? That question continued to plague him, haunt him. And what if she were carrying his child? Although his penetration of her hadn't lasted long, it didn't take long for a man's seed to establish itself. Overwhelmed, he ran his fingers through his long black hair and decided to put off thinking about that portion of the equation for now. If she were with child, he'd address the matter when the time came. Right now he needed to find out who she was and what she was. Especially after last night. Holding her while she cried opened up spaces within himself he didn't even know he had, spaces that seemed to echo with emptiness once he turned her loose. As if that weren't enough, he'd dreamt of her last night and awakened this morning hard and thick with lust; he'd had hot, sultry, erotic dreams whose memories made his manhood stir even now.

Pushing her out of his mind, he vowed to keep his distance from her until the Pinkerton filed his report. There would be no more holding her or arguing with her or wanting her in his bed. Dreams or no dreams, he needed the truth.

Ryder checked his watch. He didn't usually leave the office until early evening, but today he needed air. Feeling like a caged puma, he grabbed his coat and hat. Maybe getting something to eat would help steady his mood.

As he headed down the crowded walk, Ryder remembered a time when these same streets held nothing but miners, Indians, and gamblers. Back then you only needed three fingers to count the homes or businesses with glass windows or wooden floors. Now there wasn't a shop or a business that didn't have glass, and people were every
where. The place was so built up old-timers were complaining about not being able to find their way around, and gold was the reason. After the first gold strike, thousands of Easterners descended upon the area—five hundred a day at the height of the rush, bringing with them grass-killing wagons, tree-killing axes, and their versions of civilization and decency. They turned what had been home for the Arapaho, Utes, and Cheyenne into something his ancestors would no longer recognize. Manifest Destiny, is what his professors up in Minnesota had called the conquering of the land and its Native peoples; the American pioneers felt the Creator had given them dominion over everything; it was their destiny to rule, and anything or anyone ignorant enough to get in their way would be mowed down like locusts swarming over the plains.

The Arapaho had found that out, as had the Cheyenne, their Sioux cousins, and every other tribe who'd been living on the continent for countless generations before the Spaniards first sailed ashore. The West was now being civilized. Gone were the buffalo and the herds of elk. The traditional songs sung by his grandmother could no longer be heard. The male descendants of Chiefs Black Elk and Roman Nose would never count coup, or wear the black-feathered headdress of the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. Everything they'd valued, cherished, and loved had disappeared like puffs of smoke, just as the legendary Cheyenne prophet Sweet Medicine had predicted, but no one had listened.

Ryder shook off the bitter memories of the past. They wouldn't help his mood. He instead focused his attention on walking to the diner.

 

Since it was extremely difficult for Blacks to get a seat or be served in the city's White diners and restaurants, Seth took Leah to lunch at a place in the city's Black dis
trict. The small, wood-framed house was painted a sunny yellow and had a sign above the porch which read:
DINAH'S DINER
.

As Seth handed Leah down from the carriage, she asked him, “Is the owner's name really Dinah?”

“No, it's Florence, but she thought Dinah sounded better.”

Leah smiled as she pulled back her black veil to free her face.

Seth asked, “Are you sure you're up to this? I can take you back to Eloise's.”

“No, this is fine. I'll be by myself soon enough.” And she would be. “Right now, company's what I need.”

“Then I'll be on my best behavior.”

Leah stopped. Another man had said that to her; a dark-eyed man with braided hair, a man she'd been trying not to think of.

Seth peered down into her face. “Are you all right?”

Leah shook herself free. “I'm sorry. I lost myself for a moment there. Let's go in.”

He nodded and they started up the walk.

The place wasn't very crowded. There were ten small tables spread around the medium-sized room, each sporting a dark blue tablecloth. Enjoying Dinah's luncheon fare were a group of suited businessmen, a family with two adorable little girls, a couple of solitary miners, and at a table in the back four young women, all in competing hats, sat laughing and giggling over their meal.

“How about over there by the window?” Seth asked.

Leah could see the sunshine falling across the table he'd indicated and approved of the choice. “That looks fine.”

Under the curious eyes of some of the other diners, Leah preceded Seth to their table. He helped her with her chair, then took his own seat.

Leah picked up her menu. The funeral had not left her
with much of an appetite, but she knew she needed to eat something. “What would you suggest?”

“The beef stew's awfully good.”

“Then that's what I'll have. And a glass of lemonade.”

Seth gave their order to one of the white-aproned, male waiters. The young man thanked them and headed to the kitchen.

Leah could smell bread baking and chicken frying. The fragrant aromas made her think the cook might be pretty good. Having run her own establishment, Leah was impressed by the efficiency of the waiters moving in and out of the tables, delivering trays laden with eye-pleasing dishes. She was just about to ask Seth how long Dinah's had been in business when Ryder walked in.

Their eyes met across the room. She thought about last night and the solace he given. He'd shown her a decency that had been touching; a decency she'd needed. On the heels of that came remembrances of other times. Every fiery moment she'd ever shared with him flashed across her mind. Every kiss, every caress…

Grabbing hold of herself, she looked back to Seth. He must have seen something in her expression because he turned toward the door to investigate. When he saw his half brother he groused, “What the hell's he doing here?”

Leah didn't know, but watched silently as he took a seat on the far side of the room.

“He didn't bother you last night after I left, did he?”

“No,” she replied quietly. She didn't think Seth needed to know what had occurred. No one needed to know, but it was a moment she would treasure in spite of her and Ryder's differences.

Ryder had been momentarily stunned to see Leah in the diner. What the hell was she doing here, and with his gentleman brother no less? He knew they'd buried Cecil Lee this morning, but he'd made a vow to stay away from her, and he
couldn't very well do that if he tripped over her every time he turned around. He needed to speak with her, though, if only for a moment. Last night, he'd offered to pay the funeral costs, and he was a man of his word. Pushing back his chair, he crossed the diner.

When he reached her side, her black attire and the grief in her swollen, red eyes opened up another of the spaces he'd mused upon earlier. “I'd like to talk with you.”

Leah looked up. He was standing too close. All she could think about was last night. “I paid for the funeral, out of the money you—I had.”

Their eyes held, mingled, searched. He said quietly, “I thought we'd agreed—”

“It's okay. Please. Seth and I are about to have lunch. Can we talk about this some other time?”

Ryder's jaw tightened. “I suppose.”

Seth said coolly, “Then leave us.”

“I'm not talking to you, Seth.”

“You're not talking to her either. Or are you deaf?”

Seth stood.

By now, people all over the diner were staring—discreetly, but staring just the same.

Ryder drawled coolly, “The lady has been impressed by you, Seth. Don't spoil the illusion by showing her your true self.”

Leah could feel her temper rising. “Stop this!” she hissed.

Both men stared down.

“Cecil was put in the ground less than two hours ago,” Leah reminded them, her tone curt. “I came here to set aside my grief, not to be fought over by two morons fighting like gulls over a piece of dead fish!”

Both men looked properly chastised.

Leah lowered her voice. “Now, Ryder, you are going to go back to your table. I will speak with you later. Seth and I are going to have our lunch.”

Ryder's jaw grew tighter in response to the light of triumph glowing in Seth's gaze.

Leah saw it, too. She snapped, “And Seth, if you gloat, I swear I'll leave here right now and
walk
back to Eloise's if I have to.”

Ryder's eyes glowed with satisfaction.

Leah glared up at him, asking, “Are you still here?”

The light died. “Enjoy your lunch,” Ryder said frostily. He turned and walked out of the diner.

By the time the waiter brought their meal, Leah, ignoring the wary stares of the other patrons, had just about regained her calm. Seth, still smarting from her short tongue-lashing, hadn't said a word.

Once they began on their stew however, he asked, “Are you still angry?”

“No.” She wasn't.

“Then let me apologize for my behavior. Ryder makes me loco.”

“I could see that. Apology accepted.”

“If you want to know the truth, I haven't been blistered like that since the summer Ryder and I drank all of Eloise's dandelion wine.”

Leah looked up from her plate. “When was this?”

“I think I was twelve. Ryder must've just turned ten. We were so drunk, we thought we could fly and jumped out of a tree. I broke my right leg, he broke his left.”

“So the two of you did have some good times, then?”

“If you want to call being sick as dogs for a full day afterward good times, I suppose we did. After Eloise set our legs and we stopped puking, she whipped us up one side and down the other. Last serious whipping she ever gave us if I'm not mistaken.”

He looked over at Leah, adding, “Haven't thought about that for a long time.”

She wondered if he were pleased by the memory. “You two should bury the past.”

Seth took a large swallow of his lemonade, then put the glass down. “Tell him that.”

Leah shook her head. Did they not know how precious family could be? Evidently not. Leah thought it best she change the subject. “Tell me about yourself, Seth.”

“Well, I'm thirty-eight, unmarried—” he stated looking directly into Leah's eyes.

She didn't blink. “And?” she prompted.

“I'm presently working with a group of men trying to start a Black town. We've sent flyers back East, and so far the results have been encouraging.”

“Where will the town be?”

“South of here. If we can get the money to buy up the rest of the land, we could open for business tomorrow.”

“That sounds exciting. How close are you to your goal?”

“Another two thousand or so should do it. Hard for folks like us to get our hands on that kind of capital though.”

Leah nodded understandingly. “Well, I wish you luck.”

“Thanks.”

They finished lunch and drove back to the telegraph office. The clerk smiled when they entered. “Your reply's here.”

He handed Leah the response, and she read:

But she didn't want to stay. She assumed he wanted her to remain in Denver because contacting her on the long train ride back East would be next to impossible. A deflated Leah sighed. She had no desire to stay here at all, but she would.

“The judge wants me to stay here,” she said, handing the message to Seth to read.