Before the Dawn (33 page)

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.

I
nside, 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 Mon
tague 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.

“Back off!” he shouted.

The barking ceased instantaneously. They were given the space they needed to get down from the buggy, but the men immediately pounced again, many of them pushing and shoving. Ryder threw a protective arm around Leah and guided her through the gauntlet toward the doors of the courthouse.

Inside proved no friendlier. The small courtroom was packed with lawyers, the press, and spectators. An area of seating in the back had been segregated from the rest with rope, and inside it sat the few Blacks in attendance. Leah was glad to see Eloise and the Reverend Garrison; she was not pleased to see Seth, Helene, or Cordelia. Sam and Mable waved, but Ryder hustled her to the front, where Daniel Morton stood waiting, so she didn't get a chance to speak to anyone.

Daniel gave Leah a smile as she approached. “Good morning, Mrs. Montague. Are you ready?”

Leah nodded. “Thank you for taking this on.”

“You're welcome. This is possibly my most interesting case to date. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

He then turned to Ryder. “Mr. Damien, I'm going to ask you to sit behind us, if you would.”

“Whatever you say.” Ryder gave Leah's shoulder a departing squeeze of support, then took his seat.

Leah could see the lawyers at the other table silently
evaluating her, but she paid them no mind. She concentrated instead upon listening to her lawyer's last-minute instructions.

When the judge entered a few moments later, everyone quieted. It was the same man who'd presided over the case the last time. She didn't know if his presence would work in her favor or not.

The judge looked out at both sides, then said to Leah, “Mrs. Montague, you've got some pretty powerful friends to be able to get this case reviewed.”

Leah had no idea what kind of response he expected her to give, so she didn't offer one.

He added, “I don't think I've ever seen anyone come to the aid of a Colored woman this way. Makes me feel good about this country. This your back East lawyer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What's your name, son?”

Daniel answered.

“You're pretty young for something like this aren't you?”

“Yes, but I'm prepared.”

The judge smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Mr. Earle?” the judge then called.

A tall, thin, impeccably dressed man seated at the other table stood. “I'm Jacob Earle.”

The judge looked him up and down. “You got your ducks in a row?”

“Yes, sir, and it's our opinion—”

The judge cut him off. “You'll have plenty of time to give me your opinion in a minute. Who are you representing?”

Earle rattled off a list of about fifteen businesses and names. Leah assumed they were the creditors trying to keep their share of the estate.

The judge wrote something down. “All right, Mr. Earle, let's hear your side.”

Earle stood. He primped importantly for a moment and then began. “Your Honor, not only do we see no clear reason for your first, well-rendered judgment to be overturned, but we question this woman's right even to inherit Mr. Montague's estate.”

“Why's that?” the judge asked.

“We don't think the marriage is legal.”

The crowd began to buzz. Leah stiffened. Were they going to make her confess to having married Monty on his deathbed? She wanted to turn and judge Ryder's reaction but kept her attention focused forward.

Earle was saying, “I'd like to call Mr. Seth Montague to the stand.”

Leah could see people craning around to get a look at this first witness. Seth silently made his way to the front. He was sworn in and instructed to sit in the witness chair.

Earle opened the examination by having Seth state his name and his connections to the Montague estate. “So you're Montague's only legitimate child?” Earle asked when Seth was done.

“I am, sir.”

“Tell us what you know about the woman calling herself your late father's widow.”

“I know nothing. Well let me amend that, I do know she's having an illicit affair with my half brother, but other than that—” Seth shrugged.

Daniel jumped to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor!”

The judge nodded. “Mr. Montague, stick to the straight and narrow, we're not here for gossip.”

Earle disagreed. “But Your Honor, this speaks to the widow's overall character. It's one of the cornerstones of our case.”

The judge seemed to ignore him. “Straight and narrow, gentlemen.”

Daniel sat. His face mirrored his anger.

Jacob Earle went on. He asked Seth when he'd first met Leah.

“I met her the day she arrived.”

“Did she seem to be grieving over her husband's death?”

“She appeared to be, but she didn't rebuff me when I volunteered to show her around.”

“So, she attended some social functions with you?”

“Yes, we had lunch also.”

Earle turned to the judge. “Widows are supposed to be reclusive, not kicking up their heels all over Denver, your honor. Mr. Montague, thank you.”

The judge looked to Daniel who responded by saying, “I've a question or two for Mr. Montague, Your Honor.”

“Go to it.”

Daniel walked over to Seth and said, “Mr. Montague, did you have any ulterior motives for squiring around your stepmother when she first came to town?”

Seth looked genuinely offended. “Of course not, I was being a gentleman. She claimed to be my father's widow, I treated her accordingly.”

“So you weren't doing this in hopes of gaining her heart so you could gain access to your father's estate.”

Earle jumped up. “Objection, Your Honor.”

Daniel said, “Your Honor, I'm not impugning the witness, I'm simply trying determine what type of man Mr. Montague considers himself to be. If he says he was just being gentlemanly, I believe him.”

The judge gave Daniel a warning look then told Earle, “Objection overruled, but son, this better be going somewhere.”

“It is, Your Honor.”

“Continue.”

“All right, Mr. Montague we've established that you're a gentleman, or at least you consider yourself one. Am I correct?”

“You are correct.”

“Then why in heaven's name are you so deep in debt?”

Earle jumped to his feet, yelling his objections, but Daniel proceeded to read the names of Seth's creditors from a handwritten list two pages long. The spectators added their decibels to the din, and the judge pounded his gavel, yelling for order.

Finally, quiet settled over the courtroom and Judge Moss looked at Daniel Morton and said, “Son—”

“Your Honor, Mr. Earle put Mr. Montague on the stand as someone capable of judging Mrs. Montague's character. I just wanted to show that character's in the eye of the beholder.”

“Don't you ever disrupt my courtroom like that again. You hear me?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Daniel looked to the visibly furious Seth and said coolly, “You may return to your seat.”

Leah wanted to cheer.

For the next hour or so they heard from the various parties who'd claimed financial injury in the original case thirty years ago. There were suppliers, former employers, and business associates. On the surface the claims seemed ironclad. According to the law, the original judgment had to be brought before the Colorado court once a decade, and Mr. Earle's father, one of the original plaintiffs, had done that. When he died, five years ago, his son took up the gauntlet.