She leaned over to ask Eloise, “Why is everyone smiling?”
“They like him, and they like you, dear.”
Applause accompanied his walk to the front of the crowd. He had his hair in two plaits today, and they hung in front of his shoulders. They were a cultural contrast to the suit coat thrown over his arm, the open-throated white shirt and tailored trousers. Leah assumed they were congratulating him on his large contribution to the church’s building fund, or at least she hoped they were.
Under the reverend’s approving visage, Ryder placed his gold pieces in the crock. He then picked up her basket, and as the auctioning continued, began a slow walk in her direction.
Nervous, Leah asked Mable, “Why’s he coming this way?”
“He gets the honor of your company for lunch.”
Leah shot Eloise a look. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
The woman simply smiled.
Leah didn’t want to share the basket with him. He’d hurt her feelings, or had he forgotten again? However, with so many folks looking on, she had no recourse but to sit politely and wait for his approach.
As Ryder crossed the field to where she was sitting he had no trouble reading the frostiness in the Morenita’s black eyes. Even though he still hadn’t figured out a way to convince her to talk to him again, he was ready to try.
When he reached the quilt, he said, “Afternoon, ladies.”
Mable nodded, and Eloise said, “Thanks for the bid, Ryder.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked down into Leah’s cool gaze. “Shall we?”
She studied him for a long moment, then slowly got to her feet. Ryder could see Seth looking on; his brother appeared furious at having been bested. Ryder mockingly dipped his head in Seth’s direction, then didn’t give him another thought. His dear brother once owned the mortgage on the land where the congregation’s old church now stood, and if Seth hadn’t foreclosed on that land and the building in order to make good on some of his gambling debts, none of this fund-raising would be necessary. Ryder supposed Leah’s presence had drawn Seth to the event, because there wasn’t a person there who didn’t wish the fancy Creole elsewhere.
Some of the couples sharing the auctioned basket lunches were seated on blankets they’d spread out on parts of the meadow that were a short distance away from the main gathering. For courting couples it offered a measure of privacy yet kept them in plain view of their mamas and the rest of the congregation.
Basket in hand, Ryder walked Leah through the knee-high grasses and flowers to a spot near a small clearing on the meadow’s edge. “This field could use some Grass Dancers,” he told her.
Leah lifted her hem in hopes of making the walk easier. “What are Grass Dancers?”
Ryder was relieved that she was at least speaking to him. “In my grandfather’s day, they were the men who’d dance down the high grasses so the new villages could be erected.”
Leah stopped. “Wouldn’t that take a long time?”
He halted, too. “Usually, but they didn’t measure life in terms of time. Grass dancing had a purpose, but it was also an event, a celebration. There’d be drumming and challenges to see who danced the best.” He began walking again, and added, “Besides, the women loved the Grass Dancers.”
She followed his trail. “Why?”
“They were usually the fittest and handsomest men in the tribe.”
Grass Dancers. Leah had never heard of such a thing.
He stopped, looked around, and asked, “How about right here?”
She saw that although they were a distance away, they weren’t too far from everyone else. “This is fine.”
Only they didn’t have a blanket.
He spread his coat on the ground, gestured at it, and took a seat beside it.
“I can’t sit on your coat.”
“Why not? You planning on eating standing?”
“I didn’t plan to eat at all.”
Their eyes met. She had her hand on one hip.
He told her honestly, “After the last time we were together, I suppose I deserve that.”
“No, you deserve much more,” she countered flatly.
He winced. “You know, if you don’t sit down, folks are going to think you don’t want to share your lunch with me.”
“And they’d be correct.”
“Then I’ll just go and get my fifty dollars back.”
“Now you’re stooping to extortion?”
“Whatever it takes to get you to smile at me again. What I did was wrong, stupid, uncalled-for, and I hurt you very badly, I know that now. Please, carinita, sit, and let’s talk.”
Don’t call me that, she wailed inwardly. She didn’t want to let go of her anger, she didn’t want to be hurt by him again, but the whispered plea reached out to her, touched her, and damn if parts of herself weren’t responding. Leah swore she was sitting only to ensure he didn’t go and retrieve his coins; it had nothing to do with the softening of her will.
“Thank you,” he said softy.
She didn’t reply.
A three-piece band was playing back at the main gathering. They were as terribly off-key as Eloise’s children’s choir had been, but Leah and Ryder were far enough away not to have to hear it up close.
Leah waited as he removed the red-checkered cloth covering the contents in the basket. Inside were sandwiches, a jar of lemonade, and fat slices of freshly made pound cake.
Ryder looked over at her. “All of my favorites.”
He peeled back the bread a bit and looked inside. “Yep, ham and mustard. How’d you know?”
Leah shot him a look. “I suppose pound cake is your favorite, too?”
“Sure is.” He grinned, biting into the sandwich.
Leah smelled a rat and its name was Eloise. Leah had had no idea what the basket held because Eloise had handed it to her just before they climbed onto the wagon. Had Eloise known in advance that Ryder would be getting the lunch and therefore packed it with his favorite things? The answer seemed pretty obvious. Leah bit into her sandwich.
The ice in the lemonade had melted and the sweet drink was a bit watery, but it was still very cold. Watching Leah drink from the frosty jar, Ryder scanned her silently. He liked the dress she’d chosen to wear. Emerald green with a high neck and long sleeves, there were tiny jet buttons marching down the front that he’d have enjoyed spending an afternoon slowly opening. The well-tailored bodice fit her lines smoothly, subtly emphasizing the tempting swells of her bosom and the trimness of her waist.
As Leah ate her cake, she could see him watching her. She wanted to stare him down and show him just how angry she was still, but found it difficult because of the genuine sincerity in his apology. “Thank you for bidding on my lunch. Eloise said today’s auction would go a long way toward getting the church built.”
He finished his lunch and was now lying on his back in the grass, looking up at the clouds. “You’re welcome. Are you talking to me again?”
“No.”
He told her solemnly, “You know, if you’re carrying my baby, you’ll have to marry me.”
“No, I don’t.”
He rolled his head toward her. “And I want daughters just like you.”
The quiet conviction in his eyes and voice shook her to her toes.
“Daughters as fierce and prickly and beautiful as their mother.”
Leah didn’t know what to say. The idea that she might be carrying his child was a real possibility. Her courses were two weeks late. But could she marry a man so hobbled by the past? Her mother had raised her without benefit of a husband, and as a result Leah had suffered the slings and arrows associated with such a birth. Did Leah want her child subjected to the same treatment by the same narrow minds and views? “And when some brash young Cheyenne brave comes courting these daughters of yours?”
“They’ll have to offer me thousands of ponies just to learn their names…”
Leah turned away.
<
br /> Ryder sat up. He said it again, “I’m sorry, Morenita. I truly, truly am.”
Leah hated crying, but she seemed to be doing it again. Why did he have to be the one able to twist her heart?
Ryder leaned forward and gently kissed one tear-filled eye, and then the other. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
Leah realized that no matter where she chose to hide, the fact that she’d fallen in love with this man would always find her. “You hurt me very badly, Ryder,” she replied in the same hushed tones. “Very badly.”
“I know, and I’ll cut out my own heart before I let it happen again…”
They were only a breath apart.
“If you can’t forgive me right away, I understand,” he told her genuinely. “What I accused you of is not something easily forgotten, or forgiven.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Silence fell between them as they sensed each other, felt their feelings for each other rising again like dawn vanquishing the night.
“I want to kiss you…” he whispered.
“I know…”
“People will talk,” she reminded him, hardly aware of the crowd.
“Let them…”
The bittersweet kiss was filled with regret, forgiveness, and promise. They didn’t care who might see or what might be said. They were trying to find their way back.
When he slowly pulled away, Ryder fed himself on the watery light shining in her dark eyes. “Are you talking to me now?”
“No,” she whispered “I’m kissing you…” And she lifted her lips for another, right there in front of God, the congregation, and everybody, including a seething Seth, who upon seeing them embrace, turned on his heel, stormed back to his carriage, and drove away.
Ryder pulled her in against him and held her tight as he murmured against her ear,
“I’ll never hurt you like that again, I promise.”
Leah clung to him; her heart believed him, but her mind knew the possibility of being hurt again would remain until the past was laid to rest.
He leaned back and stroked her cheek. “I have to go to Virginia City for about two weeks. Would you like to come with me?”
She replied disappointedly, “I can’t, I’m waiting for the lawyer from Boston.”
“Lawyer? What lawyer?”
“Judge Raddock’s filed some sort of injunction, and he’s sending out a lawyer to represent me.”
“When’s he coming?” Ryder asked.
“I’m not certain, but soon, I’m guessing, and if he’s successful, I suppose I’ll have to put up with Seth and his grand plans again.”
He looked confused.
She explained what she’d overheard that day on Seth’s porch.
Ryder shook his head. “He and that aunt are quite a pair.”
That reminded Leah of something she hadn’t wanted to think about—Cecil’s death. “Helene keeps saying Cecil died the same way her sister did—that he was poisoned. Do you think that’s possible?”
He shrugged. “Anything is possible I suppose, but probable—who knows?”
“Maybe she’s just trying to rile me. From what Cecil told me, he and Helene didn’t get along very well back then.”
Ryder thought for a moment. “She doesn’t get along with anybody now either, but what does she gain by wanting you to think Cecil was poisoned?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Has it been bothering you?”
Leah nodded. “He’s been in my dreams lately, and I keep asking myself, what if she’s right? What if he was murdered? His death was quite sudden, if you think about it. I don’t ever remember him being ill like that before.”
“We could have the body exhumed if you want to be sure. I’ve a friend up in Boulder who does autopsies. It may take a while for the results, but it would ease your mind.”
Leah shuddered at the idea of such a gruesome task, but knew she owed it to Cecil to find out for sure. “What do I have to do?”
“You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.”
“I want to be there when his casket is brought up though. I owe him that much.”
“Whatever you wish.”
She had to ask. “Do you think I’m overreacting by having him exhumed?”
He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the nose. “No. If he was poisoned, we need to know and the sheriff told.”
Buoyed by his support, Leah set the matter aside for now.
Ryder looked around the meadow. “All the other couples are back over with the group. Do you want to join them?”
“I suppose we should, though I’d rather sit here with you.”
Ryder liked the sound of that. “I’d rather sit here, too.”
She plucked at a few blades of grass. “Why are you going to Virginia City? Business?”
He nodded. “Yep. Stockholders’ meetings, and to look over some potential mine sites.”
“Wish I could come with you.”
“Me too, but—” He got to his feet, then holding on to her hand, pulled her up. “I’ll have to settle for just thinking about you.”
Leah liked the sound of that. “When are you leaving?”
“In the morning, first thing.”
Leah sighed. If he kissed her now, they would be seen for sure, but she wanted another.
He correctly interpreted her desire. “You’re looking like a woman who wants to be kissed.”
“I am.”
He grinned. “How about I see you home?”
“We can’t just leave. That would be rude.”
“Yes, it would be, but I’m known for that.”
Amused by his honesty, she shook her head. “Well, I’m not.”
“How about dinner this evening, then?”
Leah wasn’t sure how she felt about where the evening might lead.
Once again, he read her mind. “Just dinner. Nothing more,” he assured her sincerely. As a man he wanted her in his bed, but as a man whose feelings for her seemed to be rising and solidifying by the minute, he didn’t want her to believe bedding her to be his sole concern.
“Where will we go?” she asked.
“Dinah’s?”
Leah smiled. “That sounds fine.”
They agreed on a time. He picked up his coat, grabbed the basket and escorted her back.
Much to Ryder’s delight everyone was packing up to go home. There was church tomorrow morning and folks had chores to do before sunset.
With Eloise’s blessings, Ryder drove Leah home. He set the brake and walked her around to the little cabin. He pulled her into his arms. “One last kiss and I’ll go.”
“Only one?” she teased back.
“You are such a naughty woman.”
“That, too, is your fault.”
Laughing, he kissed her long and hard.
“Um, excuse me, I’m looking for a Mrs. Leah Montague.”
They both turned to the sound of the strange voice. An obviously embarrassed young White man stood there. He had blond hair and blue eyes. His gray suit bore the familiar rumples of a train passenger.
An equally embarrassed Leah backed out of Ryder’s arms. She smoothed her hair. “I’m Leah Montague.”
His blue eyes widened. He then stared at Ryder.
Ryder, arms crossed, stared back. He hadn’t liked being interrupted. “And you are?”
“Um, Daniel Morton.”
Morton then looked at Leah again. “But the judge didn’t say you were—” His words faded to a stop.
Leah raised an eyebrow. “Black? Colored?”
Ryder fumed silently, then asked, “Is this the lawyer?”
She responded. “I believe so.”
She saw that Morton’s young face had turned an even brighter red. For some unknown reason, his youth maybe, Leah took pity on him, and asked, “Shall we start over?”
He nodded vigorously, gratefully. “Please. My name is Daniel Morton. Honored to meet you, Mrs. Montague.”
“Pleased
to meet you, too, Mr. Morton. This is Mr. Ryder Damien.”
Morton seemed puzzled a moment, then he knelt and opened his valise. He extracted a paper tablet that had writing on it. He stood, silently scanning the words, muttering, “Ryder Damien. Ryder Damien.”
His face lit up. “Ah here it is, I knew the name sounded familiar. Let’s see, Ryder Damien. You’re—”
He stopped then as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading. When he looked up, his eyes were wide once again. “Why, you’re Mr. Montague’s son!”
Leah supposed he was a bit surprised to find the son kissing his stepmother, but life was sometimes complicated. She wondered if he were old enough to understand that yet.
Ryder asked distantly, “Is there a problem?”
“Uh, no sir. Not at all.”
Morton turned back to the more friendly face of Leah. “I’ve taken a room in Denver. I’d like to sit down and talk with you sometime in the next day or so. We have the preliminary hearing on Wednesday.”
“So soon?” Ryder asked.
“Yes, I believe the sooner we begin to move on this, the better.”
Ryder agreed, but wondered why the judge had sent this cub to represent her interests. He didn’t look old enough to spell law, much less practice it.
“Would you like to meet now?” Leah asked.
Ryder’s eyes widened. She was supposed to be having dinner with him.
Morton smiled. “I’d hoped to, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Ryder was about to say, good she’ll see you tomorrow, when Leah replied, “Then let’s meet now.”
Leah saw that Ryder looked like a little boy who’d just been told he couldn’t have any ice cream.
“Mr. Morton, would you excuse us for a moment?”
Watching Ryder warily, he responded, “Certainly.”
She beckoned her lover over to the porch. Ryder gave Morton a look that made the young man tug nervously at his collar before walking over to where Leah stood. It took all she had not to smile at the sullen look on his face. “Ryder, I do believe you’re pouting.”
Before the Dawn Page 27