Meet the New Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  He turned and walked out, closing the door softly. Charles dropped the gun, then whacked the glass of whiskey across the room and fell to his knees, sobbing like a little boy.

  It was deep in the night when someone pounded on the door of Joshua’s hotel room, where he’d been staying while in Washington on special assignment. He stirred in his sleep, roused more when the pounding came again. He frowned, throwing back the covers of his bed and rubbing his eyes. He glanced at a clock. It was two A.M. He rose, pulling on a robe and stopping to pick up a small handgun. His visitor could be a drunken Charles Garvey. He walked to the door. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  “Please … let me come in!” came a woman’s voice. She was obviously crying.

  Joshua opened the door cautiously, and a young woman rushed inside, clinging to a dark-haired child of perhaps two years of age. The woman sank to the floor, weeping, her clothes partially torn. Joshua quickly closed the door and set the gun aside. He knelt beside the blond-haired woman, taking her arm. When she looked up at him, her face was so battered it was difficult to tell what she looked like.

  “Good God, woman! Let me get you a doctor!”

  “No!” she pleaded, shaking with shock and sorrow. “I … I am Mrs. Charles Garvey!”

  Joshua’s eyes widened in shock, remembering now the pretty young woman he had seen with Garvey a time or two. “What’s happened to you?”

  “He … beat me. I thought he’d … kill me … but he passed out drunk finally. Thank God … I got out with our son. He was … going to kill my baby!”

  Joshua frowned, totally confused. He looked at the little boy, who sat staring at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. He looked very Indian, a beautiful boy with large brown eyes and straight black hair. But why would Charles Garvey’s own son look Indian? He turned his eyes back to the boy’s mother, then picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her on it gently.

  “You calm down, ma’am. Let me get a cool rag to bathe your face.”

  She grasped his arm. “Is it true? Is my father really dead?” she whimpered.

  He frowned and shook his head. “Your father?”

  “Zeke Monroe! He was my father! Charles came home with some insane story about … about you being his half brother … and that your uncle was Zeke Monroe and Zeke Monroe is dead!”

  Joshua felt light-headed. He had not known—had not expected this. “My God!” he whispered, sitting down on the bed beside her. “You’re … you’re that LeeAnn? LeeAnn Monroe?”

  She clung to him. “Is it true?”

  He touched her hair. “I’m afraid so.”

  She broke into renewed sobbing, nearly hysterical. He pulled her up into his arms, embracing her tightly. So this was the wayward LeeAnn that Zeke and Abbie had not heard from in years. If he was so good at investigating things, why hadn’t he figured this one out? That explained the boy looking so Indian. He took after his grandfather. This girl must have never told her husband who she really was, and whatever her reason, she was consumed now with a terrible guilt at finding out in such a cruel way that her father was dead. He rocked her gently as she wept and mumbled about her husband coming home with the story Joshua had brought to him, sobbing that when he mentioned Zeke Monroe being dead she could no longer hide her own identity, finally telling him who she was. He had beaten her severely, and she had fled for her life, taking their son with her. He had declared he would kill the boy, now that he knew for certain the child carried Indian blood. She had remembered someone mentioning that Joshua Lewis was staying at this hotel while in Washington, and she had taken the chance that she could find him here.

  “Please … help me!” she sobbed. “Don’t let him … hurt me or my son!”

  He stroked her hair, smelling a delightful scent. In spite of her present condition, he knew how beautiful she was. And this was Zeke and Abbie’s daughter. Of course he would help her. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m so sorry, LeeAnn. I had no idea. I … I never really knew you … and I guess no one ever told you the connection. It was kept such a secret. Only Wolf’s Blood knew, besides your parents and mine.”

  She broke into heavier sobbing, shaking violently. “Oh, God, how can I ever be forgiven for what I’ve done! I married the son … of a man my father must have hated! And I turned my back … on my own flesh and blood! Now I’ll never see my father again … never be able to tell him I love him … ask him to forgive me! He … risked his life … to save me once from Comanches … and I threw it all in his face!”

  “Hush now,” Joshua said softly. “I’m sure that even in death your father knows, LeeAnn. And I’m sure he never stopped loving you. I think he understood.”

  “I want to go home! I want to see my mother!”

  He kissed her hair. Why had he felt compelled to do that? Why did he suddenly feel so protective of her? “Then I will take you myself. It’s the least I can do for bringing you this trouble. I’m so very sorry.”

  He gently laid her back on the pillow. “It would have come out … some other way,” she sobbed. “Our son … looks more and more Indian … every day.”

  Joshua turned to look at the boy, who was toddling toward them. “He’s Indian, all right. What is his name?”

  “Matthew,” she told him. All her words were spoken painfully through swollen lips. He reached out and set Matthew on the bed beside his mother, ordering the boy to stay put. He hurriedly wet down a rag and gently applied it to her badly bruised face and bleeding lips.

  “I’d better get you a doctor.”

  “No. I’ll … be all right. I just … want to go home. If you get a doctor, he might … recognize me … ask questions. Charles would … find me. I don’t want him to find me.”

  He sighed. “All right. But I’m getting you out of these clothes and giving you a nightshirt to put on. And I’ll have no arguments or bashfulness. I’ll not have LeeAnn Garvey dying in my hotel room. Now how would that look?”

  Her body jerked in uncontrolled sobs. She was too weak and in too much pain to object. He undressed her with gentle hands and quickly put a nightshirt on her. She could not help but wonder at his kindness, his sincere sympathy, the respectful way he did not let his eyes linger on things he should not see. He was so different. She had known only brutality for years and had begun to think all men must be that way. But Joshua Lewis was sweet and gentle, and it reminded her of the way her father had treated her mother. She had almost forgotten there was such a thing as kindness, such a thing as men who were strong but gentle, brave but loving. Joshua Lewis was all those things. She could tell right away.

  “Now you just lie right there and sleep,” he told her. “Here.” He poured some whiskey. “Drink a little of this. I’ll get Matthew to sleep. Don’t you worry about anything. I’ll see that you get home to Colorado.”

  Colorado! Why did it suddenly sound so good? Colorado. Home. Mother. But there was no more father. Would her mother still love her? Would she forgive her? Who could tell? But she must take the chance. If Abigail Monroe was the same woman she had left behind ten years ago, she would welcome her daughter, no matter what.

  Joshua sat down in a big chair with Matthew, who at two in the morning was droopy-eyed and confused. He held the boy close and talked softly to him, and in moments the child was fast asleep in his arms. Joshua stared for several minutes at LeeAnn Garvey, wondering what kind of hell the woman had been living in. If Zeke Monroe had known, he’d have come to Washington and plowed through the streets, going straight to Charles Garvey and sinking his blade into the man’s evil heart, that was sure.

  Yes. He would take LeeAnn Garvey home where she belonged.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The train rumbled through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and into Kansas. It was May, 1880, and the prairies were alive with wildflowers, except for the vast expanses now farmed. With every mile left behind her, LeeAnn Garvey felt more free. Her heart became lighter. She felt like she was coming out of the pits of the e
arth into bright sunshine and fresh air, for she was leaving Charles Garvey, and she wondered why she had not had the courage to do so until now. She glanced at Joshua. Perhaps it was because of him that she had the courage. She had always felt so afraid and alone before, not knowing where to turn for help. Why she had run to him in her panic the night Charles beat her she wasn’t sure, but she was glad she had done so.

  From the way her mother had talked about Bonnie Lewis, now Bonnie Monroe, LeeAnn was not surprised that this adopted son of hers was a gentle and caring person. It was a little unnerving to realize how fate could lead people down unusual pathways. Who would have thought that the little crippled baby her own parents had taken to Bonnie Lewis all those years ago would end up being so important to her own life? And who would have dreamed that LeeAnn Monroe would marry a Garvey? It made her wonder just how much control anyone had over his life. Perhaps everyone’s destiny was cut out for them from the day they were born.

  She hugged her little Matthew. What would be his destiny? He looked so Indian that even though he was mostly white no one would believe it. She kissed his dark hair. She would protect and defend him. Her son would not suffer for his looks. The thought brought pain to her heart at the realization of how her own father had suffered, and the hurt it must have brought him to die without ever seeing his daughter again. She doubted she would ever get over the guilt of that, but at least if her mother accepted her, it would help a little.

  She wished someone had told her all the things she had just learned through Joshua. If only she had known! Surely her parents could not fully blame her for something she didn’t know in the first place. She could understand why it was kept secret, and naturally her parents would never dream that somewhere along the way their daughter would meet and marry a Garvey. She wondered now how she could have done such a thing, why she didn’t sense the man’s evil ruthlessness long before they were wed. But she had been too caught up in Garvey’s wealth and prominence. How could she, the daughter of a woman like Abigail Monroe, move so far astray from the way she had been brought up? She remembered her mother mentioning to her that LeeAnn reminded her of her own sister, after whom she was named. Abbie’s sister had also wanted a man of wealth, who could put her in fancy clothes and make her socially prominent. She had thought she met such a man on the wagon train, and he had turned out to be a gambler, who stole her away and sold her to outlaws to pay a debt. That LeeAnn was murdered. Now this LeeAnn shivered, realizing how close she had come to being killed herself. Unlike her dead aunt, this LeeAnn was being given a second chance at life.

  Joshua stirred and changed positions, his head leaning toward her and touching her shoulder. She felt a faint stirring, but years with Charles Garvey had left their scars, and the thought of being with any man again made her feel nauseous. How she was going to forget the horror of Charles Garvey’s touch she was not certain, but somehow she must, and being home on the ranch would help. Still, there most certainly had to be kind men. Look at how her father had always treated her mother. And Dan and Bonnie Monroe were apparently very happy, the way Josh talked about them. And of course there was Josh himself, who had kept her under guard until he could get her out of Washington. Now he was going with her all the way home, refusing to leave her alone. He had taken care of everything: buying her some extra clothes, getting the train tickets, everything. He had even requested a leave from the Times. His assignment in Washington was finished anyway. He would take some time off and bring LeeAnn Garvey home, though he told no one. They had slept right on the train for several days, and she ached all over. When they reached Topeka they would get off for a night and stay in a hotel before switching to the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe train that would take them to Fort Lyon. It would feel good to sleep in a real bed all night.

  She leaned back and watched the Kansas prairie pass by. Yes, she was entering familiar country, and it felt good. She thought about what Josh had told her about the A T & SF tracks going right past the northern section of her father’s ranch now. Surely that had made her parents very unhappy. Through Josh, she was seeing the real picture of what had happened to the Indians, and it saddened her. It was probably a good thing her father had died when he did, for things could get worse yet. The days of freedom for the Indian were gone, and she did not doubt that a little of Zeke Monroe had died with them, giving him all the more reason to let his life end. She blinked back tears. Poor father. Through letters from Bonnie, Josh had learned that Zeke Monroe had also been suffering severely from arthritis, something Bonnie and Dan had later learned from Abbie. It all made sense then. Zeke Monroe would not die a crippled man. But the fact remained that he had died without seeing his daughter again, and she could not stop the tears that seemed to come so easily now. She sniffed and stared out the window, and then a hand was closing over her own, squeezing hers reassuringly. She turned to look into Joshua Lewis’s gentle hazel eyes, and he smiled.

  “Buck up, girl. You’re going home,” he told her.

  She smiled through her tears, and with his other hand he reached up and brushed the tears from her face. “You’re looking much better, LeeAnn. The bruises are fading some.”

  She looked back out the window, and he kept hold of her hand.

  By that evening they were in Topeka, and Joshua got her a room of her own, where she enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath and took a nap before he returned to take her to dinner. She ignored the way people stared at her, a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman carrying an Indian baby. The bruises that still showed on her face didn’t help any. Was she a captive just recently released? Was the young man with her some kind of government agent? LeeAnn had grown accustomed to the stares and really didn’t care anymore. She ate her fill, her appetite returning more with every mile she put between herself and Charles Garvey.

  “I am sure he’s disinherited me and his son from his will and filed for divorce by now,” she told Joshua over dessert. “Not that I care. Knowing what I know, I could never live on Garvey money anyway. It would be an insult to my father.”

  “Well, I don’t think there would have been much anyway, LeeAnn. I’d been doing some investigating of my own, and Charles Garvey was on the verge of bankruptcy. He let too many others handle his business for him, and he was getting cheated right and left by his own men. Serves him right, to say the least, considering the way he cheated people himself. All hell will break loose soon and he’ll find himself a nearly broke man, which I doubt he’ll be able to handle.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Which leads me to something I am very worried about, LeeAnn.”

  She met his eyes. “What is that?”

  “I want you to be very careful. Stay close to the ranch and Wolf’s Blood once you’re home. I don’t trust Charles Garvey one whit. What he learned about me and about you triggered that strange, almost insane side of him. And once he finds out he’s losing his fortune on top of it, he’s going to be a desperate, demented man. It would not surprise me at all if he found a way to blame you and probably me, too, for his misfortunes, and now he knows who you really are and where you’ll probably go. I’m worried he’ll come looking for you—find a way to have you and the boy killed.”

  She swallowed, her fear of Charles Garvey building all over again. If he got her alone he would make her suffer dearly before he killed her, of that she was certain.

  “Look, I don’t want you having nightmares over it,” Joshua consoled. “I just want you to consider the kind of man he is and be very careful. I think as long as you’re on the ranch you’ll be safe, until we know for certain what will happen to Charles Garvey. I’ll probably go on north from the ranch to see Dan and my mother, then head back east and clean some things up, check out Charles Garvey. Then I’m coming back out here to start my own newspaper, as well as do whatever I can to help the Indians.”

  She searched the kind eyes. “You’re a good man, Joshua Lewis. What would I have done without having you to turn to? Anyone else would have told Charles where I was and
let him come for me.” She blinked back tears. “Thank you—for all of it.”

  He smiled softly. “I knew the first time I saw you, before I even knew who you really were, that you didn’t belong with that man. And now that I know you’re Zeke Monroe’s daughter, it’s just that much more incentive to help you. Now eat your dessert and let’s get you back so you can get a good night’s sleep. The train leaves at seven A.M.”

  They finished their meal, and he walked her to the hotel and to the door to her own room, carrying Matthew on his shoulders, somehow thinking he had to prove to her he was as strong as any other man and the leg brace did not hamper that strength. He lifted the boy down when they got to the door to her room, and the child clung to his mother’s skirt as LeeAnn and Joshua stood looking at each other, both suddenly realizing it was possible they were falling in love.

  Joshua sighed deeply, leaning against the doorjamb. “LeeAnn, when all this is over, and you’re divorced and I’m settled—”

  “Don’t,” she said quickly, looking away.

  He reached out and grasped her chin, making her look at him. “Why not? You’re beginning to mean very much to me, LeeAnn. We’re cousins, but not by blood, only by circumstance. My father was Winston Garvey, much as I hate to admit it. Zeke was my uncle, but only because my Indian mother’s husband was Zeke’s brother. So we have no blood relation, LeeAnn, and I don’t see why we can’t … I mean … damn it, LeeAnn, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  She closed her eyes. “You shouldn’t. Once I’m free of Charles I want nothing to do with men anymore.”

  He reached out and grasped her arms. “LeeAnn, you know good and well that not all men are like him. Look at your own parents!”

  She hung her head. “You don’t understand. You don’t know … what he was like. It wasn’t just … the beatings. I could have …” He saw a panic building and kept a firm hold of her arms. “… could have stood the beatings, if he … would have treated me like … like a normal woman.”