She looked over at Cecil. He’d been very quiet since their return to the car. She supposed seeing Ryder again had given him plenty to ponder, too. “Is there going to be more, Cecil?”
He glanced her way and offered a faint smile. “An honest question deserves an honest answer. I don’t know.”
Leah could feel impatience rising and didn’t know if it was misplaced or not, considering the circumstances. “How could he not be concerned about the well-being of his own sons?”
Cecil shrugged. “That, too, is an honest question. Truthfully, the Louis of those days cared only about himself. Yes, he had two sons but he was the one under indictment, his name and reputation were being dragged through the mud. In his mind, he’d made many of his accusers back then extremely wealthy, and for them to accuse him of murder not only once, but a second time? He thought they were ungrateful hypocrites. When he walked away he turned his back on the lot of them. His sons included.”
Leah recalled Monty’s anguish-filled confession the night before he died, and the memory helped soften her feelings about him. “It was a decision he regretted in the end.”
“I know. He and I talked about it quite a bit. He had many, many regrets. As do I.”
She asked quietly. “What do you regret the most?”
He didn’t hesitate. “That I never married—never had a family. Like Louis, once I finally realized the true value of life, it was too late.”
Leah’s heart went out to him. In a way his regret mirrored her own. Because of her age, she doubted she’d ever marry or have a family either. “You never courted?”
He shrugged. “There were a few ladies here and there, but I was too busy making money to spend the time.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Reba and I always considered you family, and I still do. Were it not for you, Miss Caldwell would never have let me back into her school.”
He smiled fully then. “Ah, yes, Miss Caldwell’s School for Young Women of Color. You were quite the hellion back then.”
“The way they treated me, I should’ve burned the place to the ground.”
He chuckled.
A knock sounded. A smiling Leah headed over to the door to see who it might be. She opened it to find the conductor and an obviously angry Sam Waters standing on the other side.
The conductor announced importantly, “We’re riding Jim Crow from here to Denver, so he either rides in here with you or I put him off at the next stop.”
Leah was taken aback by the man’s declaration. He seemed very pleased with himself and his power. Leah didn’t hesitate; in spite of the tension between their two camps, she wouldn’t give the conductor the satisfaction of setting Sam Waters down on the side of the tracks in the middle of Lord knew where. “He’s quite welcome here.”
Leah could see the approval on Cecil’s face. He obviously felt the same way. Neither of them wanted to aid the conductor in promoting Jim Crow’s nefarious statutes. “Please come in, Mr. Waters.”
Sam nodded his thanks and complied, but not before shooting the conductor a malevolent glare.
That left Leah standing eye to eye with the conductor. In an emotionless voice she told him, “Thank you. You may go.”
The man’s round face went red as a tomato. She doubted he’d ever been dismissed so pointedly by a woman of the race before. Leah didn’t care. He didn’t like them, and she truly didn’t care for him or his high-handed posturing. He appeared as if he wanted to say something caustic in response, but because he’d seen the judge’s document and knew she was traveling under his protection, his only recourse was to leave. So he did, but only after slamming the door for emphasis.
Sam Waters said, “Thanks, Mrs. Montague.”
“You’re welcome. We may have our disagreements, but I’d hope you’d do the same for us were the shoe on the other foot.”
Sam turned and nodded a greeting Cecil’s way. “Thanks.”
Cecil waved off the thanks. “You’re welcome.”
Leah asked an obvious question. “Where’s Mr. Damien?”
“Smoking car. He’s going to ride out the trip there. Me, I’m too old to be up all night drinking and playing cards. The porter promised he’d bring me a cot to sleep on, if that’s okay?”
Leah replied, “Certainly. We’ll figure out where to put it when it arrives.”
“Have a seat,” Cecil said, gesturing to the settee and chairs.
“Thanks.” Sam sat and gazed around at the car’s plush red furnishings. “Mighty fine car you got here.”
Leah smiled. “Yes it is. It belongs to Judge James Raddock. He was a friend of my late husband’s.”
Sam appeared impressed.
An awkward silence followed.
Cecil asked Sam, “Do you play cards?”
Sam’s face lit up. “Sure do.”
“Good, because this one’s no challenge,” he declared, indicating Leah.
Leah’s fists went to her waist in a display of mock indignation. “Hey!”
The statement was true, however. Although Reba had been a terror at cards, the skill had not been passed down. The bespectacled Cecil grinned at her reaction, adding, “But don’t play backgammon with her, she’s a shark.”
That was also true.
While the men began their game, Leah settled into the window seat with her own form of entertainment. Newspapers. She’d purchased a few outside the depot after their lunch in the glade and had been elated to find a lone vendor who’d sold Black papers as well. She took great joy in reading about the happenings and people in other parts of the country and the world. Now that she had the ability to travel to some of those places, her interest had risen even higher.
A two-week-old Harper’s Weekly reported on the continued agitation for a standardized work day by an organization known as the Knights of Labour. Originally founded as a secret sect in 1869 so as to protect the identities of its organizers and members, the group made its public debut in 1879, throwing down the gauntlet on behalf of the workers of America. The Knights embraced laborers both skilled and non, and its ranks were open to all races. Although Leah knew a little bit about its goals previously, she was surprised to read that an estimated tenth of its seven hundred thousand members were Black. Equally surprising was the information that they’d conducted well over a thousand strikes in the past year against industrial giants such as Chicago’s McCormick Harvesting Machine Company, and that many of the work stoppages had turned violent.
The issues surrounding the Knights were also given a thorough discussion in the two Black newspapers she’d purchased: a copy of the Cleveland Gazette dated February 20, and a March 20 issue of T. Thomas Fortune’s Freeman, published in New York. Each paper threw enthusiastic editorial support behind the movement and cited the group’s inclusion of Blacks as an historical turning point for the country.
As Leah scanned the rest of the papers for more on the movement, she hoped Denver had a newspaper so she could keep abreast of the Knights’ progress.
Leah read for over an hour. When her eyes became bleary, she set the papers aside and stretched to relieve the stiffness in her arms and back. The card game was wrapping up. Sam and Cecil seemed to have hit it off. They spent the whole time laughing, winning each other’s pennies, and arguing back and forth over which was the greatest Black regiment. Sam, a veteran of the famed Ninth Cavalry, naturally chose his old unit, while Cecil, a native of Louisiana, championed the Louisiana Native Guard.
Cecil gathered up the cards and proudly declared, “The Louisiana Native Guard fought for the French, the Spanish, and, during the War of 1812, helped Andrew Jackson become a national hero by aiding his defeat of the British on the plains of Chalmette in defense of New Orleans.”
Sam scoffed. “Andrew Jackson? You’ll get no thanks from the Cherokee for that. He stole their land, and I do mean stole, then made them walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma.”
“Well that’s ironic coming from a cavalry soldier. You’re no savior to
the Indian either.”
Their tones made Leah think maybe they weren’t getting along so well after all, but Sam smiled and shrugged. “You got me there, but I wasn’t like a lot of our troops. Some hated the Indians as much as folks like Custer and Jackson. They didn’t care that the government was destroying a whole people and using us to do it.”
Leah had never thought about the government’s campaign against the Indians in quite those terms before, but decided Sam was right. Ironically, Washington had pitted one downtrodden race against another.
Once the cards were all gathered up and the debts squared, Cecil backed away from the table and stood. “Well, I’m going to head to the smoking car and stretch my legs a bit. Care to join me, Sam?”
“Sure. I can see how Ryder’s doing.”
Cecil went still.
Intuitively, Sam said, “Don’t worry. He’s probably still too angry at the conductor for threatening to put him off the train to remember he’s mad at you, too.”
Leah asked, “Are you sure?” She didn’t want Cecil subjected to any more venom.
The old cavalry soldier looked her in the eyes, and said, “Mrs. Montague, I’ve known Ryder a long time. Deep down inside, he’s a good man.”
Leah wanted to believe him, but Damien’s wintry visage remained a vivid memory.
Cecil seemed satisfied, however, so asked her, “Will you be all right here alone?”
She nodded. “Sure. If something happens, I’ll send a porter for you.”
“Fair enough,” Cecil replied. “We’ll see you in a while then. No more than an hour or two.”
After their departure, Leah sat down at the table and played solitaire. When she tired of that, she went back to the window seat, stretched out and read some more items in the newspapers. She’d just started in on an article about the antics of the forty-ninth Congress when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” she called, guessing it might be the porters with Sam’s cot.
It was Ryder Damien.
Soundlessly, she set the paper aside and sat up. She watched his eyes scan her slowly from her head to her black-stockinged feet. Her shoes were on the floor below her. The faint mockery in his eyes made Leah want to hide her feet beneath her blue-wool dress.
“Do you always run around without your shoes?” he asked.
She didn’t like the veiled censure in his tone, so, just to be contrary, she replied, “Yes.”
It irritated Ryder to find her even more beautiful than he remembered. Over the course of the afternoon, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only imagined the ripe lure in her mouth, exaggerated the sultry feline cut of her eyes and the exquisite richness of her midnight skin. Her black-diamond beauty whispered to him so strongly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he unconsciously touched the small medicine bag he wore beneath his clothing for spiritual protection.
Because the room had gone too silent, and the air had become too thick, Leah felt the need to say something, anything. “If you’re looking for Sam, he and Cecil went to the smoking car.”
“What kind of woman marries a man old enough to be her father?”
The bluntness of his attack threw her, but only for a moment. “One who loves him very much.”
“Him or his money.” It was a statement not a question.
She looked him up and down. “Are you always this rude?”
“Some call it rudeness. I call it truth.”
“I doubt you’d know truth if it slapped you in the face.”
Ryder raised an imperial eyebrow. He’d not expected return fire. “So, the lovely widow has claws—tiny ones, but claws nonetheless. You’re braver than I thought.”
“I’m more everything than you thought, Mr. Damien. So, again, what do you want?”
Ryder grudgingly admitted to finding her combativeness impressive. Her raised chin and flashing dark eyes let him know she wasn’t easily intimidated, but he supposed a woman of her ilk needed to be tough to survive. “I brought Sam’s gear.”
Leah noticed the valises at his feet for the first time. “Set them there by the door.”
He complied, then said, “Thanks for taking him in.”
Leah nodded frostily. “Mr. Waters is more than welcome.”
“How about me? Am I welcome, too?”
Leah surveyed his too-handsome countenance. She’d willingly bet that when he chose to do so he could make a woman melt like ice on a hot day. “Yes, you are, but you’ll have to leave your animosity at the door.”
“It’s well-founded.”
She didn’t begrudge him his anger; he’d borne the pain, she hadn’t, but she refused to be savaged in Monty’s stead. “I don’t doubt that, but it serves no purpose here.”
There was no doubt in Ryder’s mind that she’d married Louis Montague to get his money. For all her prim speech and clothing, her sensual aura was strong. Any initial misgivings Louis might have had about succumbing to her charms had undoubtedly faded the moment he took her in his arms. She was as alluring as a dark-skinned siren at midnight; that mouth alone could have commanded a fortune. Her slim lines seemed to emphasize the generous flare of her hips and the lovely swell of her bosom. He knew very few men who’d walk away from such a tempting piece, and Louis Montague had never walked away from a beautiful woman in his life.
Leah wondered what he might be thinking but decided it didn’t matter. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes.”
He closed the door behind him.
Her jaw tightened.
He crossed his arms. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Why? You’ve already decided who I am.”
“And who might that be?”
“A simple, predatory adventuress.”
He shrugged the magnificent shoulders. “Adventuress, yes. Simple, no. From what I know of Louis, he wouldn’t have left his money to a simple woman.”
“On that we agree.”
By the Spirits, she was beautiful, Ryder thought to himself. His half brother, Seth, would undoubtedly try to bed her as soon as the formal introductions were over, stepmother or not.
Leah had no intentions of telling him her life story. A man that arrogant wouldn’t believe the truth anyway. She also guessed if he knew she’d married Monty on his deathbed, he’d move heaven and earth to keep the estate out her hands in spite of Judge Raddock. “So, do you need to stay here with us until we reach Denver or not?”
“No.”
Leah thought that a blessing.
“You look relieved,” he replied bluntly.
Her reply was equally as blunt. “I am. I don’t want to spend the rest of the journey verbally defending myself.”
“You seem to be holding your own.”
“Compliments now?”
“More truth.”
They silently evaluated each other.
Leah wanted him gone. “Is there anything else?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Then, as I said, Mr. Waters is in the smoking car.”
Ryder inclined his head, turned and exited.
Leah growled at the closed door.
That evening, Leah shared dinner with Cecil and Sam. She had a grand time listening and laughing at their stories. Nobody mentioned Ryder Damien, and that made it grander.
Leah, Sam, and Cecil spent the balance of the trip playing cards, backgammon, and enjoying each other’s company. Leah was especially glad to have Sam along because his friendliness toward Cecil seemed to have helped ease Cecil’s pain over losing Monty. Ryder Damien stayed away from their little group, and that suited Leah just fine.
When the train finally reached Denver, the travel-weary Leah looked forward to walking around on terra firma. Denver turned out to be a surprisingly robust town. She’d expected it to be quiet and small, instead it was as busy as any big city back East. The depot was noisy with people, vendors hawking their wares, and the sounds of train whistles and engines. As she stood on the wind
y platform waiting for Cecil to retrieve their trunks, the cold gray day made her shiver inside her thick black cloak. After the monotonous sameness of the plains, she thought the mountains would be an exhilarating sight, but they were as gray as the day. The rugged peaks resembled dour, almost disapproving faces.
Sam, trunks in hand, came over to say good-bye. “Be seeing you around, Mrs. Montague. Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime, Sam.”
“Remember what I said about calling on me if you need anything.”
“I’ll remember. Thanks for the company.”
“My pleasure. I already said good-bye to Cecil. He’ll be along directly. Do you want me to wait here with you until he gets back?”
Leah was pleased by his generosity. “No, that won’t be necessary. I should be okay. Besides, Mr. Damien’s waiting for you. I don’t want him any angrier at me than he is already.”
Sam looked over at the tight-lipped Ryder standing and waiting just a few feet away. “He’ll come around. You’ll see.”
Leah didn’t want him to come around; she didn’t want anything from Monty’s bitter youngest son.
Sam departed with a wave.
While the hustle and bustle of the depot swirled around her, Leah patiently waited for Cecil’s return.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Leah turned in response to the male voice and found herself staring into the watery brown eyes of a sad-faced, skinny little White man in an ill-fitting brown suit. Beside him stood the conductor. The pleased look on the conductor’s face should have warned her.
“You Mrs. Leah Montague?”
Leah answered warily. “Yes.”
“Got a summons for you.”
A confused Leah took the document from his outstretched hand. She opened the seal and her heart stopped. She was being sued!