Her Colorado Man

“This isn’t Jack, the pup you drew for me.”

“No, Jack stayed up north to pull sleds. He wouldn’t have been happy here.”

The puppy was good-sized already, with unusual pale blue eyes and an erect head. It had a broad face and triangular ears, a bulky muzzle and a thick coat. Its facial markings looked like a white mask on his gray fur. Mariah had never seen a breed like it before. She knew from the letters that the puppy had been born to one of his sled dogs.

“Who’s Yuri?” John James asked.

“Yuri’s my dog,” Wesley replied. “I sold all my others, but couldn’t bear to part with him.”

“Where is he?”

“Outdoors.”

The young dog and the hounds sniffed each other with tails wagging.

Wes’s charming grin turned up the corner of his lips. “Your pup’s used to being around a pack of sled dogs and the rest of his litter.”

John James reached for the puppy, and it backed away.

“Let him smell you first,” Wes instructed. “Show him the back of your hand.”

The furry dog sniffed John James’s hand, licked it and then stood with his paws on John James’s shirtfront.

The crowd murmured their appreciation and John James turned his face aside to avoid the dog’s lapping tongue. He giggled with delight.

“You must be hungry.” Henrietta had joined them and now stood just behind Mariah’s shoulder.

Mariah turned and offered her mother her forearm. “This is my mother.” Friederick joined them. “And my father.”

Henrietta released Mariah to walk straight to Wesley. She raised her hand to his chest, then his shoulder. “You’re tall.”

Wes stood silent beneath her appraisal.

Henrietta raised both hands and ran them over his dark wavy hair, loosening another curl in the process, and then trailed her fingers over his forehead and nose. “Isn’t he a handsome one, Mariah?” she asked.

Mariah’s neck warmed and the heat spread to her cheeks. Wes Burrows was definitely a ruggedly handsome man. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him she thought so, but she had to answer her mother. “He’s a handsome one, Mama.”

Chapter Four

Laughter erupted around them.

Henrietta took Wesley’s hand and placed it on her arm. “Come, get a plate and eat. It’s my father’s birthday and we’re celebrating with our traditional dishes. Do you like schweinswurst?”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever had it, ma’am. But the food sure smells good.”

Mariah stood rooted in place as conversation swelled to normal. Her brothers blended back into the gathering, and her mother led Wesley toward the food tables.

Roth poured a mug full from the barrel and handed it to Wesley, who accepted the beer with a nod of thanks.

John James followed with the puppy at his heels and fed the animal bites of sausage without anyone scolding him.

Mariah’s newly married sister, Annika, took Mariah’s hand and led her toward the dining hall. “This is an exciting day.”

Mariah nodded.

“John James looks so happy.”

Now Wes was seated at the long table and Henrietta directed Mariah’s youngest sister Sylvia to fill his mug already. A heaping plate of food befitting a logger sat before him, and in between answering questions from others at the table, he seemed to be enjoying it.

Annika urged Mariah toward the empty chair beside him, and reluctantly, she took it.

“Where did you leave your plate?” Annika asked.

Mariah couldn’t remember, so Sylvia brought her new servings and a fresh mug of beer.

Wesley glanced from the mug placed before Mariah to all the others around the table. The Spanglers drank beer with their meal as though it was water. Even the children had brimming mugs. He’d never seen beer served outside a saloon.

The food was pure heaven on his tongue, rich sauces and savory spices. This was a meal cooked by women who knew their craft and employed it seriously. His meals over a typical season consisted of salmon and small game roasted over an open fire. An occasional stay in a town sometimes garnered him a few vegetables and maybe a dried fruit pie that cost an arm and a leg.

“What is this?” he asked, of a particularly tasty serving on his plate and Mariah politely explained the potato dumpling.

She pushed around the food on her plate with her fork. It was plain she was uncomfortable with his presence, and he didn’t really blame her. John James waited until a chair became available across from them and climbed up.

“Would you like some more to eat?” Mariah asked her son.

The boy shook his head and his gaze fixed on Wes.

The way the child looked at him made Wes sit a little straighter, eat his food a little more slowly. Clearly, the boy was completely enamored with having a father of his own.

A tiny arrow of guilt tried to stab his conscience, but Wes used his determination as a defense. He was giving John James the father he had longed for. He knew firsthand what it was like to see other kids with parents and have none. Of course, John James had his mother, a woman with fire in her eyes when she looked at him, though she avoided that most of the time.

She was spittin’ mad.

Wes finished his meal and polished off another mug of beer. It was fine brew indeed, with a dark full flavor like nothing he’d enjoyed before. “I believe this is the best beer I’ve ever had.”

Mariah nodded in her suspicious way, her wide blue gaze not lifting all the way to his. “Spangler Brewery makes the finest lager in the country.”

“The children drink it, too,” he remarked.

Something more flashed in her gaze when she directed it to him that time. Had he made her feel defensive? He hadn’t meant to. “Some outside our culture find it an outrageous custom,” she replied. “But we don’t know anything different.”

She had lustrous fair hair fastened in a loose knot atop her head, and skin as pale and smooth as the Chinese women who worked the laundries in the gold camps. Each time she looked at him, a rosy-pink hue tinted her complexion.

She was angry. Angry and wary, and he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t even positive why he needed to make this trip and insert himself as John James’s father, but he’d been pulled.

And after seeing the expression on the boy’s face, after meeting him, he wasn’t sorry. Not a damned bit sorry.

“Can I see Yuri?” the boy asked.

“Sure.” Wes glanced aside at the boy’s mother. “As long as your mama approves, we’ll go outdoors later.”

“How many dogs did you have?”

“Eight fine sled dogs,” he replied. “Plus the occasional pups.”

“Where did they sleep?”

“They camped under the stars with me,” he replied. “Most usually I set up my tent and we all shared it. Keeps the snow from drifting over us during the night.”

“You sleep right out in the snow with no house or nothing?”

“No houses out in the Yukon wilderness between towns and tent camps,” he replied.

Two more children sidled in beside John James to listen. A girl and a smaller boy. “What did you eat?”

“These is my cousins, Emma and Paul,” John James told him. “This here’s my papa.” The pride in his voice tugged at Wes’s heart. “He delivers mail in Alaska.” He turned back to Wes. “What did you eat?”

“Pleased to meet you,” Wes said to the wide-eyed children, then replied to John James’s question. “Sometimes I cut a hole in the ice and caught salmon for our suppers. Ate a lot of dried fish and dried meat during the day. In fair weather I found duck eggs and snared rabbits.”

“Wasn’t you scared of coyotes and mountain lions?” John James asked.

“No mountain lions, but I was always on the lookout for wolves and bears.”

“Did you ever shoot a bear?” Paul asked.

“Yup. One time I had a good shot on an elk. Was looking down the barrel of my rifle when I heard branches snapping behind me. The elk bounded off.” He gestured with a rapid swing of his arm. “I turned around to see a silver-tipped grizzly heading straight for me. That bear must’ve been twice as tall as me. At least he looked it from where I stood.”

“What did you do?” one of the boys asked.

A few more children had joined them and now the adults had turned their attention to his story. One of Mariah’s male cousins leaned against a doorway. Others stood nearby listening as attentively as the youngsters.

“I quick ran behind a tree and kind of circled it to buy some time. The bear followed and swiped at me. I didn’t know how well I’d do shooting at it up close like that, but I fired. First shot didn’t faze him.”

“He didn’t die?” John James asked.

“Nope, he raised up on his hind legs and charged forward. So I shot again. Must’ve hit an artery that time, ’cause blood spurted on the snow. That big fella lowered to all fours and took off running. About twenty yards down the hill, he fell over a log and died.”

“What did your dogs do all that time?” Mariah’s oldest brother Dutch asked from the corner, where he stood with a mug of beer.

“They’re taught to stay quiet and wait for commands,” Wes told him. “Protecting sled dogs can mean your life, and that load was my livelihood.”

“What’d you do with the bear?” John James asked.

“Traded his hide for coffee and milk.”

“You skinned ’im?” Paul asked.

“Ewww.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “Grandfather has a bearskin in his room. It’s icky.”

“In the Yukon people use bearskins for blankets and rugs and even coverings for doorways,” Wes explained. “The grease from their fat is used for all kinds of things.”

“Let Mr. Burrows get comfortable now.” Henrietta shooed away children and instructed her niece to remove his plate. “Come, Wesley. We’ll sit by the fire. “Hildy will bring you some dessert.”

“I’d better wait on the dessert, ma’am. I’m about to pop as it is.”

“We gotta go see the other dog,” John James reminded him.

Wes glanced at Mariah. “With your mother’s permission.”

She nodded her approval.

Henrietta rolled up a newspaper the women had scraped plates into, and handed it to him. Wes thanked her.

John James patted his leg to get the pup’s attention, and the three of them headed out of doors.

Yuri met them with his tail wagging, but he didn’t jump up or sniff at John James or the food until Wes gave him permission with a clicking sound.

“What did that noise mean?” John James asked.

“I told him he could come close and sniff. He won’t jump on you. It’s important for a work dog to be obedient, and it’s especially important for a dog that’s so strong.”

It was obvious that the furry animal intimidated John James, and Wes understood that dogs of this breed were uncommon outside the far northern territories.

“Where is he gonna sleep?” the boy asked.

“He’s used to being out-of-doors in all kinds of weather,” Wes replied. “This is the fairest night he’s ever seen. He’ll sleep out here.”

“Where is my puppy gonna sleep?”

“He’s used to being outdoors, too. Pack dogs sleep close together to keep each other warm, and they get used to the company.” Yuri had sniffed out the food, so Wes opened the paper on the ground for him. “But honestly, that pup was a good bunkmate on the ship. So it’s up to you to teach him where you want him to sleep.”

“I’m gonna ask Mama if he can sleep with me. Grandfather’s hounds sleep in his rooms with him.”

Wes nodded. “All right.”

John James looked at Yuri’s harness. “Are you gonna tie him up?”

“Safer for him if he’s loose.”

“He won’t run away?”

“He’ll likely discover the woods yonder, but he’ll come back.”

Back inside, the blind woman greeted them and led Wes to the great room where, with a few words, she made seating space, then pointed for Mariah to sit on his other side.

John James settled on the rug with the puppy gnawing on a rubber ball beside him.

“Mama, can my dog sleep with me?”

Mariah observed the way her son stroked the animal’s fur. “We’ll give it a test to see if he does all right. You will have to learn to take him out before bedtime and again first thing in the morning. If there are any messes on your floor, he can’t be your roommate.”

“I promise,” he said with all seriousness and gave Wes a pleased grin.

“Tell us of the women in Alaska,” Henrietta prompted.

“Well, ma’am, the females are mostly from native tribes, the Tlingits, Haidas, and Tsimshians…and near the coasts the Eskimos.”

Little Emma had wedged her way into the gathering of children that had once again formed. “What do the Eskimos wear?”

“Sealskin leggings and coats, rabbit skin boots mostly,” he replied.

“It sounds like a fascinating place,” Henrietta commented.

“And beautiful in its own way. The cities are filled with sightseers,” he told her. “They are the ones who pay the highest prices for food and mail delivery.”

His gaze fell upon Mariah, seated quietly beside him, her slender fingers linked in her lap. She asked no questions, didn’t even appear to be interested in the conversation, though she paid close attention to her son’s animated face as well as those of her family members.

Faye brought Wes a cup of rich black coffee that smelled wonderful and tasted even better.

“Be off now,” Henrietta told the children. “Give our guest air.”

They obediently scrambled away.

He searched the faces of the family members, watched them interact with each other.

The children divided into groups to play games, and the adults picked up their own conversations.

Wes found it hard to imagine that John James and Mariah were related to every person in this room. Mariah had four brothers and two sisters he’d met so far, as well as an army of cousins, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews.

He didn’t know what it felt like to belong to a family. Or what it was like to look into a mother’s face or see a father’s hands and recognize where some part of him originated. What did it feel like to know the love and secure acceptance of people with the same name or the same eyes and a shared history?

He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and asked quietly, “You work at the brewery?”

Seeming startled that he’d addressed her directly, she nodded.

“What do you do?”

She, too, checked to see that no one overheard. “I oversee production and handle promotional events. Right now we’re getting ready for the Exposition that opens in Denver July 17.”

“I’ve heard talk of it. I read in the New York Times about the mining companies creating exhibits. Railroads and artists will have displays, too. They’re going to start a two hundred and fifty horsepower Corliss engine on opening day. I read that the Denver hotels are booked already.”

He’d been reading newspapers for the past couple of months, first while recuperating and then aboard the ship. Her surprised expression said she hadn’t expected him to know so much about it.

“Over a year ago, I reserved an entire floor of rooms at a hotel. We’ve constructed a building inside the grounds where we’ll cook, store lager and have displays of the brewery’s history. An outdoor beer garden will be set up for entertaining.”

“Sounds like an enormous undertaking.”

“We’ll be giving away beer the whole time. We have special bottles and labels. Handling the advance production has been a yearlong project. Some of us will be on site at all times, soliciting contracts. Now that we’re bottling, this is an opportunity to spread our product and our name across the country.”

It was more than she’d said since he’d arrived, and her enthusiasm for her subject was apparent. “Making beer is an unusual occupation for a woman.”

“Not for a Spangler woman,” she replied. “My mother and grandmother worked at the brewery. It’s a family business.”

He tilted his head. “I admire that.”

She lifted her bright gaze and searched his face as though seeking his sincerity. She was lovely, this prickly woman, but her blue eyes sparked fire.

Her resentment was understandable. He was butting into her family. And because she had a secret she didn’t want revealed, she wasn’t calling him on his deceit. He wouldn’t let himself feel bad about that. He was giving her son more than he was taking from her.

John James giggled and pulled his pant leg away from the puppy’s nipping teeth, and Mariah turned her attention. Her entire expression softened when she looked at him.

Louis spoke to Wes about his friend Otto, whom Wes had known over the years he delivered mail from the Juneau City station, so they shared the loss of a friend.

Eventually the children grew tired and sought out their parents, and a trio of women came to stand before Wes and Mariah.

“We prepared your room,” the one named Annika said. She was the same height as Mariah, but with much paler hair and a sprinkling of freckles. “Would you like me to help John James get ready for bed?”

Mariah stood quickly. “No, I can do it.”

John James looked up at Wes with a hopeful expression. “Will you tuck me in?”

Wes glanced from his cherubic face to Mariah’s barely disguised scowl. She gave a stiff nod that must have pained her.

“I will,” he replied.

“Give us ten minutes,” she said and took the boy’s hand. “Annika, please show Wesley the way.”

Her sister perched in the spot Mariah had vacated. “We’ve all been eager to meet Mariah’s husband. John James has been talking about your arrival for weeks.”

Wes smiled politely. “Pleasure to meet you, too, ma’am.”

“Did you find any gold?”

“A little here and there. I settled on a job that was as good as gold, and a sure thing.”

“As long as you survived the bears,” Dutch added from across the room.

“There was that,” Wes answered, and several of them laughed.

“Don’t crowd the man,” Louis said good-naturedly.

Eventually Annika got up to lead Wes through the foyer and up a wide set of curved stairs that opened into a comfortable open area with sofas, desks and shelves full of games and books.

“This is where the youngsters who live in the big house play and do their schoolwork,” she explained. “John James’s room is on the left down this hall.” She stopped and indicated an open door.

Wes thanked her with a nod and entered.

John James lay in a narrow bed with a thick flannel quilt folded down to the bottom. On the other side of the room, a sleepy-eyed Paul watched them from a similar bed.

Mariah, who’d been sitting beside her boy, stood and backed away from John James’s side, so Wes could approach.

“Hey, big fella,” Wes said to her son.

“Hey. How come you walk like that anyway?”

“Got my leg stuck in a bear trap last winter,” Wes told him. “It’s all but healed now.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” John James told him, his eyes solemn.

Wes’s chest got tight. “I’m glad, too.”

“I dreamed about you a hundred times.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh. An’ you look just like I dreamed.”

“Did I walk like this in your dreams?”

“Don’t matter none to me.”

Uncertainty overcame Wes in a torrent. This was why he was here. This boy needed a father. But how would he know what to do? How would he show John James love and teach him all he needed to know to grow up to be confident and proud? He didn’t even know how to tell a child good-night. “Sleep well,” he said.

A moment of silence passed.

“Papa?”

He wouldn’t feel bad. He wouldn’t. “Yes?”

“Mama says I’m not too big for hugs.”

Wes’s throat constricted. This impressionable, fragile little person believed Wes was the father he’d been yearning for. Wes had set himself up for an unbelievably huge responsibility. It didn’t matter he’d never been on either end of a night like this. It didn’t matter he couldn’t find words. It didn’t matter where he’d come from or that he had no previous examples of fatherhood or family. All that mattered was making a difference in this child’s life…a difference for the better.

He perched on the edge of the bed. The instant he leaned forward, John James’s skinny arms shot out and closed around his neck.

The little boy smelled like clean sheets and castile soap. His hair was cool and soft against Wes’s cheek.

A hundred nights gazing at the aurora borealis couldn’t compare to the wonder of a child in his arms.

Wes had come home.

Behind her, her sisters and cousin sniffled, and Mariah turned to see them dabbing tears from their cheeks. She had tears in her eyes, too, but they were from biting her tongue so she wouldn’t scream at the intruder to clear the hell out of her son’s room and leave their home.

“Go to sleep now,” she said to John James.

“Papa, can you ride with me to school in the morning?”

Wesley tucked the covers around the boy’s shoulders. “I suppose that’d be okay.”

Mariah turned and headed out. Tucking in her son, walking him to school, letting her boy call him Papa! What was next?

Her sisters and Faye joined a row forming in the hallway. As she stepped into the hall, Mariah came face-to-face with the half dozen young women, all wearing expectant grins.

They appeared suspiciously happy about something, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Your room is ready,” Faye said and took Wes’s arm to lead him forward to the opposite door.

Hold on, you’re taking him to my room! Mariah thought in a panic.

Sylvia caught her hand and smiled into her face. “Mariah’s coming with us for a few minutes, Wes.”

As the youngest and still unmarried sister, Sylvia had a room of her own at the end of the hall near their parents. She and Annika swept Mariah into the confines of that room and guided her behind the dressing screen where a pitcher of warm water, towels and fragrant soap awaited.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mariah asked.

“Quickly now,” Annika said. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

“What is this all about?” she asked.

Annika didn’t wait, but came right behind the screen and turned Mariah away to unbutton her dress and push it to her hips. “We didn’t get to do all this when you were first married because you were in Chicago. So we’re doing it now.”

Faye spoke from the other side of the screen. “It’s easy enough to see that things are a little awkward between you two. We just want to give you a nudge in the right direction.”

“It’s natural to be nervous,” Annika told her. “Your husband’s been gone so long. But this is an exciting time, Mariah. Try to relax and enjoy his return.”

Annika wet a cloth and soaped it. Mariah took it from her and shooed both of her sisters to the other side of the screen. “None of this is necessary.”

They weren’t listening to her. Even her cousins had filed into the room, and now stood giggling and teasing. Trapped in her web of deception, Mariah washed and dried, then yelped when Sylvia spritzed her with cologne. Both her sisters dropped a voluminous silky sheer nightdress over her head and tied the ribbons.

Mariah looked down in mortification. “You can see right through this!”

Faye laughed. “That’s the idea!”

“Where did this come from?” Mariah asked.

“It’s a gift from us.” Annika tugged her forward and urged her to sit at Sylvia’s dressing table. Mariah crossed her hands over her breasts in embarrassment. “I need my wrapper.”

“You can’t wear that old thing tonight,” Annika told her.

In minutes, her hair was brushed, her cheeks powdered and Annika applied glycerin to her lips. Faye dropped a floral-patterned satin robe around her shoulders and Mariah gladly grabbed it and closed it around her.

They guided her along the hallway with the utmost giggling and shushing, finally pausing before her closed door.

“We’re so happy for you, Mariah,” Annika said in a throaty whisper. “Now get reacquainted with your husband.”

One of them rapped and opened the door. Several pairs of hands urged Mariah through the opening. At the very last second, the robe was lifted away and out.