Her Colorado Man

Wesley Burrows hunkered down until he was level with her child. The look in his obsidian eyes confused her even more. The look was almost relieved, almost desperate, almost…loving.

“John James?” he asked.

John James nodded, looked up at Mariah and then back. “Are you my papa?”

Mariah’s throat grew tight with panicky denial. Denial she couldn’t voice. Dozens of eyes were on them. She’d never fainted in her life, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m Wes Burrows,” the man said. “I have all your letters. Every one. I’ve read them a hundred times.”

“A hundred?”

“Maybe more.”

John James’s face lit with pure elation. “I read the book you sent. Mama helped me with the big words. There was lots of ’em.”

The man glanced up at her with a crooked smile, but she averted her gaze to John James. As soon as they picked up their conversation, she studied him again.

His voice was deep and low, with a smoother accent than she was accustomed to hearing. “You’re taller than I expected,” Wes said.

“So are you.”

The stranger smiled.

“Mama says I grow like a weed.”

Mariah looked away so she wouldn’t meet his eyes again.

“Did you cross the ocean?” John James asked with rapt fascination.

“I did. I had a stateroom aboard the White Star and came ashore in Seattle.”

“I studied the ocean in my geography book,” John James said with wide-eyed amazement. “Some ships sink in the water.”

“Tragically, some do,” he agreed.

Mariah had been unaware of her son’s concern about this man’s ship being lost, but putting herself in his place, he’d been without a father his entire life. When he’d learned his was on the way, he’d likely imagined all manner of heartbreaking possibilities. She’d caused him this worry, but she’d had no choice. No choice in any of it.

John James’s face was lit with discovery and pride. He turned to glance at the nearest family members.

For the first time, Mariah noted that Wilhelm and Arlen, along with her two older brothers, Gerd and Dutch, stood in a protective semicircle behind her and John James. Her gaze touched on each of their faces, noting their solemn expressions of concern. No doubt her body language hadn’t alleviated their instincts.

With deliberate purpose, she relaxed her facial muscles and her shoulders, garnering her gumption for what she knew she must do. “Wesley,” she said in the most cordial tone she could muster.

Immediately he stood, giving her his nerve-racking attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

She turned to include her brothers in their circle. “Meet my brothers, Gerd, Dutch, Arlen and Wilhelm.”

Wes shook hands with the fair-haired men one at a time, each man weighing the measure of the other in those brief grasps.

“I brought you something,” Wes said, turning back to John James.

John James’s eyes lit in anticipation. “What is it?”

“Wait right here.” Wes turned and headed back for the front door, giving Mariah her first notice of the way he favored one leg in an awkward gait. John James looked up at her. He’d noticed, too. So had everyone else.

Within moments, the man returned, but now all attention was drawn from his limp to the wooly white-and-gray puppy he carried over his forearm.

John James yipped his own bark of excitement and darted forward.

Grandfather’s mountain hounds were every bit as interested as John James, wagging their tails and sniffing the air.

“You brought me a puppy?” John James asked excitedly. “What’s his name? Did he come on the boat with you? What does he eat?”

This time when Wesley knelt to place the dog on the floor, Mariah noticed the way he grimaced, realizing the position caused him pain. “He’s meant to be your dog, so you’ll do the naming,” he replied. “And yes, he and Yuri were good company on the trip. They’ve eaten a lot of fish. And small animals mostly.”

“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.