Her Colorado Man

by Cheryl St. John

  The principal showed up then, a tall, wiry man who always wore a black suit. He admonished them to go directly to sleep and straightaway he turned off the gas lamp on the wall, plunging the cold room into darkness.

  Oftentimes the younger boys or the newly arrived cried themselves to sleep. Sometimes one of them said a quiet prayer, pleading with God for safety or clothing or…family.

  Wes let his gaze touch each boy in this cozy, warm room. Knowing these children would never experience hunger or loneliness or unworthiness gave him deep satisfaction. Their huge enveloping family would always see to it that they were loved and provided for. The fact that they didn’t even recognize it—that they took this security for granted as the only manner of life they knew made the knowledge all the sweeter.

  The only thing missing in John James’s life had been a father. Wes didn’t regret his decision to be that person for him.

  But he wondered what that kind of security and love—what being wanted—felt like. John James was the only person who’d ever cared whether or not Wes stayed, the only one who’d looked at him as though he was someone important. Someone loved.

  And for the first time Wes recognized the responsibility of having someone who cared for him. Accountability like this was foreign, but he liked it. He had more value in his own eyes because of this boy. He would never let him down.

  Wes stood and left, softly closing the door behind him.

  Mariah got out of bed and stood for a moment. Her head wasn’t light, and she kept her balance fine. What was wrong with her right now had nothing to do with the knock on the head she’d received. Her jangling nerves and thumping heart were a result of Wes and what had just happened.

  She didn’t want to analyze the experience. She didn’t really want to think about kissing Wes, but she couldn’t help reliving the unique feelings that had flooded her. Considering the kiss after the fact conjured up a panicky feeling she hadn’t experienced at the time. She couldn’t stay in her room right now, couldn’t deal with this unpleasant boxed-in reaction.

  Grabbing her robe, she pulled it on, slid her feet into her slippers and made her way toward the back stairs.

  Her grandfather, still dressed in the clothing he’d worn to work that day, met her halfway. “I was just coming up to see how you were doing.”

  She was glad to see him. “I’m well. I think I’ll warm some milk to help me sleep, though. Why don’t you join me?”

  He turned and took the steps slowly, and she walked down beside him. His rooms were on the ground floor now so that he didn’t have to tread those stairs.

  There were still lamps lit in the kitchen and the stove held warmth. She stirred the ashes, added sticks and took a jar of milk from the icebox. Pouring a generous amount into a pan, she set it on the stove to warm.

  Louis sat, and she took a chair at an angle to his. “Your face is flushed,” he said.

  “Probably the heat from the stove.”

  “Stitches look neat.”

  She gave him a rueful grin. “Interesting color, huh?”

  “Half a dozen people assured me you were fine,” he said. “I wanted to see for myself.”

  She got up and poured two cups of warm milk before returning to her seat.

  He gave her a curious glance. “How is it going with Wesley?”

  Mariah raised her fingers from her cup in an aggravated gesture. She glanced toward the doorway. The house was silent, so she answered, “I have a stranger fussing over my son, riding along to work in the morning, eating at our table, pawning himself on my family—and sleeping in my room at night. It’s awkward, and I resent every minute of it.”

  He tapped his knuckles against the tabletop as though thinking before he spoke. “I never imagined anything like this would happen. I never thought he’d come here.” She met his eyes, and read the helpless regret. “He’s a nice enough fellow, isn’t he?”

  Keeping her voice low, she replied, “The fact remains that it’s all a lie. Is he going to stay forever? Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? I can’t help but dread the possibility. What about my life? What about my privacy? I didn’t choose that man as a husband. What if I wanted to marry someone else?”

  “Do you?” Louis asked.

  She rested her head in her hands, elbows planted on the table. “No. I just want the freedom of choice. I no longer have that freedom.” She raised her gaze to his. “As much as I hate him being here, at the same time I also live in fear that he’ll leave, and John James will be left brokenhearted.”

  He nodded. “As do I.”

  “What can we do?”

  A footstep startled them both. “Plotting what to do with me, are you?” Wes stood inside the doorway, the furry pup in one arm. “Didn’t let out the dog before John James fell asleep. I’d best do it.”

  He passed to the back door, and Mariah exchanged a look with her grandfather.

  When Wes came back, he broke a crust of bread from a wrapped loaf on the cutting board and fed it to the dog. He turned to face them. “Come to any conclusions?”

  “You have us over the proverbial barrel, and you know it.” Mariah straightened and sipped her milk. “What I still can’t understand is why.”

  Wes made his way into the pantry and returned with a mug of beer. He pulled out a chair to join them at the table and leaned forward. “I’ve given you my reasoning a dozen times. You can’t accept it. Told you I regretted that I hadn’t thought this all the way through, and I’m sorry you feel trapped.

  “But I’m not sorry about the way John James has taken to me. I don’t regret seeing the pride and pleasure on his face. I don’t intend to take that away from him. I can’t.”

  Mariah couldn’t help asking, “What about me?”

  “Have I disrupted your life so much?” he asked. “Maybe you’re angry now because you don’t hate the situation as much as you want to. Maybe you’re even softening toward me.”

  He was referring to that kiss and they both knew it. Was that part of his plan, too? “You think too highly of your own charm,” she replied. “Why should I want to be married to you?”

  “You were scared before.” He took a long drink and ran his tongue across his upper lip. “But you’re more scared now.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Then you’re afraid of yourself, ma’am. But I guarantee you’re afraid.” He set down the mug. “And it’s because of that kiss.”

  Chapter Ten

  At his ungentlemanly revelation, heat climbed Mariah’s neck to scald her cheeks. A quick glance at her grandfather showed mild amusement, and that angered her all the more.

  Bold as could be, Wes looked her in the eye. “Kissing me scared the wits out of you. I’m guessing that’s because you liked it.”

  Just when she thought he couldn’t get any bolder, he pulled something like this. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you don’t know me. That was a mistake. This—” she gestured wildly as though groping for a word to describe her hellish predicament “—arrangement is not working.”

  He acquiesced with a curt nod. “I have to admit I’m not all that keen on sleeping on the floor for the rest of my life.”

  Again Mariah looked at Louis, now listening with fascination. Her grandfather composed his expression. “Surely there’s a solution here.”

  She didn’t have much hope for that, but she had nothing more to lose. She rested her hands flat on the table and leaned toward him. “I’m listening.”

  “Well.” Louis tapped his fingers on the wooden surface. “What if the two of you took your own house? One of the nice ones near town—or build your own right here by the others. You could keep up the appearance, yet have separate rooms.”

  Wes rubbed his palms together thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind building a house.”

  He glanced at Mariah.

  She shot her gaze to Louis. What kind of plan was that? Was he trying to force them together now? “I’ve lived here my
entire life. So has John James. I’ve never had any desire to live on my own. I’m…secure here with my family.”

  “All right.” Wes was silent for a moment. “We could tell your family that it’s not working out for us. I could get a place of my own.”

  Mariah let her imagination run with the idea of Wes living separately, still being a father to John James. It could work—would probably work. Everyone believed he’d left her on her own for years. It would take a saint to forgive a man for that and welcome him back as her husband. “I’ll think about it.”

  John James would be sorely disappointed.

  “So there’s something to think about.” Louis scooted his chair back. “If you’re in pain or tired, you stay home and rest tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see how I feel in the morning,” she replied.

  “Good night then. To both of you.”

  Her grandfather stood and left the kitchen.

  Mariah picked up the two empty cups. “Why did you do that in front of him?” she whispered.

  “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  His implication needled her. “You’re saying I do?”

  “We both know you do.”

  Ignoring his comment, she stood and moved away.

  “What did you want to talk to me about this morning?” Wes asked. “Before the accident.”

  She stacked the empty cups by the sink. She wasn’t in a mood to talk to him about this now, but this marginally safer subject had to be discussed. “Grandfather wants you to accompany me to Denver. It’s not my idea, mind you. A lot of the family is going. Some will come back home while others attend, but I’ll be there the entire time.”

  “Why does he want me to go?”

  “He feels I’ll be safer if you’re with me.”

  Wes didn’t say anything right away, so she looked at him.

  His eyes showed puzzlement, but a bigger dose of pleasure. “He trusts me to protect you?”

  “Apparently.” And if today was any proof, the old man’s instincts were right. The frustrating fact was that she trusted him with John James’s welfare. That’s why she wanted him with her in Denver.

  The puppy tugged on the corner of a rug that had been tossed over the woodbin, and scattered bits of bark on the floor. Wes got up and shooed him away, then knelt to scoop up the mess. “What about you?”

  She wondered if she had more to fear from herself than any harm Wes might do her. “Not all of the men can leave the brewery at once. I want John James with me part of the time. I’ll feel safer if you’re there to help keep track of him. I’ll be busy, but I can’t bear not to see him for weeks. Faye will bring him when she and her children come.”

  Wes tossed the shards of wood into the stove and closed the door. “I’ll be happy to watch over him. And help you.” He came back to the table. “What all does the Exposition involve, anyway?”

  “Nearly every state and territory in the Union is participating,” she answered. “Nine or ten years ago a huge building was constructed for a main pavilion, and the grounds cover nearly a mile. This year there will be exhibits by artists and mining companies and railroads, and Wells Fargo is even sponsoring a theater.”

  “Can’t even picture it,” he said.

  “Many of the states hold their own industrial Expositions,” she told him. “But it’s exciting to put them all together for an event like this.”

  “I’m looking forward to it now.”

  Things couldn’t get any worse. Her life had changed tracks so suddenly that she didn’t know where she was headed anymore. She was on a speeding train with no stops, no destination, no purpose. Mariah calmed herself with a deep breath. She had a purpose and that was to protect her son. And herself.

  She’d vowed that she would figure out what Wes was up to, but for the life of her she couldn’t see how he was benefiting from being here, other than what he claimed: having a family, showing John James that a father cared about him.

  If he was lying and had an ulterior motive, what was it? If he conned her into falling for him and marrying him, he didn’t necessarily gain anything. There was no way he could make any headway moving in on Grandfather’s position. Her father and brothers held all the authority.

  The final—and maybe worst—possibility was that he was exactly who he claimed and had been drawn to John James with a true desire to be a father.

  She didn’t want to accept that option because, being honest with herself, it was the one that frightened her the most. If his motivation was exactly as he claimed, it didn’t excuse him from being presumptuous or rash, or probably even a little idealistic, but it made him caring and real.

  She couldn’t handle him if he was genuine. She couldn’t hate him. Couldn’t resist him. Couldn’t fight him. Couldn’t breathe.

  She might be the only one lying.

  Mariah’s chest tightened so quickly, she slapped her hand flat against it to force air back into her lungs.

  “Are you all right?” Wes stepped in close with outstretched hands as though to catch her if she fell.

  “Please don’t touch me,” she managed.

  “What is it? Your head?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to lie down.”

  Wes set his mug beside the two coffee cups on the sideboard, banked the ashes in the stove and turned out the flames on the gaslights. He followed closely as she climbed the back stairs.

  Mariah was deeply anxious about something, and he didn’t take her fears lightly. Part of her jumpiness was his presence, understandable, but not all. Not even most.

  There was something else eating at her. Something that kept her in reserve and overly cautious. Maybe John James wasn’t the only one who needed him. Maybe as much as she hated to think about it and refused to entertain the idea—maybe she needed him, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next weeks passed quickly. There was much to do in preparation for the Exhibition, and the family worked to finish the tasks. One entire Saturday was spent labeling the remaining bottles. The brewery wasn’t operating at full capacity that day, so the children came along and joined in.

  A suggestion passed from person to person, and every family agreed to attend church the following morning. When every last one of them showed up, the benches were full to bursting. Toward the end, Reverend Thomas said a prayer for the success and safety of those participating in the Exposition, and the service ended.

  Delia Renlow stopped Mariah and Wes as they descended the wooden steps into the bright sunlight. “Mariah! It was quite something seeing your whole family in church this morning.” From beneath the brim of a hat festooned with silk daisies, she smiled and turned her gaze to the man beside Mariah. “And this must be your husband. Oh, do introduce us.”

  Lucas Renlow came up beside his wife, still carrying his hat. Mariah gave him a brief smile. The summer after she’d finished school in Ruby Creek, she and Lucas had attended a few socials and once shared a picnic by the creek. By fall she’d told him she no longer wanted to see him. The next spring he’d married Delia.

  “Delia, Lucas, this is my husband, Wesley Burrows. Wes, these are friends I went to school with, Delia and Lucas Renlow.”

  The men shook hands.

  “I must tell you the town was all abuzz with news of your arrival,” Delia told him. “Some of us were beginning to doubt there was a Mr. Burrows.” She said it with a smile and lighthearted inflection, but Mariah guessed she’d been the one speculating. Delia loved gossip.

  “I am very real, Mrs. Renlow,” Wes assured her.

  “I can certainly see that.”

  “Welcome to Ruby Creek,” Lucas told him, then caught his wife’s arm and led her away.

  Arlen had come to stand beside Wes. Once the couple was out of earshot, he said, “Delia’s always been jealous of Mariah because she and Lucas were sweet on each other once.”

  Mariah swatted her brother’s arm. “You’re still a pesky little brother, do you know that?”

  Wes
studied Mariah’s face for her reaction.

  She caught his look. “Grammar school,” she told him with a shake of her head to negate any seriousness. “Let’s get home to dinner.”

  Sunday dinner was a noisy affair, much like the night Wes had arrived. Now as he stood behind Roth, he teased the young fellow about leaving some apfelstrudel for him.

  “My mama made this batch from the best apples in the orchard,” Roth told him. “I helped pick ’em, so I get the biggest share.”

  Wes turned and sought Betz Fuermann’s smiling face and raised his empty plate. “I’ll pick apples any day you give the word.”

  “This season’s aren’t ready yet,” Betz replied. “But come fall, you’ll be on a ladder in our orchard.”

  “Do I get a bigger share now? Because my word is good.”

  Roth turned and plopped a scoop of the strudel on Wes’s plate. “There! Now stop cryin’.”

  Wes grinned and slid a slice of cake onto the plate beside the first dessert. “I’ve never eaten so well in my life.”

  Mariah stood near the dining room doorway, observing…watching how Wes had embedded himself into her family, into all of their lives so easily. So effortlessly. They were good people. Trusting. Loving, good-hearted and kind.

  For the most part.

  Annika and Robert stood not far behind Wes, Robert’s hands at her waist as they waited in line. Her sister smiled at something her husband said in her ear and turned and looked up at him. The adoration in her eyes sent a velvet shaft of longing into Mariah’s heart. Robert touched the tip of his wife’s nose in a playful gesture. Right in the midst of this teeming swell of conversation and organized chaos, they were on their own island. Content. At peace.

  Mariah envied them so much her eyes watered. She blinked and let her gaze move along. Not far behind them stood Hildy. She didn’t join a conversation, didn’t smile. Once she gained her turn at the dessert table, she prepared two plates and carried them away.