Her Colorado Man

by Cheryl St. John

  A horse and rider passed, and John James turned to watch the man and his mount. Her son had lost his baby fat, and the curve of his cheek along with the way he squinted against the sunlight under the bill of his cap sharply reminded Mariah of the man she’d despised so intently.

  The thought stabbed her with fear.

  Why now? Why this way?

  She looked away, and then back at John James, scrutinizing his features for a keener resemblance. He had her hair color and her blue eyes, didn’t he?

  John James had always been her boy and her boy alone. Her mind had never allowed her to connect him in any way with the man she couldn’t bear to look at or think of. But the connection had been made the day she’d admitted to herself and to others that Philo was her son’s father. It had been so much easier to fool herself and to pretend he had an absent father.

  Now the truth had been planted. The facts were alive and thriving. Her parents knew. Hildy knew. Wes knew. This person she treasured and adored, this little human being she’d brought into the world, nurtured and protected…her boy had been fathered by a monster.

  Panic fluttered in her chest. She pressed a hand against the front of her jacket and took a calming breath. Nothing had changed. He was still the same sweet, precious, innocent child he’d always been.

  “I’m gonna ask Papa to teach me to ride a horse like that.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. Wes was his father now. “He would love to teach you to ride.”

  Something in her voice must have alerted him to her distress. He glanced up. “Why are you sad?”

  “I’m not sad. I’m proud, thinking about what a fine man you’re going to grow up to be.”

  “Just like Papa.”

  “Yes,” she managed. “Just like him.”

  But she couldn’t escape the nagging trepidation that threatened her peace of mind. Working at the brewery was often a tedious job. Having family members underfoot and beside you at work and at home could be smothering if a person wasn’t used to it. Wes had spent his life sailing from one glorious adventure to the next. She could hardly believe that what she had to offer would be a more stimulating and fulfilling existence.

  Besides, he knew the whole truth about her now, the unvarnished truth about John James. After he’d had time to take it all in, would John James’s conception make a difference in how Wes perceived her?

  Now that Mariah had stopped pretending, a myriad of concerns kept her head reeling. She may be dressed differently but she was no longer projecting the image of a confident, proud and opinionated woman. Now she was plain, old, ordinary Mariah. The strength she’d prided herself on for so long had dissolved.

  If Wes moved on now, she’d have nothing to fall back on.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The remainder of the family returned to Ruby Creek the following week. As family members got down from the wagon, Mariah caught sight of Wes, and her heart lurched. With his hat clutched in his hand and the sun pouring over his dark hair and broad shoulders, he looked so good, she could scarcely catch her breath. He spotted her and started forward. His gait was more even than it had been when he’d first come to Colorado. His leg had gradually been healing.

  “Wes is barely limping at all,” she said to her mother beside her.

  “Is your father heading this way?” Mama asked.

  Mariah turned to catch the expectant joy on her mother’s face, and the sight warmed her heart. “He’s looking at you, Mama.”

  She turned her attention back to the men crossing the front lawn. She wished she’d been uninhibited enough to run toward him as John James had done. Her son reached him and Wes swept up John James into a hug and kissed his cheeks.

  Mariah hurried forward then, and Wes set down John James to enfold her in his strong arms and kiss her soundly. He had a pinkish scar at the corner of his eye, but he’d never looked better.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  She’d needed to hear those words. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  Tail wagging, Yuri waited obediently at Wes’s feet until Wes released Mariah and bent to give the dog’s head a pat and scratch his ears.

  “I took good care of him for you,” John James assured him.

  “He looks fatter than when I left.”

  John James giggled. “He likes Grandmama’s dumplings.”

  “When did you feed him dumplings?” Mariah asked, but her chiding didn’t hold any merit, because Wes laughed.

  “Felix, you’ve grown into your feet,” he said to the other dog that was no longer puppy-size. The furry younger dog wedged its way in between Yuri and Wes, vying for attention. He wagged his tail so hard his entire rear end swayed back and forth.

  “Mama lets Yuri sleep with me and Felix now,” John James told him.

  Wes tilted his head. “He’ll never want to sleep in the snow again, will he?”

  “He don’t have to sleep outside anymore,” John James told him matter-of-factly. “Now that you’re home, he can sleep with you and Mama.”

  Wes straightened and grinned at her. “How would you like that, Mama?”

  “We’ll have to talk about it,” she replied with one brow raised. Her thoughts weren’t on the dog, however, but on the fact that Wes would once again be sharing her room that night.

  “We’re going to have a celebration this evening!” Henrietta announced. Arm in arm with Wes, Mariah turned to see her parents standing in a similar embrace. “We’ll celebrate the success of our presence at the Exposition,” her mother continued. “And we will toast to new beginnings.”

  Hildy made her way across the grass with Clara at her side. The plaster cast was still on her arm, suspended by a sling around her neck, but she walked steadily and had a smile for John James.

  “Mama told me about the accident,” he said, running up and stopping in front of her. “Is your arm better yet?”

  “It doesn’t hurt much.” She managed to bend down and let him hug her around the neck. She smiled and straightened.

  Louis approached and greeted Hildy with a hug.

  “Ladies, we have work to do!” Henrietta called.

  Mariah reluctantly separated herself from Wes and followed the women into the house. The mouthwatering smells of kartoffelsalat, a salad made from marinated boiled potatoes and smoked steckerlfisch already filled the kitchen.

  Henrietta assigned Mariah the task of slicing sausages and cheese, while Hildy was ushered into a comfortable chair to watch the activity.

  “It’s so good to be home,” Hildy said.

  “What will you do now?” Mary Violet asked, pausing with a steaming bowl of poppy seed–studded noodles in her hands. “Will you want to stay in your house alone?”

  A hush fell over the kitchen. Hildy looked from Mariah to the other women. “Have all of you learned what Philo did to me?” she asked.

  “I told them,” Clara said. “I thought it would be best if they knew, and this way they can help you.”

  “It’s best, Mama,” Hildy told her with a nod. “I’m just embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be ashamed,” Henrietta said sternly from where she sat on a stool at the center workspace. She got to her feet and unerringly made her way to Hildy, palm extended.

  Hildy reached for her hand, and Henrietta moved close to lay a palm alongside her niece’s cheek. “You are not the one who holds responsibility for wrongdoing. Hold your head high. You survived. And you are going to be stronger than ever.”

  The others murmured their agreement.

  When Henrietta turned to go back to her stool, Mariah knew that if her mother had been able to see, she would have looked at Mariah to give her the same assurance.

  “I don’t want to be alone now,” Hildy said. “I need my family around me.”

  “You can come home,” Clara assured her.

  “Or you can share my room,” Mariah’s sister Sylvie suggested.

  “It’s good to be welcome,” Hildy said with a smile and a nod. Then she wav
ed with a dismissive gesture that included each of them. “And don’t treat me with sympathy. I might look bad right now, but I’m tougher than I look, and I’ll be better than before.”

  The other females turned back to their tasks and conversations resumed. The two tall windows were raised, and a refreshing gust of cooler air blew in from the outside.

  Blotting tears with the hem of her apron, Mariah crossed to Hildy’s side. Hildy reached for her hand, stood and drew her into the pantry, where the pungent scents of brine and sauerkraut surrounded them.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Mariah told her with heartfelt sincerity. “And I love you very much.”

  “I’m proud of you, too,” she said softly, even though they were alone in the enclosed space. “Thank you for what you did. Speaking up like that. I knew then that if you could be brave, I could, too.”

  Mariah told her about the Ulrichs’ desire to keep the account of Philo’s death silent and how they’d buried him without a service.

  Hildy nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe someday I’ll go there, but not for a long time.”

  They moved to the doorway and Mariah gave her cousin’s hand a squeeze. At last the food was served, and the family gathered in the dining hall, spilling over into the great room.

  “Good health to the Spanglers!” Henrietta cried.

  A cheer rose, and lines formed before the food tables.

  Mariah stood with John James in front of her and Wes behind, his arms encircling her. She closed her eyes, remembering the times she’d stood in this very spot and yearned for a love such as the one Wes had offered her.

  Henrietta called her name.

  “Here, Mama.”

  “Fix your grandfather a plate, will you, please? He’s tired this evening. He likes the cabbage.”

  Mariah prepared a plate for Louis and carried it to the great room where he sat in his chair, the mountain hounds lounging at his feet. They raised their heads and sniffed the air at her approach. “Here’s a plate for you.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  She transferred the plate and fork to his hands. “Wes and I will come and sit near you.”

  Once they had their plates, they pulled footstools close to Louis and sat. After everyone had eaten and refilled their mugs of beer, Louis raised a hand to gain their attention. “Everyone gather in here.”

  It took several minutes to round up those from the kitchen and dining hall, but eventually everyone had been seated or leaned in a doorway.

  “Friederick and I have been talking things over the past couple of days,” Louis began. “Patrick’s been at the table, too, of course. I trust this won’t come as a shock to any of you. I’ve decided it’s time I take leave of my position and hand down the work to these capable fellows. They’ve been doing almost everything anyhow, so it won’t be much of a change for them.”

  Mariah looked at her father, and he gave her a nod of assurance. She’d known that one day her grandfather would step away from the brewery, but to her he was Spangler Brewery.

  An overwhelming sadness gripped her at Louis’s decision. He’d been in charge of things for as long as she could remember. It was painful to recognize he was no longer capable, but he’d always known what was best for the company. Even now, when his memory was slipping—and maybe he recognized the fact and it concerned him—but even now he was thinking of the welfare of the brewery that his father and uncles had started when they’d come to this country.

  Louis sought her face in the crowd and winked.

  She smiled through a blur of tears. As difficult as it was to imagine the brewery without him present, he deserved to enjoy spending his days taking it easy.

  “And now…” Louis glanced toward Friederick. “Now address the opening at the mash house.”

  The mash house. Philo’s position as supervisor. Mariah glanced at Hildy. Her cousin was listening with interest.

  Friederick stood holding a half-full mug of beer. “Arlen will be taking over that position.” He gestured toward his son with the mug. “Arlen learned the process a couple of years ago. He’s more than capable of overseeing the tanks and grist cases.”

  Arlen nodded and glanced at his family members with a combination of embarrassment and pride.

  Friederick continued, “He’s been working the mash machines, and he took over the building while the rest of us were in Denver.” He nodded at Arlen. “And a fine job you did, son.”

  Mariah’s brother received the praise with a satisfied grin. Dutch slapped him on the back, causing his beer to slosh in the mug.

  Friederick moved to stand beside his father-in-law’s chair. “That leaves Arlen’s position open.”

  He had everyone’s attention again.

  “Now we’ve talked it over and concluded that over the past several weeks Wesley has proved himself. We agree that he has a head for learning the business.”

  Several appreciative murmurs rippled through the gathering, and all eyes turned to Wes.

  Wes’s surprise appeared as genuine as the jolt Mariah experienced at hearing his name. His eyebrows climbed his forehead.

  “So, Wesley,” Friederick continued. “You’re hereby promoted to supervising maintenance of the grist mills and mash tanks. Arlen will travel between both jobs for a while until he’s sure you’ve got the hang of it, so you won’t be set to the task without all the guidance you need to feel confident.”

  Wes didn’t appear to have any words. He blinked and glanced from her father to Mariah and back. Unexpectedly she found herself holding her breath to see what he would say. A niggle of fear squirmed in her belly while she waited.

  If he intended to cut and run, there wouldn’t be a better time than this to make the break.

  “It’s one of the most physically demanding jobs at the brewery,” Friederick said. “Not one that every man could handle. But I’m convinced you’re cut out for the work. Unless you don’t want the job.”

  Mariah still hadn’t breathed, and now she got butterflies in her stomach as though she stood perched on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump.

  “Oh, I want the position, sir,” Wes told him, and then shook his head as though to clear his thoughts.

  Mariah released a breath.

  Wes tilted his head in a questioning gesture. “I’m just…well, I’m overwhelmed by your confidence.”

  “If Mariah trusts you, I trust you,” Friederick replied.

  That remark garnered a couple of laughs, and Gerd slapped Wes on the back.

  Family members congratulated both Arlen and Wes. Her husband strode close to give Mariah a brief hug. Conversation teemed around them.

  “Did you know anything about this?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I had no idea.”

  “I guess I’m officially a part of the family now,” he said.

  She agreed with a nod. “You are.”

  Roth came over to shake Wes’s hand and challenge him to a playful competition as to who could carry the heaviest machinery. At the younger man’s continued teasing, Wes’s good-natured laugh filled the room.

  Mariah’s mother found Wes and took his hand, leading him toward the dessert table. Mariah hung back and observed as Wes lowered his head to listen to something she said, and she rested her hand on his arm.

  He had accepted the job, and he seemed pleased as punch about it. From the very first night he’d arrived here, her family had absorbed him into their midst, and it was plain this acceptance was what Wes had always wanted. He’d said as much on various occasions. He’d come here to make an impact on John James’s life, but in the meantime he’d found the family he’d never had.

  He was good to her, Mariah couldn’t deny it. And she adored him. But was it her he truly loved? Or was his true love the family he craved, and she just happened to come along with the appealing package? Hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d choose her over any other woman, except that she was John James’s mother and a Spangler.

&nb
sp; If she didn’t have this family or a son, would she hold the same charm?

  Around her, conversation swelled and someone spoke to her. After replying distractedly, she picked up several empty serving bowls and carried them to the kitchen.

  Sometime later, Friederick came and whisked Henrietta from her duties. “You can do without her for the rest of the evening,” he declared with a smile. “I’ve missed my wife.”

  “I’m going home with my parents tonight,” Hildy told Mariah. “But I think I’ll accept Sylvie’s offer to stay here with her for a while. The activity and company will keep me busy.”

  “You know we love having you here,” Mariah assured her.

  Annika touched Hildy’s shoulder. “You should probably go home and rest. You had a long trip today, and you must be tired.” She turned to Mariah. “And you follow Mama’s example and go off with your husband. We will finish here.”

  Mariah dried her hands and wished them a good-night. She located Wes and John James outside with other fathers and children who were playing fetch with the dogs in the moonlight.

  “Let’s go get you ready for bed,” she called to her boy. “He needs a bath now.”

  “I can bathe him,” Wes said.

  “I’ll do it. You come in whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  She ended up sitting on a stool while he helped John James wash his hair and lather his body, then rinse. John James wanted to dry himself.

  Once he was tucked into bed and given kisses, John James patted the mattress and Felix jumped up to join him. “Yuri can sleep with you and Mama if you want.”

  Panting, the big dog looked up at Wes.

  “I think he needs to stay outside at night,” Wes answered.

  “But he’ll be lonely.”

  “Then he can sleep with you,” Wes told him. “Your mama and I don’t need his company.”

  It took some coaxing to get the animal to stop following Wes and stay in the room with John James, but eventually, he plopped down on the rug beside the bed.