Читать книгу Her Colorado Man - Cheryl St. John - Страница 11

The stranger’s skin was deeply tanned except for feathered lines at the corners of his rich brown eyes, making him look as though he’d squinted against the sun for a lifetime. His russet-colored hair had been neatly cropped and was combed in waves against his scalp. One obstinate curl drooped at his temple.

He searched the faces of the people in the room with surprising intensity.

He wouldn’t know her. The man everyone believed was her husband had never before set eyes on her.

Quickly handing her plate to Mary Violet, Mariah stood. She only wore skirts to church and for special occasions, and while a dress always made her feel naked and awkward, she felt even more vulnerable now. She brushed her damp palms against the fabric.

She’d drawn his attention, and he directed his dark gaze to her.

She took a few steps forward, then halted. Under the starchy skirts and petticoats, her knees shook.

He was taller than most of her brothers, but not as burly. He had a smooth, handsome forehead, a nice nose and well-defined lips. God help her, her gaze was drawn directly to a deep divot in the upper one.

Taking a few hesitant steps closer, she noticed the sweep of his dark brows and the shape of his square jaw. Just because his appearance took her breath away was no reason to weaken her resolve. This was the scoundrel who was up to no good.

His gaze never wavered from hers. “Mariah,” he said.

Her first breath didn’t produce anything, and it was a good thing, because she’d been about to blurt, Mr. Burrows, in front of her entire family. Instead she corrected her thinking and managed, “Hello, Wesley.”

Louis straightened from his chair and made his way to where she and the unfamiliar guest stood gaping at one another.

“Welcome to Colorado, young Wes.” Grandfather extended a hand. “Welcome to our home. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

The stranger averted his gaze to the gentleman and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Grandfather’s mountain hounds sniffed at the stranger’s boots and pant legs. He leaned forward and lowered a hand with his fingers curled under to let them learn his scent. After careful evaluation, one of the dogs licked him, and Wes turned his palm over to scratch its ear.

A few voices picked up conversations behind her, and others greeted Wesley with curious hellos.

The news had traveled as far as the kitchen, and Mariah knew the moment John James appeared in the great room. The expectant silence was deafening. Of course the irritating man had picked this night and this hour, and now her predicament was destined to play out in front of the entire Spangler clan. Mariah’s heart hammered in apprehension.

All of her fears combined into a wave of dread, and she wanted to grab her boy and run with him until they were far away and safe, someplace where nothing could ever hurt him. But she couldn’t. She was doomed to watch this unfold and deal with the consequences.

John James walked forward to stand beside her and curl his slender fingers into hers in the hidden folds of her skirt. He was afraid, too, but he was trying to be brave and not let on.

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.

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.”