Her Colorado Man

“Christmas Day Family”

The Magic of Christmas #915

“A Baby Blue Christmas”

Her Montana Man #923

Her Colorado Man #971

Other works include:

Silhouette Special Edition

Nick All Night #1475

* (#litres_trial_promo)Marry Me…Again #1558

Charlie’s Angels #1630

Million-Dollar Makeover #1688

Montana Mavericks

The Magnificent Seven

The Bounty Hunter

As most writers can attest, this rewarding job often takes a toll on hands, wrists, elbows, necks, shoulders and backs.

I am deeply appreciative of Dr. Steven Shockley, who has adjusted my spine more times than I could say, and who instructs me in methods of exercise to attain optimal wellness. I’m not the only one who has a better quality of life because this dedicated chiropractor is concerned with helping patients achieve natural drug-free healing. Thank you, Dr. Steve, for your genuine compassion and for sharing your gifts and abilities.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter One

Ruby Creek, Colorado

May, 1882

“Watch out!”

Mariah Burrows ducked and ran a good six feet before turning back to look up at the crate teetering atop a stack of similar ones in the cavernous warehouse. Three agile young men scrambled from their positions on ladders and beside wagons to prevent it from falling. Two of them were her nephews, the other a distant cousin.

“Don’t stack these crates over twelve high,” she called. “Better that we take up warehouse space than lose eighty-five dollars or someone’s head. We built this whole building just for storing the lager for the Exposition, so let’s use it.”

Her nephew Roth gave her a mock salute and jumped down from the pile of wooden crates. “Grandpa would’ve had our hides if we’d let that one slip.”

“I’d have told your mother not to serve that apfelstrudel you’re so fond of tonight.”

He laughed and took his cap from his rear pocket to settle it on his head. “You’re a tyrannical boss, Aunt Mariah.”

“Mariah!” A familiar male voice echoed through the high-ceilinged building. “Mariah Burrows!”

“Over here, Wilhelm,” she called. At twenty-two, he was her younger brother by two years. He used her full name at every opportunity. Among the hundred plus employees at the Spangler Brewery, hers was one of the few non-Bavarian or German names, and he lived to tease her about it. “What has you out of the office this morning?” she asked.

“Grandfather wants to see you right away.”