A Lawman For Christmas

Ben strangled on a cough. He doubted she’d be so swift to offer comfort if she knew who’d actually tended him. “A sweet sentiment, Veronica.”

“It must’ve been difficult to return home to your empty cabin after such an ordeal.”

Something in her tone set off a warning bell inside. “I’m used to living alone.”

She licked her lips. “Don’t you get lonely? P-perhaps you’ve underestimated the advantages of having a wife. A companion who’s always on hand to comfort and cheer you.”

Ben fell back a step. He was well acquainted with the advantages of a loving relationship. He’d seen the evidence in his own parents’ union, as well as his friends’ marriages. A fluke illness had robbed him of that chance. God had allowed it. He’d stopped asking why, because the obvious conclusion—that he was unfit to be a father—was too painful.

Why was Veronica suddenly venturing into these waters? She’d never dared before. Was it because he’d arrived with Isabel?

“My thoughts on marriage haven’t changed,” he told her in a gentle but firm voice. “My solitary path is set.”

“Of course, I didn’t intend to suggest otherwise,” she rushed out, her brows forming a deep V.

Ben’s attention wandered to the refreshment table, where Carmen and Honor were engaged in a heated discussion. He craned his neck and scanned the crowd, straining for a glimpse of raven hair and a proud profile.

“What do you say, Ben? Will you join us?”

Ben dragged his gaze back to Veronica, who was waiting for his answer. Not about to be caught woolgathering a second time in the space of five minutes, he nodded. “Um, sure. I’d like that.”

Her mouth curved into a bright smile. “Wonderful.”

He inwardly cringed. What had he agreed to?

“Excuse me.” Carmen rushed to their side. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Ben, can I steal you away for a moment?”

His thoughts leaping to Isabel, he made his excuses to Veronica.

“What’s happened?”

“Isabel left. I tried to convince her to stay, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Alone?”

Carmen winced and nodded.

Worry mingled with anger. She knew the danger, yet had forged ahead anyway. “How long ago was this?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll go right away.”

“Honor and I are coming with you.”

* * *

“Are you decent, Isabel?” Carmen was speaking as she breezed through the door. “Ben accompanied us home and...” Spying her in the rocking chair, she stopped suddenly, causing Honor to bump into her. “Whatever’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Unwilling for them to guess how afraid she’d been, Isabel hid the dagger in her skirt folds. “Who was the last one out tonight? Do either of you remember latching the door?”

“It was me,” Honor said, her eyes apprehensive. “I distinctly remember latching it. Why? Was someone here?”

“The door was open when I got home.”

Carmen rushed over and knelt at her feet. “Are you all right? I warned you not to come alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ben needs to hear about this.”

Ducking outside before Isabel could stop her, Honor explained the dilemma. The deputy followed her inside and quickly inventoried the cabin. His intent gaze came to rest on her in somber assessment.

“Did you see anything unusual? Any of your belongings out of place or missing?”

“No. Nothing. I didn’t check the bedrooms closely, however.”

Carmen stood and grasped Honor’s hand. “Let’s check them together.”

Honor nodded and, with a final glance at Isabel, went off to search both rooms. Their subdued conversation competed with the popping and hissing of the fireplace logs. After hanging his hat on the stand, Ben positioned a footstool near her rocker and sank onto it. Then he latched his hands together and examined her features with an intensity that made her self-conscious.

“Why did you leave without telling me? I would’ve gladly escorted you home.”

“I wished to be alone.”

“And what if our thief had been waiting for you?” Concern darkened his eyes to sage green.

It wasn’t personal, she reminded herself. His duty to the townspeople was of paramount importance.

Isabel removed her dagger from its concealment. “I’m not completely helpless.”

Ben sighed and, rising to his feet, motioned for her to do the same. Baffled, she stood and immediately regretted it. In a blink, he’d seized her dagger and waggled it midair.

“The thief has your weapon,” he challenged, jaw twitching. “Now what?”

Isabel stared up at him, a shiver of admiration rippling through her. She’d never get used to this side of the Debonair Deputy, the justice-wielding, deadly serious lawman.

“I wasn’t expecting you to act. You haven’t proven anything.”

“Let’s try again then.” He handed her the dagger. “Pretend I’m an outlaw intent on silencing you.”

Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Ben didn’t tower over her, but he was one hundred percent solid muscle.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He leaned close. “You wouldn’t think so if your sisters had come home to find you wounded—or worse.”

Images of their faces, stricken in horror as they knelt over her prone body, flooded her mind. Causing them sorrow was the last thing she wanted to do.

His hand encircled her wrist like an iron manacle. She resisted, but he was far too strong. Ben had the dagger pried from her fingers in no time flat.

He waved it in front of her nose. “Care to try a third time?”

Anger sparked into a smoldering flame. Why was he doing this?

“You didn’t give me proper warning,” she gritted out.

“And you think a lawbreaker bent on doing you harm would?” he retorted, color etching his cheeks. “You’re an intelligent lady, Isabel. Don’t be stubborn because I’m involved. If the sheriff was here in my place, would you brush his warnings off as easily as you do mine?”

Floorboards creaked in the girls’ bedroom. Isabel snatched her weapon and replaced it in her sheath, all the while mulling over his accusation. She didn’t want to acknowledge the truth.

“Isabel.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. His fingers were cold, his touch a complete shock, and she flinched. Ben assumed she’d reacted out of disgust, for he grimaced and dropped his arm to his side. “Don’t let your dislike of me jeopardize your safety.”

The girls emerged then. Turning toward them, Isabel surreptitiously pressed her palm against her cheek in the spot where he’d touched her. What had possessed him to do it?

“Everything looks in order as far as we can tell,” Honor announced, her fingers plucking at the ribbons encircling her sleeves.

Ben retrieved his hat. “I’ll take a look around outside.”

“Be careful.” The words were out before she could stop them. At his look of surprise, she said, “I don’t want to have to stitch you up again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Carmen brought over a small brown sack. “Mr. Hatfield was indeed generous this year. When I told him we had to leave early, he gave us our bags, including one for you.”

“Forget about food for a minute, will you?” Honor reprimanded. “Isa’s had a fright. Someone’s been inside our home.”

Carmen jammed her fists on her generous hips. “We can’t know that for sure. You might’ve pulled the door closed but failed to latch it.”

“I distinctly remember doing it, Carmen.”

“We were all aflutter over the deputy’s arrival and in a rush to prepare Isa.”

“No matter what actually transpired, I believe we have to take the threat seriously.” Isabel wasn’t convinced the man would go to such trouble to find her. It would be far easier to flee the area and take his chances elsewhere. She couldn’t risk her sisters’ safety on a hunch, however. “We’re all going to have to be on our guards.”

“You should’ve seen Ben’s face when I told him you’d left.” Carmen’s gaze was troubled. “He was visibly upset.”

Her heart tripped over itself. “I can’t imagine why. He had plenty of girls vying for his attention, Veronica in particular.” Of all the girls who’d cast their nets for Ben, she seemed the most likely candidate to lead him to the altar.

“Perhaps your company is what he truly wants.”

She sliced the air with her hand. “Impossible.”

“Haven’t you noticed he treats you differently?” Carmen said. “He’s more serious around you.”

Isabel went to the kitchen and deposited the bag’s contents in a festive china bowl with green holly patterns, a hand-me-down from their abuela. “The only reason Ben doesn’t flirt with me is because he knows I’m immune to his charm.” Another thought occurred to her. “Or maybe I’m not the type of woman he’d be interested in.”

There was no reason to be offended, she reasoned, busying her hands with arranging the unblemished fruit. So why then did the thought suddenly irk her?

“Of course he’d be interested in you!” Carmen added her bounty to the bowl. “You’re beautiful and capable and wise. The deputy’s a fair man. I’m certain he’d overlook your tendency to be bossy and hardheaded.”

Honor released a long-suffering sigh. “Carmen, don’t you ever think before you speak?”

Isabel patted Carmen’s hand. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but it hardly matters what he thinks.”

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“You care what everyone in Gatlinburg thinks about you except for Ben MacGregor.” Carmen twisted to look at Honor. “Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

Isabel was grateful Ben chose that moment to return to spare her from answering. His cheeks and hands were ruddy from exposure. The impulse to lead him to the fire and ease his discomfort took her unawares.

“I assume you didn’t encounter any outlaws in our barn?” she said, ignoring her sisters’ curious gazes.

“Just a few cows and a friendly feline.” He good-naturedly brushed orange cat hair from his pants.

“That’s reassuring.” If there’d been someone poking around their property, he was long gone. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head home?”

“Coffee sounds wonderful. As for heading home, I won’t be doing that until morning. I aim to stay in the warming hut.”

* * *

Ben braced himself for an argument that never materialized.

“I’ll gather the proper bedding.”

As Isabel started for her bedroom, the younger sisters exchanged a dubious look. Like him, they must’ve expected her to protest once again.

“It’s barely nine o’clock,” Carmen objected. “Far too early for the deputy to retire. Isn’t that right?”

Isabel wouldn’t relish putting up with him any longer than was necessary, but he wasn’t sleepy, and hot coffee would go far in chasing the chill from his bones. Besides, he couldn’t pass up this rare opportunity to spend more time in the feisty miller’s presence, no matter that a relationship with her was out of the question.

“You’re quite right.” He began to unbutton his coat. “I’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity to spend an evening with three of the most captivating ladies in these mountains.”

Carmen blushed to her hairline. Honor laughed. Isabel wore an indignant frown. Good. The more he riled her, the less likely he’d do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to forget his reasons for not getting serious. Isabel was the one woman who could make him forget, and she deserved a man who could give her what every woman dreamed about...a house full of children to love and nurture.

Her irritation was clear in the way she bustled about the kitchen, thumping cups and plates on the counter. She was entrancing, even in her annoyance, and Ben had to consciously work to keep his gaze averted. In contrast, Honor and Carmen were gracious hostesses. They spoke of upcoming Christmas festivities and encouraged him to indulge in the snack Isabel provided, airy yeast rolls slathered with creamy butter and tart blackberry preserves washed down with cinnamon-laced coffee, a traditional drink recipe passed down from their abuela.

As soon as the clock struck ten, Isabel fetched the bedding and insisted on accompanying him to the hut. Positioned several yards from the gristmill and stream, the soundly built structure contained a single chair and a woodstove. It was large enough to hold about five or six people comfortably. One tiny, bare window gave the occupants a view of the mill.

While Isabel rolled out the woolen blanket and quilts that would serve for his makeshift bed, Ben retrieved kindling from the box in the corner and focused on building a fire.

“You probably won’t be comfortable, but you’ll be warm.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder. Kneeling on the floor, her cloak a cloud about her crouched form, she plumped the pillow she’d brought for him.

She caught him looking and shrugged. “It’s a tight space. Won’t take much to heat it.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”

Curiosity leaped to life on her expressive face, but she didn’t put voice to it. Standing, she folded her hands primly. “Thank you for staying. My sisters are unnerved by what’s happened.”

“I have three sisters of my own. I know what it’s like to want to protect them.”

Her brows inched up. “Are you the oldest?”

He nodded. “There are two years between me and my next youngest sister, Tabitha.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then bit her lip to halt the words.

Pushing to his feet, he brushed his hands against his trousers. “You’ve had no problem speaking your mind in the past. Go ahead and say whatever you’re thinking.”

The firelight flickered over her noble features and made her eyes gleam like coals. “I find it difficult to reconcile the fact you were raised in a house full of females with your cavalier treatment of the local ladies. I would think you’d be sensitive to their feelings. You speak of protecting your sisters. Why doesn’t that sentiment extend to those outside your family?”

Ben slouched against the wall and crossed his arms. “I don’t see how the term cavalier applies to me. Am I friends with a number of marriageable women? Certainly. Have I given any of them reason to believe I’ve a serious interest in courting them? Absolutely not.”

The Smith sisters’ disappointment mocked his claims, as did Veronica’s surprising mention of marriage. Uncertainty took up residence inside him.

“You’re a shameless flirt.”

“I like to think of it as harmless teasing.” Everyone knew he wasn’t looking for commitment. He’d made sure that bit of gossip rode the grapevines as soon as he relocated here.

But what if that wasn’t enough?

“Harmless?” She shifted her stance, her cloak’s hem swaying around her boots. “You call dashing hopes and breaking hearts harmless?”

“I’m a game to them,” he countered. “It’s a competition, and they view me as some sort of lofty prize. I promise you not one of them would rejoice if they actually won me.”

She gaped at him. “And I thought I was the cynical one. What happened to set you against commitment? Were your parents unhappy? Did your father indulge in indiscretions?”

“On the contrary, my parents are the best of friends.”

“You were in love with someone, then. She spurned you. Or worse, deceived you.”

Wistfulness clawed at him, regret and helplessness over his plight on its heels. He hoped the indistinct lighting hid those tumultuous emotions from her. She was perilously close to the truth. Marianne had indeed spurned him the moment she learned his diagnosis. His overwrought fiancée had sputtered words that hadn’t yet lost their potency. Words like damaged and useless and abnormal. What good are you to me? she’d railed. Indeed, to any woman?

Until that confrontation with Marianne, he’d had a flicker of hope that she’d be able to come to terms with his new reality. “Why must there be a reason? Why can’t I simply desire to be free and independent, like you?”

She narrowed her eyes, studying every inch of his face. What did she see? The push and pull of denial and acceptance he wrestled with on his weaker days?

He surged off the wall and would’ve paced if there’d been enough space. The curious impulse to divulge his secret to Isabel threw him. She was the last person he should share his most private disappointment with.

“It’s been my experience that infatuations shift as often as the weather. The girls here are no different than the ones back home. Sally Hatcher is a prime example. Mere weeks ago, she claimed to be in love with me. Didn’t take her long to take up with someone new once she figured out where we stood.”

Isabel snapped her mouth shut. If she felt the tiniest bit sorry for him, she didn’t show it. He wished he could’ve foreseen how quickly she would develop a full-on infatuation. He’d truly enjoyed spending time with Sally—as friends.

A thud on the stoop vibrated the door. Immediately on alert, Ben maneuvered Isabel behind him and reached for his gun.

Chapter Five

Shielded by Ben’s strong, muscular body, Isabel’s only thought was that he was going to be shot again because of her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. They were trapped in this tiny building, which meant they’d have to shoot their way out. The curious sadness she’d glimpsed in Ben moments earlier faded from her mind.

Had he been right all along? Had the frustrated robber tracked her here in order to silence her?

“Stay behind me,” he ordered.

Weapon drawn, he edged forward and eased the latch open. His tension leached into the air around her. From her limited view, she saw the cords of his neck stiffen, and his jaw was locked in steely determination. She didn’t doubt his ability to keep her safe. Ben MacGregor was many things—a coward wasn’t one of them. He’d lay down his life to protect her. Hadn’t he already taken one bullet for her?

Isabel offered up a fervent plea for his safety.

The door’s hinges groaned as he inched it open. In a sudden movement that had her gasping aloud, Ben pivoted into the opening, his finger on the trigger.

No rash of gunfire rained down on them. No ambush from a vengeful outlaw.

Instead, the water’s familiar music, trickling over the wheel in a full spin and gently splashing back into the stream below, greeted their ears. Then came an unusual sound, out of place on the Flores farm—a child crying.

Isabel pressed close to Ben’s back and gripped his arms. He stilled and angled a glance over his shoulder.

“Are you hearing the same thing I am?” he whispered.

Pushing past him, she ignored his hushed objection and rushed onto the porch. Unrelenting darkness cloaked the countryside. The hut, positioned between the gristmill and cabin, blocked what little light might be shining from the windows.

Ben’s hand clamped on her waist. He would’ve pulled her back into the hut if she hadn’t locked on his fingers and squeezed.

“Wait! Listen.”

She heard the plaintive cry again, a heart-wrenching sob that filled her with urgency and the need to soothe hurts. She left the cover of the stoop and tiptoed around the corner. Ben was right behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her nape.

They spotted the small form huddled against the hut’s foundation at the same time. The small boy ceased sobbing and started to scramble in the opposite direction.

Masking her consternation, Isabel crouched to his level and spoke in a soft, gentle tone. “Hello. My name’s Isabel. I live in the cabin over there with my sisters. What’s your name?”

His attempt at escape abandoned, the boy stared at her without speaking. She could tell little about him besides the fact he was very young and had short, tousled dark hair.

“I’ll get a lamp.” The air stirred as Ben dashed back inside.

“My, um, friend Ben, he’s going to get an oil lamp so you can see us better. I don’t like the dark, do you?”

The boy’s negative head shake was almost imperceptible. Isabel couldn’t comprehend where this child had come from or where his parents might be. Her instinct was to pull him into her arms and hug him until he felt safe.

Ben soon returned, the lamp emitting enough light to show his concern-ravaged features as his gaze met Isabel’s. He assumed the same position as her, his knee bumping hers as he steadied himself.

“I was just telling our visitor that your name is Ben.”

“That’s right. I’m Ben MacGregor.” He spoke in an upbeat tone. “What’s your name?”

The boy’s pointed chin wobbled. He was a pretty child, with pale skin, large cornflower-blue eyes and hair the color of syrup. Judging by the dirt smudges on his face and hands and the stains on his clothing, he hadn’t seen a bath for some time.

“I want Happy.”

“Is Happy your dog?” Ben said.

He shook his head.

Ben cut her a look. “Is he your cat?”

“Don’t have a cat.”

Isabel noticed his shirtsleeves were too short, and his trousers had been patched multiple times. “Is your mother or father around?” She gestured to the forest. “Did you get separated from them?”

His lower lip quivered, and a fresh surge of tears brimmed in his eyes. “My mama’s dead.”

She heard Ben’s sharp inhale. “I’m right sorry to hear that, little man.”

The sorrow this child was suffering, and indeed his current plight, weighed heavily on Isabel. “What about your pa?”

“Don’t got one.” He toyed with his shirt buttons. “I want Happy.”

Ben gestured to the hut. “I have a peppermint stick in my bag. Would you like to have it?”

Isabel held her breath while the child considered them both with a heavy dose of distrust. Finally, he nodded.

Some of the rigidness in Ben’s body receded. He slowly stood and held out his hand. “What do you say we go inside where it’s warm? You can eat the candy in front of the stove.”

The boy popped up. Instead of taking Ben’s hand, however, he edged in Isabel’s direction. She offered him a reassuring smile. “I like peppermint, too, but my favorite is horehound.”

“Horehound?” Ben said in mock horror. “I can’t stomach the stuff. Peppermint is the best, and lemon is a close second. Do you like lemon, little man?”

“I never tried it.” His high, childish voice held a note of longing.

“Is that so? Well, that’s a problem I’ll have to remedy. Every boy must try lemon drops at least once.”

Ben started for the hut entrance, chatting about other sweets and acting as if finding a lost child was an everyday occurrence. Isabel beckoned for the boy to follow her. He did so, reluctantly, his suspicion unusual for a child his age, which she guessed to be around three or four.

By the time they reached the threshold, Ben had retrieved the promised candy and removed a single stick from a small brown sack.

“There’s only one thing I ask in return for this,” he began, his expression serious. “I’d like to know your name.”

Isabel watched the boy’s wide gaze roam the hut’s interior before settling on Ben and the treat at hand. He was waif thin, and his curly hair needed combing. Whoever had been caring for him hadn’t done a good job.

“Eli.”

Ben held out the stick. “A strong name suited to a sturdy boy like yourself. You know your last name?”

Eli snatched the peppermint and sucked on it greedily. When had he last eaten?

He shrugged. Isabel dragged the chair closer to the stove and patted the seat. “Why don’t you sit here? We need to close the door to keep the warm air inside.”

When Eli had climbed onto the chair, Ben said quietly, “Isabel? A word.”

She met him at the door.

“I’m going to take a look around outside. You should take him to the cabin. It’s too late to find him other lodgings. He could probably use something more substantial than a piece of candy, too.”

“What are you expecting to find?”

He kneaded the back of his neck. “Whoever’s had charge of him has to be around somewhere. Boys his age don’t simply wander the woods alone. I suspect something dire has happened.”

“You’ll be careful?”