by Karen Kirst
Adjusting the half cape covering her shoulders, Honor turned astonished eyes on her. “You’ve decided to attend after all?”
“Of course not.”
Isabel eschewed most social gatherings. Why put herself at the mercy of others’ harsh judgment? As the daughter of the infamous Manuel Flores, her presence drew whispers and speculation about her character. Her sisters argued that it was her reclusive nature that fanned the flames of curiosity. She should make more of an effort, they insisted, allow people to get to know her. Then they’d see she didn’t have anything in common with Manuel besides his last name.
“You should hear Isabel singing around the house,” Honor told Ben. “She has a lovely soprano voice.”
“Is that so?” A new reserve held his charm in check.
She imagined his pride had been wounded by her bluntness. He was accustomed to silvery praise and unwavering adulation. Ben MacGregor wouldn’t ever get that from her.
“You should convince her to come with us,” Carmen exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The four of us can go together. It will be tremendous fun!”
“I’m not certain my opinion will hold much sway,” he allowed, his enigmatic gaze locked on her. “You do work very hard, Isabel. How long has it been since you’ve done something out of the ordinary? An activity unconnected with this farm?”
A rebellious impulse reared its head. Even she had to admit her life was a cycle of ordered routine. “I’d planned on spending the evening before the fire with a good book.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and groaned. “You do that every weekend night!”
Isabel refused to be embarrassed. It was no secret that she was a spinster by choice.
“We get hot cider at most of the homes we visit. If it’s been a profitable year, Mr. Hatfield hands out sacks full of apples, oranges, peppermints and nuts. Laura Hatfield hinted this year’s been a good one.” Honor’s dark eyes gleamed. “It’s time for you to break out of your shell.” Linking their arms, she tugged her toward the door. “You could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”
“I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”
Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.
* * *
“What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”
Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.
A dozen flowery compliments popped into his head. He suppressed them all. She would label whatever he said insincere, so he opted for a casual response. “Indeed, she does.”
Her dress had been crafted of lush velvet, a deep green the color of a spruce bough. The snug bodice had a rounded neckline trimmed with ribbon and gave way to a swath of material falling in graceful folds to kiss the floorboards. Isabel’s hair had been swept off her neck and coiled into an elegant style. She was the epitome of feminine sophistication.
Her sisters looked disappointed by his low-key reaction. Isabel avoided his gaze as she circumvented the furniture in a swish of skirts.
“Are we riding or walking?”
“I readied the wagon,” Ben said, joining her at the coatrack. While she tugged on her gloves, he retrieved her wool cloak and held it open for her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Isabel pursed her lips and, after the slightest hesitation, stood still and allowed him to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders. He took the liberty of fastening the clasps, taking a moment to breathe in her unique, feminine scent, a blend of spices and orange.
Her gaze pinned his. “We’re going to create a spectacle, arriving with you.”
“Yes, we will,” he concurred with a grin. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
She brushed his hands aside and took a step back. “And we will be unpopular with the women.”
“Only the ones without beaux,” Carmen inserted with a straight face.
At the Johnson farm, the serenade’s starting point, he assisted the Flores sisters from the wagon and looked up to find a veritable sea of shocked countenances. Three wagons fitted with hay squares would take the group around to the appointed residences. Already some of the young people had found seats. Others conversed in clusters about the yard.
Beside him, Isabel stood as stiff as a mannequin, braced for flaming arrows to descend. He could almost see her hatching an escape route.
“Everyone’s staring.”
He dipped his head close. “That’s because they’re as in awe of your beauty as I am.”
Her dark gaze swerved to his in instant irritation. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, look, there’s John.” Carmen nudged Honor.
John Littleton separated himself from his friends. Taller than most, the dark-headed farmer was easy to pick out in a crowd. His gray eyes glowed with pride as he put his arm around Honor and kissed her cheek.
To Ben’s knowledge, the couple had been together for more than a year and were obviously crazy about each other. He wondered why they hadn’t already set a wedding date. The Littleton family had a thriving farm on the west side of town. John’s older sister had already married and moved away, leaving a starter cabin uninhabited.
“Good evening, ladies. Deputy.” Smiling, he raised his brows at Isabel. “I’m surprised to see you here. What did your sisters have to do to convince you?”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Though her tone was disgruntled, Isabel’s expression had softened somewhat. “How is that knife working out for your father?”
“He’s been showing it off to his friends, so I’d say he’s very satisfied. They’re pestering him to divulge where he got it.”
“He won’t, will he?” Isabel asked, worried.
“John said he would need one for himself in order to continue keeping your secret.” Honor snuggled close to his side and grinned cheekily up at him.
“Don’t believe her.” He chuckled. “She’s simply stumped as to what to get me for Christmas.”
Reaching up, she straightened his tie. “That’s not true. I’ve actually already decided on a gift, and it has nothing to do with weapons.”
He snapped his fingers. “A shame.”
John brought out a sassy side in the quiet girl. Glancing at Isabel, Ben was shocked to witness her open approval. Apparently her dislike of men didn’t extend to her sister’s beau. How had John managed to get in her good graces?
“Virgil and Timothy have saved us a spot in their wagon,” John said. “Would you like to sit with us?”
“No, thanks.” Carmen waved to a cluster of girls her age. “I’m going over to talk to Rosa and the others. I’ll meet up with you later.”
As she hurried off, Honor peered toward said wagon and frowned. “John, it’s already filling up. Looks like there’s only enough room beside Virgil for the two of us.”
John looked apologetic. “We could sit in that last one—”
“No, that’s okay,” Isabel intervened. “The deputy and I will find our own spots.”
When the couple had gone, Ben guided her to the rear wagon, the least occupied of the three. “What does a man have to do to obtain one of your knives?”
Caught off guard, her brows pulled together. “I didn’t realize you wanted one.”
“I—”
“Ben!” The Smith sisters, both brunette, petite and hazel eyed, blocked their way. “We’ve been waiting ages for you to arrive.” The eldest by eighteen months, Laila gifted him with a sunny smile. “We’ve saved a seat for you in the second wagon.”
“Tommy Hatfield’s driving,” Lynette told him in a confidential tone. “He avoids the ruts and dips, ensuring a smooth ride.”
Ben liked the girls well enough. When they weren’t hinting about what great wives they’d make, Laila and Lynette were pleasant company. He often spent Sunday evenings in the Smith home, more for their father’s company than anything else. Allen Smith reminded Ben of his own pa, whom he didn’t get to see often. He had a feeling the sisters wouldn’t be thrilled with that bit of insight.
“That was thoughtful of you, ladies, but we’re taking the third one. I like to observe what’s up ahead.”
Squinting at their driver, a rotund man in overalls, Lynette uttered a disapproving noise. “Ollie’s got night blindness. He almost ran a group into the woods last year.”
Ben choked on a laugh. “We’ll take our chances, right, Isabel?”
Laila’s countenance lost some its brilliance. “I didn’t realize you and the deputy were close acquaintances.”
“We’re not.” She silently implored him to concur.
He shrugged. “I happened to be in the vicinity of the Flores property at the appropriate time. Made sense to come together.”
Mr. Johnson let loose a shrill whistle and announced they’d set out in five minutes.
“Time to find a seat.” He leaped into the bed and, after pointing Isabel to the sturdy footstool that had been provided, offered her a hand up.
The Smith sisters debated what to do. Ultimately, they trudged off. Their dejection wasn’t lost on Isabel, who shot him an arch look. She’d accused him of disregarding others’ feelings. Could she be right? He hated to think he might’ve inflicted emotional wounds, especially considering how he’d suffered at the hands of his former fiancée. Maybe his stated vow to remain a bachelor wasn’t enough. Maybe his single female acquaintances considered it his way of throwing down the gauntlet.
Ben led her to a spot behind Ollie. The seats around them filled up quickly. Carmen and her friends reached the wagon too late to sit close. She mouthed her regrets. Isabel shrugged and offered a false smile.
Crushed as they were, their shoulders wedged together, Ben didn’t have to tilt his head very far to whisper in her ear. “I know you’re putting on a brave face for your sisters’ sakes. Are you sorry you agreed to come? Or sorry you got stuck with me?”
She twisted slightly to meet his gaze. “I should be sitting with them. You and me together like this gives everyone the wrong idea.”
“A single man and woman can’t talk in this town as friends?”
“You’re not just any man,” she retorted in a stilted voice. “You’re the Debonair Deputy.”
“I’m a confirmed bachelor,” he countered.
“Didn’t you notice the way Lynette was ogling you? As if you’d accomplished great feats worthy of being recorded in history books?”
“Who says I haven’t?” he teased.
Her mouth tightened. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile and twinkle your eyes at me.”
He gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not allowed to smile at you?”
“Not in public,” she said. “I’m a dedicated spinster. Everyone will think you’ve charmed me off my farm and are even now filling my head with thoughts of wedding bells.”
“Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?”
“You know why.” She turned her head. “Oh, but look, there’s another of your crestfallen admirers.”
Ben spotted Veronica Patton right away. The last to embark, she stared at him and Isabel with obvious disdain. His wave was met with a halfhearted response. He hid a frown. The sense that he’d made a grave error assailed him. His interactions with the elegant blonde weren’t like those with the Smith sisters. He’d spent time alone with her, apart from her family. A couple of meals at the Plum. One stroll about town. And while he’d been a perfect gentleman, he was beginning to suspect Veronica viewed their association in a very different light.
He could thank Isabel Flores for this new, disturbing sensitivity regarding the women he occasionally spent time with.
“Everyone ready?” Ollie hollered over his shoulder. “Hold on to your hats, gents. Your sweethearts, too.”
Laughter rumbled through the wagon as they lurched into motion. Ben pushed the troubling thoughts aside. This was likely his one and only shot at seeing that Isabel enjoyed herself. He wouldn’t get another chance. With any other woman, Ben would’ve been able to find a way to make her relax. Isabel wasn’t just any woman, however. The fact that she disliked him made his task that much harder.
“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” When she hesitated, he murmured, “Is talking to you forbidden, as well?”
Her focus was on her gloved hands, folded tightly together in her lap. “I like many things about this time of year. One of them is the renewed spirit of charity. People tend to treat each other better.”
Her statement was a telling one. While he understood how it felt to live under the weight of a town’s critical scrutiny, it had been for a brief time and in another state. He hadn’t grown up with a scandalous father.
“Anything else?”
“I enjoy baking. This time of year has plenty of opportunities for that. My sisters and I spend extra time in the kitchen, making treats for their friends.”
“What about your friends?”
Her chin jutted. “My sisters are my friends.”
“Someday your sisters will marry and move away,” he said gently. “What happens then, Isabel?”
* * *
Isabel didn’t wish to contemplate the future. Too soon, her sisters would marry and move on, leaving her alone. Honor wasn’t too far from that reality, in fact. She wouldn’t begrudge them their happiness. When the time came, she’d celebrate their blessings.
The wagons rolled into the first dwelling’s yard and, once at a full stop, the postmaster’s son led everyone in a heartfelt rendition of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” It was one of her favorites.
Trying to ignore Ben’s nearness and his pleasant tenor voice, she lifted her face to the sky and studied the patterns of twinkling lights in the black velvet expanse. She imagined God in all His glory, who’d crafted those stars and knew their exact number, listening to their voices. Was He pleased?
The words trailed off. Clapping startled her out of her reverie. The family, who’d come onto the porch, wore happy smiles. The youngest sons carried baskets of cookies and doled them out to the carolers.
“You have a delightful voice.” Ben’s warm breath teased the tendrils about her ear, and she shivered.
Amazing. Despite being fully aware of his reputation, she was still affected by him.
“You have an endless supply of false flattery, Deputy. Save it for someone gullible enough to believe you.”
“And you, Miss Flores, have a peculiar inability to accept praise.”
Their conveyance jerked into motion, knocking them into one another. Isabel gritted her teeth. The wagon’s occupants sneaked glances at them, no doubt cataloging their every exchange to dissect later. Ben had no inkling the amount of speculation they were drawing, because he was immune. He evidently didn’t care what others thought of him. For a brief instant, she envied him that.
They reached the next home within ten minutes. This time they sang “Silent Night,” a song that put Isabel in mind of Jesus’s earthly parents and the events leading up to His birth. If anyone knew how it felt to be talked about and judged, it had been Mary. How had she endured the speculat
ion and accusations? Had she lived her life as usual while awaiting the Savior’s birth? Or had she perhaps sequestered herself, seeing only her family and Joseph?
When the song ended, they disembarked and gathered around a table with mugs of fragrant, spice-laced cider. Veronica swooped in with eagle-like accuracy.
“I apologize for arriving late.” Slipping her arm through Ben’s, she regarded Isabel with a brittle smile. “I would’ve gladly kept him entertained in your place. Everyone’s aware you detest having to associate with your peers.”
Veronica Patton actually thought she had something to fear from Isabel? A classic beauty, with long golden hair, crystal-blue eyes and creamy skin, she was popular, poised and perfect. And her family name didn’t have a single blemish.
Ben’s brows descended. “Veronica—”
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Isabel said with as much equanimity as she could muster. “I shouldn’t have monopolized the deputy’s attention. I’ll give you the privacy you crave.”
Before Ben could respond, Isabel pivoted on her heel and joined Carmen and her friends near the well. They huddled together to ward off the cold, their mugs cradled close, the welcome steam warming their faces.
“I’m glad you came, Isabel,” Rosa said kindly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Sipping the liquid, she savored the apple flavor and tried to steady her nerves. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to sing Christmas carols.”
Sharp-eyed Samantha Rogers studied her over the rim of her cup. “I didn’t think you’d ever join Ben MacGregor’s gaggle of admirers, Isabel. What changed?”
Carmen elbowed the girl.
Isabel’s stomach knotted. “I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression.”
“Appears I’m not the only one.”
Glancing around, she noticed the pointed stares bouncing between her and Veronica. What did they expect? An actual altercation to break out? Oh, wouldn’t Ben love that, she fumed, two women fighting over him?