by Karen Kirst
“I’m glad I caught up to you,” he said, his gaze penetrating. “How are the Flores sisters coping? Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Thanks for the offer. Right now, we’re focusing on finding answers.”
“Not easy when you’re dealing with a four-year-old. I imagine he’s scared out of his wits.”
“He’s doing okay, all things considered.” Ben unwound his horse’s reins from the hitching post. “He’s taken a shine to Isabel.”
Grant made a considering noise. “That’s the piece of the puzzle I can’t figure out.”
“What puzzle?”
“I heard you showed up at the serenade with her. Were you at her place when she found the boy?”
A sigh gusted out of him. “You’re not a marshal anymore, remember?”
Grant’s grin did nothing to diminish his intensity. He wouldn’t stop until his curiosity had been appeased. “I find it interesting that two people who go out of their way to avoid sharing the same air are suddenly in each other’s pockets.”
“Isabel avoids men on principle.” He thought about her reaction to his Scripture reading. To his knowledge, Manuel Flores hadn’t darkened the door of a church since moving to Tennessee. The man had failed in his responsibility to his family on more than one front.
“You more than others,” Grant retorted. “I notice these things.”
“Yes, I know you do.”
Stuffing his boot in the stirrup, Ben grabbed the saddle horn and hauled himself onto Blaze’s back. Grant stepped close and patted the animal’s neck.
“Out with it, MacGregor.” His blue gaze was relentless. “I’ve proved I can keep my mouth shut when I need to.”
Ben shifted in the saddle, hearing what his friend hadn’t said. Grant wasn’t in the habit of keeping secrets from his wife, yet he hadn’t breathed a word of Ben’s condition to her.
He scanned Main Street and the churchyard, now empty save for one remaining couple rounding up their kids and urging them into their wagon. The sun hadn’t made an appearance today. Behind the soaring steeple, winter fog blanketed the hollows between rounded mountain ridges. On days like these, the majestic mountains assumed a navy blue hue.
“Three nights ago, Isabel interrupted the bank robbery. I happened to be walking home when I noticed movement in the alley behind the bank. I made my presence known, and the blackguard put a gun to her head.”
“That’s how you wound up getting shot.” After smoothing Blaze’s golden mane, Grant lowered his arm. “Why did you keep her role secret?”
“She would’ve hated the extra scrutiny.”
He scraped his hand over his jaw. “Yeah, makes sense.”
“The man knows she can identify him.” Ben related her experience after the serenade. “I didn’t want to take any chances, so I insisted on staying in the warming hut. Before I retired for the night, we discovered Eli.”
“And suddenly you’re spending time with the beautiful miller.”
“It’s not as if I’m courting her.” She’d never allow it, anyway.
“You like her.”
“I respect and admire her. That’s it.” He couldn’t permit it to be more.
Grant shifted on his feet, uncertainty touching his features. “We didn’t get a chance to talk after our announcement the other night. I apologize for bombarding you like that.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. I’m thrilled for you and Jess.”
“I know. I’d planned to tell you alone, though. It’s a sensitive subject.”
“Not that sensitive,” he denied, not wanting the other man to feel an ounce of guilt. Grant deserved to celebrate his impending fatherhood without worrying about Ben’s feelings. “I’ve been living with this knowledge since I was nineteen.”
“What if your doctor was wrong?”
“Dr. Powell’s a respected physician in our part of Georgia, in possession of a keen intellect. He showed me the cases he’d studied to support his conclusions.” The burden of those memories settled on his chest, an intangible weight pulling him down. “There is a chance he was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to enter marriage knowing the odds are against me.”
“I respect a man’s right to make his own decisions,” Grant declared. “That being said, what about adoption? It worked out for Jessica’s sister Megan.”
Megan and Lucian Beaumont had a large, loving family. After years of trying for a child, they’d adopted a little girl from Lucian’s hometown of New Orleans. Not long after that, teen siblings Patrick and Lillian had come into their lives and, most recently, a two-year-old boy named Artie.
“For Shane and Allison, too,” Ben agreed. Their twins were a seamless part of their brood, as was the older girl, Matilda. For those unaware of their background, they’d assume all three were the couple’s natural-born children. “Those situations are different. Megan and Lucian fell in love and married before discovering they couldn’t have kids. I’m not convinced any woman would willingly shackle herself to a man like me. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You’re making assumptions, Ben, as well as underestimating love. I’d have married Jessica no matter what. I wouldn’t have let anything stand in our way.”
Frustration welled inside him. “What are you suggesting? That I court someone in earnest and wait until she hopefully falls in love with me before springing the terrible news on her?”
Blaze fidgeted beneath him, his long tail whipping from side to side.
“I’m suggesting you revisit the matter. You were young when you were handed this verdict. It’s been, what? Six years? Pray about it. You never know. God may be leading you to a different conclusion.”
While Ben appreciated Grant’s intentions, he couldn’t allow himself to entertain a different future for himself. He’d accepted his lot. To dream of something other than his solitary journey would only lead to deeper disappointment.
“I’ll keep your advice in mind. Right now, I have to focus on protecting Isabel from a possible attack and returning a motherless boy to his guardian.”
* * *
Eli’s big blue eyes reflected wonder as Isabel grouped the oranges on the table along with an assortment of fragrant spices.
He picked a whole clove from the bowl and smelled it. “What’s this?”
“Those are cloves.” She picked up a short nail. “We’re going to make pomanders. I’ll make patterns on the fruit with this nail, and you can help me by sticking the cloves in the holes. Would you like that?”
Carmen swept past with a bunch of pinecones and several sprigs of greenery. She made a work space out of the coffee table. “I’ll arrange these items in a bowl, and we’ll put the pomanders on top. They freshen the air and look pretty, too.”
She’d returned from church alone—Honor had gone to John’s for the afternoon—with a full report of Ben’s announcement and the aftermath. Isabel had tried to shove the frustrating lawman from her mind and had failed miserably. He’d gotten into the habit of surprising her at every turn and crumbling her preconceived notions about him. Who could’ve guessed Ben MacGregor had a way with kids? Or that beneath his frivolous banter beat a heart that revered God’s precious Word?
He’d been gentle and patient with Eli, qualities she greatly admired. The way he’d responded to the child’s lack of knowledge about Jesus—with tenderness and compassion—had revived a part of her heart that had grown cold with bitterness. The flash of frustration he’d shown her before ducking out the door had evoked more questions about what went on behind those green eyes and flippant smile.
“Soon we’ll gather enough evergreens to adorn the mantel and drape over the windows and door frame,” Carmen told Eli, her eyes alight with anticipation. “Closer to Christmas, we’ll cut down a tree and decorate it with strings of cranberries and pop
corn.”
Isabel picked up the first orange and started making shallow holes in a circular pattern. Following Papa’s death and Mama’s move, she’d committed herself to making the season special for her sisters. They’d engaged in new traditions and created happy memories.
“Can I help with your tree?”
At Eli’s hopeful expression, Isabel’s heart squeezed. “We’d love for you to help, Eli. But don’t you want to spend Christmas in your own home?”
“I don’t stay there anymore.” He frowned, tapping the table with the clove. “I stay with Happy.”
“Is he a family friend? Or a neighbor?”
He lifted a thin shoulder. “Is it time to put the cloves in now?”
“Almost.” Not wanting to push the boy for answers, she focused on her task and handed him the orange. “Hold it over the table, all right? And don’t squeeze too hard. We don’t want juice dripping out.”
“Okay, Miss Isabel.”
It was the first time he’d called her by name. Watching him attack his task with grave seriousness, his brows furrowed and his small pink tongue protruding, she recalled Ben’s warning. He was worried she’d become too attached to this precious child. What she wouldn’t confess was that he was right to worry. While she was resigned to a life without a husband—her mother’s disgrace and unhappiness had cured her of romantic notions—the abstract concept of going childless troubled her. Spending time with Eli was opening her eyes to the joys of motherhood.
Carmen started humming “We Three Kings,” and Isabel sang the words. Eli seemed to enjoy this, so they continued with more songs, some slow and reverent, some silly. When all the oranges were embellished with reddish-brown swirls, she showed him how to dust them with ground cinnamon and nutmeg.
Ben returned just as they were washing their hands and storing the leftover spices. He smiled at Eli’s enthusiastic explanation of what they’d done. When he gently ruffled the boy’s curls, Isabel forced her gaze away. She couldn’t start viewing the lawman as anything other than a player of hearts.
“Want to help me arrange the oranges in my bowl?” Carmen beckoned Eli, who grabbed one in each hand.
Ben held his Stetson in both hands over his chest and leveled those intense eyes at her.
“Did the drawing help?”
She plucked it from the hutch. “What do you think?”
He grimaced. “Looks more like a marionette doll than a man.”
“It was worth a try. I did learn that he’s staying with this person. Maybe Eli lived in another town and, once his mother died, came to live with a relative or friend here?”
Ben tugged on the ends of his scarf. His whiskers were gone and his wavy hair tamed. Beneath his coat—the hole where the bullet pierced had been patched—he wore a fresh change of clothes. This outfit was more casual, more in line with his profession. He’d paired a blue-and-white-striped shirt with a tan vest. Dusky trousers hid most of his work-worn leather boots.
“It’s not that cold out today,” he said. “We could ask him to retrace his steps.”
“It was dark when we found him.”
He observed Carmen and Eli, who were on their knees at the short table. “Considering his age, I suppose it’d be a lot to expect him to remember his surroundings.”
“Did you learn anything else while you were out?”
“No.” He held up a finger. “I do have a surprise, however.”
Picking up a leather satchel he’d brought inside, he placed it on one of the chairs and pulled out a bundle of clothing. “I swung by Sam and Mary O’Malley’s place. You know their sons Josh and Caleb, along with their families, live on the property. Between the lot of them, I was able to procure a couple of pairs of pants and three shirts for Eli.”
Thrilled, Isabel inspected each article. “This is wonderful, Ben. Thank you. He’ll be much more comfortable in these.” There were also undergarments, socks and a single pair of shoes.
At his tender smile, her gullible heart flipped over.
“I think he’ll like this even better.” He produced another item.
Isabel skimmed the miniature wooden rocking horse painted in festive green and red hues. “It’s darling,” she breathed. “Did Josh make it?”
A renowned woodworker, Josh O’Malley owned a store on Main Street where he sold the furniture he crafted.
“This is actually store-bought.”
“The mercantile’s closed today.”
“I purchased this last week and was going to mail it to Tabitha for Christmas. She has a son about Eli’s age.”
Gently nudging his arm down, she said, “I’m sure it cost a fair amount of wages. Keep it for your nephew. We’ve done all right keeping Eli entertained without toys.”
“I want to do this, Isabel. Besides, I already told you I don’t have a lot of expenses. I can afford to purchase a different gift for Xavier.” His forehead furrowed. “I’d guess Eli doesn’t have many toys.”
“I’d have to agree with you.”
Mischief sparkled in the green depths. “There’s a rare occurrence.”
“Better savor the moment.” Tossing her head, she claimed a spot on the sofa. Carmen sent her a curious look. Then, noticing what was in Ben’s hands, she tapped Eli’s shoulder. “I believe Christmas has come early for someone.”
Eli lifted his head. With a gasp of delight, he dropped the orange and rushed over to Ben. He stopped short of actually touching the horse, however.
“Who’s it for?”
Crouching to his level, Ben held it out. “For you, if you want it.”
He gingerly explored the white hair made of yarn. “I can keep it? Forever?”
Ben chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair again. “You sure can, little man.”
Eli gleefully accepted the gift and, plopping down on the hearth rug, admired it from every angle. Isabel was reminded why she treasured this time of year. Giving to others, whether it was a material gift or a sacrifice of time or talents, evoked a sense of joy that couldn’t be matched.
A familiar New Testament verse sprang to mind—Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.
Isabel turned her head and glimpsed Ben’s solemn expression, one she had trouble interpreting. He didn’t look like a carefree bachelor. He looked like a man in mourning…but for what?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben noticed her assessment. His features shuttering, he plastered on a smile. This time, Isabel recognized it as fake.
“My mother makes these.” He tapped an orange. “But she uses apples.”
“We’ll have to try that next year,” Carmen said from her spot on the floor. She propped her elbows on the table and gazed up at him. “What were holidays like in the MacGregor household?”
“Loud. How could it not be with three boisterous sisters?” His eyes softened with an affection that belied his dry tone. Balancing against the sofa arm, he folded his arms over his broad chest. “We didn’t have much, but my mother did her best to make the holidays festive. We used nature’s bounty to decorate the house.” He nodded toward their mantel. “My sisters and I spent hours making paper chains like yours.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Carmen piped up. “Isabel usually left that task to Honor and me. She preferred to be in the kitchen with Mama baking special goodies.”
“I remember the entire month of December, our house smelled like a bakery. I snuck cookies whenever I could. My favorites were the almond cookies and lemon-flavored meringues, which my ma called kisses.” His grin widened, white teeth flashing. “Ma knew what I was doing but never scolded me for it.”
“One of the perks of being the only boy?” Isabel queried, intrigued despite herself
.
“My sisters would argue that point, I’m certain.”
“Did you have a huge Christmas feast?” Carmen said.
“Yes. Every year, my mother and father invited people in the community to join us. Widows. Single mothers or fathers. Anyone without family around who’d otherwise spend Christmas alone.”
“Don’t you miss spending the holidays with them?” Isabel said.
“I do. But I have good friends here. Shane and Allison are like family. I’ve gotten to know Alexander and Ellie better in recent weeks. I spent Thanksgiving with them.”
“Both couples are out of town, though.” Carmen jumped up and clapped her hands. “I have a marvelous idea. Why don’t you spend Christmas with us this year?”
Ben slid a glance at Isabel. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m sure your sister has plans that don’t include me.”
“Nonsense. Your company is sure to liven up our modest celebration. Right, Isa?”
“Um…” She struggled to find the right response. It was just like her youngest sibling to blurt out an invitation without thinking it through. The deputy was the last person Isabel had envisioned sharing the most special day of the year with.
Ben rescued her. “Christmas is several weeks away. For now, I have a suggestion. Why don’t we all gather evergreens? My poor cabin could use some, and those paper chains would look even prettier against a backdrop of holly.”
Carmen loved the idea, of course, but Eli preferred to play with his new treasure.
“You two go on ahead.” Carmen shooed them toward the door. “I’ll stay and keep Eli company.”
Isabel balked. Traipsing through the forest as a group was one thing. The prospect of a solo outing with Ben put her nerves on edge. “Shouldn’t we wait for Honor?”
“She won’t mind. She’s too distracted by thoughts of John and whether or not he’s going to propose.”
She froze. “Truly?”
“She overheard John and his pa talking right after Thanksgiving. She didn’t linger—eavesdropping is not what a lady does, she said—but heard enough to believe he’s making plans for their future.”