by Karen Kirst
“It certainly brings out your eyes, dear,” Patricia inserted. “Just wait until you see her in it, Ben. You’ll be scraping your jaw off the floor.”
Veronica preened. “If you don’t already have a shirt and vest to match, I’m sure Quinn can locate them for you.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You’re not the only one.” Silas chuckled. “These females and their fashion. I’m happy if I walk out the door in matching socks.”
“We’ll want our outfits to coordinate, of course,” Veronica told him impatiently. “Don’t you remember we talked about this?”
“I don’t recall discussing attending together, much less wearing matching clothing.”
Hot color bloomed in her cheeks. “It seems your memory has been faulty of late, Deputy.”
“I apologize. I have had a lot on my mind.”
Veronica tossed her napkin atop her plate and abruptly stood. “Well, it’s clear your thoughts didn’t include me.”
Her rush from the room was punctuated by the slamming door. Silas took another thoughtful puff on his pipe. Patricia’s hand trembled as she lowered her cup.
“You’ll have to excuse her, Ben. She hasn’t been herself today.”
He scraped his chair back. “I’ll go talk to her.” Grabbing his hat from the hutch, he inclined his head. “Thanks again for the meal.”
Emerging onto the dark porch, he spotted the overwrought young woman’s shadowed form near the lane and the break in the fence line. His long strides ate up the distance.
“Veronica—”
“I shouldn’t have been rude.”
She enfolded his hand in both of hers. With a start, Ben realized he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. That wasn’t the case with Isabel. The barest brush of her skin had him warm and tingly all over.
“I admit it,” she rushed ahead, “I’ve been jealous. Ridiculous, I know.” Her laugh had a desperate quality. “I mean, what could you possibly see in her?”
He tugged free. “Veronica, I have no intention of marrying. Ever.”
“That’s because you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.” She gripped his suit lapels. “I’m different than the others, Ben. I’m confident I can make you happy.”
Shame pounded at his temples. He’d provoked this scene. He’d hurt her and others—the fact that it had been unintentional didn’t matter.
“I’m truly sorry. I shouldn’t have initiated a friendship with you.”
“Friendship?” Her voice was shrill. She thumped his chest. “This was a courtship. How can you deny we have something special?”
“I was wrong.” He whipped off his hat and, pacing a few steps away, thrust his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been wrong for a long time. It’s time I stopped running from the truth.”
“What truth?”
“I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.” Going to her, he cupped her shoulder. “You’ll make some fortunate man very happy. It just won’t be me.”
Ben left her, more certain of his course than ever before. He’d walk this path alone and conduct himself with honor. No more disappointed hearts. He was done dragging others into his misfortune.
Now if he could manage to control his growing attraction to Isabel, he’d have no cause to worry.
* * *
Isabel had the distinct feeling she was being followed. Whether it was her imagination playing tricks or her instincts identifying an actual threat, she couldn’t be sure. The gloomy afternoon, complete with thick fog hugging the mountains, evoked a menacing atmosphere. She increased her pace along the deserted lane, her gaze darting to first one side, then the next, searching the woods for signs of life.
Should’ve brought the horse. But she’d been restless and keen to stretch her legs. Walking to the mercantile alone would give her a chance to sort through the thoughts plaguing her. Ben had been busy this week. During his infrequent visits, he hadn’t been inclined to relate how his dinner with Veronica had gone. And she hadn’t asked.
A squirrel darted out of the underbrush and into her path. Gasping, Isabel came up short.
Her heartrate hiked. “It’s an innocent squirrel, Isa,” she muttered.
Clutching her empty basket, she plunged on ahead, skirts swishing. This was Ben’s fault, she thought irritably. He’d convinced her the bank robber would want to silence her. Well, there’d been no indications he’d stuck around. They hadn’t connected the attempted robbery of Quinn’s store or the missing horse to the man who’d threatened her life. Those could be random, isolated events.
If she said that aloud to Ben, he would focus on two words—could be. Being prepared for the worst was a code he seemed to live by.
The crack of a limb startled her. She whirled to her right. There…a streak of movement through the trees. A man in dark colors, his face hidden by a low-slung hat.
Her feet felt weighted with bricks. Dagger. Get your dagger.
But he wasn’t running toward her. He was running away, bent on escape.
Could this be the mysterious Happy?
Isabel didn’t think. She bolted into the trees. “Wait!”
The man ran faster, weaving around bushes and tree trunks, dead leaves crunching beneath his boots.
“I only want to talk!” she called after him. Trying to track his progress while also trying to avoid obstacles slowed her down. Not to mention the fact she was wearing far more restrictive layers than him.
A stitch in her side that sharpened with each jolt of her shoes against the hard, uneven ground convinced her to give up the chase. Bracing her hand against a tree, she sucked in great gulps of cold air and battled crushing disappointment. This stranger had been following her for a singular purpose, and it wasn’t to harm her. He had to be Eli’s guardian. She felt it in her bones.
Returning to the spot where she’d dropped her basket, Isabel found the lane still empty. She hurried to town and bypassed the mercantile for the jail.
Claude Jenkins intercepted her outside the entrance. Tugging his sagging waistband farther up his girth, he said, “If you’re looking for Ben, he’s out on official business. Just left five minutes ago.”
“Did he mention how long he’d be gone?”
“Not to me. If you don’t mind my saying so, you look upset. Has something happened?”
Isabel debated what to do. “I encountered a man in the forest just now. He took off the moment I spotted him. I think it might be Eli’s guardian.”
He looked understandably concerned. “It’s a possibility. Or it could turn out to be a traveler passing through who isn’t keen on being social. Whatever the case, I’ll round up some fellows to investigate. Maybe we’ll locate his tent site, if not the man himself.”
Claude glanced about as if ensuring no one could hear them. “How is young Eli?”
She bristled, well aware where this conversation was headed. “He’s well, thank you.”
“I have to tell you, I wasn’t expecting to hear you wanted to raise him by yourself. The Watsons were crushed when they learned the news.”
“How could they be? They haven’t even met him.”
“To them, Eli was their last opportunity to have a son.”
“Eli was brought to my home, not theirs. They don’t know that he can’t sleep without his rocking horse. They don’t know that he’s suspicious of men or that he’s got a tender scalp and you have to be extra gentle when combing out his curls. Mr. Jenkins, they don’t know him like I do.” Her voice shaking, she pressed her hand to her chest. “My sisters and I have become that boy’s family.”
His gaze reflected sympathy. “Taking him in is an admirable act of Christian charity. It’s understandable you’d feel protective. Unfortunately, the Flores name has been sullied over the years. Are you certa
in you wish to expose him to the same derision you and your sisters have suffered?”
Isabel felt as if the banker had dealt her a cruel blow. Doubts rushed in, resurrecting shame and the impossible wish for a different legacy. But then, like a lifeboat come to save her, Ben’s encouragement, his repeated assertions that her father’s sins weren’t hers to bear, bolstered her confidence.
She straightened to her full height. “Our father was a scoundrel, it’s true, but those were his mistakes, not ours. I’m striving to regain honor and respect, a family legacy we can be proud of. If some people don’t recognize the difference between the way Manuel conducted himself and our current lives, that’s their problem. Not mine. And if Eli does experience a taste of the same small-mindedness, we’ll be there to guide him through it. We’ll teach him that God loves each of us, no matter our heritage, no matter our personal failures. We’ll teach him that God’s opinion far outweighs anyone else’s.”
Feeling as if the pronouncement had freed her from a lifelong burden, Isabel actually smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”
The banker’s eyes were wide with what appeared to be reluctant admiration. It hit her then that her own actions had influenced, at least to some degree, how others treated her. Her father’s shame ever present, she’d lived as if she were to blame. Well, no more.
And to think, Ben had inspired her transformed attitude. Ben, the notorious flirt she’d evaded for years. Ben, who’d turned out to be so much more than she’d ever given him credit for.
What does this mean, Lord? Was this the reason You placed Ben in the alley that night? Or do You have something more in mind?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The moment Isabel heard the approaching rider, she draped her cloak over her shoulders, seized the lamp from the table and left the cabin’s warmth. She didn’t care that it was past midnight or that her sisters and Eli were fast asleep. Worry fueled her quick jaunt to the hut. Ben had been gone the entire day, and she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling something was amiss. She’d never heard from Claude, so she didn’t know if they’d found the man in the woods or not.
Rounding the corner, she noticed Ben’s horse wasn’t hitched to the post out front. A large form came around the other side, and her heart lurched into her throat. She raised the lamp high.
“Ben?”
His pace slowed. “Isabel. Is something wrong?” He met her at the stoop. “I thought you’d be in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He opened the hut door, his teeth gleaming white. “Worried about me?”
She followed without waiting for an invitation and suspended the lamp from a peg. “As a matter of fact, I—” She gasped. “You’re hurt!”
Grimacing, he gingerly passed his fingertips over the gash above his eye. “I tangled with an irate bull.”
Pulling the lone chair to the middle of the floor, she pressed him into it. “That’s what you’ve been doing all day?”
He grinned. “Not all day. I was trying to sort out a neighborly squabble after lunch. Seems Mr. Fairchild’s sons have been trespassing on the widow French’s property and fishing out of her pond without her permission. As I was leaving, I was compelled to investigate claims of a moonshine still. And finally, Ed Nettles begged me to help corral his rogue bull.”
Isabel bent close to inspect the wound. “It needs stitches. I’ll get my supplies.”
His gloved hand closed over wrist as she made to leave. The buckskin was soft and warm and his grip firm. “No stitches, Nurse Flores.”
“You might scar if you don’t.”
“Scars add character, don’t you know?” His voice deepened to lush velvet.
The tranquil night, the realization that they were the only ones awake for miles, turned her blood to slow-moving honey. The indescribable yearning she’d fought to imprison broke free, like a mighty wall of water breaking through a dam, enveloping her and drowning out the many, many reasons why she should return to her cabin right this second.
Her gaze landed on the washbasin. “At least let me clean it. Do you have a fresh handkerchief?”
In answer, he released her wrist, removed his gloves and dug in his coat pocket. He said nothing as he held out the snowy-white cloth, but his eyes—oh, his eyes, they spoke volumes. Mouth dry, Isabel forced her shaky legs to the basin and dampened the material. When she returned to his side, she stumbled over his saddlebag.
Ben caught her around the waist. “Steady, sugarplum,” he murmured.
Isabel settled one hand on his shoulder for balance before turning her attention to the gash. “D-does that hurt?”
His face was tilted up, and the faint light flicked over his features, creating a play of angles and shadows. “Stings a little. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“And your arm?”
“Is fine. I’m fine.”
She dabbed the wound, aware of his large hands spanning her sides. “Your job is dangerous.”
“It has some inherent risks.”
She ceased her ministrations to gaze deeply into his eyes, which were a pulsing, vibrant sea green at the moment. “You regularly set aside your own comfort—indeed, you risk your safety in order to keep us safe. I admire you, Ben.” His eyes flared in surprise. “Thank you for saving my life in the alley. And for everything you’ve done to help me since.”
Before she could stop herself, she bent and pressed a kiss on his cheek. When she lifted her head, Ben cupped her cheek with a trembling hand.
“Isabel.”
His expression was nothing like she’d seen before…earnest and vulnerable and laid bare. He guided her face down, and she willingly went along. Their mouths met and parted on twin sighs, as if they’d both been waiting a lifetime for this moment and couldn’t quite believe it was real. The damp cloth slipped from her fingers to the floor. His lips sought hers again, tender and reverent, slow and sweet. This kiss was a poignant window into his soul, and she felt closer to him than anyone else in the world. Dizzy delight swirled through Isabel. She gripped his shoulder to keep from falling over.
* * *
Ben knew he was leading them both down a treacherous path that held no promise of rainbows and happy-ever-after at the end. He knew it, yet he couldn’t let Isabel go. She was too precious, this moment too fleeting. Framing her face, he slowly rose to his feet. Her lids fluttered open, her eyes big and soft with wonder, her lips parted in protest. Her words from minutes ago—I admire you, Ben—scrolled through his mind again, shocking and powerful. Those words, coming from this beautiful, amazing woman, made him feel as if he could overcome any obstacle. He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her snug against his chest. Gazing up at him, she encircled his neck and tentatively stroked his hair.
“What are we doing?” she whispered, awe evident in her voice.
Ben brushed her lips with his own and smiled. “Something unwise.”
“That’s what I thought.” Her hold tightened. “Kiss me, then, before we come to our senses and you banish me to my cabin.”
He happily complied, the loneliness he hid from the world shrinking a little as he held her tight and kissed her. Isabel was everything he’d ever dreamed about in a woman. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start dreaming about forever with her and Eli, the family he’d been denied.
Start dreaming about? Too late.
Isabel eased out of his arms, regret brimming in her eyes. “We should probably stop.”
Ben came close to reaching for her again, but the futility of such an action prevented him from doing so.
He caressed the curve of her jaw. “We shouldn’t have started, but I can’t bring myself to wish it undone.” He’d treasure these moments for the rest of his days.
She swallowed hard and nodded. Wrapped her arms around her middl
e.
Not fully trusting his self-control, he went to the woodstove and began tossing kindling inside. Without Isabel’s nearness to distract him, the dull ache behind his eyes registered again.
“Did you see Claude at all today?” she asked.
“No, why?”
“Earlier, when I was on my way to the mercantile, a man was following me.”
“What?” He twisted around and stood up so fast the room momentarily tilted. He gripped the window ledge. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why do you think I came here at this hour?”
The dull ache became a fierce pounding. The gash’s lingering sting was nothing compared to his sudden, intense headache. “Did he threaten you? How did you get away?”
“He’s the one who escaped.” Isabel came closer. “Ben, you’ve gone pale. Did the bull kick you in the head?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I had my eyes on him instead of where I was going. Collided with the fence post. And what do you mean he escaped? Please don’t tell me you tried to confront a stranger.”
Her expression was equal parts worry and defiance. “Come to the cabin, and I’ll fill you in on the details. Did you eat supper?”
“There wasn’t time.”
“I’ll fix you a snack and an herbal infusion that should help you with that headache.”
Here was an offer she wouldn’t have made mere weeks ago. Ben was tempted. Not only would he appreciate something to relieve the pain, but he wasn’t ready for their time together to end. “It’s late. I wouldn’t want to disturb the others.”
“I know how to be quiet.” She arched a single raven brow. “Do you?”
“I think I can manage it.”
“Good.”
In the cabin, he peeked in on Eli while Isabel put the kettle on. The boy looked more adorable than usual curled up on his side, his wooden horse clutched to his chest. Ben straightened the covers and tucked them more closely about his small form. Then he moved out of the room before he could succumb to foolish thoughts he had no business entertaining. It hadn’t been easy, especially in the beginning, but he’d accepted that fatherhood wasn’t part of God’s plan.