by Karen Kirst
She kept expecting someone to interrogate her. The way they talked, she hadn’t even been present! Resentment burned in her chest. Irrational, she knew, but wasn’t it just like a man to take all the credit?
By midafternoon, her temper had reached a high simmer. The arrival of brothers Myron and Chester Gallatin—bullies, both of them—only inflamed her unhappy mood.
The men’s father, Sal Gallatin, owned the lumberyard. They’d spent their whole lives working there and were built like stone mountains. Their nasty dispositions made them ugly.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, Chester?” Leering at Isabel, Myron elbowed his brother’s ribs.
“What’s that?”
“I’m thinking the miller’s in a foul mood.” He rubbed his massive hands together. “What do you say we try and fix that?”
Isabel ceased sanding the four-inch beech-wood handle that would pair nicely with a large blade. There’d been a lull in customers in the past hour, and she was currently alone. After last night’s run-in, she was especially sensitive to the threat of trouble. She debated reaching for her dagger. While she had excellent aim, she only had one weapon at her disposal and two targets.
Chester lowered his buckets of shelled corn to the floor and grinned, revealing one missing front tooth. “Good idea.”
Myron advanced, cruel mischief in his eyes. “Want to hear a funny story?”
Her muscles went rigid. “As you rightly pointed out, I’m not in the mood to chat.”
He reached behind her, crowding her on purpose, and snagged the measuring container for her share of the corn. “That’s a shame. It’s guaranteed to entertain.”
No doubt completely aware of her unease, Myron winked before scooping out the allotted amount and returning the container to the chest-high platform.
Squaring her shoulders, she started for the buckets. Chester’s hand encircled her wrist.
“Stop right there, Miss Flores. These are heavier than usual. Allow me.”
She jerked her hand free. In that moment, the door creaked open and in strolled the deputy. Sharp relief cascaded through her.
“Deputy MacGregor, you’re just the man I wanted to see.”
* * *
The tension inside the building was unmistakable. The Gallatin brothers weren’t fond of him. He’d taken them to task over multiple offenses, although nothing serious that would require jail time. The fact he was younger than both of them pricked their pride. Myron met Ben’s gaze in silent challenge. Chester took a step back from Isabel.
Her outfit reflected the overcast day outside. The gray blouse she donned boasted pencil-thin navy stripes and was paired with a somber black skirt. A wide velvet belt accentuated her slender waist and the flare of her hips. Color heightened, midnight eyes churning with displeasure, he knew her greeting was too good to be true.
She clasped and unclasped her hands at her waist. “I need to speak to you about a private matter.”
“Good thing I stopped in. I have business to discuss with you, as well.”
Ben greeted the men, drawing them into a conversation about a big building project they were supplying lumber for in a neighboring town. With Myron and Chester distracted, Isabel was able to work unhindered. When the pair had taken their leave—though not before goading her with promises to return soon—she rounded on him.
“I should’ve known you’d play the role of valiant hero.”
“And here I thought I was the man you desperately wanted to see.” He flashed his most winning smile.
She didn’t even blink. A sound between a sigh and groan escaped her. Spinning, she stalked to the corner, grabbed a broom and began sweeping the fine white dust that coated the mill’s surfaces.
“Careful. You’re going to whip up clouds of that stuff.” He came as close as he dared. “Care to explain what’s got you hot under the collar?”
Her knuckles were white on the handle. “You spun a yarn, Deputy. A pretty story that only hinted at the truth. It’s like I wasn’t even present in that alleyway.”
“Ah, I see.” Taking off his hat, he gestured to encompass the structure’s spacious interior. “You’re upset that this place isn’t packed wall-to-wall with curious townspeople hankering for the gory details.”
Her lips parted, and her spine lost some of its starch. “The reason you didn’t include me was to shield me from gossip?” Her tone insinuated he was incapable of such insight.
“You despise being the center of attention. I figured you’d thank me.” He adopted an innocent grin.
Her brow became pinched, and her chest expanded on a deep inhale. Apparently, his charms were ineffective where Isabel Flores was concerned. He didn’t completely mind. It was refreshing to be in the company of a woman who wasn’t trying to finagle a marriage proposal from him.
“That’s not the only reason,” he continued. “I figured leaving you out of the narrative would help in protecting you from our criminal.”
“Hmm.” Head bent, she began sweeping at a more sedate pace.
His expectations of gratitude evaporated. He peered out the window. “You haven’t had any suspicious activity, have you?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Good.” Leaning against the window ledge, he cradled his sore arm against his chest and watched her work. “I sent telegrams to the surrounding towns. If anyone has information on our man, they’ll contact us.”
Sheriff Timmons deserved a holiday with his family. Still, Ben could’ve used some assistance in this matter. He respected the older, more experienced lawman and had patterned his methods after Shane since arriving in Gatlinburg.
“Did you pass the night on the bank floor?”
“In one of the leather chairs, actually. Much more comfortable.”
She looked up, her dark gaze raking him from head to toe. Unlike others, she didn’t gaze upon him with manufactured adoration. Isabel was incapable of false feeling. She was a straight shooter. He liked that about her.
You like many more things about her, a warning voice inside knelled.
He suppressed the pointed reminder that he wasn’t meant for marriage and family. Dwelling on it only served to arouse dissatisfaction and, if not kept in check, regret that painted his days with a gray film. Better to focus on the many blessings God had bestowed upon him.
“And did you visit Doc Owens?”
“First thing this morning. He praised your handiwork, Nurse Flores, as I knew he would.”
A becoming blush tinted her cheeks. “Just be sure to keep it clean and dry so you don’t negate my efforts,” she said pertly.
He pushed off the wall and inclined his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Was there anything else?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because I have work to do.”
“Do the Gallatins frequently give you trouble? When I walked in, you looked about five seconds away from wielding your dagger.”
“They’re more of an annoyance than anything.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, I can take care of myself. My sisters and I have been on our own for nearly two years and have managed just fine.”
“I admire your grit.” He also admired her dogged commitment to her siblings and their livelihood. Her spunk. Plainspoken manner. Her courage. The list went on. “About what happened last night—”
“I’m fine, Deputy. Truly.”
“That’s what I thought after my first brush with violence. In the coming days and weeks, you may have nightmares. You might feel jumpy, even frightened for no reason at all. It’s important you talk to someone.” At the instant refusal forming on her lips, he wagged his index finger. “Doesn’t have to be me. You could wait and speak to Shane when he returns next month. Or I could round up a woman who’s experienced similar circumstances. The point is, you’re not alone.”
>
Her inner struggle was evident. “Thank you,” she finally allowed. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
With no other excuse to linger, Ben bade her goodbye, his thoughts lingering on the beautiful miller for a long while after. He spent the afternoon informing Main Street’s business owners of the need to be cautious. The thief had one of two choices, either accept his failure here and move on, or bide his time and try again. They had to be prepared for him to choose the latter.
Having been invited to dine with his good friends the Parkers, he arrived anticipating a pleasant evening in their company. A former US marshal, Grant Parker understood the rigors of Ben’s profession. His wife, Jessica, was part of the O’Malley clan, two large families who’d resided in the Smoky Mountains for decades. The redheaded beauty was sharp as a tack and outspoken. She was one of a handful of women, including Shane’s wife, Allison, and the Plum Café owner’s wife, Ellie, who openly took him to task over his heartbreaker reputation.
As soon as they welcomed him into their home, he sensed a charge in the atmosphere. The husband and wife tended to be affectionate. This night, however, there was an added significance to their exchanges. Ben shelved his curiosity until Jessica placed three hefty slices of dried blueberry cake drizzled with icing on the table.
As tempting as the dessert was, he didn’t immediately reach for his fork. He folded his arms across his chest and winced when the stitches pulled the tender skin. “All right. Out with it.”
Grant stopped chewing midbite, his blue gaze startled. Jessica’s fork halted halfway to her mouth. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she lowered the utensil to the plate and took a sip of milk, not the coffee she typically enjoyed with her dessert.
“We should’ve known you’d guess something was amiss,” she said.
Grant chased his cake with a long draw of coffee. Setting the mug down, he ran a hand over his short blond hair. “You’re right. He’s not one to miss details.”
“Noticing details has helped preserve my life. In addition to God’s protection, of course,” he pointed out. “What’s the big secret?”
Jessica found Grant’s hand atop the table and threaded their fingers together. “We’re not quite ready to share this news with anyone outside the family. However, you eat at our table often enough to be considered family.” She shot him an arch smile.
Ben studied their faces, certain what was to come next. He braced himself. Visualized his cheerful response. It had to be a balance of enthusiasm and happiness for the deserving couple.
“We’re having a baby.”
Ben felt his mouth stretching into a smile—a convincing one, he hoped. “That’s wonderful news.”
Sliding his chair back, he moved to hug Jessica, who surreptitiously swiped at her eyes. Grant stood and accepted his bear hug and hearty pats on the back. Still gripping his friend’s shoulders, Ben eased back. “I’m thrilled for you both.”
A flicker of concern temporarily dampened Grant’s expression. Before the other man could voice his thoughts, Ben returned to his seat.
“When’s the bundle of joy set to arrive?”
“Midsummer.” Grant held Jessica close. “Probably late July.”
Wonder and excitement made her eyes shine. The couple had been married more than two years. They must’ve wondered if they’d be able to have children. It occurred to Ben that they’d been happy without children, but then, they hadn’t entered the marriage aware that having a baby wasn’t even a possibility. He couldn’t think of a single woman who’d willingly agree to a childless union.
The summer before his twentieth birthday, he’d suffered a terrible illness that many had feared he’d succumb to. His parents and sisters, along with his fiancée, Marianne Ogden, had kept vigil at his bedside. And while he’d eventually recovered, it hadn’t been without cost. The long bout of mumps had led to complications. Rare ones, his doctor had implied, but they did occur. Ben would not be able to father a child.
He dug into his cake with false enthusiasm. “You’ll be pleased to know I’m available to be the official baby spoiler,” he quipped, winking at Jessica.
“I imagine you’d take quite well to that task,” she responded. “And one day, when the right woman lassoes your heart, I’ll return the favor with your kids.”
Grant grimaced. Ben shot him a quelling look. Of Gatlinburg’s population, Grant Parker was the only soul who knew Ben’s secret. And he was determined to keep it that way.
Chapter Three
Isabel was closing the mill the following evening when a male figure separated from the shadows.
“Evenin’, sugarplum.”
She jumped and would’ve screamed if her lantern light hadn’t spilled over his all-too-familiar features.
“You again!” She pressed her hand to her throat. “This is becoming a habit.”
An annoying one, at that.
“I apologize for frightening you.”
Ben was dressed in his Sunday best, a black suit that enhanced his vibrant coloring. His hair was combed neatly off his forehead, and his lean cheeks had recently seen a razor blade. The suit jacket molded to his firm shoulders and hung straight to his hips, where the slight bulge of his weapon was noticeable. A navy-and-black plaid wool scarf was wrapped about his neck.
She resisted the urge to ask him where he was headed. Probably to some young lady’s house to engage in what he did best—making women fall in love with him with very little effort.
“I have news to share.” His breath created white clouds in the still air. “This afternoon, I received a response from the Pigeon Forge sheriff’s office. One of their banks was hit in the wee hours of the morning. The perp’s still in the area.”
Freeing her braid from beneath her cloak, she set out for the cabin. Ben fell into step beside her.
“How can you be sure it’s the same man?”
“I can’t, not for sure. We haven’t had any robberies of this type—attempted or otherwise—for nine months or so. However, given our town’s proximity, I’m inclined to believe it is.”
Ascending the stairs, she paused on the porch and curved her hand around the nearest post. “If I promise to be alert to any hint of danger, will you cease these unexpected visits?”
He’d remained on the bottom step, bringing them on an even level. Mild amusement danced over his features. “Come now, there’s no use pretending you don’t enjoy our exchanges.”
For a moment, she put his incorrigible behavior toward women and her poor view of men in general out of her head. Take away those obstacles and she could maybe see his appeal. Not only was he pleasing to look upon—a girl could get lost in those sea-green eyes—he also had an affable personality. He was well liked and respected by many in the community.
“Surely you must know that a woman like me, whose own father engaged in flagrant indiscretions without a thought to what his behavior was doing to his wife and daughters, would never enjoy spending time with a man like you.” She felt as jaded as she sounded.
His light mood vanished. Was that actual regret passing over his face?
She’d never get to hear his response, because it was cut off by her sisters’ intrusion. Honor and Carmen were the epitome of Christmas cheer in their matching holly-red dresses. They’d each requested and received new fabric for their birthdays. They’d taken great pleasure in designing the outfits. Their excited chatter faltered at the sight of Ben.
“Deputy! What a pleasant surprise,” Carmen gushed, testing the artificial flower tucked amid her brunette tresses. “Are you here to escort Isabel to the serenade?”
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 p
ut 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.”