by Karen Kirst
“Do you have family there?”
“Aunts, uncles and cousins. I know them by name only. Papa didn’t see the need to take us for a visit.”
“Why don’t you plan a trip?”
She nudged her roan to continue. “I can’t afford to close the mill for the amount of time we’d need. Besides, I’m not sure Honor would be willing to be apart from John.”
Ben’s horse pulled abreast of hers. He noticed her fleeting consternation.
“You aren’t ready for her to leave the nest, are you?”
“John’s a good man. If I didn’t think he’d treat her right, I would’ve discouraged the courtship. They love and respect each other.” Her lips turned down. “I confess the thought of her not being around every day is difficult to accept, however.”
“You’ll still have Carmen.”
Her features relaxed. “Carmen has a zest for life. She has the ability to delight in the smallest things. She’s spontaneous and loving. It will take a special man to complement her personality.”
“I commend you, Isabel. You were, what, twenty when you assumed responsibility for your sisters?”
She looked uncomfortable with the praise. “I didn’t have a choice. Besides, they were sixteen and seventeen years old, hardly children.”
“You could’ve insisted they live with your mother and aunt. You could’ve sold the place and moved with them.”
“I’m not cut out for city life.”
“It would’ve been the easier path. You could’ve started fresh without Manuel’s reputation shadowing you.” A pair of birds, one larger than the other, burst from the trees and engaged in a game of chase. When their squawks had ceased, he continued. “I’m getting the sense you don’t often take the easy way out.”
She halted her roan mare, aptly named Honey, and dismounted. She indicated the fir trees yards ahead. “How long do you think this will take?”
Ben followed suit, walking around to where she stood. “Tired of my company already?” he jibed.
A hawk’s cry pierced the silence, but it did nothing to detract from the fact they were alone on this mountain with no one else around for miles. She backed up a step. Her gaze had trouble holding his.
“We’ve spent more time in each other’s pockets the past three days than in the four years you’ve lived here,” she retorted. “It is getting a bit tiresome.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her. “I’m enjoying your company. Very much.”
Her head reared back. “But I don’t treat you like a beloved prince.”
“Exactly.”
He fished his shears from the saddlebag and led his sorrel farther up the incline. Releasing the reins, he ducked beneath the full branches and examined the trees. He filled his lungs with the pungent scent.
“Smells like Christmas.” When she didn’t join him, he called to her. “Come point out which ones you want.”
She complied, her demeanor cautious. His admission must’ve spooked her. “They look alike to me. You pick.”
“Easy enough.”
He cut through the first branch, and Isabel dragged it out of the copse. She returned with a scowl.
“What’s the matter?”
She’d removed her gloves. “My glove got snared on the wood and ripped.”
Ben laid the shears on the ground and tugged his off. “Here. Wear mine.”
“No.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “You’ll get resin on your skin.”
“Better me than you.” Advancing, he did a give-me motion. “Hand them over.”
“Your fingers will get cold.”
“I’m used to being in the elements.” He lowered his face to within a breath of hers. “Humor me, sugar—”
She pressed her smooth, bare fingers to his mouth, effectively cutting off his words. Ben willed his body to remain motionless as the effects of her bold touch rocked him to the core.
Her face was so very close, her eyes big and dark, her inky eyelashes lush and curving downward. The cold air had brushed her cheekbones with a hint of pink. Despite the thick scent of pine and sap permeating the mountaintop, her unique spice-and-orange scent still teased him.
“Why do you call me that?” she whispered.
“Because—” At the movement of his lips, her attention slipped to his mouth and her hand still covering it. Her eyes widened. To his instant disappointment, she snatched her hand away.
His head fuzzy with yearning, he cleared his throat. “You, ah, tend to wear shades of purple. When you stitched up my arm, you were wearing a plum-colored blouse. Put me in mind of sugarplums.”
“Oh.”
He reached out and adjusted her scarf, his knuckles skimming the underside of her chin.
“It’s a nice color on you.”
She shivered. “T-thank you.”
“See? Isn’t it easy?”
“What?” She seemed somewhat dazed.
“Accepting compliments at face value.”
Her features cleared, and the familiar suspicion with which she so often regarded him reared its ugly head. She slapped her ruined gloves against his chest. “You want to forgo your comfort for mine, fine. If you get frostbite, don’t expect me to play nurse again.”
“Too bad,” he mourned. “You’re an excellent one.”
Tucking her torn gloves into his pocket, he watched to make sure she put his on before setting about cutting enough branches for both their cabins. Since he only wanted one for his mantel and one for his front door, it didn’t take long to amass the necessary amount. Once he had them bundled and tied securely with twine, he hefted equal portions into the two oversize canvas satchels attached on opposite sides of his saddle.
“Ready?”
Isabel seized his wrist and inspected his hand. The air whooshed from his lungs. “As I warned, you’re covered with resin. You’ll have a time getting this off.”
“A worthy price considering your cabin will reflect the season’s bounty. Eli will enjoy helping you decorate.”
Releasing him, she nodded. “I have a feeling he’s missed out on a lot. I’ll include him in our preparations as much as possible.”
They both knew the boy’s time with them was tenuous. While they were no closer to finding his guardian, who knew what the next day might bring?
Halfway down the mountain, Ben heard male voices. He slowed his horse and lifted a hand to indicate she do the same. Unable to make out their conversation, he slipped out of the saddle.
“Stay here.”
Her posture going rigid, she gripped the reins more tightly. Ben shifted his coat for easy access to his weapon. His hands were numb from the cold and sticky, but that wouldn’t prevent him from pulling the trigger if he had to. Walking up and over the knoll, he quickly cataloged the scene, recognizing farmers who owned property not far from this spot. One of their horses was in dire trouble.
A thin stream that originated higher up the mountain pooled where the ground leveled off. The unfortunate horse must’ve fallen and was now stuck in the mud and muck surrounding the shallow pond. The animal was on her side, her head thrashing and eyes wild.
The men’s faces reflected relief the instant Ben made his presence known. After promising to assist them, he hurried back to Isabel.
“There’s a horse in need of rescue,” he explained, his fingers clumsy as he gathered the rope attached to his saddle. “I have to help.” The slide of metal against leather sounded. “Take my gun. I don’t foresee any problems, but you’ll have protection in case you need it. Shouldn’t take you another twenty minutes to get home.”
Isabel stared at him, his gun and the knoll. “I’m staying.”
Before he could protest, she was out of the saddle and in possession of both horses’ reins. “Lead
the way, Deputy.”
Chapter Nine
Seeing the resolve settle over Ben’s features was like watching a soldier prepare himself for battle. When she returned his gloves to him, he accepted them without question, his mind already on the difficult task ahead. This was the no-nonsense lawman she’d glimpsed in the alley days ago.
She waited near the base of the knoll with Blaze and Honey as Ben discussed the best course of action. After the elderly men related what happened, he slowly crouched and, speaking in a soothing voice, stroked the incapacitated mare’s neck. He checked her pulse first, then inspected her gums.
“Healthy pink color,” he murmured. “That’s good.” He ran his hands over her legs. “I can’t feel any signs of fractures. Her muscles aren’t seizing up, so I don’t think she’s in shock. How long has she been like this?”
“About an hour. She’s been struggling to free herself, but her movements slowed about ten minutes ago.”
Ben frowned. “The water’s ice-cold. We need to act fast.” Working carefully so as not to spook her, he attempted to slide the rope beneath the mare’s body.
The horse, whose name was Wishbone, thrashed and quivered. Isabel’s heart went out to her. The farmers did nothing to ease her distress. Either the thought didn’t cross their minds or they weren’t keen on getting too close to the spooked mare.
Her mind made up, Isabel led Blaze and Honey to a nearby tree and tied them to low-slung branches. She approached on Ben’s right side in clear view of Wishbone.
“Let me hold her head while you secure the rope.”
On his knees in the muck, the deputy shifted to regard her with surprise. He’d tossed his hat in the grass, leaving his hair to flop into his eyes. “Sure you want to do that? The water’s freezing, and I can’t promise you’ll be able to wash this mud from your skirts.”
In answer, she knelt on the ground beside him, hiding her wince at the cold shock of moisture seeping through her layers of clothing. “I’ll work on keeping her calm.”
Admiration flashed in his eyes. “I appreciate the assistance, and I’m sure Wishbone does, too.”
“Say, ain’t that one of the Flores girls?” The thin, bald-headed man standing several feet away nudged his portly friend. “Pretty thing, ain’t she?”
“Couldn’t say. I forgot my spectacles at home.”
“With a good-for-nothing pa, she could be as pretty as a newborn foal and still not catch herself a respectable husband.”
Humiliation scalded her. She’d heard this and much worse over the years, but having Ben witness it added an extra layer of embarrassment.
“Enough.” Ben scowled at them both. “No more comments like that if you want our help, got it?”
The thin one shrugged. “Just statin’ facts, Deputy.”
Ben dipped his head to catch her gaze. “Ignore them.”
Lips compressed into a thin line, she nodded and focused on Wishbone. Ben shifted to the side to allow her room. The water was several inches deep here. She prayed the mare wouldn’t suffer any adverse effects.
“Hello there, sweet lady,” she crooned, lightly rubbing between her ears. “The deputy here is going to get you out of this mess real soon.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said on a strained laugh.
Funny, Isabel didn’t doubt Ben’s abilities, whether it was saving her from a thief, seeing to the needs of a scared little boy or rescuing a trapped horse. He was a man of many talents.
It took multiple attempts, but he was able to tie a bowline knot around her girth.
He lumbered to his feet. His pants were wet from the knees down, and little clumps of mud marred his coat. “Let’s see if we can’t convince Wishbone to abandon her watery bed.”
With a parting word of support to the mare, Isabel pushed upright and moved out of the way. Her legs were shaky. One glance at her mud-caked skirt confirmed she would most likely have to discard it.
“Isabel, you hold on to her lead rope. Wilbur, you and Cary come and stand behind me. It’s going to take our combined strength to get her upright.”
On Ben’s count, they tugged and coaxed and tugged some more. The mare was tired and cold and not budging. After half an hour passed, Isabel’s uneasiness grew. Wishbone had given up. Ben’s jaw was locked tight, perspiration dotting his forehead. Belatedly, she remembered his injured arm. With all the effort he’d been expending, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d popped one or more stitches. For certain he must be experiencing discomfort.
“I can’t pull no more.” Cary released the rope and lifted his arms in surrender.
Wilbur mopped his bald head. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to let her go, Deputy.”
Ben’s gaze flashed fire. “I’m not ready to give up.” Dropping the rope, he returned to Wishbone and patted her side. “We’re going to try something else, okay, girl? I know you’re exhausted, but this is our last shot.”
Shifting on his haunches, his gaze met theirs. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to roll her onto her other side, give her a chance to use a different set of muscles.”
Isabel rested her hand on his shoulder. “What do you want me to do?”
His mouth softening in silent gratitude, he gave her instructions. Their eyes locked, and it was as if they were connected somehow—they shared the same mind, the same purpose.
He acquired ropes from the farmers and tied them to Wishbone’s legs. It took some convincing, but Cary and Wilbur finally agreed to help once more. With the four of them working together, they were able to gently roll the mare. The new position had her angled downhill. Isabel held her breath. Somehow, her hand found Ben’s. His tight hold was reassuring as Wishbone flailed and, with a great heave, finally hobbled onto her shaky legs.
A whoop escaped Ben. Seconds later, his arms closed around Isabel’s waist, and he whirled her in a circle.
Isabel laughed as he set her back on her feet. Steadying her with both hands firmly gripping her waist, he beamed at her, his eyes sparkling with triumph. The air between them shimmered with anticipation. The lightheartedness vanished. Ben’s gaze lowered to her mouth and darkened with want. Just like on the mountaintop, Isabel experienced a magnetic pull that chased away rational arguments. It was as if they were linked by an invisible tether that was shrinking with every second that passed, urging them closer.
He swallowed hard and released her, turning away to examine Wishbone.
What had just happened? And why did she feel disappointed that the moment had passed?
* * *
“Tell me the story of the horse again?”
Isabel tucked the thick covers around Eli’s chest, leaving his arms free. He refused to part with the rocking horse, despite her reassurances it would be safe on the bedside stand.
She couldn’t resist finger combing his springy curls away from his brow. “It’s late. I promise to tell you over breakfast.”
Carmen and Eli had been agog at her and Ben’s filthy state hours earlier. While Isabel had intended on helping him remove the resin from his hands, he’d declined her offer and returned to his cabin. Amid the barrage of questions from her sister and young charge, she’d forgotten to ask after his wounded arm, and now worry festered.
He’s a grown man, Isabel. If he requires medical attention, he’ll visit Doc.
He yawned widely. “I hope Wishbone’s okay.”
Shifting on the edge of her bed, she said, “I’m sure she’s doing fine.”
The farmers had promised to bathe Wishbone with warm water and give her a clean, dry place to pass the night. Ben planned to visit her the following day. Isabel would like to accompany him, but she doubted the wisdom of spending even more time in the handsome lawman’s company. That charged moment between them, the feeling of his strong hands cupping her waist
, replayed in her mind, releasing a thousand butterflies in her middle.
She’d liked having him close.
Averting her face, she squeezed her eyes tight. I will not develop an infatuation for the Debonair Deputy!
“Will we go to the mercantile tomorrow like Ben promised?”
The heavy dose of doubt in Eli’s voice produced a frown. What had the adults in his life done to engender this mistrust?
“He didn’t promise, remember?” she pointed out gently. “Ben said that if at all possible, he’d take you to town. He’s our deputy, and the sheriff’s spending Christmas in Virginia. That means he’s in charge. Whatever problems arise, he has to see to them.”
She’d developed a newfound respect for him. Ben’s willing spirit to help man or beast—without complaint—was a rare thing.
Eli thought about that for a minute. “You’re coming with us, too. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “I have chores to tend to.”
His face reflected his inner turmoil, and Isabel patted his hand. “You can trust Ben. He’s a good man.”
When he continued to fiddle with the toy, she said, “Is Happy a good man, Eli?”
His blue eyes lifted to hers, and he nodded against the pillow. “He’s nice to me.”
Relief surged through her. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Why did he leave me here?”
She stiffened. Keeping her voice even, she said, “Happy brought you to my home?”
“He picked it ’cause there are three girls here.” He tried to hold up three fingers. “He said you’d take care of me.”
Could this be true? A stranger had chosen to abandon a four-year-old boy on their doorstep with the assumption they were decent people and would care for him?
Bewildered, she debated whether or not to ride over to Ben’s. This news was huge.
“Your friend was right. You’re safe here, Eli.” She stroked his arm. “Did you know this has been my room since I was your age? Actually, my sisters and I shared this room.” She pointed to the opposite corner where the wardrobe now stood. “Their bed used to be over there.”