A Lawman for Christmas

by Karen Kirst

  Isabel refused to let her unease show. She kept her head high and pretended to be riveted by the newly hung decorations. Main Street was draped in Christmas cheer, transformed by festive spruce and pinecone wreaths on every shop door and garlands adorning posts and pillars. Wide cherry-red ribbons lent pops of color to the wooden structures. The window displays bore evidence of the season—fruits shipped in from warmer locales, assortments of nuts and boxes of expensive chocolates. There were toys, too—miniature metal trains, wooden whistles and china dolls.

  Eli’s blue eyes were huge, his jaw sagging. If she could be granted one wish, it would be for the chance to give him an exceptional Christmas.

  Stationed on the bench outside the mercantile entrance, a trio of wizened men gawked at them.

  “Mornin’, Deputy. Who’s the kid?”

  Ben smiled down at Eli. “This is my new friend Eli.”

  Eli said hello. The man who’d spoken peered at him, tobacco juice dribbling out of the side of his mouth. He wiped it with his sleeve. “He’s a funny-lookin’ one, ain’t he?”

  Tightening her grasp on Eli’s hand, Isabel glared down her nose at the rude man. “Not at all. He’s as handsome as a child could hope to be.”

  Jerking open the entrance door, she swept inside with Eli at her side. The bell above her head clanged, drawing curious gazes their way. The shoppers’ faces reflected instant interest. Isabel didn’t make a habit of patronizing the mercantile at this time of day, especially not with a child no one had ever met. Wonderful.

  She assumed what she hoped was a forbidding expression. There’d be no more comments like that one, if she could help it.

  A gentle hand forestalled her. “Whoa, mama bear,” Ben murmured in her ear. “I doubt the boy will be unduly harmed by a clueless old man’s observation.”

  “I know what it’s like to endure unwarranted criticism,” she said in a controlled voice, “and I will not allow him to be subjected to any sort of ridicule.”

  Eli tugged on her skirt. “Look! Cookies!”

  Beside the sales counter, where a noticeboard served as a community news center, Quinn and his wife, Nicole, had set up a square table with a platter of cookies and an urn that dispensed tangy apple cider. Every year during the month of December, the couple offered the complimentary treats to their patrons.

  “Can I have one? Please?”

  Isabel ordered herself to relax and offered him a smile. “Yes, you may have one.”

  Together, they moved to the refreshment table. Ben doled out the cookies as if they were precious gems. Indeed, they were buttery rounds of melt-in-your-mouth goodness, boasting a hint of almond flavor. To her astonishment, Eli’s enjoyment couldn’t match Ben’s, who closed his eyes and hummed as he chewed. Isabel’s gaze became riveted on his handsome face. His auburn-tinted eyelashes were thick and spiky, his mouth framed by light stubble that glinted red in the morning light.

  What would it feel like to trace his brow, his cheekbones, his chin with her fingers? How would it feel to be free to bestow affection and receive it in return? To share a genuine bond with this man, a relationship deeper and more intense than any other she’d ever experienced?

  Ben slowly opened his eyes, twin pools of iridescent green locked on her. She gulped. Could he guess her wayward thoughts? Could anyone else? Glancing about to make sure no one had caught her mooning over him like a lovesick calf, she resolved to be more careful.

  “Can I have a second one?”

  Isabel absentmindedly dusted a crumb from Eli’s borrowed shirt. “We don’t want to ruin your lunch.” At his crestfallen expression, she pointed to the jars along the counter containing rainbow-hued candies. “You may choose a penny’s worth of candy to take home, if you’d like.”

  His eyes lit up. While she was waiting for him to make his choices, identical twins Jessica and Jane arrived, along with their sister Megan Beaumont and her daughter Lillian. Members of the extensive O’Malley clan, they had always been kind to Isabel and her sisters. She introduced them to Eli, and Megan encouraged her to bring him to a special Christmas-themed story time that Friday evening. The kindhearted woman lived in a spacious Victorian home with her husband, Lucian, and regularly invited the town’s children and their parents to book readings and refreshments.

  Ben offered to accompany them, and Isabel could hardly refuse. If she were completely honest, she didn’t want to refuse. She couldn’t have guessed that having him around would lend her confidence where Eli was concerned.

  They resumed their shopping. Isabel quickly located the ribbon Honor had to have, but she couldn’t find it in her to rush Eli from the aisles. He craned his neck to take in every single item, those suspended from the rafters and stuffed in barrels and lined on shelves.

  “He acts like he’s never been in a general store,” Ben observed. “I’d be surprised to learn he’s from a big city.”

  “Good point.”

  When she’d paid for her purchases, they emerged from the store as Veronica Patton and her mother, Patricia, were on their way inside. Fetching in a petal-pink vest and pink-and-white-striped high-collared blouse, her blond hair arranged in a sleek style, Veronica did not look at all pleased to see Isabel in Ben’s company. Her nostrils flared, and jealousy glimmered in her eyes.

  As soon as the greetings were dispensed with, she regarded him with slight reproach. “I’ve stopped by the jail several times this past week, but you weren’t there. I even brought you the roast quail and potatoes you like so much.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been busy of late, what with Shane’s absence and all.”

  “Yes,” she sniffed, glancing dubiously at Eli. “I can see that.”

  “We’ll make up for it on Saturday,” Patricia inserted.

  Ben scraped a hand over his jaw. “Saturday?”

  Veronica’s pale brows crashed together. “You agreed to dine with us, remember? We spoke about it last week at the serenade.”

  Ben shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze shooting to Isabel. “I, ah, hate to admit it, but the dinner slipped my mind.”

  Isabel experienced a flare of anger at her own stupidity. These past days with him—mostly isolated on her farm—had lulled her into a false sense of companionship. He wasn’t spending time with her because he found her fascinating or because he wished to lure her into joining his group of admirers. He was with her because it was his job to protect all the citizens of Gatlinburg. Ben believed her safety was threatened, so he’d stayed. And now he had the task of locating Eli’s guardian.

  “I made other plans—”

  “You know what?” Isabel interrupted, schooling her expression to indifference. “You agreed to have dinner with the Pattons first. You should honor that.”

  Mother and daughter exchanged glances.

  What looked like very real distress settled on his features. “But—”

  Addressing the other women, she shrugged. “I had planned to fix the deputy a meal—along with my sisters, of course—in order to thank him for helping us with Eli. But I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of your special time together. I apologize for taking up so much of his time,” she said to Veronica. “I’m certain he’s missed you.”

  The blonde’s lips parted in blatant hope while Ben’s mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

  Holding up her sack, Isabel indicated the bustling boardwalk. “Good day, ladies. Deputy.”

  Her insides aflame with heightened emotion, she led Eli away.

  “Aren’t we going to see Wishbone?” he said, dragging his feet.

  At the bridge suspended above the Little Pigeon River, Isabel slowed her pace. “I’m afraid we will have to see Wishbone another time.”

  “You promised!”

  Releasing his hand, she sq
uatted to his level. “Eli, I know we made plans to visit her, and I understand why you’re upset. But she’s not going anywhere. We can try another day this week.”

  He searched her face and, seeming to take her at her word, said, “Can I take her a carrot?”

  The question was so unexpected that she smiled. “That’s a fine idea. We have an assortment of root vegetables stored in the tater hole behind the house. You can help me pick one.”

  Eli was quiet the remainder of the walk home, which gave Isabel ample opportunity to scold herself for forgetting her fleeting role in Ben’s life.

  At home, Honor and Carmen noticed her ill mood and questioned her. She evaded their questions and, leaving Eli in their care, spent an hour and a half in her shed finishing the knife she’d started that morning. The work consumed her, her quest for quality craftsmanship demanding her full concentration. There was no time to dwell on thoughts of Ben and Veronica.

  By the time she’d secured the blade to the handle, she had herself in hand. She rejoined the others and spent the rest of the afternoon reading to Eli and incorporating his aid in preparing supper. When everyone had had their fill, she got out the evergreen boughs and ribbons.

  “Aren’t we going to wait for Ben?” Honor asked, watching her closely.

  Isabel cast a quick glance at Eli, who was helping Carmen carry the dirty dishes into the adjacent kitchen.

  “Ben isn’t part of this family. There’s no reason to include him in our holiday preparations.”

  Honor lifted the platter of leftover tortillas. “Did something happen today? You two seemed to be getting along rather well this morning.”

  That’s because she’d succumbed to temporary blindness.

  “Let’s just say I remembered why he’s been hanging around, and it’s not because he’s eager to be our friend. He’s lived here for four years. Not once did he seek us out.”

  “Perhaps that’s because our paths didn’t have occasion to cross.” Honor’s face was solemn. “Maybe God brought him into our lives at this moment for a specific reason.”

  “If that’s the case, the reason is Eli. As soon as we reunite him with his guardian, Ben will be gone.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The day that had started off on a promising note had soured.

  Slouched in his desk chair, he crumpled the letter he’d been attempting to write and tossed it in the waste bin. The vacant desk situated at an angle from his own mocked him. If Shane were here, he’d have a few words to say about Ben’s current predicament—namely, that he’d brought it on himself.

  Dropping his head in his hands, he moaned. “What an idiot.”

  He couldn’t get Isabel’s proud bearing—or the glittering mortification in her brown-black eyes—out of his mind. How could he have forgotten Veronica’s dinner invitation? Easy. Isabel. Ever since he’d interrupted that robbery, he hadn’t been able to think of anyone else.

  Whatever ground he’d gained with her was lost now. Why, God? Why push us together when nothing can come from it?

  Grant’s advice lingered, taunting him. He dismissed it. Isabel was the only woman he could see himself seriously pursuing, and ironically she had zero interest in him. There was no reason to ponder if she’d accept a life without children.

  And his friendship with Veronica? That would have to end. Isabel’s accusations had removed the blinders. Whether or not the signs had been there before, today he’d seen evidence that Veronica viewed him as a suitor, not a mere friend. The possessiveness in her blue eyes had been the first clue. Her treatment of Isabel—as a rival for his affections—had been the second.

  This upcoming dinner with the Pattons would be his last. He hoped Veronica could forgive him for fueling false hopes.

  He’d set pen to paper again when the banker, Claude Jenkins, came to see him.

  “How are you faring without Shane?” He swiveled one of the wooden chairs to face Ben’s desk and made himself comfortable, lacing his hands over his protruding middle. “Not that I think you’re incapable of taking care of things, mind you. I simply wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Claude. I’ll be sure to let you know if I can use your assistance.” He twirled the pencil in slow circles. “And I’ll come to you as soon as I know something about our would-be thief.”

  “Scary business, that.” His gaze got squinty. “I heard about your shopping trip this afternoon. Have you learned anything more about the boy’s origins?”

  Ben related the latest information, apprehension tightening his gut.

  “I see.” Claude shifted in his chair, his mood pensive. “There’s a good chance he’ll need a permanent home. I’m sure the Flores sisters are doing their best, but it will be easier for everyone involved if we go ahead and place him with a couple who are interested in caring for him long term. Possibly even adopting him.”

  Ben’s pencil clattered to the desk. He reined in his indignation and buried it deep. “Does this suggestion have anything to do with the stigma of the Flores sisters having an unrepentant adulterer for a father?”

  “Of course not,” the older man denied. The way his eyes shifted to the side told a different story. “I’m simply looking out for the boy’s best interests.”

  “Isabel, Honor and Carmen are fine, upstanding women. Eli couldn’t be in better hands.”

  Claude unlatched his hands and leaned forward, his vest buttons straining. “But for how long? Is it fair to let him develop a bond with them, only to later move him to a new home?”

  Ben scraped his chair back and stalked to the window. He had no argument—he’d already expressed these same sentiments to Isabel—but the thought of removing the boy from the Flores home unsettled him.

  He heard the creak of Claude’s knees as he stood. “I agree that the girls are above reproach. That’s not the issue. They’re unwed. The youngest one’s barely eighteen. And I may not be aware of the exact state of their finances, but I know they don’t have an abundance of resources. Providing for a child could very well put a strain on what they do have.”

  His chest squeezed with unhappiness. “Do you have anyone specific in mind?”

  “I do, but I haven’t spoken to them yet.”

  Ben twisted around and leveled a stern look at the banker. “I’d advise against it until I speak with Isabel.”

  Claude inclined his head. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  Once he’d bidden him good evening, Ben fisted his hands and let his forehead fall against the windowpane. He released a slow, shuddering breath. If Isabel hadn’t liked him before, after this she was going to hate him.

  * * *

  Something was bothering Ben. Or maybe he was preoccupied by his upcoming dinner with Veronica. Three days had passed since their shopping excursion. Isabel had expected him to seek her out and try to worm his way into her good graces. That hadn’t happened.

  He hadn’t come to the cabin Monday night, and his spot at the breakfast table the next morning had remained unclaimed. Honor and Carmen had seen a light in the hut, evidence that he’d stayed, but when Carmen had taken a plate of food out to him, he was gone. He’d finally made an appearance Wednesday evening. Isabel’s wayward heart expanded with pleasure, as if greeting a long-lost friend. Even Eli had acted pleased to see him. The teasing light in Ben’s eyes hadn’t materialized, however, and his mood had been somber. She’d managed to restrain the impulse to question him, to reassure herself that all was well in his world.

  Yet again she had to remind herself that they weren’t friends. His life, his worries and his problems were none of her business. And someday hers would cease to be his. Where that would leave Eli, she didn’t wish to ponder.

  “Thank you for your business.” She smiled and waved at the single mother who was her last customer of the
day.

  Hazel cradled her sack of cornmeal to her chest. “I’ll see you this time next week.”

  “Take care.”

  Reentering the mill, she grabbed the broom in the corner and started the tedious job of sweeping the floorboards. The spot between her shoulder blades ached from hefting countless bundles of corn into the hopper. Her arms were sore, and her lower back muscles were stiff. Her fatigue couldn’t detract from a solid day of business, though. Impatient to see Eli, she pushed herself to work faster. He’d spent an hour with her before and after lunch. She smiled, remembering his enthusiasm as he’d explored the mill. The gears beneath this floor, visible through gaps in the platform, had mesmerized him.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Isabel yelped and almost dropped her broom. “Ben. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Plunging his hands in his pockets, he sauntered to the platform and peered at the gears like Eli had. His profile revealed his subdued mood lingered.

  “I didn’t see the Closed sign, and the door was unlocked...” He turned to face her, his gaze hooded. “Was business steady today?”

  “Busier than usual, actually.”

  He glanced at the high ceiling, the hopper, the even stack of empty sacks. “Does the mill bring in enough income to provide for your family’s needs?”

  “That’s a personal matter.”

  “I’m not asking for an amount,” he said evenly. “I’m just curious if it’s profitable and if you sell your knives because you have to supplement.”

  “You’re meddling, and I don’t like it.” Isabel had no intention of supplying him with answers. “You’re in a strange mood. You have been since our shopping excursion. Care to explain why?”

  Ben pulled his hands from his pockets. He walked to where she stood in the far corner and curved his hands around hers where she held the broom handle. Her pulse became erratic. His heat seeped into her skin, and she found she liked the contact.

  “W-what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to finish sweeping while you go and change.” His husky voice enveloped her like a quilted blanket on a wintry night.