A Lawman for Christmas

by Karen Kirst

  “Stop.” Whirling on him, she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried very hard not to notice the urgency gripping his features. “I let you into my life. I started seeing you as a friend. Me. The outcast spinster who doesn’t make friends!”

  “I was going to tell you.” His voice was thin with strain. “I didn’t want to upset you. I—”

  “I trusted you, Ben. In this, I trusted you.” She dug her fingertips into the stiff structure of her bodice. “You repaid me by going behind my back and arranging for another family to take Eli!”

  That he hadn’t respected her enough to consult her wishes felt like molten iron branding her skin.

  Ben glanced at the door and, before she knew what he was about, took hold of both her shoulders. “I am your friend, Isabel.” His eyes blazed with silent appeal. “Please, hear me out.”

  Voices filtered through a nearby window. Ben slid his hands down her arms and cupped her elbows. Through the material, his palms blazed red-hot, whereas the rest of her body was as cold as an icy pond.

  “Come with me where we can talk without being overheard.”

  “Eli will worry.”

  “The story has just begun, and afterward, they’ll be treated to refreshments. Lillian will keep him company.”

  Isabel lowered her arms, and he took the opportunity to grasp her hand in his larger, rougher one. “Please, Isa?”

  Her compulsion to avoid gossip at all costs spurred her to agree. There was no way to know who else besides the banker’s wife had seen Isabel’s mad dash from the parlor. If anyone were to discover her and Ben arguing on the Beaumonts’ porch, there’d be no end to the speculation.

  “Fine.” She jerked free of his hold. “I can walk without you guiding me, though.”

  Tension emanating from him, he gave a clipped nod and descended the stairs ahead of her. Once in the shadowed yard below, they rounded the house and, passing the deserted veranda overlooking the rear property, entered the darkened gardens. Waist-high hedges lined the gravel path, whispering against her skirt hem. In the distance, water trickled from a fountain. Isabel stopped beside a stone bench beneath a rose arbor that would be magnificent come spring.

  “I’m not going any farther,” she said to his broad, suit-clad back.

  He pivoted on his boot heel and retraced his steps, careful not to crowd her. The realization that she’d forgotten her cloak registered at the same moment a shiver racked her. Ben shed his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders, pulling the lapels together over her collarbone. He hesitated. With only the lights blazing from the house windows to see by, she couldn’t decipher his exact expression.

  Isabel considered shoving him away. Instead, she jerked her chin up. “Tell me what you brought me out here to say so I can return to the party.”

  He released the lapels. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come to you as soon as Claude paid me a visit Monday evening. He said he had someone in mind to take Eli.”

  “Because a confirmed spinster and daughter of a notorious marriage wrecker isn’t good enough to raise a child, right?” Bitterness laced her words.

  “No, that’s not it.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “It’s true your single status factors into Claude’s reasoning. You’re already supporting yourself and your sisters. He’s concerned that Eli’s continued care will be a burden.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “That’s why you were asking about the mill earlier.”

  “It’s a valid concern,” he defended. “You’ve managed to operate a successful business venture—make that two businesses—while providing for your and your sisters’ needs. No one wants to see that compromised.”

  She clutched at the jacket that held the remnants of his body heat and his woodsy scent. He had to be freezing in his suit vest and shirt.

  “We’re fine. Not wealthy, of course, but comfortable. Having Eli in our home doesn’t jeopardize anything.”

  “Good. I’m glad. I would’ve shared that information had I known.” He cocked his head to one side. “Claude’s not the only one who consulted me. Reverend Monroe and some other prominent citizens have marched through my office this week demanding to know why I haven’t relieved you of this responsibility.”

  “I don’t want to be relieved of it!”

  “You didn’t say anything,” he said somberly. “I knew you were growing fond of him, but I wasn’t aware you had an eye on the future.”

  “And if I had, would you have supported my decision? Pleaded my case to the doubters?”

  “Yes.”

  There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation. At his utter conviction, some of the starch went out of her. Now Isabel didn’t know what to say or how to feel.

  Ben lifted his hand as if to caress her cheek. She held her breath, her heart battling in her chest, at once craving and dreading his touch. At the last second, he curled his fingers into a fist and lowered his arm.

  “I have no doubt you’ll make a wonderful mother. If adopting Eli is what you’ve set your heart on, then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

  To her horror, tears threatened. Her emotions swung from one extreme to another. This man had the power to infuriate her one minute and reach the most protected, private part of her the next. Who would’ve thought that the Debonair Deputy would be the one man to make her doubt her choices? It was dangerous to allow him to remain in her life, but she needed him. He’d be a powerful ally against anyone who would oppose her goal of becoming Eli’s guardian.

  He chafed his arms. “Come, let’s return to the house. The temperature must’ve dropped at least ten degrees in the past hour.”

  She attempted to give him back his jacket, but he told her to keep it until they were inside. Once they returned, the warmth in the entrance hallway washed over Isabel, and she hurried to the fireplace just inside the parlor. The carpet where the children had been seated was empty. Cheerful voices carried in from a room farther down the central corridor.

  Ben made quick work of his jacket buttons. “Would you like something to drink? I saw an urn of hot cocoa earlier.”

  Isabel nodded, eager to check on Eli. At the end of the papered hallway, double doors on their right opened into the biggest dining room Isabel had ever seen. A formal space with polished mahogany furniture and printed draperies, it could easily hold fifty people. Children sat around the massive table while their parents milled about the room. Her gaze found Eli seated beside Lillian, who held Artie in her lap. Wearing an intent expression, Eli was consuming a gingerbread cookie as large as his plate.

  Bowls piled with jewel-toned fruits occupied the table’s center space. Silver platters were laden with an assortment of cookies to choose from, thin ones sprinkled with cinnamon and various spices, round ones dipped in icing, and thick, doughy ones studded with cranberries. A three-tiered cake perched on a glass pedestal was slathered in white frosting and covered in candied cherries. It was almost too pretty to eat.

  Ben bent his head toward her. “Looks to me like he’s a bit too preoccupied to miss us.”

  “It’s a lot to take in.”

  His hand skimmed her lower back as he leaned past her to get Merilee’s attention. “May we have a moment?”

  The smartly dressed woman left her granddaughters to join them in the entrance. Her gaze was curious as it landed on Isabel. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “I apologize for the way I left things.”

  “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

  “That’s my fault,” Ben said gruffly. “I will speak to Claude tomorrow, but I wonder if you’d mind giving him a message for me?”

  Her brows drew together. “Of course.”

  “Tell him that Eli will remain with Isabel for the foreseeable future.”

  “But the Watsons—”

  “Weren�
�t supposed to be consulted until I had spoken with Isabel.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have now, and she’s informed me that she wants him to stay with her. He’s thriving in her care. I have no objections, and neither should anyone else.”

  The firmness of his words bolstered Isabel. When she looked over and saw that Eli was beckoning her to his side, she excused herself and crouched beside his chair.

  “Did you enjoy the story?” she asked warmly.

  He nodded and smiled, crumbs clinging to his mouth. Some had found their way to his lap. Going on his knees, he chose another gingerbread cookie and handed it to her. She deliberately bit off the entire head, evoking a giggle.

  The absolute trust in his eyes made her heart melt. He’d had a rough start in life, a history she knew little about, and she was determined to see he received the nurturing, love and guidance that every child deserved. God had brought Eli into her life for a reason, she truly believed that. She had the means and the desire to care for him, to step into a role she hadn’t envisioned until now...motherhood.

  After a few minutes, Ben joined them, gratefully accepting the cookie Eli handed him. Isabel rose and placed her hand over his sleeve. His eyes were cautious and still carried remnants of his earlier apology.

  “Thank you, Ben.”

  “No need to thank me.” Then he said something that made her want to weep. “I believe in you, Isabel.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was too old to sleep on cold, hard floors.

  Admit it, you’d do it indefinitely if it meant you could be near Isabel.

  After he’d stretched the kinks from his back, Ben tugged on his boots and rolled his pallet into a neat bundle. He considered keeping the nature of last evening’s errand to himself. Mr. Warring, the livery owner, had found him at the Beaumonts’ and informed him that one of his horses had been stolen. Ben had waited until the festivities were over before escorting Isabel and Eli home, then rode out straight away to Main Street to investigate the theft. A serious crime worthy of hanging, horse theft was rare in their town. He was inclined to believe it was the work of the blackguard who’d threatened Isabel’s life. Or could it be Eli’s guardian?

  As he used the water basin Isabel had provided to wash his face and brush his teeth, he thought about the fallout of keeping Claude’s visit a secret. The devastation he’d wrought, the damage to the trust he’d built with her, made his decision easy. Hiding information from Isabel would be foolhardy, especially if he wanted to remain in her life. While he knew sticking around carried risks, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

  Ben opened the hut door and discovered a winter wonderland. During the night, what looked to be between six and eight inches of snow had fallen, blanketing the woods and structures in pure white powder. Icicles as long as his arm dangled from the hut’s overhang. Standing there soaking in the hushed silence, he noted the absence of a familiar sound—there was no trickling water, no whir of the mill wheel.

  Snow crunched beneath his boots as he ventured onto the stoop. Crisp air made his exposed skin prickle, particularly his ears. He quickly wound the scarf around his neck and closed the door behind him. Needing to inspect the livery in the light of day, he planned to skip breakfast and grab something later in town. Movement on the narrow footbridge suspended between the bank and the mill caught his attention.

  Isabel. Her cloak swirled about her like a gray cloud. She hammered a piece of paper to the mill’s door and crossed the bridge.

  “Good morning,” he called, tendrils of wispy fog curling about his mouth. “I take it the wheel is iced over?” His progress was hampered by knee-deep drifts.

  “I’ve posted a notice letting folks know I’ll open Monday to make up for it, weather permitting.” As she neared, he noticed the rosiness of her cheeks. “The accumulation would’ve likely kept away a bulk of customers anyway.”

  “Has Eli seen this?”

  Her mouth curved into a smile, and her eyes brightened. “He’s begging to be permitted to play in it, so be warned. I’ve no doubt he’ll bombard you the moment you step through the door.”

  “Are you going to indulge him?”

  They fell into step together, picking their way past the hut, bits of snow dislodged by their progress. The serene beauty of snowcapped mountains soaring to the cotton sky belonged on one of those fancy Louis Prang holiday greeting cards he’d seen in the mercantile. Christmas was fifteen days away, so there was little chance the snow would stick around that long. A shame, considering they rarely got to celebrate a white Christmas.

  “I don’t see any harm in it as long as he’s bundled up,” she said.

  “He’ll have a fantastic time,” he concurred, turning to gaze at the smoke spiraling from the cabin’s chimney.

  “Aren’t you going to join us? He’s planning a snow fort and an army of snowmen. I have a feeling you’d be more skilled in that task than me or my sisters.”

  The earnest query surprised him. After last night and their conversation in the garden, he wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with her. It appeared she’d forgiven him. Thank You for small mercies, Lord.

  “Isabel, I hadn’t planned on staying for breakfast.” His eyes locked with hers. “You recall Mr. Warring seeking me out last night.”

  She nodded, her fat braid slipping free of her cloak collar and swinging between her shoulder blades. How his fingers itched to explore her raven mane, to unravel the interwoven locks and watch them ripple down her back.

  “Did something happen at the livery?”

  He struggled to direct his thoughts along more appropriate avenues. “Someone stole one of Warring’s horses. I searched the stalls and tack room, as well as the outdoor perimeter, and came up empty. I was hoping to conduct a more thorough search in the daylight. The snow will hinder my efforts, but it’s worth a try.”

  She looked pensive. “I know what you’re not saying.”

  “I don’t have any other suspects at the moment. I’ve been here four years, and in all that time, there’s only been one horse stolen. In that case, the animal was a Thoroughbred belonging to Albert Turner.”

  “Wasn’t that connected to the trouble surrounding Caroline Turner McKenna and that unhinged maid working for them?”

  “Yes. Quite a different scenario than swiping an aged working horse.”

  “The lack of answers is frustrating.” Her pace slowed as they neared the front steps. “I know you’re ready to sleep in your own bed and be among your own things.”

  “And I know you’re impatient to see me gone.” He offered a rueful smile. “But your safety is important to me.”

  Her curved black lashes swept down to hide her eyes. “I feel safe when you’re around.”

  His initial instinct was to make light of the admission. It was a habit he’d honed over the years, a way of deflecting a young lady’s praise and guiding the conversation into less serious waters. However, this time, Ben chose to revel in the pleasure pulsing through him.

  “I’m glad I can be of some comfort,” he said seriously. “Although you’ve proven you’re handy with a blade.”

  That earned him a smile that made him feel like he was standing on a hot, sandy beach. He couldn’t be certain exactly what she glimpsed in his eyes. Whatever it was, she averted her face and bounded up the steps. Ben scolded himself. Her confession that she’d begun to consider him a friend meant a lot. He didn’t want to do anything to make her regret lowering her guard.

  Once inside, Isabel called for her sisters. They replied from behind their closed door that they were helping Eli dress and would be out momentarily. Toasty waves of heat from the crackling hearth enveloped him. The spicy aroma of sausage made his mouth water. His stomach rumbled.

  At Isabel’s pointed smile, he said, “What’s so funny?”

  She unwound
her scarf and looped it over the coatrack. “I’m surprised you’re hungry, considering the number of cookies you consumed at the party.”

  He shrugged out of his coat, glad he’d taken the time to drop by his place last night and change into more comfortable clothes before returning. “I didn’t have more than four.”

  Propping her hands on her hips, she raised her brows. “Four? You’re in a state of denial, mi amigo. You sampled every kind of cookie on that table, some more than once. And have you forgotten the giant slice of cake you practically inhaled?”

  Ben followed her past the table crowded with plates, utensils and dishes of sumptuous-looking food and into the kitchen. “I didn’t realize you were observing me so closely.” A tray lined with what looked to be miniature pockets of fried dough distracted him. “What are these?”

  “Pumpkin empanadas.” He reached for one only to have her smack his hand. “No sneaking.”

  Ben clasped his hands together and assumed his most hangdog expression. “Take pity on me, sugarplum, I beg you. Just let me have one. Consider it payment for assuming guard duty.”

  To punctuate his request, his ravenous stomach protested again. Isabel’s laughter rolled over him, warming him to his toes. Her sparkling eyes invited him in, a silent communication that he was, at long last, included in her inner circle.

  “Fine. One.”

  He chose the largest one and sank his teeth into the flaky golden crust. Pumpkin flavor exploded on his tongue. Hints of cloves, cinnamon and other mysterious spices had him groaning in appreciation. When he opened his eyes, he discovered her regarding him with an indulgent grin.

  Arms folded across her chest, her braid trailing along her arm, she rested against the work counter. Ben acknowledged that returning to his cabin, his silent and empty kitchen and table set for one, would not be pleasant.

  “You really enjoy food, don’t you?”

  “When it’s prepared by a skilled cook such as yourself,” he said between bites, “then yes, I most definitely do.”