by Karen Kirst
Aching to comfort him, Isabel started forward. His neck stiffened, so she stopped. Her heart broke for him. “Did she spread this? Is that why you left?”
“She didn’t breathe a word. Too much of a lady to discuss such indelicate matters, I suppose. She did lead her devoted father to believe I’d simply changed my mind about marrying her, and he set about avenging her honor. He was the mayor. People believed him.”
“And because you were in a position of authority, they wanted rid of you.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that you had to endure those trials.” How badly she needed to hold him. “But you know something? I’m glad Marianne was a blind fool. I’m glad she didn’t see your true worth, because if she had, I wouldn’t have met you.” Her throat closed up at the mere thought. Approaching him as one would a skittish deer, she moved closer. “You, Ben MacGregor, are the most generous, kindhearted, courageous man I’ve ever known. You’d give the shirt off your back to help someone. You’d give your life for the people of this town.”
His brows drew together. “Why aren’t you leaving?” His expression hinted at a world of sadness. “You were supposed to offer platitudes, make an excuse we both knew was false and bolt.”
Isabel drew in a deep breath. This moment would define her life. She couldn’t allow fear to cripple her.
“Because I love you. Not for what you can give me, but for who you are.”
“Isabel,” he breathed, a battle raging in his eyes. He mournfully shook his head. “But children—”
“Can be brought into our lives in various ways.” She curled her fingers around his and held on tight. “God’s shown us that, don’t you agree?”
His gaze grew intense. “You’d truly give up the chance to bring a child of your own into this world?”
“If it meant being with you? Yes.”
He cupped her cheek. “Isa, you have to be sure. One hundred percent sure. No changing your mind a year or a decade from now. And no clinging to hope that the doctor was wrong.” His throat worked. “Because I couldn’t bear to disappoint you.”
“My sweet man, even without a diagnosis like yours, there are no guarantees for any married couple. Think about it. We both know at least one couple who were unable to have children. They either come to terms with it, or they grow their families in unconventional ways.”
“Like adoption.”
“Like Eli.” She smiled hopefully. “And maybe Fran.”
A tremulous smile curved his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
He bent his head and placed a brief, tender kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “I love you, sugarplum.” His smile grew brighter, and the old, familiar twinkle returned. “I’ve loved you since the moment you got me shot.”
The joy his declaration gave her couldn’t be measured.
“Excuse me?” She swatted his chest. “It appears your memory of that night differs from mine.”
“Fine. Since the moment you played nurse and stitched me up, then.” He chuckled. “Despite your hearty dislike of me, you were gentle and thorough.”
Amazed at how their relationship had altered, she lowered her gaze to his chest. “I didn’t dislike you, you know.”
“You disapproved of me.”
“I misjudged you,” she admitted. “You were right. I had allowed my lingering resentment toward my father to cloud my thinking. It was easier to condemn your behavior than actually get to know the man behind the badge.”
Ben tipped her chin up. “And you were right about me. I used charm and flattery to avoid dealing with my diagnosis. I didn’t take into account anyone else’s feelings except my own.”
“It took an outlaw and an abandoned little boy to force us to look beyond the surface and discover something precious.” Awe filled her voice.
His smile bathed her in glorious love and affection. “Sometimes God has to do drastic things to get our attention.”
“I’m grateful He cares enough to do that. I’ll never forget this Christmas. He not only brought my dearest love into my life, but He gave me—rather, He gave us—the opportunity to be parents.”
Happiness danced in his brilliant green gaze. “This is also the Christmas that we get engaged, is it not?”
Isabel gasped as he went down on one knee, clasped both her hands and peered up at her with such intensity she could hardly breathe. The spinster was about to be proposed to.
“I love you, Isabel. I can’t promise you a life without hardship. And I can’t promise I won’t mess up sometimes and you’ll get so angry you’ll wish I was sleeping in the warming hut again.”
She laughed through her glistening tears.
“But I can promise I’ll spend every day by your side, giving my all to you and Eli.” His smile grew lopsided. “And maybe, hopefully, Fran.” He squeezed her fingers. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”
Framing his face with her hands, she bent and kissed him. “That was a fine proposal, Deputy MacGregor,” she whispered against his lips. “One I wouldn’t dream of passing up.”
“Merry Christmas, sugarplum.”
“Merry Christmas, my love.”
Epilogue
Three months later
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Ben murmured, his arms sliding around her from behind.
A delicious shiver overtook her. Although they’d been married for six weeks, her husband’s nearness never failed to fill her with contentment. Isabel settled against him, his chest a solid support, his body heat enveloping her.
She covered his hands with her own. “She’s precious, isn’t she? I could stand here for hours and watch her sleep.”
Ben was silent for a moment. His breath stirred the tendrils at her nape. “Before Fran came into our lives, I never knew a smiling, toothless infant could capture your heart without saying a single word.”
“We are blessed, aren’t we?”
“More than I thought possible.”
The dark-headed infant shifted beneath the pink-and-white knitted blanket, a gift from her aunt Honor. Her forehead wrinkled. Her mouth puckered, then relaxed. She was a happy baby as long as her tummy was full, and she already seemed to adore her big brother. Her blue eyes lit up whenever he paid her attention.
The past three months had passed in a blissful blur. The week after Christmas, Ben had gone before the church and announced their engagement. Other than Veronica bursting into tears and fleeing the building, and a few misty-eyed young women whose hopes were forever dashed, the news had been well received. Honor and John had decided to hold their ceremony in January so that Ben and Isabel could marry mid-February. Between preparations for both big events and packing and moving Honor’s things to John’s place, the days had been filled with a flurry of activity.
Ben had sold his cabin to a single farmer. In order to have more space and privacy, they’d decided to build on to Isabel’s cabin. An opening had been cut in the wall opposite the other bedrooms and a room added on. Boasting one window and a woodstove, the room was large enough for their bed, dresser, washbasin stand and a handmade crib for Fran. Isabel and Ben had combined their personal things and made it into a cozy, relaxing space. Eli had a room to himself, but he typically sneaked into Carmen’s halfway through the night.
Because Isabel now had two young children to tend to, Carmen had volunteered to take over the running of the gristmill. She’d proven to be a capable miller. And of course, their customers were drawn to her perky personality. Isabel wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the increase of single men bringing their corn to be ground into meal. While Carmen was old enough to start thinking of marriage, Isabel had made sure her youngest sister felt welcome to stay as long as she wished. Ben treated her as another sister, one he could tease mercilessly sin
ce his own were so far away.
“I have news.”
Hearing his serious tone, she turned in the circle of his arms and entwined hers around his neck. His expression was peaceful, which put her worries to rest.
“Shane and I received a telegram from Knoxville. Wesley’s been captured. He’s currently cooling his heels in a jail cell and will no doubt remain there for the rest of his life. Since he’s been charged with the more serious counts of murder, he may even face death.”
“I’m so relieved that we don’t have to worry about him showing up here.”
“Even if he had dared to come sniffing around, I never would’ve let him within a foot of you or the kids.”
“I know.” Ben would take his last breath protecting those he loved. “I’m just glad he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”
The lawyer she’d hired to handle Eli and Fran’s adoption had paid them a visit a few days after their wedding. He’d conducted interviews with various townspeople and, satisfied Ben and Isabel were honest, decent people, had said he’d recommend the judge grant their petition. Last week, the official letter had arrived. In the eyes of the law, Eli and Fran were their children. Isabel had written Harry about the news and invited him to visit when he was ready. She hoped to receive a response soon.
“Papa!” The front door slammed. “Papa? Where are you?”
The commotion woke Fran, whose startled cries never failed to tug at Isabel’s heart. Ben and Isabel shared a smile. The demands of parenthood were many, they’d discovered. But the rewards made every sleepless night, soiled diaper and grumpy outburst worth it. Dropping a brief kiss on her lips, he released her to tend the baby while he went out to see what Eli wanted.
Murmuring soothing words, Isabel scooped the infant into her arms and cuddled her close. In the living room, Ben had crouched in front of Eli. The boy put both hands on Ben’s shoulders. They looked like any typical father and son. They might not be related by blood, but the pair had forged a deep bond in a very short time, one that would strengthen and grow with each passing day. Her heart bursting with gratitude, she joined them.
“Mama, there are people coming to see you. Look!” He flung a hand toward the window.
She squinted through the glass. “Ben, did you know Shane was coming? He’s got his whole family with him.”
“I had no idea.”
They stepped onto the porch to await their surprise guests.
The sheriff walked beside Allison, his arm looped about her shoulders. The vivacious blonde carried their infant son in her arms. Even from here, Isabel could see the glint of the light hair he’d inherited from his mother. Their other children, Matilda and twins Izzy and Charlie, tripped along behind them. Walking at a much slower pace, the café owner Alexander Copeland and his bride, Ellie, chatted and laughed. They were engrossed with each other and their newborn daughter tucked in the safety of Alexander’s arms. One couldn’t be blamed for assuming the pair had been married for years. In fact, they’d been officially together only since late November. Her husband had passed last summer, leaving Ellie pregnant and dependent on hostile in-laws. She’d gone to work for the café owner, and the rest was history.
“Is that Grant and Jessica, too?” Ben said. “What’s going on?”
The former marshal and his obviously pregnant wife rode up on a wagon packed with goods. When everyone had descended on them, Ben and Isabel learned they were giving them a belated welcome to married life. There were household items and baby-related necessities.
Ben guided Isabel aside and, tugging her and the baby close, spoke in a voice husky with wonder. “I’ve realized something. Family isn’t limited to blood relations, marriage contracts or adoption papers. Friends can become part of your family, too.”
She snuggled close to his side. “Family is what you make of it.”
Angling toward them, he dropped a kiss on Fran’s head and caressed Isabel’s cheek. “Are you happy, sugarplum?”
She smiled. “My answer hasn’t changed since you asked me yesterday or the day before.”
His eyes glowed with the love he felt for her. “I’m going to ask you tomorrow and the next day and the one after that. I’m going to ask you every day for the rest of our lives.”
* * * * *
If you enjoyed A LAWMAN FOR CHRISTMAS,
look for the other books in the
SMOKY MOUNTAIN MATCHES series,
including RECLAIMING HIS PAST,
THE BACHELOR’S HOMECOMING,
FROM BOSS TO BRIDEGROOM
and WED BY NECESSITY.
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Dear Reader,
This book is the final installment of my Smoky Mountain Matches series. I count myself blessed to have been able to create a fictional world centered around a place near and dear to my heart. I hope you’ve enjoyed these characters and their stories. While I’m looking forward to new projects, I admit I’ll miss the O’Malleys and their friends. When I planned the first book, The Reluctant Outlaw, I had no idea if it would be published, much less become an entire series! I’m grateful to my editor, Emily Rodmell, for her invaluable guidance throughout this journey.
For more information on these and other books, please stop by my website, www.karenkirst.com. I’m active on Facebook and Twitter, @karenkirst, and love interacting with readers.
Blessings,
Karen Kirst
Keep reading for an excerpt from MAIL-ORDER CHRISTMAS BABY by Sherri Shackelford.
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Mail-Order Christmas Baby
by Sherri Shackelford
Chapter One
Train Depot for the Wells Fargo Delivery,
Valentine, Territory of Montana
October, 1880
“That is not my delivery,” Sterling Blackwell declared. The hat sitting low across his forehead did nothing to disguise the flush creeping up his neck. “Who put you up to this?”
Heather O’Connor pressed a hand against the hitch in her chest. Sterling usually sent one of his cattle hands into town when he had a Wells Fargo delivery, which suited her just fine. He was a reminder of a time in her life that she’d rather forget.
She’d come to Valentine, Montana, to serve as a teacher four years ago in an effort to start over someplace far away from Pittsburgh. Her living conditions had not been ideal. Following the war, she’d been sent to live with
an aunt and uncle. The family was barely eking out a living in the gloomy steel town, and the moment she’d turned sixteen, she’d begun her search for an escape. At seventeen, she’d accepted the job of schoolteacher in the remote mining town of Valentine, Montana.
Sterling’s older brother, Dillon, had fetched her from this very same depot on her first day in town, and she’d promptly developed an embarrassing infatuation with him. Dillon’s father had not been amused. The Blackwells owned the largest cattle ranch in the area, and Mr. Blackwell’s leadership had kept Valentine flourishing after the gold panned out. Dillon’s father wasn’t going to stand idle while his son courted a penniless, orphaned schoolteacher. With his father’s encouragement, Dillon had enlisted as an officer in the cavalry.
The familiar pang of humiliation settled in her chest. Dillon hadn’t even told her in person. He’d sent her a letter instead. A few terse paragraphs making his lack of feelings embarrassingly clear. She’d learned her lesson well over the years. In love and relationships affection was never equal, and she always seemed to wind up on the losing end.
The Wells Fargo employee, distinguishable from the townsfolk crowding the train platform by his round green cap trimmed with gold braid, squinted at his manifest, then lifted his chin.
“No mistake, sir.” The freckle-faced young man extended his paperwork and pointed. “The recipient for this child is listed as Mr. Sterling Blackwell of the Blackwell Ranch, Valentine, Montana. I’ll need you to sign here.”
The attention of the growing crowd swiveled toward the delivery in question. A young child perched atop an enormous wooden crate. The afternoon sunlight had chased away the chill of the October day, and the child’s coat was unbuttoned, revealing her frilly dress. Clad in a pink frock with a matching pink eyelet lace bonnet tied beneath her chubby chin, she merrily gummed the edges of an envelope.
Mrs. Dawson, the local purveyor of all things scandalous and salacious, gasped and pressed a handkerchief against her lips. “Has the whole world gone mad? That child is hardly weaned. What sort of person sends an infant through the post?”