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A Lawman For Christmas
Karen Kirst


The Gift of FamilyCommitted to her spinsterhood, Isabel Flores isn't about to trust a man with her hard-won independence or her heart—especially not lawman Ben MacGregor. But when a little boy is abandoned on her property, the so-called “Debonair Deputy” of their small Tennessee town helps her care for the child. And Isabel begins to hope he might be more than just a handsome flirt.Ben is well aware of Isabel’s aversion to love and has his own secret reasons for avoiding relationships. But as he and Isabel do their best to make the holiday special for their young ward, Ben wonders if he could be a family man after all. Will this Christmas be the first of many for Isabel and Ben’s little instant family?Smoky Mountain Matches: Dreams of home and family come true in the Smoky Mountains







The Gift of Family

Committed to her spinsterhood, Isabel Flores isn’t about to trust a man with her hard-won independence or her heart—especially not lawman Ben MacGregor. But when a little boy is abandoned on her property, the so-called “Debonair Deputy” of their small Tennessee town helps her care for the child. And Isabel begins to hope he might be more than just a handsome flirt.

Ben is well aware of Isabel’s aversion to love and has his own secret reasons for avoiding relationships. But as he and Isabel do their best to make the holiday special for their young ward, Ben wonders if he could be a family man after all. Will this Christmas be the first of many for Isabel and Ben’s little instant family?


“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” Ben asked.

With any other woman, Ben would’ve been able to find a way to make her relax. Isabel wasn’t just any woman, however. The fact that she disliked him made his task that much harder.

Her focus was on her gloved hands folded tightly together in her lap. “I like many things about this time of year. One of them is the renewed spirit of charity. People tend to treat each other better.”

Her statement was a telling one. While he understood how it felt to live under the weight of a town’s critical scrutiny, he hadn’t grown up with a scandalous father like Isabel.

“Anything else?”

“I enjoy baking. This time of year has plenty of opportunities for that. My sisters and I spend extra time in the kitchen making treats for their friends.”

“What about your friends?”

Her chin jutted out. “My sisters are my friends.”

“Someday your sisters will marry and move away,” he said gently. “What happens then, Isabel?”


Dear Reader (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37),

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 (http://www.karenkirst.com). I’m active on Facebook and Twitter, @karenkirst (https://twitter.com/karenkirst), and love interacting with readers.

Blessings,

Karen Kirst


KAREN KIRST was born and raised in east Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. She’s a lifelong lover of books, but it wasn’t until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.


A Lawman for Christmas

Karen Kirst






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


And the King will answer and say to them, “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”

—Matthew 25:40


To my husband, Marek, and our three boys


Contents

Cover (#ud9ed08e6-d600-5a37-bbcf-a28015258ac5)

Back Cover Text (#u2be72912-1e0e-5bc6-b6de-492a31d93569)

Introduction (#u58a6b3b8-08e5-5340-bf8b-436360f3f197)

Dear Reader (#u866624ba-cc20-564a-bc04-cd18b85246b0)

About the Author (#u77a1143d-3f71-57ca-b4c3-93f6e5554d06)

Title Page (#ucbc9f594-29cf-5d8b-94b2-d3f3fbad6e45)

Bible Verse (#ua192bb19-85bc-5aab-a64f-700bd6b86d99)

Dedication (#udb976ad0-b150-5ea1-bf18-49aa21f31273)

Chapter One (#u5793c0b7-0974-5c5e-a160-cd79ef32bf92)

Chapter Two (#u91d4e87e-793c-5967-91a2-0d5ec908b26f)

Chapter Three (#ua7b49b31-c01f-5238-8351-4b83aaea5a09)

Chapter Four (#ueae5ea6a-86c1-5b0f-a8ba-ec43e88783a8)

Chapter Five (#uf4779128-d4a5-58c2-9c85-2282536fafb6)

Chapter Six (#ue97a907a-67fb-5f41-9b3d-fe37e1d645d7)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

December 1887

Isabel Flores was face-to-face with a bank robber, and all she could think about were the disappointed children across Gatlinburg who’d receive no gifts and no Christmas goose—because this man had helped himself to others’ hard-earned cash.

“You can’t take that.” Her hand tightening on the basket of merchandise she’d just purchased, she pointed to the bulging burlap sack tossed over his shoulder like Kris Kringle. “The Christmas season is upon us. Do you know how many families have scraped and saved the entire year in order to provide a happy holiday for their children?”

The black neckerchief the assailant used to mask his features had slipped below his chin, allowing her a clear view of his weathered face. His shaggy brows slammed down, and his mouth twisted in a scowl.

“Wrong place, wrong time, missy. Bawling brats missing their candy canes is the last thing you should be worried about.” In two strides, he was before her, his fingers digging into her arm. “I’m not ready for my likeness to be plastered across Tennessee.”

Her foolish behavior belatedly registered. Instead of confronting the criminal, she should’ve bolted. Should’ve screamed. Main Street was steps away from this darkened alley behind the bank. Most people were in their homes at this hour, enjoying a hot meal. There was a good chance someone was still at the livery, however.

She drew breath into her lungs.

He jerked her against him and clapped his hand over her mouth. “Don’t do it,” he growled as he tugged the mask back into place. The stench of unwashed hair invaded her nostrils. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

Various scenarios pulsed through her mind, none of them good.

The distant click of a gun hammer echoed off the buildings, indicating a third person had joined them. Isabel found herself whirled about and locked against the thief’s body. Her basket hit the ground with a thud, bright, fragrant oranges scattering in the dirt. Beneath the callused hand over her lips, she grimaced. The fruit hadn’t been cheap.

“I’d welcome you to town,” the newcomer drawled, “but you’ve already made yourself at home, I see.”

Even without the fat moon’s light washing over the alley, Isabel would’ve known the identity of her would-be rescuer. The deep, velvet voice resonated with lazy confidence. He was hatless, his dark red hair falling into his eyes, giving him a boyish air that didn’t mesh with the grim determination etched on his handsome features.

Please, God, don’t let Deputy Ben MacGregor’s face be the last one I see.

He shifted, causing his coat lapels to fall open. The metal star pinned to his vest announced his occupation.

“I don’t need a welcome from no lawman,” the thief snarled. “I come and go as I please.”

Cold metal pressed into her temple. Fear encased her, numbing her more than the winter temperatures stinging her cheeks. She made a low moan deep in her throat. Ben’s gaze sharpened on her.

Why did it have to be him standing there? Why couldn’t it have been the sheriff instead?

“Not with our citizens’ hard-earned money, you don’t. And certainly not with our women.” His gun was as steady as his voice. “Release the lady, and then we’ll discuss the bounty you’re aiming to make off with.”

“And lose my only ticket outta here? I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Besides, she caught me without my disguise.”

Using her body as a shield, he lowered the hammer. A muffled whimper escaped before she could stop it. Her sisters depended on her to run the gristmill. Sure, they were old enough to lead their own lives, but they weren’t responsible with money, and Carmen would likely marry the first man who asked. Her mother had endured enough suffering for one lifetime. How would her fragile mind cope when she heard the news of her eldest daughter’s death?

Ben lifted his other hand, palm up, and edged forward. “It’s unlikely she got a clear view. Too dark.” His gaze switched to Isabel, the flicker of concern heightening her unease. “Robbery’s one thing. Trust me, you don’t want murder charges brought against you.”

“Too late.”

Isabel registered multiple things at once. The hitch in Ben’s measured approach, the slight compression of his lips, the almost imperceptible movement of the thief’s finger.

She wasn’t ready to die.

Lifting her foot, she brought her boot heel down on the gunman’s toe, then seized the hand over her mouth and sank her teeth into the dirty flesh. The thief howled in pain and jerked free. Isabel dived to the ground, knees protesting the hard jolt, and tried to scramble out of the way.

A piercing shot rang out. Someone grunted. A second bullet whizzed through the air.

A heavy thunk behind her registered, followed by the clink of coins. The money bag! Boots striking the hard-packed earth faded into nothingness.

A strong hand gripped her shoulder, and she flinched.

“Isabel, it’s me.” Hands and knees in the dirt, she slowly lifted her head. The deputy extended his hand. “You all right?”

“Fine.” Her heart rattling in her chest, she allowed him to assist her up. Brushing the debris from her skirts, she said, “You’ve a fine sense of timing, Deputy. There wasn’t a gun pointed to my head until you interfered.”

“Your effusive gratitude is making me blush, Miss Flores,” he said wryly. “I saved your life.”

“I’m the one who distracted him.” She squinted into the shadowed forest clinging to the hulking mountains flanking Gatlinburg. “Aren’t you going to pursue him?”

He ambled over and hefted the large money sack. Faltering, he used the building’s facade for support. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

Isabel had started to gather her belongings. All but one of the prized oranges had been spared. At the odd sigh in Ben’s voice, she straightened and scrutinized him. He didn’t look right.

“Why not?”

His eyes, which in daylight were the color of sunlight striking sea-green glass, gleamed in the darkness. “Because I’m likely to bleed out before I catch him.”

He indicated his upper right arm.

“You’ve been shot?” Guilt punched a hole in her annoyance. Here she’d been berating him when he was in pain.

“Feels like a flesh wound.” He inclined his head toward the bank. “Let me return this money to its rightful place, and I’ll escort you home.”

“You have to see Doc.”

“Later.” He disappeared inside the bank for a brief minute, then used his master keys to lock it up tight. When he reached her, he removed the neckerchief from around his throat. “Tie this off for me, will you?”

“I can get home by myself,” she protested, concern for the Debonair Deputy at odds with her usual antipathy. “You need to get that wound cleaned and stitched.”

“I happen to know that Doc Owens is out at the Barton farm, assisting in the delivery of their latest child. The sheriff has a steady hand and a cast-iron stomach, but he’s taken Allison and the kids to Norfolk for the month. Besides, you heard the thief. You’re a liability. Who’s to say he’s not lying in wait, intending on following you and making sure you can’t talk?”

Suppressing a shudder, she seized the cloth and quickly wrapped it around Ben’s thick biceps.

He grimaced. “A shame about the coat. My mother gave it to me before I took this job. It’s kept me warm through four Tennessee winters.”

“Our winters are typically mild.”

He flashed a smile, the lopsided one that had slain countless hearts. “Not compared with my hometown in southern Georgia. Besides, according to the almanac, we’re in for more snow than usual this year.”

“So get it patched. Nicole Darling can have it repaired in less time than it takes you to make a girl swoon.” Isabel snatched up a forgotten sachet of cloves.

“When was the last time that happened?” he challenged, laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t keep detailed records of your romantic exploits, but I seem to recall hearing about Edith Pulaski at the harvest festival. And Josie Strutin embarrassed herself during the annual August social.”

“Edith fainted because she was ill with a fever. As for Josie, I choose to believe she was overwhelmed by the prospect of singing a solo in front of a crowd and not because I was nearby.” He started for the boardwalk, his stride even and decisive, though he seemed to hold his injured arm close to his body. “Did you walk or ride?”

“I walked.”

“You can ride with me, then.”

She put her shaky legs in motion, unhappy with the prospect of spending any amount of time with him. Isabel went out of her way to avoid the shallow charmer. Ben MacGregor’s reputation was a two-sided coin. While a respected lawman who’d committed his life to protecting Gatlinburg’s citizens, he was also a confirmed bachelor who trifled with women’s emotions. Isabel couldn’t respect a man like that, not after living with the consequences of her father’s repeated infidelities.

He led her to his grand sorrel horse whose copper-red coat mimicked Ben’s hair. One of the most recognizable animals in town, his name was Blaze. Ben mounted first and, taking her basket, let her use his good arm to pull herself up behind him. During the first part of the slow journey, she utilized her leg muscles for balance. She soon tired, however.

“You can put your arms about my waist,” he quipped over his shoulder. “I promise I won’t get ideas.”

“Like I’d ever be interested in you,” she muttered.

His deep, husky laugh mocked her. “Every man in town is aware of your aversion to romance.”

Isabel didn’t care that she was considered a prude or that folks whispered she was destined to be an old maid. Better that than they think she shared her father’s lack of morality.

The deserted lane on which they traveled crested a small incline. During the descent, Isabel had no choice but to use Ben as a support. He said nothing when she slid her arms around his waist. His body heat seeped into her, helping stave off the chill December air. Unaccustomed to this degree of closeness to a man, she became acutely aware of the play of muscles across his broad back, the solid leanness of his flanks and his flat stomach. He wasn’t tall—average, really—but he had a stocky, honed build.

Thankfully, her family’s property was situated only a mile from the heart of town. The gristmill and stream edged the woods to their left. A modest-size clearing surrounded by more woods contained the cabin, barn and outbuildings, space for a vegetable garden, and pasture for their livestock.

When he halted Blaze beside her porch, Isabel wasted no time scrambling to solid ground.

“Thank you for the ride.” She stretched out her hand for the basket. “I’ll take that.”

An infuriating grin curved his generous mouth. He was well aware of her eagerness to be rid of him. “My pleasure.”

The door banged open. Light spilled through the opening as her sisters, Honor and Carmen, emerged onto the porch and simpered over Ben’s presence like every other ninny-headed female who fell prey to his outgoing personality and winning smile. When Honor noticed his injury, Isabel knew getting rid of him wouldn’t be as easy as she’d thought.

* * *

Within a matter of minutes, Ben found himself seated at the Flores sisters’ table while they gathered the necessary supplies to tend his wound. Trying to shut out the burning sensation engulfing his arm, he focused on his surroundings. Two years had passed since he’d been inside this cabin. He’d come the night Manuel Flores was murdered. Thankfully, his boss, Sheriff Shane Timmons, had shouldered the unenviable task of informing Manuel’s wife and daughters of the events surrounding his passing.

Alma Flores had taken it the hardest, slumping to the ground and wailing as if her heart would never be mended. A mere month after the funeral, she’d gone to live with her sister in nearby Knoxville, leaving Isabel to care for her sisters and their small farm and gristmill.

His gaze sought her out, as it usually did whenever she was around. Unlike Honor and Carmen, who favored vibrant hues and rich fabrics, Isabel preferred somber, severe clothing. Ben surmised it was her way of trying to go unnoticed. He’d like to tell her the ploy was unsuccessful.

He tracked her movements about the central room as she lit multiple lamps. One she placed on the fireplace mantel, another on a squat table in between a pair of cushioned chairs. Still more she hung from pegs on either side of the door. Light flickered over her satin black hair, pulled away from her face in a thick, glossy French braid that curved around her slender neck and disappeared beneath her heather-gray fur-lined cloak.

All three Flores women were beautiful. Nineteen-year-old Honor was willowy and graceful, putting him in mind of a delicate bird. A year younger and the shortest of the three, Carmen had a healthy figure, and her round face was consistently animated. Isabel was different and, in Ben’s estimation, without rival. She possessed noble features, her Mexican heritage on proud display in her high forehead, distinct cheekbones, sleek jawline. Her olive skin was the perfect foil for arched dark brows, glittering black eyes and an apricot-hued mouth. His attention snagged there. Full and lush, her lips provided a soft counterpoint to her austere demeanor.

Ben sometimes contemplated different ways to provoke a smile from the elusive beauty. The usual methods wouldn’t apply to her, however. She hadn’t attempted to hide her disdain. He accepted how she felt about him. Understood her reasons.

She passed by his chair, Christmastime scents of cinnamon and other spices combined with tangy orange wafting over him.

“We’ll have to cut off your sleeve.” Hands on her hips, Honor considered his torn, bloodied shirt.

“As much as I’d love to stitch you up, I can’t stand the sight of blood.” Positioned beside her sister, Carmen’s brown eyes were apologetic. The cloud of chocolate-brown hair tumbling about her shoulders quivered with the shake of her head. “I’d wind up a puddle at your feet.”

“Not an uncommon occurrence where the deputy is concerned.” Isabel unbuttoned her cloak and hung it on a coatrack. When she intercepted her sisters’ disapproving stares, she shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

“You act as if it’s his fault he’s as handsome as they come,” Carmen retorted, then blushed to her hairline.

Ben ducked his head to hide his smile.

Isabel made a shooing motion with her hands. “Off to your room, both of you. I’ll see to the deputy’s wound.”

Their protests were met with a stern stare. “I won’t be able to concentrate with the two of you fussing over him.”

Grumbling to each other, they disappeared into a room on the far side of the cabin. Of modest size, their home boasted a cozy central space—the furniture arranged about a massive fireplace—a separate kitchen and two bedrooms. The sofa was, at best guess, two decades old. While the carved walnut frame was polished to a high shine, nothing could hide the sad state of the black-and-white upholstery. They’d placed brightly colored pillows along its length to mask the imperfections. Landscape paintings of winding rivers and fields dotted with bluebonnets and even one of a longhorn provided reminders of their home state of Texas. White, green and red paper chains hung from the mantel, a playful nod to the Christmas season.

“You own interesting artwork,” he said, indicating the brick-red ceramic animal perched on the small desk in between the bedroom doors.

“That’s a coatimundi.”

“A what?”

“It’s a raccoon-like animal that inhabits Central and South America. My great-grandmother brought it with her to Texas. That’s how we acquired it.”

There were other unique items harking back to their former home. There was a plate-size metal circle with a single star in the middle. Displayed on the coffee table was a hand-painted wooden bowl with brilliant blue, white and orange flowers on a black backdrop. Being in the Flores home was akin to being in a foreign marketplace surrounded by unique and interesting wares. He liked it.

Isabel picked up the scissors and moved beside him, close enough that her skirts whispered against his leg. Her fingers skimmed his shoulder in fleeting touches as she carefully cut away the sleeve.

Ben closed his eyes. He couldn’t recall ever being this close to her.

“I have to remove the material,” she warned. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

He opened his eyes and met hers, which unexpectedly mirrored concern. “The pain’s manageable,” he said.

“I haven’t gotten to the hard part yet.”

After discarding the tattered sleeve, she began washing the damaged area. Ben gritted his teeth and focused on his breathing.

He tilted his head back to get a better look at her. A tiny pleat had formed between her eyebrows as she worked, and her crisp plum-colored blouse whispered with her movements. Lace edging her cuffs and high collar was the only nod to whimsy. In spite of the late hour, her hair was tidy and neat, the glossy braid curving around to her front.

“You don’t have to shop odd hours, you know.”

“I prefer to shop in peace and relative quiet,” she retorted. “I’ve found that the hour prior to closing time is perfectly suited for my purposes. Most folks are preparing supper then.”

As the image of her at the thief’s mercy resurged, he clenched his fists. “You should stick to daylight hours, Isabel. Safer that way.”

Tossing the soiled washrag in the water bowl, she jammed one hand against her hip. “Are you implying it’s my fault I happened upon a bank robber?”

“Stop being so prickly,” he chided. “I’m simply doling out practical advice. It’s my duty as a lawman.”

Her frown deepening, she stepped around him and picked up a sewing needle.

He leaned the opposite direction. “I’m not sure I like the look in your eye. Maybe someone else should stitch me back together. Someone who doesn’t see me coming and flee.”

Isabel looked stunned he’d voiced what they both knew to be true. Her brows collided. “I would never intentionally hurt you. O-or anyone, for that matter.”

He righted himself in the seat. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you, seeing as how Honor is the only other option, and she was looking a bit green about the mouth.”

“Like Carmen, she has a weak stomach, but she would never confess to it in front of you.”

Her fingertips were cool and skittish against his skin as she took hold of his bare arm. Ben’s mouth went dry. He mentally clung to that touch as she began the painful and tedious process of mending him. At long last, her hand fell away, and his eyes blinked open.

“All done?”

She studied her handiwork with a faint grimace. “It’s not pretty, but as long as you keep it clean and dry, you should heal without any problems.”

“Scars are a sign of manliness.” He winked, then let out a slow, deep breath. “Now that you’re finished wielding that needle, I can tell you I’ll be sticking around until morning.”

* * *

“You will not be spending this night or any other on my property!”

Isabel’s hands, which had been steady throughout her task, began trembling. She washed and dried them and hid them in the folds of her skirt. Her rebellious gaze returned to his exposed limb. His skin was paler there, like rich cream, and incredibly pleasing to the touch, his flesh firm and warm.

Irritated with herself, she marched to the coatrack, retrieved his tattered coat and dropped it in his lap.

“You may have some bruising around the stitches. I advise you to have Doc Owens check it as soon as you’re able.”

“I’m confident you did a perfectly acceptable job.”

Ben stood and eased his arm into the sleeve, wincing as he did so. His color was good, she reassured herself. And he looked steady on his feet.

“He may have something to help dull the pain.”

He deftly buttoned his coat, starting from the bottom and working up. Lamplight glinted off his dark red hair. Cut short around his ears and along his shirt collar, the front strands were slightly longer and slipped forward into his eyes. He might be too handsome for words, but Isabel was immune. Did it matter if his classic features could’ve graced any of the world’s great sculptures? Or that his skin was smooth and sun-kissed, stretching over prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw?

None of that mattered if his character was lacking.

“Pain will keep me alert tonight. I can stay in the warming hut,” he said, referring to the structure near the gristmill where customers gathered to wait for their corn or wheat to be ground. “It’s within view of the cabin. If our thief decides to pay you a visit, I’ll be here to protect you.”

“He doesn’t know my name or where I live.”

“I can’t be one hundred percent positive he didn’t follow us here.”

“He’s after the money, not me. Sleep in the bank.”

His lips thinned. “You’d rather take your chances with a dangerous criminal than have me on your property?”

She sighed. “You want proof I can handle myself?”

Lowering one knee to the floor, she removed the small dagger from its sheaf below her calf and, with deadly accuracy, hurled it through the air. The pointed end dug into her bedroom door frame.

Ben shot her a disbelieving look before striding across the room to retrieve it. “You had this on you the whole time?”

“I would’ve utilized it if I’d had the chance.”

“But I foiled everything by coming to your aid.” Sarcasm laced his voice. He bent his head and studied the carving in the wooden handle. “Expert craftsmanship.” He tested the blade. “I wouldn’t mind having one like it. Where did you get it?”

She extended her hand. He placed it in the center of her palm, curiosity making his eyes appear a shade lighter. Isabel was loath to reveal the truth, but she wasn’t going to lie. “I made it.”

His brow furrowed in disbelief. “You cut and carved the wood and forged the steel?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Not for the reason you’re thinking,” he said drily. “You can obviously do whatever you put your mind to. You’ve looked after your sisters’ well-being and managed this farm, all while operating a gristmill. I simply haven’t heard a whisper of your skills.”

“That’s because very few people know.”

“I assure you, a man would pay a high price for one of those.”

“I do sell them, just not in Gatlinburg.” Returning to the table, she cleared her sewing supplies. “I knew when my mother left that I’d need additional income. My uncle, my mother’s brother, is a blacksmith. He stayed with us for about a year when I was sixteen, and he taught me many things, the art of knife making among them. Papa hated the idea of one of his daughters learning a man’s job.” She smirked, remembering his tirades. “That’s probably why Uncle Alejandro did it. They despised each other. Small wonder.”

“You turned a valuable skill into a moneymaker.”

“My knives are stocked in several stores, mostly in Maryville and Sevierville.”

While she wrung out the cloth she’d used to clean his wound, he discarded the dirty water outside. The waft of cold air raised goose bumps on her arms. She put the kettle on to boil and debated whether or not to offer him coffee. It was the polite thing to do, especially after his valor tonight, but he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted hanging around her home. Honor had a steady beau, but Carmen...the girl had nothing but fluff and romance between her ears.

He hovered in the kitchen doorway, his magnetic presence making her nerves skitter and scatter. Did he see the hole in the rug? Had he noticed the curtains were faded and needed to be replaced? She worked hard to provide for her sisters. God had met their basic needs—they had plenty of food, durable clothing, and their home was in decent shape—but there wasn’t a lot of money for extras. Sometimes her many responsibilities threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe that’s why the thought of the thief stealing from hardworking families had outraged her to the point she’d foolishly challenged him.

“Isabel, you shouldn’t have to travel to a whole other town to sell your knives. And you shouldn’t have to feel like you have to wait until almost closing time to shop. Your father’s behavior doesn’t reflect on you.”

“Don’t pretend to understand what I’ve been through,” she retorted. “You haven’t walked in my shoes, haven’t felt the condemning stares or heard the whispers as you walk past.”

Granted, not everyone in their mountain town had treated the Flores women as if they were morally tainted. There were those who’d treated them with respect and compassion. The situation might have improved with time, considering her parents were out of the picture, but past wounds ran deep. She preferred to spend much of her time on this farm. Her sisters’ companionship was enough.

“I know what it’s like to be the subject of gossip,” he said gruffly.

She didn’t attempt to hide her scorn. “You court speculation with your blatant flirting.”

How anyone would willingly do such a thing was unfathomable. Isabel went out of her way to remain above approach, to avoid the stinging whip of judgment. She’d had enough of that throughout her childhood.

He held up his hand in defense. “I’ve made no secret of my decision to remain a bachelor. Everyone in this town from the age of sixteen to ninety-five is aware of my no-marriage policy. I’m not to blame if a girl chooses to believe she can change me.”

“Such arrogance and flippant disregard for others’ feelings! What would cause a man to go around kissing innocent women, I wonder, leading them on a merry dance that will only end in heartache?”

“Hold on, sugarplum.” His laconic smile remained fixed, but his eyes glittered righteous fire. “Who said anything about kissing? That’s crossing the line of friendship, something I would never do. That sort of behavior is reserved for serious romance.”

“That’s something, I suppose,” she huffed, slapping a single mug on the counter.

“I was referring to a situation in Georgia. A scandal not of my making. It’s the reason I ultimately found my way here.”

She stirred the steaming water and coffee grounds together. “Let me guess, you trifled with the wrong girl, and her father ran you out of town.”

Ben actually looked disappointed. His gaze rested on the mug then lifted to her face. “You have me pegged. Sure, that’s exactly what happened.”

He pivoted on his boot heel and headed for the door. “Thanks for patching me up.”

Ignoring a pinch of guilt, she trailed after him. “You’re going home, correct? Or the bank?”

“I won’t stay here tonight,” he said, his tone flat. “But I will be stopping by at odd times the next few days. Be alert to any suspicious activity. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Let’s hope you’re right.”


Chapter Two (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

Isabel couldn’t shake the memories. The events outside the bank crowded in...the terror of the gun digging in her temple, the relief mixed with dread at seeing Ben at the end of that alley, more grave than she’d ever seen him. He’d looked like a lethal punisher of misdeeds as opposed to the usual congenial lothario.

You could’ve offered him coffee.

Isabel scowled as she carried a stack of one-pound sacks to the platform built around the millstones. She’d let her disdain for his reputation take precedence over common courtesy. The events to which he’d referred—his supposed brush with scandal—had grown into a perplexing mystery that had kept her awake. If his reasons for leaving Georgia hadn’t involved a brokenhearted maiden and an irate father intent on revenge, what were they?

None of your business, Isabel. Your paths intersecting last night was a single event. No need to continue interacting with the troublesome man. Or letting thoughts of him prevent you from getting a good night’s rest.

Her eyes felt gritty, her mind not as sharp as usual. She’d been operating their gristmill for so long she could do it in her sleep. Open every Friday and Saturday, the hours usually passed in a blur. Today she found little comfort in the familiar water wheel’s whir and the muted grinding of the gears beneath the floor.

She was building a fire in the woodstove when Honor entered the mill, eyes bright and determined. This didn’t bode well. The nineteen-year-old usually didn’t make an appearance until lunch.

“Something the matter?”

Her long, wavy hair constrained with a bright red ribbon, she approached with a mug held out as an offering. “I’ve brought you hot cocoa.”

Isabel brushed the wood bits from her hands. “What’s the special occasion?”

“I thought you might need a bit of cheering up this morning. Not only was your life threatened, you were forced to spend time with the deputy.”

Accepting the mug, Isabel sipped the somewhat bitter chocolate concoction and sighed in satisfaction. She didn’t have the heart to scold her sister for dipping into their stores of the costly ingredient. Honor was attuned to others’ feelings. It’s why she was more concerned with lifting Isabel’s spirits than the household finances.

“It’s delicious.” She dredged up a smile. “Thank you.”

Honor claimed the lone chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Ben’s a nice man, isn’t he? There’s no question he’s as handsome as the day is long, but he’s also got good character, don’t you think? Does the fact he saved your life soften your opinion of him?”

“Your lack of subtlety amazes me.” Drifting to the window that overlooked the homestead and their beloved mountains, she surveyed the wintry scene. “Just because you’ve found happiness with John doesn’t mean everyone else must be in a relationship.”

“I can’t understand why you refuse to give any man a chance. Not everyone is like Papa.”

“Repeating this conversation every few months won’t change my view of the opposite sex. At their core, men are self-serving creatures. Why on earth would I subject myself to one?”

She would never be like her mother, who’d endured Manuel’s indignities in silence. Alma’s refusal to stand up for herself had formed a wedge between mother and daughter. How she could’ve lamented his passing was beyond Isabel.

Her sister’s nose scrunched like a child’s, dispelling her usual air of tranquility. “You’re being unfair. And cynical.”

“I’m realistic.”

The first customer of the day arrived then, putting an end to the pointless exchange. Her sisters wouldn’t succeed in convincing her to risk her independence on the slim chance she’d meet a man who’d treat her as a respected partner. As more customers filed in, a majority of them men, Isabel overheard countless conversations about the attempted bank robbery and how Ben’s heroic actions had netted him even more female admirers. Hoping her disgust was well hidden, she took their corn and, after removing a one-eighth portion for herself, loaded the top hopper and waited for the fine meal to appear.

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 (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

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 put 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.”

“I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”

Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.

* * *

“What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”

Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.

A dozen flowery compliments popped into his head. He suppressed them all. She would label whatever he said insincere, so he opted for a casual response. “Indeed, she does.”

Her dress had been crafted of lush velvet, a deep green the color of a spruce bough. The snug bodice had a rounded neckline trimmed with ribbon and gave way to a swath of material falling in graceful folds to kiss the floorboards. Isabel’s hair had been swept off her neck and coiled into an elegant style. She was the epitome of feminine sophistication.

Her sisters looked disappointed by his low-key reaction. Isabel avoided his gaze as she circumvented the furniture in a swish of skirts.

“Are we riding or walking?”

“I readied the wagon,” Ben said, joining her at the coatrack. While she tugged on her gloves, he retrieved her wool cloak and held it open for her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Isabel pursed her lips and, after the slightest hesitation, stood still and allowed him to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders. He took the liberty of fastening the clasps, taking a moment to breathe in her unique, feminine scent, a blend of spices and orange.

Her gaze pinned his. “We’re going to create a spectacle, arriving with you.”

“Yes, we will,” he concurred with a grin. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”

She brushed his hands aside and took a step back. “And we will be unpopular with the women.”

“Only the ones without beaux,” Carmen inserted with a straight face.

At the Johnson farm, the serenade’s starting point, he assisted the Flores sisters from the wagon and looked up to find a veritable sea of shocked countenances. Three wagons fitted with hay squares would take the group around to the appointed residences. Already some of the young people had found seats. Others conversed in clusters about the yard.

Beside him, Isabel stood as stiff as a mannequin, braced for flaming arrows to descend. He could almost see her hatching an escape route.

“Everyone’s staring.”

He dipped his head close. “That’s because they’re as in awe of your beauty as I am.”

Her dark gaze swerved to his in instant irritation. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, look, there’s John.” Carmen nudged Honor.

John Littleton separated himself from his friends. Taller than most, the dark-headed farmer was easy to pick out in a crowd. His gray eyes glowed with pride as he put his arm around Honor and kissed her cheek.

To Ben’s knowledge, the couple had been together for more than a year and were obviously crazy about each other. He wondered why they hadn’t already set a wedding date. The Littleton family had a thriving farm on the west side of town. John’s older sister had already married and moved away, leaving a starter cabin uninhabited.

“Good evening, ladies. Deputy.” Smiling, he raised his brows at Isabel. “I’m surprised to see you here. What did your sisters have to do to convince you?”

“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Though her tone was disgruntled, Isabel’s expression had softened somewhat. “How is that knife working out for your father?”

“He’s been showing it off to his friends, so I’d say he’s very satisfied. They’re pestering him to divulge where he got it.”

“He won’t, will he?” Isabel asked, worried.

“John said he would need one for himself in order to continue keeping your secret.” Honor snuggled close to his side and grinned cheekily up at him.

“Don’t believe her.” He chuckled. “She’s simply stumped as to what to get me for Christmas.”

Reaching up, she straightened his tie. “That’s not true. I’ve actually already decided on a gift, and it has nothing to do with weapons.”

He snapped his fingers. “A shame.”

John brought out a sassy side in the quiet girl. Glancing at Isabel, Ben was shocked to witness her open approval. Apparently her dislike of men didn’t extend to her sister’s beau. How had John managed to get in her good graces?

“Virgil and Timothy have saved us a spot in their wagon,” John said. “Would you like to sit with us?”

“No, thanks.” Carmen waved to a cluster of girls her age. “I’m going over to talk to Rosa and the others. I’ll meet up with you later.”

As she hurried off, Honor peered toward said wagon and frowned. “John, it’s already filling up. Looks like there’s only enough room beside Virgil for the two of us.”

John looked apologetic. “We could sit in that last one—”

“No, that’s okay,” Isabel intervened. “The deputy and I will find our own spots.”

When the couple had gone, Ben guided her to the rear wagon, the least occupied of the three. “What does a man have to do to obtain one of your knives?”

Caught off guard, her brows pulled together. “I didn’t realize you wanted one.”

“I—”

“Ben!” The Smith sisters, both brunette, petite and hazel eyed, blocked their way. “We’ve been waiting ages for you to arrive.” The eldest by eighteen months, Laila gifted him with a sunny smile. “We’ve saved a seat for you in the second wagon.”

“Tommy Hatfield’s driving,” Lynette told him in a confidential tone. “He avoids the ruts and dips, ensuring a smooth ride.”

Ben liked the girls well enough. When they weren’t hinting about what great wives they’d make, Laila and Lynette were pleasant company. He often spent Sunday evenings in the Smith home, more for their father’s company than anything else. Allen Smith reminded Ben of his own pa, whom he didn’t get to see often. He had a feeling the sisters wouldn’t be thrilled with that bit of insight.

“That was thoughtful of you, ladies, but we’re taking the third one. I like to observe what’s up ahead.”

Squinting at their driver, a rotund man in overalls, Lynette uttered a disapproving noise. “Ollie’s got night blindness. He almost ran a group into the woods last year.”

Ben choked on a laugh. “We’ll take our chances, right, Isabel?”

Laila’s countenance lost some its brilliance. “I didn’t realize you and the deputy were close acquaintances.”

“We’re not.” She silently implored him to concur.

He shrugged. “I happened to be in the vicinity of the Flores property at the appropriate time. Made sense to come together.”

Mr. Johnson let loose a shrill whistle and announced they’d set out in five minutes.

“Time to find a seat.” He leaped into the bed and, after pointing Isabel to the sturdy footstool that had been provided, offered her a hand up.

The Smith sisters debated what to do. Ultimately, they trudged off. Their dejection wasn’t lost on Isabel, who shot him an arch look. She’d accused him of disregarding others’ feelings. Could she be right? He hated to think he might’ve inflicted emotional wounds, especially considering how he’d suffered at the hands of his former fiancée. Maybe his stated vow to remain a bachelor wasn’t enough. Maybe his single female acquaintances considered it his way of throwing down the gauntlet.

Ben led her to a spot behind Ollie. The seats around them filled up quickly. Carmen and her friends reached the wagon too late to sit close. She mouthed her regrets. Isabel shrugged and offered a false smile.

Crushed as they were, their shoulders wedged together, Ben didn’t have to tilt his head very far to whisper in her ear. “I know you’re putting on a brave face for your sisters’ sakes. Are you sorry you agreed to come? Or sorry you got stuck with me?”

She twisted slightly to meet his gaze. “I should be sitting with them. You and me together like this gives everyone the wrong idea.”

“A single man and woman can’t talk in this town as friends?”

“You’re not just any man,” she retorted in a stilted voice. “You’re the Debonair Deputy.”

“I’m a confirmed bachelor,” he countered.

“Didn’t you notice the way Lynette was ogling you? As if you’d accomplished great feats worthy of being recorded in history books?”

“Who says I haven’t?” he teased.

Her mouth tightened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Smile and twinkle your eyes at me.”

He gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not allowed to smile at you?”

“Not in public,” she said. “I’m a dedicated spinster. Everyone will think you’ve charmed me off my farm and are even now filling my head with thoughts of wedding bells.”

“Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?”

“You know why.” She turned her head. “Oh, but look, there’s another of your crestfallen admirers.”

Ben spotted Veronica Patton right away. The last to embark, she stared at him and Isabel with obvious disdain. His wave was met with a halfhearted response. He hid a frown. The sense that he’d made a grave error assailed him. His interactions with the elegant blonde weren’t like those with the Smith sisters. He’d spent time alone with her, apart from her family. A couple of meals at the Plum. One stroll about town. And while he’d been a perfect gentleman, he was beginning to suspect Veronica viewed their association in a very different light.

He could thank Isabel Flores for this new, disturbing sensitivity regarding the women he occasionally spent time with.

“Everyone ready?” Ollie hollered over his shoulder. “Hold on to your hats, gents. Your sweethearts, too.”

Laughter rumbled through the wagon as they lurched into motion. Ben pushed the troubling thoughts aside. This was likely his one and only shot at seeing that Isabel enjoyed herself. He wouldn’t get another chance. With any other woman, Ben would’ve been able to find a way to make her relax. Isabel wasn’t just any woman, however. The fact that she disliked him made his task that much harder.

“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” When she hesitated, he murmured, “Is talking to you forbidden, as well?”

Her focus was on her gloved hands, folded tightly together in her lap. “I like many things about this time of year. One of them is the renewed spirit of charity. People tend to treat each other better.”

Her statement was a telling one. While he understood how it felt to live under the weight of a town’s critical scrutiny, it had been for a brief time and in another state. He hadn’t grown up with a scandalous father.

“Anything else?”

“I enjoy baking. This time of year has plenty of opportunities for that. My sisters and I spend extra time in the kitchen, making treats for their friends.”

“What about your friends?”

Her chin jutted. “My sisters are my friends.”

“Someday your sisters will marry and move away,” he said gently. “What happens then, Isabel?”

* * *

Isabel didn’t wish to contemplate the future. Too soon, her sisters would marry and move on, leaving her alone. Honor wasn’t too far from that reality, in fact. She wouldn’t begrudge them their happiness. When the time came, she’d celebrate their blessings.

The wagons rolled into the first dwelling’s yard and, once at a full stop, the postmaster’s son led everyone in a heartfelt rendition of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” It was one of her favorites.

Trying to ignore Ben’s nearness and his pleasant tenor voice, she lifted her face to the sky and studied the patterns of twinkling lights in the black velvet expanse. She imagined God in all His glory, who’d crafted those stars and knew their exact number, listening to their voices. Was He pleased?

The words trailed off. Clapping startled her out of her reverie. The family, who’d come onto the porch, wore happy smiles. The youngest sons carried baskets of cookies and doled them out to the carolers.

“You have a delightful voice.” Ben’s warm breath teased the tendrils about her ear, and she shivered.

Amazing. Despite being fully aware of his reputation, she was still affected by him.

“You have an endless supply of false flattery, Deputy. Save it for someone gullible enough to believe you.”

“And you, Miss Flores, have a peculiar inability to accept praise.”

Their conveyance jerked into motion, knocking them into one another. Isabel gritted her teeth. The wagon’s occupants sneaked glances at them, no doubt cataloging their every exchange to dissect later. Ben had no inkling the amount of speculation they were drawing, because he was immune. He evidently didn’t care what others thought of him. For a brief instant, she envied him that.

They reached the next home within ten minutes. This time they sang “Silent Night,” a song that put Isabel in mind of Jesus’s earthly parents and the events leading up to His birth. If anyone knew how it felt to be talked about and judged, it had been Mary. How had she endured the speculation and accusations? Had she lived her life as usual while awaiting the Savior’s birth? Or had she perhaps sequestered herself, seeing only her family and Joseph?

When the song ended, they disembarked and gathered around a table with mugs of fragrant, spice-laced cider. Veronica swooped in with eagle-like accuracy.

“I apologize for arriving late.” Slipping her arm through Ben’s, she regarded Isabel with a brittle smile. “I would’ve gladly kept him entertained in your place. Everyone’s aware you detest having to associate with your peers.”

Veronica Patton actually thought she had something to fear from Isabel? A classic beauty, with long golden hair, crystal-blue eyes and creamy skin, she was popular, poised and perfect. And her family name didn’t have a single blemish.

Ben’s brows descended. “Veronica—”

“I’m the one who should apologize,” Isabel said with as much equanimity as she could muster. “I shouldn’t have monopolized the deputy’s attention. I’ll give you the privacy you crave.”

Before Ben could respond, Isabel pivoted on her heel and joined Carmen and her friends near the well. They huddled together to ward off the cold, their mugs cradled close, the welcome steam warming their faces.

“I’m glad you came, Isabel,” Rosa said kindly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Sipping the liquid, she savored the apple flavor and tried to steady her nerves. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to sing Christmas carols.”

Sharp-eyed Samantha Rogers studied her over the rim of her cup. “I didn’t think you’d ever join Ben MacGregor’s gaggle of admirers, Isabel. What changed?”

Carmen elbowed the girl.

Isabel’s stomach knotted. “I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression.”

“Appears I’m not the only one.”

Glancing around, she noticed the pointed stares bouncing between her and Veronica. What did they expect? An actual altercation to break out? Oh, wouldn’t Ben love that, she fumed, two women fighting over him?

Ignoring her nudging conscience that protested she was being unfair, she bade the girls goodbye and pulled Carmen aside.

“I’m going home.”

“What? Why?”

“This was a mistake.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Carmen’s round face wrinkled with distress. “You don’t have to leave. Sit with me and the girls.”

“I’d rather be alone.” She snagged Carmen’s hand and gently squeezed. “Tell Honor I’ll see you both at home.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Ben?” She bit her lip. “It’s a long walk, and it’s dark. What if he’s right about that bank robber?”

“He’s preoccupied at the moment,” she said, wincing at the note of bitterness in her voice. She didn’t care that he and the gorgeous blonde were locked in a private conversation. She didn’t. “He’s making a bigger deal about the threat than he needs to.” Dragging her gaze away, she gave a brief wave. “Have fun, and I’ll see you later.”

Isabel left the yard, passing the annoying Gallatin brothers on her way. Myron smirked at her and nudged Chester. If they hadn’t been engaged in obvious flirtation with a pair of young women, she was certain they would’ve made trouble.

Soon the lights and laughter faded. Darkness closed around her, the deserted lane lit by infrequent patches of moonlight. At first, her relief at escaping Ben’s frustrating presence and too many prying eyes bolstered her along, without a thought to her surroundings. Gradually, though, she became aware of her isolation. Every snap and rustle in the night forest startled her. The memory of being held captive by the unkempt thief resurfaced, along with Ben’s warnings.

Was he out there, hiding in the shadows, poised to strike?

Isabel increased her pace. By the time she arrived at her cabin, her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. Her trepidation was compounded when she climbed the porch steps and noticed the door ajar.

Chilled to the bone, her exposed skin stinging, she stopped and stared. Had one of the girls failed to latch it? Or was someone inside awaiting her return?

Retrieving her dagger, she prayed for God’s protection as she forced her feet forward.


Chapter Four (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

Where was Isabel?

Ben scanned the crowd, frustrated when he saw no sign of her.

“Ben?” Veronica pressed her palm against his cheek. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

The gesture struck him as intimate. He shifted out of reach. “I’m afraid not. What were you saying?”

“I asked about your injury.”

“It wasn’t serious. A mere flesh wound.”

Her blue eyes bore evidence of real distress. “I was so very frightened when I heard the account of your ordeal. The thought of you facing that madman alone has tortured me ever since.” She shivered.

He hadn’t been alone, though. Burying that crucial information would help keep Isabel safe, but he felt as if he were cheating her somehow. She’d displayed true heroism that night.

Veronica gripped his arm. “I wish I’d been there while Doc stitched you up. I would’ve held your hand.”

Ben strangled on a cough. He doubted she’d be so swift to offer comfort if she knew who’d actually tended him. “A sweet sentiment, Veronica.”

“It must’ve been difficult to return home to your empty cabin after such an ordeal.”

Something in her tone set off a warning bell inside. “I’m used to living alone.”

She licked her lips. “Don’t you get lonely? P-perhaps you’ve underestimated the advantages of having a wife. A companion who’s always on hand to comfort and cheer you.”

Ben fell back a step. He was well acquainted with the advantages of a loving relationship. He’d seen the evidence in his own parents’ union, as well as his friends’ marriages. A fluke illness had robbed him of that chance. God had allowed it. He’d stopped asking why, because the obvious conclusion—that he was unfit to be a father—was too painful.

Why was Veronica suddenly venturing into these waters? She’d never dared before. Was it because he’d arrived with Isabel?

“My thoughts on marriage haven’t changed,” he told her in a gentle but firm voice. “My solitary path is set.”

“Of course, I didn’t intend to suggest otherwise,” she rushed out, her brows forming a deep V.

Ben’s attention wandered to the refreshment table, where Carmen and Honor were engaged in a heated discussion. He craned his neck and scanned the crowd, straining for a glimpse of raven hair and a proud profile.

“What do you say, Ben? Will you join us?”

Ben dragged his gaze back to Veronica, who was waiting for his answer. Not about to be caught woolgathering a second time in the space of five minutes, he nodded. “Um, sure. I’d like that.”

Her mouth curved into a bright smile. “Wonderful.”

He inwardly cringed. What had he agreed to?

“Excuse me.” Carmen rushed to their side. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Ben, can I steal you away for a moment?”

His thoughts leaping to Isabel, he made his excuses to Veronica.

“What’s happened?”

“Isabel left. I tried to convince her to stay, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Alone?”

Carmen winced and nodded.

Worry mingled with anger. She knew the danger, yet had forged ahead anyway. “How long ago was this?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll go right away.”

“Honor and I are coming with you.”

* * *

“Are you decent, Isabel?” Carmen was speaking as she breezed through the door. “Ben accompanied us home and...” Spying her in the rocking chair, she stopped suddenly, causing Honor to bump into her. “Whatever’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Unwilling for them to guess how afraid she’d been, Isabel hid the dagger in her skirt folds. “Who was the last one out tonight? Do either of you remember latching the door?”

“It was me,” Honor said, her eyes apprehensive. “I distinctly remember latching it. Why? Was someone here?”

“The door was open when I got home.”

Carmen rushed over and knelt at her feet. “Are you all right? I warned you not to come alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ben needs to hear about this.”

Ducking outside before Isabel could stop her, Honor explained the dilemma. The deputy followed her inside and quickly inventoried the cabin. His intent gaze came to rest on her in somber assessment.

“Did you see anything unusual? Any of your belongings out of place or missing?”

“No. Nothing. I didn’t check the bedrooms closely, however.”

Carmen stood and grasped Honor’s hand. “Let’s check them together.”

Honor nodded and, with a final glance at Isabel, went off to search both rooms. Their subdued conversation competed with the popping and hissing of the fireplace logs. After hanging his hat on the stand, Ben positioned a footstool near her rocker and sank onto it. Then he latched his hands together and examined her features with an intensity that made her self-conscious.

“Why did you leave without telling me? I would’ve gladly escorted you home.”

“I wished to be alone.”

“And what if our thief had been waiting for you?” Concern darkened his eyes to sage green.

It wasn’t personal, she reminded herself. His duty to the townspeople was of paramount importance.

Isabel removed her dagger from its concealment. “I’m not completely helpless.”

Ben sighed and, rising to his feet, motioned for her to do the same. Baffled, she stood and immediately regretted it. In a blink, he’d seized her dagger and waggled it midair.

“The thief has your weapon,” he challenged, jaw twitching. “Now what?”

Isabel stared up at him, a shiver of admiration rippling through her. She’d never get used to this side of the Debonair Deputy, the justice-wielding, deadly serious lawman.

“I wasn’t expecting you to act. You haven’t proven anything.”

“Let’s try again then.” He handed her the dagger. “Pretend I’m an outlaw intent on silencing you.”

Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Ben didn’t tower over her, but he was one hundred percent solid muscle.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He leaned close. “You wouldn’t think so if your sisters had come home to find you wounded—or worse.”

Images of their faces, stricken in horror as they knelt over her prone body, flooded her mind. Causing them sorrow was the last thing she wanted to do.

His hand encircled her wrist like an iron manacle. She resisted, but he was far too strong. Ben had the dagger pried from her fingers in no time flat.

He waved it in front of her nose. “Care to try a third time?”

Anger sparked into a smoldering flame. Why was he doing this?

“You didn’t give me proper warning,” she gritted out.

“And you think a lawbreaker bent on doing you harm would?” he retorted, color etching his cheeks. “You’re an intelligent lady, Isabel. Don’t be stubborn because I’m involved. If the sheriff was here in my place, would you brush his warnings off as easily as you do mine?”

Floorboards creaked in the girls’ bedroom. Isabel snatched her weapon and replaced it in her sheath, all the while mulling over his accusation. She didn’t want to acknowledge the truth.

“Isabel.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. His fingers were cold, his touch a complete shock, and she flinched. Ben assumed she’d reacted out of disgust, for he grimaced and dropped his arm to his side. “Don’t let your dislike of me jeopardize your safety.”

The girls emerged then. Turning toward them, Isabel surreptitiously pressed her palm against her cheek in the spot where he’d touched her. What had possessed him to do it?

“Everything looks in order as far as we can tell,” Honor announced, her fingers plucking at the ribbons encircling her sleeves.

Ben retrieved his hat. “I’ll take a look around outside.”

“Be careful.” The words were out before she could stop them. At his look of surprise, she said, “I don’t want to have to stitch you up again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Carmen brought over a small brown sack. “Mr. Hatfield was indeed generous this year. When I told him we had to leave early, he gave us our bags, including one for you.”

“Forget about food for a minute, will you?” Honor reprimanded. “Isa’s had a fright. Someone’s been inside our home.”

Carmen jammed her fists on her generous hips. “We can’t know that for sure. You might’ve pulled the door closed but failed to latch it.”

“I distinctly remember doing it, Carmen.”

“We were all aflutter over the deputy’s arrival and in a rush to prepare Isa.”

“No matter what actually transpired, I believe we have to take the threat seriously.” Isabel wasn’t convinced the man would go to such trouble to find her. It would be far easier to flee the area and take his chances elsewhere. She couldn’t risk her sisters’ safety on a hunch, however. “We’re all going to have to be on our guards.”

“You should’ve seen Ben’s face when I told him you’d left.” Carmen’s gaze was troubled. “He was visibly upset.”

Her heart tripped over itself. “I can’t imagine why. He had plenty of girls vying for his attention, Veronica in particular.” Of all the girls who’d cast their nets for Ben, she seemed the most likely candidate to lead him to the altar.

“Perhaps your company is what he truly wants.”

She sliced the air with her hand. “Impossible.”

“Haven’t you noticed he treats you differently?” Carmen said. “He’s more serious around you.”

Isabel went to the kitchen and deposited the bag’s contents in a festive china bowl with green holly patterns, a hand-me-down from their abuela. “The only reason Ben doesn’t flirt with me is because he knows I’m immune to his charm.” Another thought occurred to her. “Or maybe I’m not the type of woman he’d be interested in.”

There was no reason to be offended, she reasoned, busying her hands with arranging the unblemished fruit. So why then did the thought suddenly irk her?

“Of course he’d be interested in you!” Carmen added her bounty to the bowl. “You’re beautiful and capable and wise. The deputy’s a fair man. I’m certain he’d overlook your tendency to be bossy and hardheaded.”

Honor released a long-suffering sigh. “Carmen, don’t you ever think before you speak?”

Isabel patted Carmen’s hand. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but it hardly matters what he thinks.”

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“You care what everyone in Gatlinburg thinks about you except for Ben MacGregor.” Carmen twisted to look at Honor. “Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

Isabel was grateful Ben chose that moment to return to spare her from answering. His cheeks and hands were ruddy from exposure. The impulse to lead him to the fire and ease his discomfort took her unawares.

“I assume you didn’t encounter any outlaws in our barn?” she said, ignoring her sisters’ curious gazes.

“Just a few cows and a friendly feline.” He good-naturedly brushed orange cat hair from his pants.

“That’s reassuring.” If there’d been someone poking around their property, he was long gone. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head home?”

“Coffee sounds wonderful. As for heading home, I won’t be doing that until morning. I aim to stay in the warming hut.”

* * *

Ben braced himself for an argument that never materialized.

“I’ll gather the proper bedding.”

As Isabel started for her bedroom, the younger sisters exchanged a dubious look. Like him, they must’ve expected her to protest once again.

“It’s barely nine o’clock,” Carmen objected. “Far too early for the deputy to retire. Isn’t that right?”

Isabel wouldn’t relish putting up with him any longer than was necessary, but he wasn’t sleepy, and hot coffee would go far in chasing the chill from his bones. Besides, he couldn’t pass up this rare opportunity to spend more time in the feisty miller’s presence, no matter that a relationship with her was out of the question.

“You’re quite right.” He began to unbutton his coat. “I’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity to spend an evening with three of the most captivating ladies in these mountains.”

Carmen blushed to her hairline. Honor laughed. Isabel wore an indignant frown. Good. The more he riled her, the less likely he’d do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to forget his reasons for not getting serious. Isabel was the one woman who could make him forget, and she deserved a man who could give her what every woman dreamed about...a house full of children to love and nurture.

Her irritation was clear in the way she bustled about the kitchen, thumping cups and plates on the counter. She was entrancing, even in her annoyance, and Ben had to consciously work to keep his gaze averted. In contrast, Honor and Carmen were gracious hostesses. They spoke of upcoming Christmas festivities and encouraged him to indulge in the snack Isabel provided, airy yeast rolls slathered with creamy butter and tart blackberry preserves washed down with cinnamon-laced coffee, a traditional drink recipe passed down from their abuela.

As soon as the clock struck ten, Isabel fetched the bedding and insisted on accompanying him to the hut. Positioned several yards from the gristmill and stream, the soundly built structure contained a single chair and a woodstove. It was large enough to hold about five or six people comfortably. One tiny, bare window gave the occupants a view of the mill.

While Isabel rolled out the woolen blanket and quilts that would serve for his makeshift bed, Ben retrieved kindling from the box in the corner and focused on building a fire.

“You probably won’t be comfortable, but you’ll be warm.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder. Kneeling on the floor, her cloak a cloud about her crouched form, she plumped the pillow she’d brought for him.

She caught him looking and shrugged. “It’s a tight space. Won’t take much to heat it.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”

Curiosity leaped to life on her expressive face, but she didn’t put voice to it. Standing, she folded her hands primly. “Thank you for staying. My sisters are unnerved by what’s happened.”

“I have three sisters of my own. I know what it’s like to want to protect them.”

Her brows inched up. “Are you the oldest?”

He nodded. “There are two years between me and my next youngest sister, Tabitha.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then bit her lip to halt the words.

Pushing to his feet, he brushed his hands against his trousers. “You’ve had no problem speaking your mind in the past. Go ahead and say whatever you’re thinking.”

The firelight flickered over her noble features and made her eyes gleam like coals. “I find it difficult to reconcile the fact you were raised in a house full of females with your cavalier treatment of the local ladies. I would think you’d be sensitive to their feelings. You speak of protecting your sisters. Why doesn’t that sentiment extend to those outside your family?”

Ben slouched against the wall and crossed his arms. “I don’t see how the term cavalier applies to me. Am I friends with a number of marriageable women? Certainly. Have I given any of them reason to believe I’ve a serious interest in courting them? Absolutely not.”

The Smith sisters’ disappointment mocked his claims, as did Veronica’s surprising mention of marriage. Uncertainty took up residence inside him.

“You’re a shameless flirt.”

“I like to think of it as harmless teasing.” Everyone knew he wasn’t looking for commitment. He’d made sure that bit of gossip rode the grapevines as soon as he relocated here.

But what if that wasn’t enough?

“Harmless?” She shifted her stance, her cloak’s hem swaying around her boots. “You call dashing hopes and breaking hearts harmless?”

“I’m a game to them,” he countered. “It’s a competition, and they view me as some sort of lofty prize. I promise you not one of them would rejoice if they actually won me.”

She gaped at him. “And I thought I was the cynical one. What happened to set you against commitment? Were your parents unhappy? Did your father indulge in indiscretions?”

“On the contrary, my parents are the best of friends.”

“You were in love with someone, then. She spurned you. Or worse, deceived you.”

Wistfulness clawed at him, regret and helplessness over his plight on its heels. He hoped the indistinct lighting hid those tumultuous emotions from her. She was perilously close to the truth. Marianne had indeed spurned him the moment she learned his diagnosis. His overwrought fiancée had sputtered words that hadn’t yet lost their potency. Words like damaged and useless and abnormal. What good are you to me? she’d railed. Indeed, to any woman?

Until that confrontation with Marianne, he’d had a flicker of hope that she’d be able to come to terms with his new reality. “Why must there be a reason? Why can’t I simply desire to be free and independent, like you?”

She narrowed her eyes, studying every inch of his face. What did she see? The push and pull of denial and acceptance he wrestled with on his weaker days?

He surged off the wall and would’ve paced if there’d been enough space. The curious impulse to divulge his secret to Isabel threw him. She was the last person he should share his most private disappointment with.

“It’s been my experience that infatuations shift as often as the weather. The girls here are no different than the ones back home. Sally Hatcher is a prime example. Mere weeks ago, she claimed to be in love with me. Didn’t take her long to take up with someone new once she figured out where we stood.”

Isabel snapped her mouth shut. If she felt the tiniest bit sorry for him, she didn’t show it. He wished he could’ve foreseen how quickly she would develop a full-on infatuation. He’d truly enjoyed spending time with Sally—as friends.

A thud on the stoop vibrated the door. Immediately on alert, Ben maneuvered Isabel behind him and reached for his gun.


Chapter Five (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

Shielded by Ben’s strong, muscular body, Isabel’s only thought was that he was going to be shot again because of her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. They were trapped in this tiny building, which meant they’d have to shoot their way out. The curious sadness she’d glimpsed in Ben moments earlier faded from her mind.

Had he been right all along? Had the frustrated robber tracked her here in order to silence her?

“Stay behind me,” he ordered.

Weapon drawn, he edged forward and eased the latch open. His tension leached into the air around her. From her limited view, she saw the cords of his neck stiffen, and his jaw was locked in steely determination. She didn’t doubt his ability to keep her safe. Ben MacGregor was many things—a coward wasn’t one of them. He’d lay down his life to protect her. Hadn’t he already taken one bullet for her?

Isabel offered up a fervent plea for his safety.

The door’s hinges groaned as he inched it open. In a sudden movement that had her gasping aloud, Ben pivoted into the opening, his finger on the trigger.

No rash of gunfire rained down on them. No ambush from a vengeful outlaw.

Instead, the water’s familiar music, trickling over the wheel in a full spin and gently splashing back into the stream below, greeted their ears. Then came an unusual sound, out of place on the Flores farm—a child crying.

Isabel pressed close to Ben’s back and gripped his arms. He stilled and angled a glance over his shoulder.

“Are you hearing the same thing I am?” he whispered.

Pushing past him, she ignored his hushed objection and rushed onto the porch. Unrelenting darkness cloaked the countryside. The hut, positioned between the gristmill and cabin, blocked what little light might be shining from the windows.

Ben’s hand clamped on her waist. He would’ve pulled her back into the hut if she hadn’t locked on his fingers and squeezed.

“Wait! Listen.”

She heard the plaintive cry again, a heart-wrenching sob that filled her with urgency and the need to soothe hurts. She left the cover of the stoop and tiptoed around the corner. Ben was right behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her nape.

They spotted the small form huddled against the hut’s foundation at the same time. The small boy ceased sobbing and started to scramble in the opposite direction.

Masking her consternation, Isabel crouched to his level and spoke in a soft, gentle tone. “Hello. My name’s Isabel. I live in the cabin over there with my sisters. What’s your name?”

His attempt at escape abandoned, the boy stared at her without speaking. She could tell little about him besides the fact he was very young and had short, tousled dark hair.

“I’ll get a lamp.” The air stirred as Ben dashed back inside.

“My, um, friend Ben, he’s going to get an oil lamp so you can see us better. I don’t like the dark, do you?”

The boy’s negative head shake was almost imperceptible. Isabel couldn’t comprehend where this child had come from or where his parents might be. Her instinct was to pull him into her arms and hug him until he felt safe.

Ben soon returned, the lamp emitting enough light to show his concern-ravaged features as his gaze met Isabel’s. He assumed the same position as her, his knee bumping hers as he steadied himself.

“I was just telling our visitor that your name is Ben.”

“That’s right. I’m Ben MacGregor.” He spoke in an upbeat tone. “What’s your name?”

The boy’s pointed chin wobbled. He was a pretty child, with pale skin, large cornflower-blue eyes and hair the color of syrup. Judging by the dirt smudges on his face and hands and the stains on his clothing, he hadn’t seen a bath for some time.

“I want Happy.”

“Is Happy your dog?” Ben said.

He shook his head.

Ben cut her a look. “Is he your cat?”

“Don’t have a cat.”

Isabel noticed his shirtsleeves were too short, and his trousers had been patched multiple times. “Is your mother or father around?” She gestured to the forest. “Did you get separated from them?”

His lower lip quivered, and a fresh surge of tears brimmed in his eyes. “My mama’s dead.”

She heard Ben’s sharp inhale. “I’m right sorry to hear that, little man.”

The sorrow this child was suffering, and indeed his current plight, weighed heavily on Isabel. “What about your pa?”

“Don’t got one.” He toyed with his shirt buttons. “I want Happy.”

Ben gestured to the hut. “I have a peppermint stick in my bag. Would you like to have it?”

Isabel held her breath while the child considered them both with a heavy dose of distrust. Finally, he nodded.

Some of the rigidness in Ben’s body receded. He slowly stood and held out his hand. “What do you say we go inside where it’s warm? You can eat the candy in front of the stove.”

The boy popped up. Instead of taking Ben’s hand, however, he edged in Isabel’s direction. She offered him a reassuring smile. “I like peppermint, too, but my favorite is horehound.”

“Horehound?” Ben said in mock horror. “I can’t stomach the stuff. Peppermint is the best, and lemon is a close second. Do you like lemon, little man?”

“I never tried it.” His high, childish voice held a note of longing.

“Is that so? Well, that’s a problem I’ll have to remedy. Every boy must try lemon drops at least once.”

Ben started for the hut entrance, chatting about other sweets and acting as if finding a lost child was an everyday occurrence. Isabel beckoned for the boy to follow her. He did so, reluctantly, his suspicion unusual for a child his age, which she guessed to be around three or four.

By the time they reached the threshold, Ben had retrieved the promised candy and removed a single stick from a small brown sack.

“There’s only one thing I ask in return for this,” he began, his expression serious. “I’d like to know your name.”

Isabel watched the boy’s wide gaze roam the hut’s interior before settling on Ben and the treat at hand. He was waif thin, and his curly hair needed combing. Whoever had been caring for him hadn’t done a good job.

“Eli.”

Ben held out the stick. “A strong name suited to a sturdy boy like yourself. You know your last name?”

Eli snatched the peppermint and sucked on it greedily. When had he last eaten?

He shrugged. Isabel dragged the chair closer to the stove and patted the seat. “Why don’t you sit here? We need to close the door to keep the warm air inside.”

When Eli had climbed onto the chair, Ben said quietly, “Isabel? A word.”

She met him at the door.

“I’m going to take a look around outside. You should take him to the cabin. It’s too late to find him other lodgings. He could probably use something more substantial than a piece of candy, too.”

“What are you expecting to find?”

He kneaded the back of his neck. “Whoever’s had charge of him has to be around somewhere. Boys his age don’t simply wander the woods alone. I suspect something dire has happened.”

“You’ll be careful?”

A ghost of a smile graced his mouth. “For someone who claims to dislike me, you issue that warning quite often.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “That’s because I—”

“Don’t want to stitch me up again. I know.”

He ducked outside and headed for the mill. She watched his confident stride, troubled by her deepening interest in the lawman’s welfare.

* * *

He found nothing. Saw nothing. Ben had no answers for Isabel. After his search the boy was as big a mystery as he’d been an hour ago. His ears stinging and nose numb, he rapped on the Flores cabin door.

Isabel greeted him with a cautionary finger to her lips. Admitting him into her home, made toasty by the crackling fire in the hearth, she waved him over to the sofa. Eli slept beneath a maroon knitted blanket. His small hands were clasped together beneath his cheek as if in prayer, his forehead puckered in disquiet that had followed him into his dreams. Ben reached out his hand to smooth the mop of curls from his face before catching the action. He sank it deep in his pocket.

There could be no room for tenderness in this case, no personal attachment. Work involving children was tricky, full of emotional pitfalls, and Ben would have to be vigilant in order to remain detached. The sooner he reunited Eli with his guardian, the better for everyone.

Isabel regarded the child with open concern. “He seemed nervous with my sisters around, so they retired early. I fed him enough for three children his size. He was ravenous.”

A lump formed in his throat. Ben couldn’t abide the thought of anyone going hungry, much less an innocent child.

“Once his stomach was full, he got droopy eyed. I would’ve liked to give him a thorough washing, but it will have to wait until morning.”

“Thank you, Isabel.” He peered deep into her eyes. “Right after breakfast, I’ll interview the neighbors. It’s possible his family was traveling through the area, and he got separated. It may take a few days to locate them. In the meantime, he can stay with one of the O’Malleys.”

“I see no reason to move him. He obviously has a hard time trusting new people.”

He rested his hands on the sofa’s scrolled wooden edge. “You’ve got a point. But if I can’t reunite him with his folks in the next day or two, I’ll find a more permanent place for him.”

While she didn’t look happy with the pronouncement, she didn’t argue.

“Would you like for me sleep in here?” he said, indicating the rug beside the hearth.

“That’s not necessary. I can sleep here in case he wakes in the middle of the night.”

“I noticed he kept his distance from me.”

“To a four-year-old boy, a lawman like yourself must present an intimidating figure.”

“Did he tell you his age?”

“That was the only tidbit of new information I coaxed out of him.”

“Not a chatty little guy, is he?”

Her gaze clouded over. “Who knows how recent his mother’s passing was or what his current situation is like. The state he’s in...he didn’t accumulate this amount of filth by exploring the woods for an hour or two.”

“He’s awfully thin. In my experience, kids his age resemble cherubs with full cheeks and chubby hands and legs.”

“I’ll make certain he eats well,” she said, a fierceness to her tone.

As much as he yearned to linger, he chose the wiser course of action. “I’m off to my sleeping quarters for the night, then. Try to get some rest.”

“You, too, Deputy.”

“This deputy has a name, you know.”

She arched a brow. “Good night, Ben.”

“Good night, sugarplum.”

Seeing her protest brewing, Ben ducked through the door. He passed a fitful night in the hut, his mind alert to danger and not fully allowing his body to rest. At daybreak, he saddled Blaze and paid a visit to the Floreses’ immediate neighbors. No one had any useful information to share about the boy. Dissatisfied with his venture, he returned to the cabin eager to see how both Isabel and Eli had fared during the night.

She greeted him with disheveled hair—her braid was untidy, stray tendrils trailing her cheeks—and flour dusting her mauve blouse.

“Am I glad to see you.” Seizing hold of his coat sleeve, Isabel tugged him inside.

“What disaster has occurred that you’d say such a thing to me?” he uttered, nonplussed.

“That one right there.”

She jerked a finger toward the kitchen, where Eli was gleefully stirring the contents of a bowl, uncaring that some of the liquid was splashing over the rim. Eggshells oozing with remnants of whites littered the makeshift counter built into the wall. Milk puddled on the floorboards beneath the chair on which he was perched.

“I’ve never had a child in my kitchen before,” she whispered desperately. “You have to help me.”

Ben couldn’t stop a grin from forming. Isabel was a strong, independent woman. To see her unsettled by a tiny human filled him with mirth.

“Your sisters haven’t ever made messes?”

“I’m only three years older than Honor. I don’t remember the three of us in the kitchen together. Mama allowed only one of us to help at a time, and she had high standards of cleanliness.”

“Hmm. What will you give me in exchange?”

Her lips compressed. “I’ll grind your corn for free.”

“Have you ever known me to patronize your mill?” He laughed, tugging off his buckskin gloves and laying them on the hutch. “I don’t cook.”

“That’s right. You enjoy the generosity of the citizens your work for, mostly families who have eligible daughters.”

He chafed his hands together. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of an invitation from you.”

“Are you angling for one?”

Ceramic thudding against the wooden floor was followed by a guilt-ridden uh-oh.

They both turned to see Eli’s bent head as he contemplated the batter oozing onto the floor.

“I don’t handle messes well.” Isabel put a weary hand to her forehead.

“I’ll clean it up if you promise to cook for me.”

“Fine. I was in the process of preparing breakfast anyway.”

“Doesn’t count. Has to be a full evening meal.”

She glowered at him. “Served on my best dishes, I suppose?”

“As long as it includes dessert, you can use whatever dishes you want.”


Chapter Six (#u0c2cd80e-4893-59c4-98d6-cdd58def5d37)

Isabel’s sisters were aware of her preference for neatness, even in the midst of a task such as preparing flapjacks. If Eli’s circumstances had been different, she would’ve had no qualms guiding his attempts to help. But he was motherless and lost, stuck with strangers mere weeks before Christmas—the most special time of year for any child. He’d tossed and turned during the long night, at times calling out for his mama. How could she manage a single stern word to this hurting child?

As Ben approached, Eli pressed flat against the counter, apprehension in his thickly lashed blue eyes.

“Are you angry?”

“Angry? No, sir. Accidents happen.” Ben indicated the chair. “I promised Miss Isabel I’d clean this up, though. Once that’s done, how about we watch her make breakfast and later, after we’ve eaten, you can help me wash the dishes?”

Eli looked to Isabel for confirmation. She nodded in encouragement.

“Okay.”

“Good. Mind if I help you down from there?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ben picked him up and deposited him beside the doorway, close to where Isabel stood watching them. Eli toyed with his hair, knotting it further. Somehow she was going to have to coax him into the bath.

As Ben hunted for a clean washrag, she couldn’t help noticing his bedraggled allure. Auburn-tinted whiskers shadowed his jaw, and his hair refused to stay out of his eyes. He’d divested himself of the suit jacket, and his shirt and pants were slightly creased from sleeping in them. Even so, his shirt’s pale green fabric added a rich sheen to his hair and deepened the sea-glass hue of his eyes.

If anyone had suggested she’d be fixing breakfast in the company of Ben MacGregor, she’d have marked it off as an insane notion. She glanced at Eli and, resisting the impulse to tidy his out-of-control curls, admitted she was grateful for Ben’s company.

“Where’s Honor and Carmen?” he asked.

“In the barn tending our animals.” They shared her curiosity and concern about Eli, but sensing his shy nature, had decided not to crowd him. “We divide the chores. I’m responsible for breakfast and supper, and Honor fixes the noon meal.”

“Carmen doesn’t cook?”

“You don’t want her to cook, believe me.”

Wiping the floorboards clean, he said, “With my ma and three sisters in the house, I didn’t see the need to learn. I could use the skill now, though.”

“Are any of them married?”

“Anne’s married with one child. According to Ma, the other two are enjoying the attentions of multiple beaus.”

“They’ve learned from your example.”

His gaze enigmatic, he lifted one shoulder. “Or I’ve learned from them.”

The girls returned then, glad to find Ben in their home. They chatted with him as if they were a group of old chums. Isabel prepared another bowl of batter while Honor set the table and Carmen poured coffee for the adults and milk for Eli. Content to quietly absorb the activity around him, Eli remained close to watch Isabel cook.

When the meal was ready, Honor and Carmen abandoned their usual spots in order to accommodate their guests. That put Isabel between Eli and Ben. Squelching the complaint springing to mind, she busied herself tucking a cloth into Eli’s collar.

“Is that necessary?” Carmen smoothed her napkin on her lap. Her bright yellow blouse, combined with her tanned skin and flashing brown eyes, put Isabel in mind of summer and sunflowers. “Extra stains on that shirt will hardly be visible.”

“Carmen,” Honor said in exasperation, “don’t be rude.”

“When will you stop chiding me as if I’m eight years old?”

Isabel caught Ben’s sparkling gaze upon her. “I miss this.”

“What? Constant squabbling?”

“Family,” he said simply.

She averted her eyes. Never had she thought of the deputy as lonely. He had enough admirers to keep him entertained during his nonworking hours. She envisioned her fragile mother and the many moments over the past months when Isabel had wished she was around. And while her siblings sometimes annoyed her, she couldn’t imagine living an entire day’s journey away.

“When was the last time you saw your family?” Carmen shifted the molasses closer to her plate.

“I spent a couple of weeks in Georgia last summer. My father’s not one for traveling, so if I want to see them, I have to go out there.”

Impatient, Eli ambled onto his knees and reached for the topmost flapjack.

“We haven’t said grace yet, Eli.”

She placed her hand on his back, compassion and consternation mingling when she felt his leanness. He could be part of a destitute family with a guardian who struggled to put food in the children’s bellies. Or he could be in the care of someone who put their selfish desires above his welfare. Isabel found herself hoping he’d stay with her long enough to see him gain weight.

“Who’s Grace?” Eli said.

Carmen snickered. Honor shot her a quelling glance.




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