A Lawman For Christmas. Karen Kirst

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