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.”
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
