Stealing Jake (31 page)

Jake stood in the shadows, studying the crowd. Were the men who’d locked him and Livy inside still around? He didn’t know what they looked like, but he had a gut feeling he’d know them if he saw them. He remembered the three goons who’d flanked Gibbons at the rail yard. Probably more of the same.

Pounding hooves sounded on the road leading to the glove factory. Victor Gibbons galloped into view.

Dismounting, he let loose a string of curse words, then bellowed, “What happened here?”

Sheriff Carter stepped forward. “Nobody knows, Mr. Gibbons. Maybe you can tell us.”

“Me?” the factory owner blustered. “I just now arrived. Somebody destroyed my factory, Sheriff, and I expect you and that deputy of yours to catch the culprits. Probably some of those street kids who’ve been stealing everybody blind.”

Jake eased out of the shadows, close behind Gibbons, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Gibbons, you’re under arrest.”

Gibbons swung around. “My glove factory is burning to the ground, and you’re arresting me? What in the world for?”

“For endangerment of children and attempted murder of an officer of the law,” Jake said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered up the reins of his horse and started to mount. “If you’ve got anything to say, you can say it to my lawyer.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Sheriff Carter pressed his pistol against Gibbons’s backbone.

The factory owner lowered his boot to the ground. The sheriff wasted no time slapping a pair of handcuffs on him.

“I want my lawyer.” Gibbons glared at Jake.

“You can contact a lawyer in the morning.” Sheriff Carter prodded him. “Now start walking.”

Jake took up the reins of the horse and followed, keeping a careful eye out for Gibbons’s hired men. He wouldn’t put it past them to try to rescue their boss before they got to the jail.

Gibbons cursed all the way down Main Street. As Jake locked the cell door, the prisoner sat on the cot, cold gaze trained on Jake. “You’re going to wish you’d never tangled with me. You don’t have a drop of proof, and when my lawyer is done with you, you’ll never work in law enforcement again.”

Jake leaned his forearms against the cell. “I’m not as concerned with that as I am the lives of the children you had working for you. Where are they?”

Gibbons lay on the cot, his hands folded behind his head. “What children? I told you before, I don’t hire kids.”

You don’t hire them; you just buy them like pieces of machinery.

Jake turned on his heel, strode into the front office, and slammed the door.

Sheriff Carter glanced at the closed door. “He’s right, you know. We don’t have a smidgen of evidence, especially now that the glove factory is gone.”

“There’s a bunch of kids out there somewhere who can identify Gibbons as the man who treated them like slaves—or worse.”

“If they’re still alive.” Sheriff Carter poured himself a cup of hours-old coffee and eased into his chair with a grunt. “I’m going to send a telegraph to Chicago bright and early in the morning. I’ve got an old friend who might be able to give us a hand.”

Jake rubbed a weary hand across his face. “Will you be all right for a while, Sheriff? I need to go check on Livy.”

“Go ahead. I’ve got a pot of coffee and a shotgun if any of Gibbons’s fellers show up.”

Jake hurried across Main Street and cut down an alley. He crossed Second Street, his thoughts on where those children might be. They couldn’t have gone far. He thought of Luke and gave a slight nod. If anybody could find them, Luke could. He’d get Livy safely back to the orphanage and see if he could find the boy.

A grim wave of disquiet wove through his gut. After what he’d seen tonight, he wouldn’t put it past Gibbons and his men to do whatever it took to silence those kids.

He’d almost made it to Emma’s when a shout pulled him up short. It sounded like Luke. Breaking into a jog, he headed down an alley, listening for the sound again.

“Let me go,” Luke yelled.

Jake skidded around a corner and saw one of Gibbons’s hired guns wrap a beefy hand around the boy’s neck. Another boy dashed forward and swung a length of two-by-four. The wood cracked against the man’s back, but he swatted the boy away like a pesky fly.

Lungs burning, Jake plowed into the fray. He took the man down. But before he could reach for his gun, the man jumped up, balancing on the balls of his feet.

Jake rolled and scrambled to his feet. His assailant threw a punch, but Jake sidestepped, letting the blow glance off his bicep. He planted his left boot and threw a right cross. Contact! Jake’s knuckles screamed as bone met bone.

Taking a step to advance on his opponent, he walked into a jab. Pain streaked across his chin. Air whooshed from his lungs as another blow landed in his gut.

Adrenaline pushed harder. Jake swung at the man, missing with another right cross but hitting the target with a left uppercut to his chin.

Wham!

The middle of Jake’s spine burned with white-hot pain. He pivoted to face a second attacker, blocking the next blow.

“Aaarrrghhh!”

Through blurred vision, he saw Luke come in swinging, the two-by-four gripped in both hands.

He tried to yell for Luke to get away, to go for help, but all his energy focused on anticipating the wicked uppercuts coming toward him.

He couldn’t tell what the men looked like in the dark, other than that both were big, beefy men with fists of iron, much like those he’d seen with Gibbons. He didn’t doubt they’d kill him and the boys if they could.

His fist made contact, and one of his attackers went down like a felled oak.

Luke and his friends rushed the remaining thug, boards and sticks flying in every direction. Jake ducked.

Two fists exploded in his face, and Livy flashed across his befuddled mind.

Lord, please don’t let them find Livy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?”

The first light of dawn streaked across the sky; the miners would troop through the door soon. Since neither Emma nor Livy could sleep, they’d cooked breakfast and peeled and cut up the vegetables for half a dozen meat pies for the evening meal. They’d even baked three blackberry cobblers. The savory aromas of cobbler and baking bread filled the café.

“I don’t know. I’m worried sick about him.” The knife slipped and nicked Livy’s finger. She wiped the blood on the voluminous brown work dress Emma had lent her. She bit her lip and slanted a look at her employer.

Emma snorted, rolling out biscuits faster than Georgie could devour tea cakes. “Well, I’m worried about him too, but that doesn’t mean I’m in
love
with him.”

Livy smiled, her face softening. “Strange as it may seem, Emma, I do love him.” She smiled, her hands falling to her lap, her chores forgotten. “From the beginning I liked him, but I was afraid. Afraid of men, afraid of marriage, of having babies, and afraid of someone finding out about my past.”

Emma threw her a glance. “Most of us have pasts we’re not proud of.”

“I know, but Jake’s a sheriff’s deputy, and his family are pillars of the community. I’m just a pickpocket from—”

“Don’t say that. You’ve been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Your sins are washed away, never to be remembered. God’s given you a new life and a passion to help children who don’t have anybody else. If Jake—or anybody else in this town—can’t see that, they’re dumber than a lump of coal. And trust me, Jake’s not dumb.”

“His attitude toward the street kids
has
changed, especially since Luke brought Bobby to the orphanage. I think he realizes they don’t choose to live on the streets, that all they really want is to survive and for people to care about them.”

Emma’s hands stilled, and she nodded. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

Livy smiled. “Yes.”

They worked in silence, Livy glancing out the window every few minutes. Still no sign of Jake. What could’ve happened? It’d been hours since he left. She finished cutting up a chunk of beef and dumped it in the pot to boil. She looked around. Breakfast was ready and waiting, and everything they could prepare ahead of time for the evening meal was finished.

She couldn’t wait any longer or she’d go crazy. “Emma, I need to go look for Jake or at least see if Sheriff Carter has seen him.”

“Do you think you should? You breathed in a lot of smoke, and that tumble in the creek didn’t help matters.”

“I’ll be fine.” Livy didn’t tell her that her lungs still felt like fire and she hadn’t completely warmed up, but she couldn’t stop worrying about Jake.

Emma tipped her head toward the door. “I’ll manage by myself. Take my coat. It’s mighty cold out there.”

“Thanks, Emma.” Livy hugged the woman, thankful she’d found Emma. Not only had she given her an income that helped out at the orphanage, she’d been a lifesaver last night.

Livy hurried toward Main Street. Merchants were opening their businesses and getting ready for the day, some standing in clusters and talking about the excitement of the night before. She slipped past, in a hurry to get to the jail. She shook her head at the irony.

McIver swept the boardwalk in front of his store.

“Morning, Mr. McIver. Have you seen Jake?”

His broom stilled, and he shook his head. “Not since he arrested Gibbons last night.”

Livy gasped. “Gibbons is in jail?”

“Yep.” He jerked his head in that direction. “Jake might still be there. I haven’t seen him or Sheriff Carter this morning.”

“Thank you.” Livy rushed across the street, trying to keep the hem of Emma’s dress and coat from becoming coated with mud. Had Gibbons resisted? Had Jake been hurt? Fear mounted as she turned the knob.

Sheriff Carter looked up when she stepped inside, his double-barrel shotgun lying at the ready across his desk. His hand fell away from the weapon. “Morning, Miss O’Brien.”

“Good morning, Sheriff. Have you seen Jake?”

He mopped his pasty-white brow with a damp handkerchief. “He left about three hours ago to escort you back to the orphanage. You haven’t seen him?”

Apprehension pooled in Livy’s stomach. “He never showed up at Emma’s.”

“Don’t worry yourself, girl. Jake can take care of himself.”

“Mr. McIver hasn’t seen him either. Something’s happened to him. I just know it.”

Sheriff Carter scrunched up his face as if he might be thinking the same thing. “It doesn’t look right.” He glanced at the cells behind him. “Miss O’Brien, can you do me a favor?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed two pieces of paper off his desk. “I can’t leave our guest alone, but I need to send these telegraphs to Chicago. Can you run over to the post office and do that for me?”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Could you ask McIver to head on over here? He’ll stand watch while I take a look-see around for ol’ Jake.”

“Yes, sir.” Livy stopped, her hand on the knob. “You feeling all right, Sheriff?”

A grimace of pain crossed his face. “Just a little twinge. I’ll be fine. Now, go on, girl.”

Livy scurried away. She gave Mr. McIver the sheriff’s message and hurried to the post office. After giving the postmaster the messages, she checked at the boardinghouse. Miss Nellie hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jake all night. Livy thanked her and left. She stood on the boardwalk, trying to decide where to look next.

Panic clawed at her. Gibbons’s men wouldn’t think twice about killing Jake and throwing his body down a mine shaft or dumping him through a hole in the icy creek. If he’d run into those men, she’d probably never see him again. In desperation, she headed to shantytown. A lot of people had been out and about last night, helping fight the fire. Surely someone had seen something.

The temperature had risen, and the snow melted, dripping from the roofs in slow, steady streams. Livy slogged through the slush, keeping to the boardwalk as much as possible, but this part of town didn’t have many walkways, unlike Chicago’s cobblestone streets. She grew more fearful with every step, with every person she asked about Jake. No one remembered seeing him, not since he and Sheriff Carter had hauled Gibbons off to jail in the wee hours of the morning.

She turned down another alley, hoping against hope she’d find him.
Lord, let him be alive. Please.

A half-grown boy who looked like Luke darted down the street ahead of her. Livy hiked up her skirts and broke into a run.

“Luke!” she shouted.

They almost collided at the end of the alley.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luke said.

“Have you seen Jake? I can’t find him anywhere.”

“He’s in a bad way.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

Livy jerked him to a stop. “Has he been shot?”
Oh, Lord, please, not that.

“No. Just beat to within an inch of his life.”

Her heart lurched with fear. She’d known something had gone wrong, or he would’ve kept his promise and come back to Emma’s last night.
Oh, Lord Jesus, please keep him alive; please don’t let him die
.

“Take me to him.”

* * *

Victor Gibbons stared at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his head. Frustration welled inside his gut. It galled that he’d had to send for his brother’s lawyer to get him out of this mess.

If it hadn’t been for that McIver kid getting the town all riled up, none of this would have happened. Then that deputy and that nosy little lady from the orphanage had decided to snoop around when Butch and Grady torched the factory. Bad timing, to say the least. It would have been better if they’d died in the fire.

But they couldn’t prove a thing.

Grady and Butch had stashed those kids in an abandoned mine. Nobody would think to look for them there. Once Jimmy Sharp took care of them, the only person who could identify him would be that kid named Bobby. No jury would convict him of any wrongdoing on the word of one street kid.