Stealing Jake (12 page)

The meeting broke up, and men started talking all at once. Livy eased to the side to stay out of the way. Mr. Gibbons stepped up to her. “Evening, ma’am.”

“Mr. Gibbons.”

“It’s Miss O’Brien, correct?” he asked, looking down his nose at her.

“Yes, that’s right.” Livy lifted her chin. She wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Your description of the street kids seemed a little overwrought. You can’t believe everything you hear, you know.” Cold eyes raked her, belying the well-meaning tone of his voice.

“Really?” What part of her speech did he think so out of bounds with the reality of the children’s lives? Did he know how they lived? Did he care?

“Yes, ma’am. You’d do better to stay over at the orphanage and take care of the poor little orphans who come your way than to try to get mixed up with these older boys from Chicago. I can assure you, they can take care of themselves.”

Some might say the smile he gave her was charming. But not Livy.

“They can be quite dangerous, and I would hate for a pretty little thing like you to get hurt. Good night, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and disappeared into the crowd.

Livy narrowed her gaze and stared after the man. On one side, he’d tried to convince the townspeople they had nothing to fear while at the same time warning her to stay away from the lads roaming the streets. Had he offered a friendly warning to keep her safe, or threatened her?

All her senses warned of the latter.

“Miss O’Brien.”

Livy turned to find the Huff sisters bearing down on her, Jake following in their wake. Miss Maisie and Miss Janie were dressed snugly in head-to-toe black cloaks and woolen scarves wrapped securely around their ears. In contrast to their all-black attire, Miss Maisie’s dazzling multicolored scarf rivaled Joseph’s coat of many colors.

“Good evening, ladies.”

“Good evening, dear. Jake has offered to escort us all home.” Miss Maisie smiled at him. “He’s such a gentleman.”

“And so handsome, don’t you think?” Miss Janie chimed in. She held out a gloved hand, palm level with the floor. “I remember him as a little fellow in knee britches. Cute as a button, even way back then.”

Jake met her gaze, a sheepish look on his face. “Ladies?”

A blast of cold buffeted them when he swung the door open. The sun hung low over the horizon, barely peeking through heavy clouds. Livy wrapped her woolen scarf around her ears and the lower part of her face, already longing for the warmth of the parlor at the orphanage. Instead of letting the children sleep in their bedrooms upstairs, she and Mrs. Brooks were bedding everyone down on the first floor. They’d continue to do so until this severe cold snap lifted. They couldn’t afford to heat the whole house in this kind of weather.

“Watch your step now, Miss Maisie.” Jake helped the sisters down the steps and across the street, his hat angled to keep the wind off his exposed face and neck. Livy clutched her scarf close to her face.

“I’ll be fine, dear. Make sure Janie doesn’t fall. She’s been feeling poorly lately.”

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that.”

Livy shuddered. How he could stand the wind biting against his face? What about his scarf? Or maybe he didn’t think he needed one. She shook her head.
Men
.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a few aches and pains.”

Miss Janie did look frail. Being out in this weather couldn’t be good for her. The sisters weren’t in the best of health, and Jake took his time making sure they arrived home safely. Livy positioned herself close behind Miss Janie so she could keep an eye on her. The sisters should have stayed inside tonight. They could have found out all they needed to know later.

Other than those hurrying home from the meeting, the streets were deserted. She spotted only a few merchants closing up shop. Sane people, or at least those fortunate enough to have a home, knew to stay in the warmth of their homes when the temperature dropped.

They neared the millinery shop, where the sisters lived and worked, and Miss Maisie asked, “How’s your mother doing these days, Jake?”

“She’s fine.”

“The poor dear. I know she misses your father. How long has it been?”

How long since what? Livy strained to hear the conversation over the gusting wind.

“Two years, ma’am.”

“Such a shame to lose him so young.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

What had happened to Jake’s father? The question begged to be asked, but Livy held her tongue. Jake’s clipped response indicated he didn’t want to elaborate.

Jake stopped in front of the shop. “Here you go, ladies.”

Miss Maisie fiddled with the door. “Confounded locks. In the old days we didn’t have to worry with such contraptions. No one would dare break in and steal something from their neighbors.”

Jake reached for the key and unlocked the door. “It’s a different world we live in, Miss Maisie.”

“It sure is.”

The sisters gave Livy a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Get this poor girl home, young man, before she freezes to death.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jake offered Livy his arm, and they continued down the street at a much faster clip. He sidestepped a film of ice and held out his hand to help her across. “Be careful. It’s slippery.”

The wind picked up, and he hustled her the last few yards to the orphanage. Livy hurried around to the kitchen door to keep from tracking slush into the entryway. “Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s a long walk back to the jail.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Jake hung his hat on a peg, then warmed himself by the stove while she poured. After removing his gloves, Jake took the cup, his hands dwarfing it.

“I hope it’s not too strong.”

“It’s hot.” He closed his eyes and took a sip. “That’s good.”

She cradled hers, barely sipping the aromatic brew. “It’s awful, and you know it.”

He laughed. “It’s not that bad. You’ve never drunk Sheriff Carter’s.”

Livy shook her head, laughing. They sipped in silence for a moment. “Would you like some more?”

“Thank you.”

Jake held out his cup, and Livy’s fingers brushed against his as she took it. Her eyes flew up to his, and heat suffused her face. Livy jumped up and grabbed the coffeepot and poured. She slid the brew across the table, not wanting to risk touching him again.

“Do I make you nervous, Livy?”

“No.” She forced her voice to remain calm despite the pounding of her heart.

“Liar.”

Her gaze collided with his, filled with an amused glint.

He was teasing, flirting. Still, she didn’t want to be teased. The thought frightened her. She looked away and took a sip of her coffee, her heart fluttering like a caged bird against her rib cage.

Keep it light. Don’t let him know what his green eyes and crooked smile do to you.

“You shouldn’t say that. It’s not polite to call someone a liar. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

He laughed. “Yeah. All the time. Oh, I meant to tell you that my little brother met one of the boys from the orphanage at school. They’re best friends already.”

“Really. Who?”

“Georgie. My brother’s name is Tommy. They’re about the same age.”

Livy pounced on the topic of his family, relieved to have something safe to talk about. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Four. One older sister who’s married, two younger sisters, and a brother. They’re a real handful for my mother since Pa died.”

“I heard Miss Maisie mention he’d died. I’m sure it’s been hard on all of you.” She kept her tone neutral even though she was dying to know everything about Jake Russell.

One corner of his lips turned up in a sad smile. “We’ll be all right. We’re making it fine—all of us except Ma, that is. She took his death hard, and now she worries about me. She worries about all of us, actually.”

“That’s what mothers do.”

At least that’s what she supposed a mother would do. The closest thing she’d ever had to a mother had been Katie—and now Mrs. Brooks. She couldn’t even remember her mother and father. Her earliest memories were of the streets.

And Katie.

“Livy?”

She started and looked at Jake.

“You all right?”

She smiled. “Yes. I’m sorry. Just thinking.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on her face a moment before he looked away. “Well, I’d better go. I need to make some rounds and check on things.”

“Be careful.” Why did his leaving do strange things to her?

“I will. Good night, Livy.” He jammed his hat on his head and tugged on his gloves. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

He moved to the door, his boots loud on the hardwood floor.

She fingered the scarf around her neck. “Jake?”

He turned.

“It’s really cold out there.” Livy removed the muffler, glad it wasn’t as colorful as Miss Maisie’s. She held it out to him. “Take this.”

* * *

“Hurry up. Get them out and inside before someone comes along.”

Luke watched as Butch pried the lid off the crate. The boss’s horse pranced in the snow.

Butch lifted out two girls and a boy about Mark’s size. One of the girls held a smaller kid on her hip. They looked half-starved and didn’t have coats. The boy was barefoot. They stared at Butch without making a sound.

“Get rid of that one.” The boss jabbed a finger toward the toddler.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she tightened her frail grip on the child in her arms. “No. Please.” She shook her head and backed away, holding the child tight against her.

“Boss, maybe it could wait until morning?” Butch eyed the kid and rubbed his hands across his chest.

“See to it, Butch. Now. And keep the rest of them out of sight and quiet. The town’s all riled up as it is. The sheriff and that deputy of his are sniffing around all over the place.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boss reined his horse around and rode away. The
swish
,
swish
,
swish
of the horse’s hooves through the snow faded, and the girl’s harsh breathing was all that remained.

Butch plucked the child from the girl’s arms and held her under one arm like a sack of potatoes. Silent tears ran down the older girl’s cheeks. “Please, mister. Don’t take my sister. She won’t be any trouble—I promise.”

“Shut up, kid. I got my orders, see?”

Luke’s heart ached for her, but there was nothing he could do.

Grady herded the three children through the door into the factory, dragging the girl who’d given up her sister. Luke caught a final glimpse of her face, white as death. He swallowed the helplessness that rose in his throat. He knew the feeling of being separated from his only kin, of not knowing if Mark was dead or alive.

Grady left the door open.

A surge of hope coursed through Luke. He glanced toward Butch, but the hulking man’s attention stayed focused on the toddler he carried. He lumbered off, a scowl on his face.

Luke crouched in the bushes next to the building, torn between slipping inside the factory and following Butch. This might be his only chance to get inside. But what about the little girl? Would Butch kill her?

Tearing himself away from the building, he followed Butch, staying far enough behind not to get caught but close enough not to lose him.

For a big man, Butch moved awful fast. He looked back, and Luke ducked behind a broken-down wagon covered in snow. When he looked again, Butch and the child were nowhere to be seen.

Where had they gone? Taking a chance, Luke ran toward the street, heart pounding. He’d missed his chance at getting to Mark, and now he’d lost Butch and the little girl. He couldn’t do anything right.

He caught a glimpse of movement two blocks over. Butch? He darted down a parallel alley, then another, before he saw him again.

Empty-handed.

Butch hurried off into the night.

Luke stood still, gulping in air.

Horror crawled across his skin and down his throat, spread through his chest, and settled like a raging inferno in his belly. He wanted to walk away, run. Go to the small, safe place he and the others had carved out of a burned-out shack and pretend this had never happened. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her, even if Butch had killed her.

He moved forward, unable to feel his legs. He’d gone numb.

He found the small form tucked under a stack of crates in the alley. With shaking fingers, he reached out and touched her, only to find her alive and breathing. He took off his thin coat and wrapped her in it, hoping to bring warmth to the tiny child left to die in the freezing cold.

Tears he’d held back ever since he and his brother had found themselves alone on the streets of Chicago gathered in his eyes.

Clutching the small child to his chest, he wept.

Chapter Nine

What now?

Livy clutched the slip of paper in her gloved hand and hurried across town. Miss MacKinnion’s scrawled note requested a meeting with her as soon as school let out. She’d left Seth and Georgie at the orphanage, one with a split lip, the other sporting a black eye.

Seth had looked scared to death when he’d handed her the note. But try as she might, she couldn’t get a word out of either of them. And when tears welled up in Georgie’s eyes and spilled over, she’d simply hugged him. Livy quickened her steps, anxious to find out what the boys had done but afraid at the same time.

She stepped inside the church that doubled as a schoolhouse and paused to peel off her gloves. Miss MacKinnion stood at her desk, flanked by Mrs. Johansen and another woman.

Livy started to back out. “I’m sorry, Miss MacKinnion. I’ll come back later.”

“No, that’s all right, Miss O’Brien.” Miss MacKinnion stepped toward her, expression solemn. “You’ve met my sister, Martha Johansen, and Mrs. Benson, haven’t you? They’re here to talk about what happened today as well.”

“Mrs. Johansen. Mrs. Benson.” Livy hadn’t talked much with Mrs. Benson, but she recognized the woman from church. She focused on Miss MacKinnion. “May I ask what this is all about?”