Stealing Jake (27 page)

Clear blue eyes stared at him, letting him look into her soul. Fear clutched his stomach. He might not understand her, and he wasn’t sure he could trust her, but he couldn’t lose her, not when he’d just found her.

She tucked her head down, her hood covering her face. “No one’s ever cared where I was or what I did, except for Katie and Mrs. Brooks.”

Jake tipped her head up, the pale moonlight revealing a sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and drew her toward him, wanting to taste the sweet nectar of her lips once again. She melted against him. Her hood fell back as Jake wrapped his arms around her.

He slanted his lips over hers and savored the taste of her, drawing her closer until he thought his chest would burst with wanting. He lifted his head and stared into her heavy-lidded eyes.

A loud clatter sounded from the other end of the alley. Jake reacted instantly, pushing Livy behind a stack of crates. Three men dressed in miners garb held on to each other and staggered down the alley, passing within a few feet of where Jake squatted with Livy pressed in the corner behind him.

The men passed on by, and Jake relaxed but waited. As soon as the alley cleared, he stood and pulled Livy to her feet. “You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

He held on to her hand and led the way out of the alley, crossed another street, and retraced their steps toward the orphanage. As the building came into sight, he paused. Someone crouched on the porch next to the kitchen. “Wait here,” Jake whispered.

“No. It’s Luke.” Livy hurried forward. “Luke? What’s happened?”

Two boys stood there, looking like they’d rolled in a coal bin. Jake didn’t know which one was Luke. A bundle lay on the porch between them.

“Somebody’s hurt, Miss Livy.” One boy’s gaze darted to Jake, but he stood his ground.

He must be Luke. Both boys wore worn-out coats that were too small for them. Their faces, what little he could see beneath the coal dust, looked thin and haggard.

Livy dropped to her knees beside the child, wrapped in a stained and tattered blanket. “Bad?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke’s voice trembled.

“What happened?” Jake asked.

“Not now, Jake. Please.” Livy looked up, her eyes pleading with him to be patient. “Help me get him inside.”

She was right. There would be time enough for questions later. Jake lifted the unconscious boy into his arms and followed Livy. She lit some lanterns and led the way to Mrs. Brooks’s bedroom. Luke and the other boy followed.

“What’s his name?” Livy asked

“I don’t know,” Luke responded.

Jake gently placed the boy on the bed and took stock of the situation. Filthy rags wrapped his left hand. Jake could only imagine what his body looked like beneath the torn clothes, black soot, and filth that covered him from head to toe.

He looked around. Luke stood inside the bedroom, his eyes glued to the youngster on the bed. The other boy had disappeared. “Do you know what happened?”

“No. We went to the mines tonight to get some coal, and—” his gaze dropped to the floor—“found him in a mine shaft.”

He wasn’t telling the whole truth, but Jake let it slide. For now. He unwrapped the boy’s hand, growing more concerned by the minute. With the mangled fingers fully exposed, he drew in a sharp breath. They needed Doc Valentine if they were going to save this child’s hand, maybe even his life. He stood. “I’ll go for the doctor.”

Livy reached out, her gaze imploring. “We can’t pay him.” She bit her lip and looked at the boy on the bed. Tears shone in her eyes. “I’ll wake Mrs. Brooks. She’ll know what to do.”

“He needs a doctor.” Jake took her by the shoulders. “That injury is several days old, and it’s starting to fester. Mrs. Brooks can’t fix this one.”

She sniffed and nodded, and he pulled her to him, kissing her on the forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.” He glanced at Luke. He wanted to talk to him, but right now he needed to get help for the child at death’s door. Obviously Luke cared enough about the younger boy to bring him to the orphanage, and he hadn’t taken off when he’d seen Jake. “Luke, will you stay here with Miss Livy until I get back?”

The boy swallowed. “Yes . . . yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad I can count on you.”

* * *

True to his promise, Luke stayed by Livy’s side until Jake returned with the doctor. Now, he looked ready to bolt. Jake stoked the fire in the kitchen and made coffee while Doc Valentine, Livy, and Mrs. Brooks tended the injured boy.

He eyed Luke, trying to gauge his age. Maybe ten or twelve, but it was hard to tell. His small stature gave one impression, but his face spoke of something entirely different. He was whipcord thin and probably just as tough. The kid would have to be to live on the streets and take care of himself and, from what Livy said, a bunch of other youngsters too.

A month ago, Jake would have collared him and hauled him off to jail, but after seeing the way he’d risked his safety for the hurt boy, he hesitated. Could he have been so wrong? For now Jake would give him the benefit of the doubt.

“How about a cup of coffee to warm you up?”

Luke didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the bedroom door across the hall where they could hear Doc Valentine and Mrs. Brooks speaking in low tones.

Jake poured a cup, unsure if the boy would drink it, but he figured it didn’t matter. He needed something to warm him up. He added milk and sugar and found some corn bread and butter in the pantry and brought that to the table as well. “Here. You hungry?”

Luke shook his head no, but Jake placed the food in front of him anyway.

A low moan sounded from the bedroom across the hall. Luke shot out of his chair, panic in his eyes.

Jake grabbed his arm and eased him back down. “It’s okay. Doc Valentine will take good care of him.”

Luke’s knowing gaze locked on Jake’s. “His hand’s hurt bad.”

“Yeah, it’s bad.” Jake sipped his coffee. “We’ll just pray that the doctor can save it.”

“Pray?” Luke snorted. “Where I come from, prayer is a long way down the list, mister.”

Jake didn’t doubt it. “Luke, you know who I am, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” His defiant tone reminded Jake of Livy’s when she’d insisted she’d done nothing wrong and he couldn’t arrest her. “You gonna take me in?”

“Why do you think I’m going arrest you?”

“I’m not crazy.” Luke looked at him like he’d gone off his rocker. “I know what everybody’s been saying. They say that me and the other kids are the ones who’ve been stealing stuff, but it ain’t true. We ain’t done nothing.”

“Do you know who it is, then?”

The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he took a huge bite of corn bread. A diversion if Jake had ever seen one. If things hadn’t been so serious, he would have laughed.

“Luke, if I can catch the thief, it’ll go a long way toward keeping the townspeople from coming after you and your friends.”

“I don’t know who it is, but Billy Johansen knows something. I saw him and the thief together the night you almost caught Miss Livy and me.”

“Billy Johansen?” In a way, Jake wasn’t surprised. In Martha’s eyes, Billy could do no wrong, and her husband, Clarence, was as henpecked as they came. If his parents didn’t rein him in, he’d cause some sheriff many a headache down the road. “You think Billy’s doing the stealing?”

“He didn’t that night.”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“That’s all I know.”

“I need something else.”

Luke stared at him.

“You going to tell me how you kids ended up in Chestnut?”

Luke lowered his gaze and stared into his coffee cup.

“I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t have something to go on.”

The boy jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over backward. “I’ve got to go.”

Jake stood as well. “You’ve got to trust me.”

Luke shook his head. “I . . . I can’t. The others . . .”

“What? What about the others? Who are you afraid of? Luke, what is it you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

Livy walked into the kitchen, and Luke glanced at her, then at Jake.

“Don’t go back. Stay here and let me help you.” Frustrated, Jake didn’t know how to get through to the boy.

Luke’s eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got my brother.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Where?” Desperate for answers, Livy placed her hands on Luke’s thin shoulders. “Please, Luke, where is the sweatshop? Where are the kids working? Is it in the mines? Jake and I want to help.”

Luke pulled away and dashed at the tears on his face. “He’ll send them all back to Chicago. They’ll go to jail. For good, this time.”

“Luke, the cops lied to you, and so did the man who brought you here. Nobody has the right to barter your life like that. Look at what happened to that child with the mangled hand. He’s not going to let any of them go. Ever.”

“I don’t know anything.” He backed away. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to check on the others.”

Jake held out his hand. Luke stared at it, his fearful gaze flickering to meet Jake’s. He reached out, his movements slow and unsure. Jake shook the boy’s hand, then released him.

Livy swallowed the lump in her throat. It took a lot for both of them to trust each other. “Thank you for everything you’ve told me, Luke. You’ve been very brave. I wish you’d stay here so you could be safe, but I understand why you can’t.”

Luke pulled his hand free, sniffed, and dashed his sleeve across his eyes. He glanced at the now-quiet bedroom. “How is he?” he asked Livy. “Is he going to lose his hand?”

“The doctor says it’s going to be close for a while. You’ll come check on him, won’t you?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

He slipped out the door, and Livy wrapped her arms around her waist, sick with worry for him—for all the street kids. Jake placed his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“I know, but it’s so hard. What if . . . what if something happens to him? If this man finds out he’s talked to us, he’ll—”

Jake stopped the flow of her words with a finger to her lips. “Shhh. He’ll be fine.” He pulled her to him, wrapping her in strong arms.

Livy wanted to resist. She was no good for Jake. But she didn’t. She closed her eyes and let him hold her. She rested her hands against his shirt, feeling the solid warmth of him through the fabric and drinking in the strong comfort of his arms.

“I sure could . . . hmmm . . . use a cup of coffee,” Doc Valentine interrupted.

Livy jumped away from Jake, heat blistering her face. She hurried to the stove, not daring to look at the doctor.

“How’s the boy?” Jake asked.

Livy concentrated on the coffee, glad he could ask a coherent question while she gathered her wits. Hopefully, the absentminded doctor hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Hmmm . . . resting,” the doctor mumbled while sipping his coffee.

“Is anything broken?”

The doctor shrugged, and Livy strained to hear his almost-unintelligible words. “A broken arm, a knot . . . head . . . cracked ribs. Hmmm . . . touch and go . . . next week or so. And . . . uh . . . bruises. Bruises head to toe.”

Livy winced. “What do you think happened?”

The doctor took a sip of coffee before answering. “Looks like he fell down . . . a mine shaft.”

* * *

“Doc thinks he fell down a mine shaft.”

The six miners seated at one of Emma’s tables stared hard at Jake.

“What are you getting at, Jake?”

Jake took a sip of coffee. “If anybody’s using child labor in the mines, you guys would know about it.”

Perkins shook his head. “There are a couple of twelve-, thirteen year-old boys working as trappers up at the Copper Penny, but they’re being treated as fair as anybody else. Maybe even better. Everybody looks after those two youngsters.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“There’s a new bunch near Cooperstown that might be doing such a thing. But I haven’t heard any rumors.”

After talking with the men, Jake saddled up and headed out to the mine Perkins had mentioned. The discovery of coal in the area had brought more business to Chestnut than even the railroad. The prospect of more people meant more business for everyone, but for every decent, hardworking coal miner who came to work, there were twice as many hard-drinking, lazy bums right alongside.

And as many greedy businessmen who didn’t care who got hurt or killed in the process.

A hastily assembled shack squatted at the entrance to the mine, smoke curling in lazy circles around the shingled roof. Jake dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post. He started toward the shack, rubbing his hands together. It was a mite cooler here, and the snow hadn’t melted as much as in town.

The door opened, and a stranger stepped out. Tall, lean, and tough-looking, he had the look of a miner himself. Their eyes met, and the man removed a fat cigar from his mouth. “Deputy. How can I help you?”

“Morning.” Jake took a step toward the shack. “I’m here to see the owner of the mine. He inside?”

“I’m the owner. Carpenter’s the name. What can I do for you?”

“A kid showed up at the orphanage the other night. Hurt pretty bad.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Doc Valentine says he might have gotten hurt while working in a mine.”

A bark of laughter escaped Carpenter. “Deputy, do you realize how many kids pass themselves off as adults to get work in the mines? They’ll be ten or twelve and insist they’re four or five years older. Even their parents will vouch for them, saying they’re just small for their age.”

“There was no way to mistake this kid for an adult. Doc says he might not make it.”

“What happened to him?”

“We don’t know for sure, but he might have fallen down a shaft. He’s black and blue, got some broken ribs, and he might lose his hand. It’s in pretty bad shape.”

Carpenter swore, his face hardening. “I treat my workers fair, and if one of them was injured, I’d call on Doc to take care of them. You ever work in a mine, Deputy?”