by Pam Hillman
Long after Sharp left, he sat at his desk, staring at nothing.
What would it take to prove himself worthy in his family’s eyes?
* * *
Livy slipped into the schoolhouse, hoping not to draw attention to herself. A meeting had been called to talk about the rash of robberies in the last week. It looked like half the town had turned out.
Jake spotted her, worry lines creasing his brow. He moved toward her. “What are you doing here? Things could get pretty nasty.”
“I’m here to see after the welfare of the children.”
Jake shook his head. “Livy, they’re thieves and robbers.”
“They’re innocent until proven guilty.” She crossed her arms, holding in the words that might exonerate the boys. The thief was too big, too well fed, and too well dressed to be one of the street kids.
Why didn’t she have the courage to tell Jake she’d been there that night?
Because she was a coward, plain and simple.
“All right, but if these men start a ruckus, promise me you’ll leave. A town meeting with a bunch of riled-up men is no place for a lady.”
“I promise.” She didn’t have any desire to be involved in a shouting match or a brawl, but she wanted to know if the town decided to do anything drastic about the homeless children. They weren’t responsible for the robberies, but none of the townspeople would believe her.
And how could she convince them without casting suspicion on herself?
She looked around. Mr. McIver’s wife and the elderly Huff sisters, who owned a millinery shop, sat on the end of a row. At least she wasn’t the only woman in attendance. She moved to stand next to the ladies. Miss Janie gave her a smile and a hug.
Mr. McIver stepped behind the teacher’s desk and brought the meeting to order. “We’re here because we’ve got a problem on our hands. Some young hoodlums have taken to stealing, and we’ve got to put a stop to it.”
Livy bit her lip to keep from refuting his claim. Without proof, she couldn’t clear the boys, just as the shop owners shouldn’t be able to lay blame on them without the same kind of proof.
But that wouldn’t stop them from doing that very thing.
An elderly man, the gunsmith, stood. “Those boys stole several expensive guns out of my shop, and I want to know what the sheriff and his deputy are doing about it.”
Shouts of agreement rose around the room. Livy took in each hard-faced man in the crowd, and her heart sank. These men were out for blood. They wouldn’t listen to reason, and they certainly wouldn’t listen to her.
Even if she could tell them the truth.
Sheriff Carter stepped forward, his stance commanding, his gaze steely. “We’re handling it to the best of our ability. So far, the perpetuators haven’t hurt anyone—”
“It’s just a matter of time,” someone called out.
The sheriff gave the man a withering stare. “Maybe, maybe not. Looks like they’re stealing for extra money. It’s stuff that can be sold off easily. I sent Jake over to Cooperstown yesterday to see if he could find out if any of the guns or stuff from Sam’s had shown up over there. I’ll let him tell you what he found out.”
All eyes turned to Jake. “The livery stable bought a couple of bridles off a man the day before, but the description of the man didn’t fit anyone I know. The same man offered the gunsmith two handguns, but he declined. We’ll keep an eye out. But their description of a tall, bearded cowboy who smelled like a whiskey distillery set in a pigpen is a far cry from the boys we’ve been suspecting around here.”
“Well, of course it is,” the gunsmith said. “Do you think those youngsters would be dumb enough to steal the stuff and then try to pawn it off in another town? They’ve got sense enough to pass it off to a stranger first. We need to round up all these kids off the street and put them in jail. Ship ’em back to Chicago, where they came from.”
Murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.
Livy clenched her fists, fighting the urge to wade into the fray. How could he say such things about a bunch of kids no one but her seemed to care about?
“Hold on now.” Jake’s eyes panned the room and, for the briefest of moments, lingered on Livy. “They’re just kids, like you said. They don’t have anything: no place to sleep, no food, not even warm clothes. They’re doing what they can to survive.”
Warmth that had nothing to do with the overheated room flooded through her. Jake had defended the boys in front of half the town. True, he hadn’t said they weren’t guilty, but he’d given these people something to think about. She prayed they’d listen to him.
Mr. McIver pounded his fist on the teacher’s desk. “Yeah, but stealing’s against the law no matter how hungry they are. If they’re hungry and cold, why don’t they go over to that orphanage Mrs. Brooks opened up?” He sought out Livy. “Right, Miss O’Brien? Mrs. Brooks would take them in, wouldn’t she?”
Her cheeks grew warm. She’d wanted to stay on the fringe of things, but with Mr. McIver’s question, everyone looked her way. And they expected an answer. “Yes, of course; we’d love for the children to come to us. But—” She glanced at the expectant crowd hanging on her every word as if they thought she could solve the problem of the street kids. The gunsmith’s gold watch fob caught and reflected the light. Sweat rolled off the man next to him as heat from the coal-burning stove ratcheted up the temperature in the crowded room.
These men were toasty warm, and children were freezing in the streets.
And that made her blood boil.
She clenched her jaw and plunged in. “But these children have been used and abused until they’re afraid to trust adults. They won’t come to the orphanage because they don’t know we won’t ship them back to Chicago to work in a sweatshop sixteen hours a day for a little bit of bread and water.” She paused, her gaze sweeping the crowd.
This might be her chance to open their eyes to the plight of the street children. But doing so might rip her heart from her chest. Still, she didn’t have a choice. She had to try. For the children. “They don’t dare trust anybody because they’ve never been able to trust anyone. Even the police in Chicago—”
“Well, little lady, let’s not be too hasty here.”
Livy blinked as Mr. Gibbons, the owner of the glove factory, stepped forward. She took a deep breath. She’d let the whole town have it with both barrels.
Not that they didn’t deserve it . . .
But how much would she have revealed if Mr. Gibbons hadn’t stopped her when he did?
Mr. Gibbons tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and smiled at the crowd, his dark hair gleaming in the lamplight. “I’m not sure we have as big a problem as you men think we do. I realize I’m new around these parts, but I’ve seen precious little evidence of street urchins roaming around here.”
One is too many. Livy held her tongue.
“As far as who’s breaking in to our businesses, I imagine it’s one or two rogue youngsters with nothing better to do. Why, it might even be one of our own, not a homeless child at all.”
Angry murmurs rose from the crowd. These people didn’t want the truth. They wanted a scapegoat.
The children.
Mr. Gibbons lifted a placating hand, a smile still on his handsome face. “I know that seems far-fetched, but I just thought I’d mention it. We don’t want to cast all the blame on the street kids if they’re not guilty, you know.”
Sheriff Carter stepped forward. “All right, everyone has offered suggestions, and we still haven’t resolved matters. I don’t suppose we will until we catch the perpetrators. I suggest you men start keeping an eye on your businesses at night.” He looked toward the sisters who owned the millinery shop. “Jake and I will watch your store, ladies, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Ain’t no thief in his right mind gonna break into a hat shop,” someone called out from the back of the room. The men snickered, lightening the tense atmosphere.
Mr. McIver tried to hid
e his smile. “All right, if that’s all, then this meeting is adjourned. If you see anything, report it to Sheriff Carter or Deputy Russell immediately.”
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.”
