by Pam Hillman
Livy shook her head. How much could she tell him without dredging up more memories? Without revealing the utter horror of her life in Chicago?
“I . . . I lost a sister in childbirth.” She looked away.
He squeezed her arm just enough that she felt the pressure through the sheepskin coat. “I’m sorry. You must have been close.”
“She was my only family.”
“I should have mentioned it sooner.” He slapped the reins against the horse’s backs and cleared his throat. “My sister and her husband will be at Ma’s today. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Livy attempted a smile.
But would she?
* * *
“I wonder where they are.” Jake’s mother busied herself at the stove, then peered out the kitchen window for the umpteenth time. She threw an apologetic look at Livy. “I’m sorry to be such a worrywart, Livy, but when you have children of your own, you’ll understand.”
“Oh, Mrs. Russell, I understand. I worry plenty about the younger children at the orphanage.”
Jake took a sip of coffee and grinned at Livy. “Ma takes the art of worrying to a higher level. There’s nothing she can’t worry to the bone. Like whether or not Tommy’s socks match, or if one braid is higher than the other one, or—”
“Oh, hush, Jake.”
He laughed and dodged the kitchen towel his mother snapped at him, happy he’d brought a smile to her face. Livy’s wide-eyed gaze had him wondering if she and Mrs. Brooks ever teased each other.
“Let’s eat.” His mother turned to the stove. “They’ll be here soon enough, I guess.”
Jake sat at the head of the table in his father’s place, his mother at the other end, close to the stove, where she could hop up and grab the coffeepot or dessert. He sniffed. Peach cobbler if he didn’t miss his guess. One of his favorites. Next to brown sugar cake.
He groaned as a familiar face came to mind. Not the best thing to be thinking right now. He glanced at Livy. Now if she could bake a brown sugar cake, he’d be a happy man.
“I’m sorry Mary couldn’t come today, Mrs. Russell. She really wanted to but didn’t feel up to getting out in the cold.”
“I understand. We’ll do this again, as soon as she can come.” Mrs. Russell glanced at Tommy and the girls. “When everyone’s feeling better, all the children could come out, and we could enjoy a day of sledding. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tommy?”
Tommy shoved a spoonful of peas in his mouth and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I ain’t seen Georgie in forever.” He chewed and swallowed before muttering, “It’s all that ol’ Vulture ’Vinia’s fault.”
Jake almost spewed coffee across the entire table but managed to swallow it instead. Livy hid a snicker behind her hand. Her eyes met his, and they were filled with hysterical laughter.
“Tommy!” His mother frowned. “I won’t have that kind of talk at my table. Hear me?”
“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled around his next mouthful, not sounding the least bit repentant.
Jake’s mother cast him a beseeching look. He turned to his little brother, wincing at the bulge in the child’s jaw. “Tommy, quit talking with your mouth full or Ma’s going to make you leave the table. And if she doesn’t, I will. Is that understood?”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth. Jake shook his head, and Tommy remembered to swallow before answering. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Jake nodded.
“Livy, would you like some more pota—” His mother’s eyes grew wide at the sound of pounding hooves and a jingling harness careening into the side yard. “What in the world?”
“Mrs. Russell! Mrs. Russell!”
At the sound of his brother-in-law’s frantic voice, Jake jumped up, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. The door flew open, and Charlie rushed inside, eyes terrified, hair wild. “It’s Susie. She’s . . . she’s having the baby. I don’t know what to do.”
Jake’s gaze locked with Livy’s. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her hands gripped the table, turning her knuckles white. Her sister had died in childbirth. Suddenly, birthing babies didn’t seem so simple after all. A full-fledged panic hit him square in the chest. What were they going to do? Both girls started crying, and even Tommy looked like he might burst into tears. Jake turned to his mother. “Ma?”
“How far apart are her pains, Charlie?” His mother, who made worry into an art, calmly took off her apron and reached for her coat, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Uh, five minutes. No. Ten.” Charlie ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up on end. The man, crazy with fear, didn’t even have a hat. “I don’t know. They’re close though. It’s too soon, isn’t it?”
“No. This baby is right on time.” She hugged the girls. “Hush, now. It’ll be fine. Remember what I told you? Clean up the kitchen and keep Tommy occupied. Before you know it, you’ll have a little niece or nephew. Charlie will come and tell you as soon as he can, okay?”
The girls sniffed and wiped their tears. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Mrs. Russell?” Charlie stood in the open doorway, letting in the bitter cold, but nobody seemed to pay him any attention, least of all Jake’s mother.
She turned to Livy and gave her a quick hug and a tremulous smile. “I’m sorry to leave like this, Livy, but I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll . . . I’ll be praying,” Livy whispered.
“Livy?” Jake moved to her side, reaching out to hold her upright. Her face looked as pale as his mother’s biscuit dough rising in the morning. She gripped his forearm and leaned against him.
Shell-shocked blue eyes met his before ricocheting toward his mother. She shook her head. “I’ll be okay. Take care of everybody else.”
One last hug and his mother hurried out the door.
Livy insisted on helping the girls clean up the kitchen, but Jake knew her heart wasn’t in it. She tried to act cheerful, but he could tell the news of the baby’s impending birth upset her.
An hour later he bundled her up and headed to town, promising the girls he’d be back as soon as he could to help them with evening chores.
Halfway to town, he cleared his throat and addressed the matter at hand. “Susie and the baby will be fine; you’ll see.”
“How can you be sure?” Her hands fluttered until she clasped them tight in her lap.
“I’m not.” He squeezed her fingers. “I just have to believe.”
“I believed, but it didn’t do any good.”
His heart lurched at the anguish on her face. Tears shimmered on her lashes. He stopped the team and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin.
“I did everything I could for my sister, and she still died. The baby was so tiny. A little girl. She . . . she never even took her first breath. There was nothing I could do.”
Jake held her at arm’s length and searched her face. “You attended her? Alone?”
She nodded. Her blue gaze searched his; her tears spilled over. “I must have done something wrong. What if it was my fault they died?”
“Shh.” Jake used his gloved thumbs to wipe her tears away and pulled her to him again, cradling her against him. “Please don’t cry. I know you did everything humanly possible to save her. It wasn’t your fault.”
Jake held her as she cried. He closed his eyes and breathed in the flowery scent of her hair, relishing the way she fit perfectly in his arms as if she was made for him and him only.
Never anyone else.
The intensity of his raw emotion shocked him, and he tightened his hold.
A long while later, she pulled away, her cheeks blooming. “I’m all right now.” She took a deep shuddering breath and reached to smooth her hair back. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”
“Don’t worry.” Jake tilted her chin up. “I’ll let you know how they’re doing as soon as I can, okay?”
“Thank you.” She bit her lip and her chin
trembled.
“Now don’t get all teary-eyed on me again.”
She sniffed, a faint smile brightening her face. “I won’t.”
He kissed her on the forehead and gave her one last hug, then picked up the reins. “Giddyap.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. The streets were practically deserted on this cold Sunday afternoon. Jake stopped the team in front of the orphanage and helped Livy down. He held her by the shoulders, willing her to look at him.
She lifted her eyes, a questioning look on her face.
His gaze went to her lips before rising to capture her misty blue eyes again. He pulled her toward him. “Livy, I—”
“Not yet. Please.”
She touched his face, the tips of her fingers featherlight against his shadowed jaw. Then she drew out of his arms, turned, and hurried toward the front porch.
Jake watched her go, his heart heavy. Did she feel anything for him? She’d said, “Not yet.” That meant something, didn’t it? She opened the door and glanced back at him, wiggling her fingers in farewell, a soft smile on her lips. Jake jumped into the wagon, slapped the reins against the horses’ backs, and filled his lungs with a gulp of fresh, cold air.
A wave, a smile, and a “Not yet.”
That left a lot of hope for the future.
Chapter Thirteen
Luke wrung out the heavy mop one last time for the night.
Mr. Wong nodded his approval and carefully counted out a small handful of pennies.
The coins clinked against each other as he handed them over. Luke grabbed the change. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough for a loaf of bread. They would eat tonight.
“Wait.” The Chinese shopkeeper held up a crooked finger.
He shuffled to the little stove in the corner of the shop, right next to a neatly made cot. He wrapped something in several layers of oil paper and tied it with string. “Rice.”
“Thank you.” Luke saluted the old man.
“Tomorrow? Same time?”
“Yes, sir.”
Luke hurried through the darkened town, the bundle of rice clutched under his arm. He had to get to Emma’s before she closed and buy some bread. It would cost more than he had, but she’d let him have day-old bread for half price.
A movement caught his eye and he darted into the shadows of a barn. Two men came down the street about a block away, bundled against the cold. They laughed, and the bigger guy gave the smaller one a shove into the snow. Luke caught a glimpse of the smaller one’s face. Billy Johansen.
He didn’t get a good look at the other guy as they came by, but he knew he didn’t want Billy catching sight of him. Luke had seen Billy around the schoolhouse with the other children. Billy bullied people for fun. It was his way. Luke gripped the rice. He had more important things on his mind than matching wits—or fists—with that one.
Especially since Billy’s friend looked like he could wipe the floor with both Luke and Billy if he took a mind to.
As soon as they were out of sight, Luke took off in the opposite direction.
* * *
Monday night, the miners were broke, and the saloons empty.
Which suited Jake just fine.
Chestnut lay cloaked in snow, the scent of smoldering coal hovering on the air. Jake patrolled past the street leading to the orphanage. Light spilled from the kitchen window onto the snow-blanketed yard. Livy and Mrs. Brooks would be cleaning up after supper and getting the children ready for bed, so he decided to stop in and ease Livy’s mind about Susie’s baby.
He stepped onto the porch, the boards creaking under his weight.
Mrs. Brooks opened the door on his first knock. Her eyes lit up with a welcoming smile. “Good evening, Jake. Come in out of the cold. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” He took off his hat and stood close to the door, careful not to muddy her floor.
“Would you like a cup of coffee to warm you?”
“Thank you, but I can’t stay.” He looked around the empty kitchen. “How’s the little girl?”
“Much better. I think she’s on the mend.”
“Is Livy here? I wanted to give her the good news.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Brooks arched a brow.
“My sister had her baby.” Jake grinned, proud as punch to be an uncle.
“That’s wonderful.” Her smile widened. “I’ll get Livy. She’s been mighty worried.”
Moments later Livy came into the kitchen, an armload of blankets in her arms, a worried look on her face. “How are your sister and the baby?”
“They’re both fine. A healthy boy.”
She smiled, the relief on her face evident. “Oh, I’m so glad.”
Jake’s eyes took in the damp splotches dotting her dress. She caught his gaze and shrugged. “Sorry I’m such a mess. Grace managed to spill her supper. I just gave her a bath, and she enjoyed splashing water all over us both.”
Shadows danced across her face, softening features framed by wispy curls. Jake reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You look fine.”
Jake wanted to take back the husky words as soon as the rose tint flooded her cheeks. He remembered her parting comment from the night before, and with an effort, he let her go and stepped back. He didn’t want to rush her, but if he didn’t put some distance between them soon, he’d give in and kiss her, and she’d as much as told him she wasn’t ready for that, even though the look in her eyes told him otherwise.
She glanced away. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“Good night, Livy.”
“Good night.”
He opened the door.
“Jake?” She took a step toward him, her eyes luminous in the lamplight, the blankets clasped like a shield in front of her. “Take care.”
He touched her cheek, wanting to take her in his arms, to feel her close for just one second. Instead, he let his fingers slide down her jaw and backed away. “I will.”
Jake headed toward shantytown, thinking of Livy’s face, soft and pretty in the glow of the lantern. She’d drawn him in, then held him at arm’s length. Why? Could there be a man in her past? Could that be why she’d said she wasn’t ready?
His long legs ate up the distance as he stomped out his rounds, the thoughts in his head swirling faster than the snow flurries from the week before. Surely that couldn’t be the reason she seemed hesitant.
His stride faltered.
What else could it be?
He stepped into the Golden Nugget, not in the mood to face the smoky room and deal with the drunks and coal miners who wanted to prove how tough they were. Out of habit, he took in the room as soon as the door shut behind him.
Four old-timers played cards, a friendly game that wouldn’t get out of hand. A couple of strangers stood at the bar, and the corner table boasted a card game in full swing. The greenbacks in the center of the table screamed that this was a group of gamblers intent on taking that pile of money home. Jake didn’t know two of the players, and the third sat with his back to the door. His tall, lanky form looked familiar even through the haze, but Jake couldn’t place him.
The fellow slumped over the table, bracing himself with his elbows, looking like a good stiff wind might knock him down. He tried to play a card, and it fluttered to the floor. Jake shook his head. Anybody with one eye and half sense ought to know not to mix whiskey and gambling.
“Evening, Lucky. Quiet night?”
“Pretty much.”
He jerked his head toward the card game. “Who’s that in the corner?”
“Those two fellows? New in town, I guess. Never seen ’em. The big one looks like he might work in the coal mines.” Lucky wiped down the bar and threw him a glance. “Don’t you recognize the other one?”
Jake peered over his shoulder, trying to figure out where he’d seen the slender fellow. “Sorry—can’t say as I do.”
“That’s Will McIver.”
“Will
McIver?” Jake jerked around to stare at Sam’s kid. He swung his gaze back to Lucky. “He’s just a kid, barely sixteen.”
Lucky shrugged. “No law against letting him in here, I reckon. And besides, I didn’t know how old he was. He looks grown to me.”
Jake straightened and headed over to the table. He placed a booted foot in the empty chair beside Will and leaned his forearm on his knee. A glance at the winnings revealed Will wasn’t faring too well. “Evening, gentlemen.”
The big man scowled and didn’t reply.
The other man nodded a cautious greeting. “Evening, Deputy.”
Will never acknowledged him in the slightest. Jake nudged his shoulder. “Will?”
The youth looked up, eyes bloodshot, face red. He grinned, found Jake; then his eyes focused somewhere over Jake’s shoulder.
Jake turned to Lucky. “He’s drunk.”
“I told you, Jake, he looks a lot older than he is. And his money’s as good as anybody’s. What else was I supposed to do?”
Jake placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Will, time for you to cash out. I’m taking you home.”
“Can’t.”
Jake sighed and thumbed his hat back. “Why not?”
Will waved a handful of cards in his face. “I got a winnin’ hand here. I can’t lose.”
“Leave the kid alone.”
Jake eyed the big man seated across from Will. “Sorry, mister. I can’t do that. Will here isn’t old enough to drink, let alone gamble. I’m taking him home. You got any objections?”
“Well, I reckon I do. We’ve got a friendly game of cards going here, and contrary to what he thinks, I’ve got the winning hand. I don’t take lightly to not getting to play it.”
Jake straightened and hauled Will out of his chair. “If that’s how you feel, make sure you pick someone older than this to swindle next time.”
He heard the slide of metal against leather when the stranger drew. He pushed Will out of the way and rolled left. The roar of the man’s pistol filled the room. The old-timers hit the floor and covered their heads with their hands. Jake came up with his gun in his hand, keeping the bar between him and Lucky. He hit the floor again when a shotgun blasted inches above his head, buckshot peppering the wall in the corner.
