by Pam Hillman
He threw her a surprised look.
“Luke, I lived on the streets of Chicago as far back as I can remember. I know what it’s like.”
“Some of them.”
“Where is Bobby working?”
Luke pressed his lips together.
Livy grabbed him by the arm. “He’s working in a sweatshop, right? Here in Chestnut? Where is it? Tell me.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jessica, but Ginger and her kittens had entranced the little girl.
“I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me.”
“Luke, if you don’t tell me, he’s going to kill you. I know what those places are like.”
Luke met her gaze head-on, his eyes older and wiser than his years. “He brings the kids here to work for him for six months, or longer, depending on how much they cost him.”
“And what makes you think he’ll just let them walk out of there in six months or a year?” Livy whispered.
Luke hung his head. “I don’t know, but there’s nothing else I can do.” His gaze strayed to Jessica. “Except bring kids like Jessica to you before he gets his hands on them.”
“Tell me where the sweatshop is.”
A mulish expression thinned his lips. “No. I’ve got to go.”
Livy sighed. “All right. Just a minute.” She sliced open the rest of the biscuits, filled each with a slice of ham, and wrapped the food in used newspapers. She’d cook a pot of corn bread mush and open a can of syrup for breakfast this morning.
She held out the food. “Do you know the man’s name? The one who runs the place?”
“No. They just call him the boss.”
“Please, Luke, please stay.”
His eyes filled with tears as he glanced around the warm, homey kitchen. “I can’t.”
He slipped out the kitchen door while Jessica kept herself occupied with the kittens. Livy pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing.
* * *
The mercantile buzzed with tension when Jake walked in. Several shopkeepers stood around in addition to the regulars, their attention focused on Ed McIver, who was wound tighter than a Swiss clock.
“I’m telling you, if we don’t do something soon, those kids are going to take over our town.”
“What are we supposed to do, Ed?” Jesse Tatum said. “Them young’uns are slippery. I’ve only seen a couple of them on the streets late at night, and they scatter like rats before anybody can get a good look at ’em. I wonder how many there are. Jake, you have any clue?”
“Don’t know. Like you said, they make themselves pretty scarce.” Jake leaned against the counter and shrugged.
“I heard they’re living over in the burned-out shantytown.” Sam spoke up, busy restocking a shelf with canned beans.
“That’s a fire hazard waiting to happen. Gibbons bought all the land along the creek when he built the glove factory. Said he was going to clean it up and try to get more business in here.”
Jesse aimed for the spittoon and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’ll take some work to clean all that up. Half the buildings were gutted by that fire last winter. But Gibbons has the right idea. We could use some more businesses.”
“Jake, have you been over there to see if you could find ’em?” Ed asked, his jaw jutting forward. The thief taking off with his wife’s jewelry clearly had Ed’s blood boiling.
“I go through shantytown almost every day,” Jake said. “If you’ve been over there, you should know it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. With all the squatters and ramshackle buildings popping up, it’s hard to keep track of who’s where at any given time.”
“We ought to burn the whole place down.”
Jake shook his head. “It belongs to Gibbons now, Ed. You can’t just go in there and burn down a man’s property, no matter how dangerous it is.”
Ed slammed a meaty fist into his palm. “First it was a little food and some blankets from Sam, then guns; now they’re breaking into our homes. They’ve already shot at Sheriff Carter and Jake. What’re we going to do when someone gets killed?”
Jake straightened. Ed seemed determined to stir up the townspeople to the point where someone did something reckless. He’d always been one to go off half-cocked, but his anger had worsened over the years. “That’s going a little too far, Ed. Nobody’s going to get killed.”
Ed jerked to his feet, the sudden movement knocking his seat over. The chair popped the wooden floor like a gunshot. “Seems to me you aren’t all that interested in putting these fellers behind bars. You’re much too busy courting that little gal over at the orphanage, ain’t ya?” He sneered at Jake. “Maybe we need a new deputy around here.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t courting Livy, but if he were, it wouldn’t be anybody’s business but his.
“Ed.” Sam’s warning tone sliced through the thick air. Sam’s mild manner kept Ed from digging himself in too deep sometimes. “No need to get hot under the collar.”
Jake fingered the broken strand of pearls he’d found in the abandoned barn. The same barn Luke and Livy had tracked the thieves to. He’d looked around, put two and two together, and come up with the notion that Livy had to be telling the truth.
At least he hoped so.
“Ed, I received some information last night pointing to someone other than the street kids. I can’t be sure, of course, but I believe my source is telling me the truth.”
“So who is it?”
“I don’t know.” Jake pulled the necklace from his pocket and held it out to Ed. “But my source told me where to find this.”
Ed stared for a moment, then held out his hand. Jake dropped the pearls into his palm, the milky-white orbs clinking against each other. Ed closed his fist over the necklace, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the mercantile.
Sam threw Jake an apologetic look. “Sorry. Ed’s a little riled up this morning.”
“I don’t blame him. I reckon I would be too if someone broke in to my house.”
Jesse spoke up. “Ed lets his temper get the best of him, but he’s a good man at heart and a hard worker.”
Heads nodded all around. They sat for a moment in silence, thinking about Ed’s sacrifice in the war. Half the men seated around the stove had fought in the war, so they knew the horrors he’d seen. Ed’s shattered knee had almost cost him his life, and he’d live with the pain until he died. They could forgive him a little rage now and then.
“Reckon somebody else is doing the stealing?” Jesse speculated. “Remember Gibbons mentioned that at the meeting, but nobody wanted to hear it.”
Jake pulled out his knife and listened to the men talk. Livy had tried to tell him several times before last night that she didn’t think the street kids were to blame for the thefts. She’d also told him about the barn, and he’d found the pearls wedged between a trough and a horse’s stall. Surely she wouldn’t have told him all that if she thought the street kids were responsible.
“Nah. We didn’t have a problem with thieves until those kids from Chicago showed up. It’s gotta be them.”
Sam came out from behind the counter, righted Ed’s empty chair, and straddled it. “Well, I don’t know. Chestnut’s growing like a bad weed. Don’t get me wrong—more people means more business for me, but we’re seeing more and more gamblers and drunks showing up.” A pained expression crossed his face. “They’re having a bad influence on our kids.”
Nobody said a word. Everyone knew about Will’s troubles.
“Sam’s right. Those kids might be the least of our problems. Chicago’s bursting at the seams, and we’re getting the dregs of society. Why, ten years ago we had one saloon, and if you stopped in, you knew almost everybody there. Now we’re got three or four, maybe more.”
Everybody nodded, murmuring agreement.
“Remember that little gal from the orphanage who came to the meeting? She mentioned those sweatshops in Chicago where they work some of those kids twelve and fifteen hours a day. Anybody who’d d
o that to a kid needs a good horsewhipping. I don’t blame ’em for heading to Chestnut.”
“But that don’t give them the right to steal,” Jesse replied.
“I’m agin stealing as much as the next man, but what if your girls were starving or freezing to death, Jesse? Would you steal to keep them alive? It’s something to think about.”
Sam leaned his forearms on his knees. “Maybe we’re not doing enough to help ’em. I mean, how can we say we’re Christians if we don’t feed and clothe the hungry? Maybe give them a leg up so they can better themselves.”
“There are some people who are never going to better themselves. If you give ’em a piece of bread, they’ll stick their feet under your table three times a day and never offer to do a lick of work in return.”
“Yeah, but you can’t refuse to help everybody because of the few who’ll take advantage of you.”
While the men pondered this, Jake thought about Livy and Mrs. Brooks. They’d taken in every orphan who’d darkened their door, and he figured they’d take in every one that came their way until children spilled out of the orphanage like an overflowing ore cart. Livy roamed the streets at night trying to find more kids to save. They were doing their part to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Jake hung his head, suddenly ashamed. What had he done lately to help someone in need?
He’d been so focused on saving his town, he’d lost sight of the fact that saving the people came first.
* * *
Livy hurried down the boardwalk, avoiding the muddy splotches left by melting snow. The warmer weather brought out farmers by the dozens, and wagons and buggies filled the streets with people making last-minute preparations for Christmas. She hastened past the laundry and waved at Mr. Wong. He bobbed his head and smiled back. They’d exchanged no more than a dozen words in the couple of months since she’d met him, mainly because he didn’t know enough English to carry on a conversation, and she couldn’t afford to have any clothes laundered.
She spotted the sisters Huff in their hat shop, chatting with a couple of customers. Livy passed on by. She’d stop in later and check on Miss Janie, but right now she needed to find Jake. Mud covered the side street running between the hat shop and the butcher’s, but a couple of boards made passage easier. Livy lifted her heavy cloak and skirt and headed across the shaky walkway, making it to the other side without mishap.
From this distance, she could see the jail. She took a deep breath. Would Jake be there, or Sheriff Carter? She hadn’t spoken much with the sheriff. Maybe she should talk to him. That would be better than talking to Jake, wouldn’t it? Her steps faltered and her hands turned clammy as she eyed the jail. Maybe she should just go back to the orphanage. She clenched her jaw. She couldn’t. No matter what Jake thought of her, Luke and the other boys’ lives depended on her.
She found the jail empty. The cells mocked her. Livy pivoted, her heart pounding. She didn’t have to be afraid. She’d been forgiven of everything she’d done wrong. Her sins had been cast into the depths of the sea, just as God promised. If He had forgiven her, then why couldn’t she forgive herself?
She bowed her head. Lord, forgive me for doubting You. I know I’m forgiven, and I don’t intend to slip back into my old ways ever again. Thank You for sending Mrs. Brooks my way.
The door opened, and she whirled around. Jake stepped inside and removed his hat. A surprised glint lit his eyes when he saw her. Then his face hardened, and he turned away, taking his time placing his hat on a peg and shrugging out of his coat. “Morning, Livy.
She shivered at his cold, impassive tone. Whatever feelings he’d felt for her had died when he’d found out she’d roamed the streets of Chicago. Ice coated her heart, and she shrugged. She had nothing to lose now, so what did it matter what he thought about her? “Luke came to see me this morning.”
He faced her, his eyes narrowed. “He did? Is he ready to turn himself in?”
Livy glared at him. “Why should he turn himself in? He’s done nothing wrong. For your information, he brought another orphan to us. Then he told me—”
Jake took a step toward her. “What? What did he tell you?”
She plunged in. “You know what a sweatshop is, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard the term.”
“Well, according to Luke, there’s a sweatshop here.”
“In Chestnut?”
“Yes.”
Jake’s brow creased, and he sat on the edge of Sheriff Carter’s desk. His green eyes probed hers. “Why are you telling me this now? Last night you said you didn’t know anything about the robberies.”
“I still don’t know anything about the robberies, except that I don’t believe it’s Luke who’s doing it.” She met his gaze head-on, wishing she could’ve talked to Sheriff Carter instead. Suspicion about her motives seemed to cloud Jake’s opinion of everything she said. Sheriff Carter would’ve listened without second-guessing. She tilted her chin up. “I’m here because if we don’t find out who bought these kids, they’ll probably end up dead.”
Jake held up a hand. “Whoa. What do you mean by ‘bought’ them?”
“From what Luke said, the owner of the sweatshop—”
“Who?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t know the man’s name. Called him the boss. From what Luke said, the owner gets them out of Chicago if they’ll work for him for six months to a year. There’s only one reason I can think of that would make the kids agree to that.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “If they’d been arrested?”
“I think so. What if the Chicago police are involved? I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. I’ve seen my fair share of corrupt officers.”
Jake stood and paced the length of the jail. “Let me get this straight. A kid is arrested in Chicago. The police contact the sweatshop owners and make a deal. The city gets rid of the boy, and the sweatshop gets free labor for six months to a year. The kid isn’t charged with a crime, he gets out of Chicago, and everybody’s happy.”
“Pretty much.” Livy crossed her arms. “Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“The sweatshop owner has no intention of letting the kids go after six months. Do you think anybody who’s buying children will let them walk away when the specified term is up? Hardly. He can’t afford to.”
Jake took a deep breath. “Where are all these kids coming from?”
Livy shook her head. “Who knows? Some lose their parents to sickness, and some are abandoned. Other families lost their farms and got split up by the war.”
* * *
Jake raked a hand through his hair. Having a bunch of older boys preying on the citizens of Chestnut was one thing, but knowing that someone might be shipping in children to work in a sweatshop was a different matter altogether. Where to begin looking? The logical place would be shantytown. “All right. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me. You’ll let me know if you hear anything else, won’t you?”
Livy crossed her arms. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You need my help, and you know it.”
“Uh-uh.” Jake mirrored her stance. “You’re going right back to the orphanage where you belong.”
She glared at him, blue eyes spitting fire. “Make me.”
He glared right back, wanting to shake her and take her in his arms and kiss her all at the same time. He did none of the above. “I could lock you up.”
She laughed. “We’ve been over that before. You don’t have any grounds. If you won’t accept my help, then leave me alone. I’ll look around, and if I find out anything important, I’ll let you know.” She turned toward the door.
Jake took three strides and grabbed her arm. “Hold on a minute. You’re not going to find out anything.”
She shrugged him off. “Jake, you have a choice. You can take me with you when you start looking for the sweatshop—there may be more than one—or . . .” Her gaze slid to the cells at the back of the jail. “Or you can lock me up. I won’t s
ee these kids dead.”
Jake watched her face; she meant every word. She’d just get in the way if he let her tag along. But on the other hand, he’d be able to keep her out of trouble. He let loose a grim smile. “All right; you win. I’ll stop by the orphanage about ten tonight.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her pick her way down the boardwalk, daintily holding her cloak above the icy slush. His gaze narrowed. After one night of trying to keep up with him in this weather, she’d have enough of this foolishness and be ready to leave everything up to him.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Douse the light. Somebody’s coming.”
The mine plunged into darkness, and Luke and the other boys waited. Just his luck that the new hiding place he’d been scouting for himself and the other street kids was so quickly discovered. He wouldn’t be coming back here anytime soon. A dim light flickered along the walls, leading the way for whoever had entered the abandoned mine.
“Be still, you little beggar.”
Luke’s mouth went dry as he recognized Grady’s voice. Shadows, long against the moisture-slick walls, drew closer as Grady appeared. He held a lantern in one hand and a child in the other.
“Let me go.” The boy jerked against Grady’s hold.
Grady didn’t reply, just kept moving deeper into the mine, the child struggling against his grip. Grady cursed as the boy kicked out, making contact with his leg.
Luke strained to hear more. Was it Mark? He couldn’t decide if they should rush Grady and grab the boy or wait and see what Grady intended to do. Before he could make up his mind, Grady slipped on a piece of loose shale, and the boy jerked out of his grasp and scrambled away.
“Hey, get back here.” Grady lunged for the boy.
The boy stepped back, his eyes widening as he teetered on the edge of a drop-off. Luke bit back a gasp as the boy tumbled down the steep incline, his scream mixed with the sounds of falling rock and dirt. When the rocks stopped falling, there was dead silence.
“Hey, kid?” Grady held the lantern high. “Answer me, boy.”
