Stealing Jake

by Pam Hillman

  There was no reply. Grady cursed under his breath as he stumbled along the ledge. After several minutes, he stopped, peering into the darkness below.

  “Good riddance. Saves me the trouble of knocking you off like the boss wanted.” Grady turned and walked out of the mine, the flickering light fading to complete darkness as he disappeared.

  Luke crouched in silence, horrified at what he’d just witnessed. Was the boy dead? If he hadn’t fallen, would Grady have killed him right before their eyes? Grady hadn’t even bothered to see if he was still alive.

  Suddenly one thing became clear. He couldn’t bargain with these people for Mark’s freedom.

  * * *

  Darkness cloaked the orphanage.

  Jake rapped his knuckles on the kitchen door, just loud enough for Livy to hear. He waited about two seconds before turning away. After all her brave talk, she’d probably decided she’d rather sleep than wander around shantytown in the cold. He eased off the porch, being careful not to cause the boards to creak. He didn’t want to wake Mrs. Brooks and have to explain why he was here. A dark shadow, covered head to foot in a black cloak, slipped away from an oak tree a few feet away. He stopped and stared.

  Livy? She moved silently, coming right up to him. Blue eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, peered out from underneath the hood covering her hair. “You ready?” she breathed, so low he barely heard her.

  He nodded and headed toward the center of town, setting a bruising pace. If she wanted to play detective, she’d need to keep up. He crossed the street and cut down the alley between the blacksmith shop and the livery stable. Livy fell behind. Jake slowed his pace and let her catch up with him. “Too fast for you?”

  She jutted out her chin. “I’ll manage.”

  He zigzagged across town, avoiding houses whose dogs tended to bark if a shadow came within a hundred yards of their space. They were both winded by the time he paused at the edge of shantytown and canvassed the area. The grist mill lay to their right, shrouded in the grove of cottonwoods nestled against the frozen creek. Shantytown ran the length of the creek between the mill and the coal mines north of town.

  Early Chestnut settlers had raised families and started businesses along the creek, but when the railroad came through, people moved closer to the train station, abandoning the buildings. Squatters, indigent coal miners, and now a gang of street kids had taken up residence. If they could cobble together a place to live for free, they would.

  Jake panned the area, not seeing anything out of place. He padded across an alley to a jumble of dilapidated buildings, intending to skirt them. Livy followed. Moments later, she tugged at his coat sleeve. Then she leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Follow me.”

  Curious, he let her lead the way. She ducked low and entered a ramshackle building that looked in danger of falling down on their heads. He started to call out for her to wait, but she’d already darted through the opening. Jake squeezed through. No wonder the street kids were so elusive. They were able to get into much smaller spaces than he could. The shack, leaning against another building, acted almost like a hallway. The rear wall had collapsed, and Livy eased through that as well, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he still followed.

  She wove her way in and out of close places. “This is the type of place the street kids would stay in. Buildings most people wouldn’t think twice about looking into.”

  “It’s a fire hazard waiting to happen.”

  Coming out into the open again, they passed half a dozen tar-paper shacks thrown up in the last week. But a building with a lock and boarded-up windows caught Jake’s attention. Apparently Livy noticed it as well. She pulled out a couple of long wires.

  Jake reached out to stop her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Her gaze met his. “Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”

  Jake eyed the wires in her hand, doubting she could get inside even if she wanted to. “We can’t just break in.”

  “Even if something illegal’s going on in there?” She turned to the lock.

  “Livy—”

  To his surprise, the lock popped open a few seconds later, and Livy slipped inside the building. He gritted his teeth and followed her, intent on dragging her outside and raking her over the coals.

  He took one look inside the empty building, grabbed Livy by the arm, and pulled her outside. He snapped the lock into place and stuck his nose within inches of hers. “I oughta haul you in for breaking and entering.”

  “But what if it had been a sweatshop? You have to admit it looked suspicious. Windows boarded up, locked up tight as a drum.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You can’t go around breaking in to buildings just because they look suspicious.”

  She huffed away, and he followed, shaking his head.

  They checked out several more buildings, small shops making candles and such, but none of them looked like they were trying to hide their enterprises. Everything seemed on the up-and-up.

  “Come on, let’s call it a night,” Jake said. “We’re not likely to find anything else.”

  Livy turned down the nearest alley.

  “Where you going?”

  She glanced at him. “Back to the orphanage.”

  “That way?”

  “It’s the shortest route I know of.”

  “But not the safest. We’ll go the long way if you don’t mind.” Jake snagged her wrist and pulled her along with him. “How do you know your way around shantytown?”

  “When I moved here, I spent a couple of hours every day exploring Chestnut. There’s not much of the town I don’t know. Except that it’s growing so fast. There’s a whole new section of shacks close to the coal mines that I haven’t explored yet.”

  Jake scowled. He knew the place. She was determined to get herself killed. “Livy, you know better than to wander around a place like that. It’s dangerous.”

  “No more dangerous than wandering around with you.” She smiled, a cheeky grin that showed she wasn’t afraid of anything. “Besides, I can take care of myself.”

  Jake shook his head. How had she survived all those years in Chicago? Who knew when a drunk would stagger out of an alley intent on knifing someone for a few dollars? His heart lurched.

  He stopped and turned her to face him. “Livy, maybe you can, but promise me you won’t keep wandering around town after dark.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and pulled her close so there would be no mistaking his intent. “I don’t want to find you in an alley or floating in the creek some morning. Promise me?”

  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 s
teps 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 othe
rs.”

  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.”