Stealing Jake

by Pam Hillman

  He cleared the line of trees and staggered along the edge of the creek toward an alley leading into shantytown, searching for Livy. The sound of breaking ice and a gasping scream galvanized him forward.

  Oh, God, help me find her before it’s too late.

  He found her more from the sound of thrashing than from sight. He grabbed for her and missed. On his second try he managed to tangle one hand in her sodden skirt and haul her out of the water. She lay in his arms as limp as the corn-husk doll they’d made together. A shot rang out behind them as he ducked into an alley.

  The dragon in Jake’s lungs clawed to get out, but he fought the urge to cough. His and Livy’s lives depended on silence. He glanced at the unconscious woman in his arms. Oh, Lord, please save her life. I’ve just found her. I can’t lose her now. We need Your help, Lord.

  His heart ripped in two. There wasn’t time to stop and give her his coat. She needed someplace safe and warm and out of harm’s way. Now. And he knew just the place.

  Emma’s.

  He staggered across the street, stumbled along behind half a dozen shacks, and zigzagged his way to the café, hoping and praying he’d lost their pursuers. He banged on Emma’s back door.

  No response.

  He pounded the wood again. When Emma didn’t answer, he started fumbling with the buttons on his coat with one hand, holding Livy tight against him with the other.

  Finally a feeble light filtered through the crack at the bottom of the door, but Emma didn’t answer.

  “Emma, it’s Jake Russell. I’ve got Livy out here and she needs help.”

  “Livy, are you there?” Emma asked through the door.

  “She’s unconscious. Please, Emma.”

  Emma swung open the door, her eyes going wide when she saw Livy’s limp body, her wet clothes already stiffening from the cold. She grabbed for them and hauled them inside. “Oh, my goodness. Get in here, now.”

  Without any wasted motion, Emma jerked a curtain aside and pointed to a rumpled bed. Jake deposited Livy on the covers. Emma shoved him out of the small space and yanked the tattered curtain shut. “Stoke the fire.”

  The fire grew hot, the minutes long. Jake raked one hand through his hair, scattering the smell of woodsmoke through the room. Rustling sounds of Emma undressing Livy filled the tiny living quarters. A moan sounded, and Jake stopped himself short of ripping the curtain open. “Emma?”

  “She’s coming around.” She pushed the curtain back. Livy lay on the bed, wrapped securely in a quilt. “Move her to my rocker, close to the fire.”

  Jake did as she instructed. Emma knelt and started rubbing warmth into Livy’s feet. Jake did the same with her hands, cold as blocks of ice.

  Shouts reverberated off the walls, and the clatter of boots rushing over the boards in front of Emma’s shattered the silence. Jake heard shouts of fire. The whole town would turn out, not only to save the building but to keep the fire from spreading.

  Jake started coughing. His eyes watered, and he thought he’d cough his lungs up. Emma handed him a glass of water.

  Emma’s gaze centered on Jake. When he recovered, she asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “The glove factory’s on fire.”

  “Oh no.” Alarm caught and held her features. “The whole town could burn.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no wind tonight, and it’s far enough away from the other buildings that it shouldn’t spread.”

  “Are you sure?” Her voice trembled.

  “Yes. But a healthy dose of prayer won’t hurt.”

  “Amen to that.” Her gaze swung between him and Livy, still shivering beneath the mountain of blankets and quilts Emma had wrapped around her. He could see the questions in her eyes, but she didn’t voice them.

  She cupped Livy’s face in one hand. “Livy, dear, can you hear me?”

  Livy opened her eyes, staring at Emma. “Cold. So cold.”

  “I know. We’ll have you warmed up before long.”

  Jake saw alarm cross Livy’s features, and she started up in the rocker. “Jake?”

  “I’m here.” He gathered her in his arms and held her close.

  “I thought—” she broke off.

  “Shhh. It’s all right. I’m alive. We both are, thank the Lord.”

  Livy went limp, buried her head against his chest, and cried.

  “I’ll make a pot of coffee. It’ll warm you both up.” Emma retreated to the kitchen.

  Jake took a deep breath and smoothed Livy’s damp hair back, thankful he could hold her, touch her, that she wasn’t at the bottom of the creek, lifeless and forever lost to him.

  He caressed her face, and she leaned into his touch. Her gaze softened and warmed.

  “Livy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go with me tonight.”

  “You didn’t have a choice.”

  Jake shook his head. “Yes, I did. I put your life on the line, and you almost got killed. Twice. If you had died, I would never forgive myself.”

  “No. I wanted to go.” Her eyes glowed with conviction. “You couldn’t have stopped me.”

  He sighed, his eyes focused on hers. “I’ve got to go help fight the fire and see if Gibbons’s men are still around. Promise me you’ll stay here.”

  “Jake, I’ll go—”

  “No. It’s too dangerous. I need to help, but if you’re there, I’ll be worried about you getting hurt. Please?”

  “All right. But only because Emma took my clothes.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. Her mouth twitched. He eased back a fraction of an inch, an answering smile tugging at his lips. “What?”

  “You’re cold.”

  “You are too.” He leaned forward, his lips barely touching hers as he whispered, “That’s why I’m kissing you. I figured it would warm us both up.”

  And he was right.

  * * *

  An orange glow lit the sky.

  Victor carefully tied his tie, then jerked the knot out and let the silk hang free around his neck. A distraught businessman wouldn’t be immaculately dressed when he arrived on the scene of his business going up in flames.

  He took his time saddling his horse, mounted, and rode a quarter mile before spurring the animal forward. It also wouldn’t look good to arrive at a sedate pace.

  The flames shot higher, and he smiled grimly. Torching the building was a small price to pay to keep from being caught up in a scandal. He’d come out of this fresh as a newly laundered shirt; then he’d take the insurance money from the building and start over.

  Losing his workers would be a little harder to absorb, but it couldn’t be helped. His deeds done in the dark of night were being pulled out into the daylight, and the citizens of Chestnut wouldn’t turn a blind eye as those in Chicago had.

  But no matter. Everything would turn out fine. With the building reduced to ashes and no children to step forward, they had nothing to hang on him.

  Not one blessed thing.

  His family would be proud.

  * * *

  Jake gulped down two cups of Emma’s coffee before giving Livy a peck on the cheek. “Stay here. As soon as the fire is out, I’ll take you back to the orphanage.” He glanced at Emma. “That is, if Emma can scrounge up some dry clothes for you.”

  Emma nodded. “I’m sure I can find something.”

  Livy cupped his cheek. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” He winked at her.

  Jake let himself out and hurried toward the glove factory. How much of it had been destroyed? He’d gotten Livy to safety, and she’d promised she wouldn’t follow him. He could rest easy on that score. He’d make sure the men had the fire under control, then hoof it back to Emma’s.

  And then he’d find Gibbons and get some answers.

  The closer he got to the fire, the louder the yelling became. He sprinted forward, his bruised lungs burning from the effort. When he broke through the trees, he breathed a sigh.

  The men shouted over the roar of the
hungry flames to bring more water. The rear section of the factory was gone. The office where they’d been trapped still stood but was engulfed in flames. The men had formed a bucket brigade to the creek, breaking the ice so they could keep the fire contained. The factory’s seclusion had contributed to its being able to operate as a sweatshop without anybody knowing about it, but its aloofness turned into a blessing while it burned.

  Jake cringed at the number of times he’d ridden by and viewed the half-concealed building from a distance, not bothering to check on the factory or the workers. But there hadn’t been any hint of anything illegal until Will set things in motion with his thievery. By trying to flush out the street kids, Jake had uncovered a nest of vipers in their midst.

  Sheriff Carter approached him, face grim. “Somebody must have left a lamp burning or something. I haven’t seen Gibbons, but he’s gonna be mad as a hornet.”

  Jake tried to suppress the hacking cough that bubbled out of his lungs.

  The sheriff glanced sharply at him. “What happened to you? You get downwind of that smoke?”

  “You might say that.”

  Jake outlined everything leading up to the glove factory’s burning. “As soon as it’s daylight, we need to send a telegraph to Chicago. We might need some help.”

  Sheriff Carter nodded. “What do you think Gibbons will do? You think he’ll run?”

  “Maybe not. He probably thinks Livy and I died in the fire, if he even knows we were there in the first place. And if I can keep it that way, we might have a chance of catching him.”

  Soon the bucket brigade slowed to a crawl as the exhausted firefighters realized the building couldn’t be salvaged and the flames no longer threatened their homes and businesses. Discussion broke out speculating the cause of the fire.

  Jake stood in the shadows, studying the crowd. Were the men who’d locked him and Livy inside still around? He didn’t know what they looked like, but he had a gut feeling he’d know them if he saw them. He remembered the three goons who’d flanked Gibbons at the rail yard. Probably more of the same.

  Pounding hooves sounded on the road leading to the glove factory. Victor Gibbons galloped into view.

  Dismounting, he let loose a string of curse words, then bellowed, “What happened here?”

  Sheriff Carter stepped forward. “Nobody knows, Mr. Gibbons. Maybe you can tell us.”

  “Me?” the factory owner blustered. “I just now arrived. Somebody destroyed my factory, Sheriff, and I expect you and that deputy of yours to catch the culprits. Probably some of those street kids who’ve been stealing everybody blind.”

  Jake eased out of the shadows, close behind Gibbons, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Gibbons, you’re under arrest.”

  Gibbons swung around. “My glove factory is burning to the ground, and you’re arresting me? What in the world for?”

  “For endangerment of children and attempted murder of an officer of the law,” Jake said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered up the reins of his horse and started to mount. “If you’ve got anything to say, you can say it to my lawyer.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Sheriff Carter pressed his pistol against Gibbons’s backbone.

  The factory owner lowered his boot to the ground. The sheriff wasted no time slapping a pair of handcuffs on him.

  “I want my lawyer.” Gibbons glared at Jake.

  “You can contact a lawyer in the morning.” Sheriff Carter prodded him. “Now start walking.”

  Jake took up the reins of the horse and followed, keeping a careful eye out for Gibbons’s hired men. He wouldn’t put it past them to try to rescue their boss before they got to the jail.

  Gibbons cursed all the way down Main Street. As Jake locked the cell door, the prisoner sat on the cot, cold gaze trained on Jake. “You’re going to wish you’d never tangled with me. You don’t have a drop of proof, and when my lawyer is done with you, you’ll never work in law enforcement again.”

  Jake leaned his forearms against the cell. “I’m not as concerned with that as I am the lives of the children you had working for you. Where are they?”

  Gibbons lay on the cot, his hands folded behind his head. “What children? I told you before, I don’t hire kids.”

  You don’t hire them; you just buy them like pieces of machinery.

  Jake turned on his heel, strode into the front office, and slammed the door.

  Sheriff Carter glanced at the closed door. “He’s right, you know. We don’t have a smidgen of evidence, especially now that the glove factory is gone.”

  “There’s a bunch of kids out there somewhere who can identify Gibbons as the man who treated them like slaves—or worse.”

  “If they’re still alive.” Sheriff Carter poured himself a cup of hours-old coffee and eased into his chair with a grunt. “I’m going to send a telegraph to Chicago bright and early in the morning. I’ve got an old friend who might be able to give us a hand.”

  Jake rubbed a weary hand across his face. “Will you be all right for a while, Sheriff? I need to go check on Livy.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve got a pot of coffee and a shotgun if any of Gibbons’s fellers show up.”

  Jake hurried across Main Street and cut down an alley. He crossed Second Street, his thoughts on where those children might be. They couldn’t have gone far. He thought of Luke and gave a slight nod. If anybody could find them, Luke could. He’d get Livy safely back to the orphanage and see if he could find the boy.

  A grim wave of disquiet wove through his gut. After what he’d seen tonight, he wouldn’t put it past Gibbons and his men to do whatever it took to silence those kids.

  He’d almost made it to Emma’s when a shout pulled him up short. It sounded like Luke. Breaking into a jog, he headed down an alley, listening for the sound again.

  “Let me go,” Luke yelled.

  Jake skidded around a corner and saw one of Gibbons’s hired guns wrap a beefy hand around the boy’s neck. Another boy dashed forward and swung a length of two-by-four. The wood cracked against the man’s back, but he swatted the boy away like a pesky fly.

  Lungs burning, Jake plowed into the fray. He took the man down. But before he could reach for his gun, the man jumped up, balancing on the balls of his feet.

  Jake rolled and scrambled to his feet. His assailant threw a punch, but Jake sidestepped, letting the blow glance off his bicep. He planted his left boot and threw a right cross. Contact! Jake’s knuckles screamed as bone met bone.

  Taking a step to advance on his opponent, he walked into a jab. Pain streaked across his chin. Air whooshed from his lungs as another blow landed in his gut.

  Adrenaline pushed harder. Jake swung at the man, missing with another right cross but hitting the target with a left uppercut to his chin.

  Wham!

  The middle of Jake’s spine burned with white-hot pain. He pivoted to face a second attacker, blocking the next blow.

  “Aaarrrghhh!”

  Through blurred vision, he saw Luke come in swinging, the two-by-four gripped in both hands.

  He tried to yell for Luke to get away, to go for help, but all his energy focused on anticipating the wicked uppercuts coming toward him.

  He couldn’t tell what the men looked like in the dark, other than that both were big, beefy men with fists of iron, much like those he’d seen with Gibbons. He didn’t doubt they’d kill him and the boys if they could.

  His fist made contact, and one of his attackers went down like a felled oak.

  Luke and his friends rushed the remaining thug, boards and sticks flying in every direction. Jake ducked.

  Two fists exploded in his face, and Livy flashed across his befuddled mind.

  Lord, please don’t let them find Livy.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?”

  The first light of dawn streaked across the sky; the miners would troop through the door soon. Sin
ce neither Emma nor Livy could sleep, they’d cooked breakfast and peeled and cut up the vegetables for half a dozen meat pies for the evening meal. They’d even baked three blackberry cobblers. The savory aromas of cobbler and baking bread filled the café.

  “I don’t know. I’m worried sick about him.” The knife slipped and nicked Livy’s finger. She wiped the blood on the voluminous brown work dress Emma had lent her. She bit her lip and slanted a look at her employer.

  Emma snorted, rolling out biscuits faster than Georgie could devour tea cakes. “Well, I’m worried about him too, but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

  Livy smiled, her face softening. “Strange as it may seem, Emma, I do love him.” She smiled, her hands falling to her lap, her chores forgotten. “From the beginning I liked him, but I was afraid. Afraid of men, afraid of marriage, of having babies, and afraid of someone finding out about my past.”

  Emma threw her a glance. “Most of us have pasts we’re not proud of.”

  “I know, but Jake’s a sheriff’s deputy, and his family are pillars of the community. I’m just a pickpocket from—”

  “Don’t say that. You’ve been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Your sins are washed away, never to be remembered. God’s given you a new life and a passion to help children who don’t have anybody else. If Jake—or anybody else in this town—can’t see that, they’re dumber than a lump of coal. And trust me, Jake’s not dumb.”

  “His attitude toward the street kids has changed, especially since Luke brought Bobby to the orphanage. I think he realizes they don’t choose to live on the streets, that all they really want is to survive and for people to care about them.”

  Emma’s hands stilled, and she nodded. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

  Livy smiled. “Yes.”

  They worked in silence, Livy glancing out the window every few minutes. Still no sign of Jake. What could’ve happened? It’d been hours since he left. She finished cutting up a chunk of beef and dumped it in the pot to boil. She looked around. Breakfast was ready and waiting, and everything they could prepare ahead of time for the evening meal was finished.

  She couldn’t wait any longer or she’d go crazy. “Emma, I need to go look for Jake or at least see if Sheriff Carter has seen him.”