Stealing Jake

CHAPTER Eleven



Jake stomped the snow off his boots and entered the bank. Mr. Stillman motioned him toward his office in the back. All the shareholders would be there except Seamus. The weather was too bad for the old man to get out. If it came to a vote whether to reopen the mine, Jake could only pray that Seamus would be lucid enough to make the right decision.

Jake squeezed Alton Brown’s hand. “Alton.”

The older man met his gaze briefly, then looked away. Jake didn’t ask about his family. What could he say? Have you gotten over losing your only son in that mine accident? How many days go by that you don’t think of him?

None, just like when you lose your father in the same accident.

No, it was better to keep the meeting all business and not ask questions.

Mr. Stillman ushered in Ike Sturgis and shut his office door. “Gentleman, glad you could make it.”

“What’s this all about, Stillman?” Alton asked, hands fisted tight against his hips. “It looks like it’s gonna snow again, and I need to get on home.”

Stillman cleared his throat and glanced at Ike. “May I?”

Ike stood near the door, arms folded across his chest, face like granite. “Go ahead.”

Dread pooled in Jake’s gut. Was Ike selling out? Had the man who’d contacted Stillman about buying the Black Gold mine gotten to Ike?

“Ike has agreed to sell his shares of the mine.”

“He can’t do that!” Alton Brown shot to his feet. “We all agreed not to sell.”

“There’s nothing in writing.” Stillman shuffled some papers on his desk. “I’m sorry, Alton.”

Alton grabbed his hat and stalked out of the bank.

Jake studied Ike. He hadn’t lost family in the mine, and he’d worked the day shift himself. Two years had passed, and he was ready to recoup his losses and move on. Jake could read the truth in his face like a deposit of coal in bedrock.

Ike Sturgis could sell, and he would.

And there was nothing Jake or the others could do about it.



* * *





When Luke touched the toddler’s forehead, heat burned the backs of his fingers. Freezing wind slammed against the cracks of the tumbledown shack, the drafts forcing out the small amount of heat from the fire.

He wrapped a tattered blanket around the child and held her close, trying to share his body heat with her. Paper-thin eyelids fluttered against her cheekbones. He’d risked his life to save her and lost his chance to rescue Mark.

And now she lay in his arms dying.

The other children gathered around the fire, sharing their warmth. Gradually they dozed off, one by one, huddled together like a litter of puppies.

Fresh tears burned his eyes. She didn’t deserve this. None of them did. But what could he do? They had no one, nothing. Except themselves.

Had he saved her life only to let her die because he didn’t know how to take care of her? He didn’t have food, water, medicine. Even if he had those things, he was just a kid. He didn’t know how to take care of a child in diapers.

The woman from the orphanage would help. Wouldn’t she? Or did she want them to come to the orphanage so she could sell them to men like Grady and Butch and the man they called the boss?

Luke stared at the fire, frowning. She wouldn’t give the child back to Butch, would she? He’d watched the children who lived at the orphanage on their way to and from school. He’d watched the two little boys playing in the snow. They’d looked full and happy, not like children forced to do work in a sweatshop.

The child in his arms drew in a shuddering breath, then grew still. Luke clutched her against him, pressing his ear against her tiny chest, his heart pounding. He heard a sound like a tiny mouse squeaking. Then nothing. Then again. He jostled her in his arms, relieved when she drew another raspy breath.

How long before the faint movement of her chest stopped?

He couldn’t let her die. Not if there was a chance she could live.



* * *





Jake grabbed his coat and hat and left the bank. Ike’s decision didn’t change a thing. He only owned 25 percent of the mine. As long as the others didn’t sell, the new owner couldn’t do a thing with his shares. And they’d all adamantly refused to sell.

He headed across town and stepped inside Emma’s Place just in case Seamus had stopped in. The old man was nowhere to be seen, but Jake didn’t really expect him to be out and about. He dreaded sharing the news that Ike had sold out.

His eyes met Emma’s across the crowded café, and she called out a greeting.

“Find a spot if you can, Jake. How about a bowl of stew?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Maybe something hot to eat would ease the frustration gnawing at his insides. He plopped down at the end of a table filled with miners.

She hurried over, a piping hot bowl in one hand and a pone of corn bread in the other. She slid the platter to the center of the table. “Help yourselves, boys.”

“Thank ye, Emma.” A grizzled miner winked at Jake and grabbed a hunk of bread. “If I wasn’t already married, I’d hitch up with that woman for her cooking alone.”

“Oh, hush up, Roger Perkins.” Emma placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder and sobered. “How’re things going, Jake?”

“Pretty good. And you?”

Emma smoothed back graying hair, the tired circles under her eyes showing fatigue. “I can’t complain.”

Jake nodded. Emma’s husband had died along with Jake’s father, but she’d been better off than most. She owned this little café and made a few extra dollars feeding miners. “Glad to hear it.”

She patted his shoulder before hurrying away to tend the rest of her customers. Jake dug in, listening to the talk about the mines.

“Discovered a new deposit in the Copper Penny today. We’ll be busy for another six months at least. Don’t know what we’ll do after that. Reckon the coal’s about petered out ’round here?”

“Hope not.”

Perkins shot Jake a glance. “You thought about opening up the Black Gold mine again, Russell?”

All eyes focused on Jake. “Reckon not.”

“Lots of pure coal in that mine, son.”

Jake pushed his food away, appetite gone. “I know, but it’s too dangerous. Perkins, you of all people should know that.”

Perkins’s son-in-law had died in the disaster, leaving a wife and a couple of kids. Jake knew it wasn’t easy for Johanna to make ends meet, even with her family around.

The old miner leaned both elbows on the table. “Not for the right managers. Jake, you and your pa, Seamus, and the others had the right idea, having the workers own shares in the mine. I wish you’d reconsider. I heard Sturgis already sold out. That true?”

“News sure travels fast.” Jake took a sip of coffee.

“It’s only a matter of time before everyone agrees to sell. No telling what kind of feller will be in charge then. I’d rather see you, Brown, and Seamus running the show than some money-hungry yahoo from Chicago who don’t care about nuthin’ but making a dollar.”

The rest of the men nodded in agreement.

“I’d go to work in the Black Gold mine, given the right men opened ’er back up.” Perkins tapped him on the arm with his spoon. “Think about it.”

Jake sighed. These men risked their lives day in and day out, and he couldn’t bring himself to take one step underground. How could they respect him and the other owners enough to consider working for them again?

He pushed away from the table, then carried his bowl to where Emma stood, elbow-deep in sudsy water. “Food’s good as always, Emma.”

She looked him in the eye. “Don’t let Perkins get to you, Jake. You do what you think’s right.”

“The problem comes in knowing what’s right.”

“I’ll pray for you. I always do, you know.”

“Thanks, Emma. I appreciate it.”

The door flung open. “Russell, you here?”

Jake squinted at the dark figure outlined against the night sky. “Yeah?”

“It’s Seamus. He’s calling for you. I think he’s about to kick the bucket.”

Jake rushed for the door, his heart in his throat. He’d known this day would come, but not now. Not this soon. He wasn’t ready.



* * *





Seamus passed on kind of peaceful-like. Doc Valentine told Jake his heart just plain gave out. When the six o’clock whistle blew, the old man smiled, took a deep breath, and went home to rest.

Forever.



* * *





Livy put away the last of the supper dishes and wiped down the table. Mrs. Brooks puttered around in the other room, getting ready for bed. The children were settled in for the night, so Livy banked the stove. She yawned, ready for a good night’s sleep.

A pounding on the door startled her. She wiped her hands and hurried to the door. “Who is it?”

Nobody answered, but a soft groan came from the other side. Without thinking, she undid the latch and jerked open the door. A small child, eyelashes feathered against pale cheeks, lay wrapped in a ragged blanket at her feet. Livy scooped up the slight form and held it close. She could feel heat radiating from the listless child. She scanned the side yard and grove of trees that buffered the orphanage against the sound of the train but didn’t see anyone. She didn’t waste any more time looking. Whoever had left the child didn’t plan to show themselves.

She shut the door and gazed at the bundle in her arms. Who would leave a child, barely a year old, on their doorstep? Then she noticed the blanket. It looked like one she’d left for the boys over in shantytown. She unwrapped the child, checking for injuries.

Mrs. Brooks stepped into the kitchen, tying the sash of her robe around her ample waist. “I thought I heard the door.”

“You did.”

When she saw the child, the older woman hurried to Livy’s side. “Oh, my. What happened?”

“I found her on the porch a few minutes ago.”

“It’s a girl, then?”

Livy nodded.

Mrs. Brooks cupped the child’s face in her hand. “She’s burning up.”

“I know.” Tears pricked Livy’s eyes. Dear Lord, save this little one.

Mrs. Brooks took the child. “Stir the fire up again. Looks like we’re going to have a long night.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Livy’s heart ached. Lord, we need a miracle if this child is to survive.

Her tears overflowed as she thought of her sister’s baby. She would have been three by now. But Katie’s child had never seen the light of day, and Katie had died with the babe. Livy swiped at her tears and hurried to the stove. She didn’t have time to mourn a sister who’d lived on the streets and thought the young dockworker who’d professed love for her would take care of her and her child. He’d taken off as soon as he found out Katie carried his baby. Katie never heard from him again, and his abandonment sucked the life from her.

Livy didn’t blame her sister for the choices she’d made. More than once, Katie had held her close and whispered that as soon as she married, they’d have a real house to live in, with real beds and food to eat.

They’d enjoyed a pipe dream.

One Katie never woke from.



* * *





Livy, Mrs. Brooks, and Mary spent two days and nights taking care of the little girl and the other children. Two others came down with colds, making the entire lot of them grumpy.

On the third afternoon, Livy stood in the kitchen and surveyed the mess, hands on her hips. Dirty pots and pans from Mrs. Brooks’s steeped poultices littered every surface along with the dishes from breakfast and the noon meal. They were all exhausted from caring for a houseful of sick children. Even Seth seemed listless. Livy frowned. Could he be getting sick too? The last thing they needed was another sick child to deal with. She closed her eyes.

Forgive me, Lord. I didn’t mean it. We’ll take it one day at a time and take care of every last one of these children as long as we have strength in our bodies.

She turned to Mary. “Come on. Let’s get this kitchen cleaned up while the others are busy with their lessons.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Mary.” Livy gave the girl a quick hug. “You’re always willing to do whatever I ask.”

The girl ducked her head at the praise.

Livy washed while Mary dried, and soon they were down to scrubbing pots. “Do you miss going to school?”

Mary shrugged. “Some. But Mrs. Brooks teaches us just as much as Miss MacKinnion.”

“Really?” Livy scrubbed at a baked-on spot. “That’s good.”

“I miss seeing some of the girls, though.”

“Well, as soon as Sheriff Carter and the rest of the school board have their meeting, you should be back in school.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When they were done, Livy put Mary to work peeling vegetables. Livy chopped up the leftover ham from breakfast and dumped it in the pot. Later, she’d bake some corn bread, and they’d have a warm, filling supper tonight.

The jingle of a harness drew her attention. She dried her hands and hurried to open the door.

Jake’s mother and the preacher’s wife picked their way across the frozen ground, both bundled against the cold. A wagon sat in the alley, a man reaching into the back for something. Livy smiled as she recognized the set of Jake’s shoulders. A tingle of pleasure skittered down her spine when she spotted her black scarf wrapped around his neck. She shifted her gaze to the two women and realized she’d kept them standing outside.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Warren. Please come in.” She held the door wide, and the women stepped across the threshold.

“Thank you.”

They looked around the spotless kitchen, appreciation on their faces. Livy sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. How embarrassing if these ladies had seen such a mess.

“Can I take your coats?”

“Thank you, dear.”

The women placed large baskets on the table and unbuttoned their heavy outerwear. Jake’s mother smiled at her. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve brought a few things over from the church for the children.”

“Of course we don’t mind.” Livy could barely keep her eyes off the bounty. “We’re very grateful.”

“Jake has a couple more things to bring in.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Jake lugged in two large hampers filled with clothes and what looked like blankets. Livy itched to go through everything right there on the spot.

His gaze caressed her. “Afternoon, Livy.”

“Jake.” Her cheeks burned.

Livy turned to Mary, who stood silently by. “Ladies, this is Mary Gregory. She’s a huge help around here. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”

The ladies murmured greetings.

“My girls have really missed you at school.” Mrs. Russell smiled.

“I’ve missed them, too, ma’am.” Mary lowered her gaze, blushing.

“Mary, why don’t you tell Mrs. Brooks we have visitors?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mary left the room, and a few moments later Mrs. Brooks hurried into the kitchen, her hair and clothes in disarray, a tired smile creasing her face. She embraced both women. “Mrs. Warren, it’s so good to see you. You, too, Mrs. Russell. And Jake. I’m sorry we’re in such a dither around here, but someone dropped another little one off a few days ago. A darling child. She’s been at death’s door ever since.”

Mrs. Warren gasped. “Oh! Is there anything we can do to help? Did you send for the doctor?”

Mrs. Brooks looked pained. “I’m afraid there’s no money for a doctor.”

Livy moved to the stove and started brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“May I see her?” Mrs. Warren said. “And I’d dearly love to see the rest of the children.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Brooks glanced at Livy. “Bless you, Livy. I could use a fresh cup. Are there any of those tea cakes left?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wonderful. I hope you all will have a cup of coffee with us.”

“We’d love to.”

“Come along, then. I’ll introduce you to our latest addition. Mary’s sitting with her now.”

The women filed out, leaving Jake and Livy alone. Livy busied herself with the baskets, remembering the last time he’d stopped by and his insinuation that Lavinia might be jealous of her. With Livy’s past hanging over her head and Jake’s distrust of the street kids, Lavinia didn’t have a thing to worry about.

Jake leaned over and scratched the cat behind the ears. She purred in satisfaction. “Looks like she’s made herself at home. Ever settle on a name?”

Livy sorted the clothes into piles. “The girls insist on Ginger. Georgie and Seth are sticking to their guns with Tiger. I’m not sure which group will hold out the longest.”

Jake chuckled and leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze lingering on her face. “You look tired.”

Livy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to ignore the way his presence filled the kitchen. “You, too. Has something happened?”

“An old friend died.”

He looked so pained that Livy longed to soothe the frown from his brow. Instead, she reached for a child’s shirt and smoothed its wrinkles. “I’m sorry.”

“He lived a long life, but it’s still hard to see him go. He was a good man.” He cleared his throat. “But what about you? Looks like you and Mrs. Brooks have your hands full.”

“The little girl isn’t the only sick one. Georgie and Grace have the sniffles. We’re hoping and praying they don’t get any worse.”

“Ma and Mrs. Warren would be glad to help out. If you and Mrs. Brooks work yourselves to the bone and get sick, who’ll take care of the children?”

Livy smiled. “From what I remember, you and Sheriff Carter will get your turn.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. The sheriff’s going to get that mess with Lavinia sorted out as soon as they have a board meeting. We’re not going to have a bunch of young’uns running around the jail.”

“We’ll see. Mrs. Brooks doesn’t back down easily.”

Jake eyed her. She turned away and swallowed a smile. He and Sheriff Carter were too easy to tease when it came to dumping the children on their doorstep.

She put the tea cakes on a platter and carried them to the table. “So how’s Lavinia?”

“She’s fine as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering.”

A horrified look crossed his face. “What’s that battle-ax said now?”

Livy shook her head. “Nothing.”

Jake grunted, his face screwed up, looking like a horse chewing on a sour apple. Tingles spread out from Livy’s spine. If Jake felt anything at all for Lavinia, he sure didn’t act like it. Not that she wanted him to care about her. But what if he did? The thought sent an unexpected thrill through her, shocking her with its intensity.

Mrs. Brooks ushered their guests into the kitchen. The pastor’s wife put a hand on her arm. “Now listen, if she doesn’t get better by nightfall, you send for the doctor. We’ll figure out some way to pay the man. She’s such a little tyke. Please, Mrs. Brooks. I’d never forgive myself if she . . . if she died.”

Mrs. Brooks sniffed and wiped her eyes with her apron. The tender hug the preacher’s wife bestowed on her brought tears to Livy’s eyes as well. These women were kindhearted Christians, a lot like Mrs. Brooks. Everyone wasn’t like Mrs. Johansen and Lavinia MacKinnion.

Thank You, Lord, for sending someone our way who loves and cares for the orphans as much as we do.

Livy wiped her eyes and placed some saucers on the table with the tea cakes, along with several mugs and the pot of coffee she’d brewed. They sat, and Mrs. Brooks asked Mrs. Warren to say grace. Livy noticed the ladies took the smallest cookies on the platter, only one each, and nibbled daintily at them.

After pouring coffee for everyone, she placed a hand on Mrs. Brooks’s shoulder. “I need to go check on the children. They’ve been awfully quiet the last hour or so.”

“Oh, Livy, I’ll do that and you visit with our guests.” Mrs. Brooks folded her napkin and threw a glance at Jake. “I’m sure Jake would much prefer your company to mine.”

Livy resisted the urge to look at him. “That’s all right, ma’am. I’ll get the younger ones down for naps, and the older ones can color with some of that charcoal and old paper we salvaged from the newspaper.”

“All right. Thank you, dear.”



* * *





With effort, Jake forced his attention away from Livy’s retreating form and found Mrs. Warren eyeing him with speculation.

“That girl is going to make some lucky man a good wife one day,” she said, smirking.

Heat climbed the back of his neck. Mrs. Warren might be a godly woman, but she could spill a bucket of coal faster than anybody he’d ever seen. Mrs. Brooks needed Livy here. She didn’t have any business gallivanting off somewhere and marrying some sodbuster or coal miner.

“She’s been a godsend, I tell you. I don’t know what I would have done without her.” Mrs. Brooks sighed. “My husband died several years ago, and my health isn’t what it used to be. But there are always little ones who need care. I reckon as long as I have breath in my body and older girls like Livy and Mary to come alongside me and help, I’ll keep taking in strays.”

“What a blessing,” Jake’s mother said.

Jake agreed. Even in the midst of taking care of a houseful of children, Livy took the time to think of Mrs. Brooks, make a pot of coffee, and offer their guests tea cakes. Something simmered on the stove for the evening meal, the aroma making his mouth water. Probably Livy’s handiwork as well. She reminded him of that woman in the Bible, the one who always worked in the kitchen to feed Jesus and the rest of the disciples. Which one? Martha? Mary? He always got those two mixed up but figured Livy must be the one always cooking and cleaning. Never still.

“Both girls have worked awful hard the last few days. They haven’t enjoyed a minute’s rest. Poor Mary is looking a mite peaked.”

Jake’s mother laid a hand on Mrs. Brooks’s arm. “I have a wonderful idea. Sunday is Jake’s birthday, and I’m cooking dinner for him. I’d love for Livy and Mary to come visit. They can ride out with Jake. My girls have missed Mary at school, and the fresh air will do them good.” She glanced at him. “You don’t mind, do you, Jake?”

“I reckon—”

“Oh, I don’t know—” Mrs. Brooks shook her head.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Mrs. Warren chimed in. “I’ll come over and help you with the children. We’ll have a regular little Sunday school since Reverend Warren will be away preaching on the circuit.”

“Thank you both. I’m sure the girls will enjoy a break.”

The ladies sat back, looking extremely pleased with themselves.

Jake eyed his mother and Mrs. Warren. What were those two up to? Seemed like they were determined to throw him and Livy together. Not that he intended to complain, but he could find ways to see Livy without the two of them sticking their noses into his business.

That was, if he wanted to.