Stealing Jake

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.

“Hands up,” Lucky roared. “I don’t take kindly to people shooting up my saloon. The next shot won’t be over your head, mister.”

With Jake and Lucky drawing a bead on him, the stranger dropped his pistol and lifted his hands.

“Good thing I know to keep my head down, Lucky, or you would’ve blown it off!” Jake glared at the saloon keeper through the metal-gray swirl of spent gun powder and cigarette smoke.

Two spots of color blazed on Lucky’s cheeks. Nothing riled him up more than folks shooting up his saloon, even though he always did more damage with his shotgun than the rowdy crowd ever did with their six-shooters. Jake sighed. He’d stay mad for a month over this, and Jake would end up with a jail full of unfortunate souls who’d faced Lucky’s wrath. At least Lucky never shot anybody.

Yet. Jake could be thankful for that.

“I told them when they came in here that I wouldn’t put up with no trouble.” Lucky waved the shotgun in the general direction of the corner, and everybody ducked again. “Look at that wall.”

“He’s loco.” The gambler’s eyes widened, and his hands shot up another notch.

Lucky stalked around the end of the bar and rested his shotgun on the card table, the barrel pointed at the gambler’s midsection. Lucky’s cold, black eyes eased from the gambler to the pile of money and back again. “You gonna pay for all this damage?”

The gambler’s gaze shifted to Jake.

Jake shrugged. “It’s up to you, pardner.”

“Looks like I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

Lucky scooped up the cash and stuffed it down his shirt. “Remember that the next time you decide to pull a gun in the Golden Nugget. I don’t put up with such foolishness. Get him out of here, Jake.”

Will clambered to his feet looking bewildered by all the commotion. Jake collared him and hauled him and the stranger outside, taking a gulp of the brisk winter air. There’d be time enough later to send someone to fetch Sam McIver.



* * *





Gibbons stood beside the livery stable and watched Jake haul the McIver boy off to jail.

What a shame. McIver’s kid going to jail and all that. That plowboy turned deputy could’ve cut the youngster some slack. His gaze followed Jake as he half carried, half dragged the youngster toward the jail.

They’d all be better off if the deputy would do his job and catch those street kids, instead of spending all his time sparking that li’l gal over at the orphanage and hauling drunks who didn’t mean anybody any harm off to jail.

Gibbons walked away, pondering the situation.

If Sheriff Carter and his deputy didn’t show some progress in catching those street kids soon, he’d demand some changes.

After all, he had a business to run.



* * *





Once all the children were in bed and the kitchen was cleaned up, Livy eased into the bedroom. She donned her nightgown and slipped under the covers, shivering against the chill. Mary rolled over, the covers sliding to her waist. Livy pulled the blanket up around both of them and scooted closer to Mary’s back. Warmth seeped into her bones as she lay there thinking about Jake’s visit.

She relived the moment he’d touched her hair. He’d wanted to kiss her. She’d felt the tension in the air and wanted it too, but the very thought of falling in love terrified her. Marriage, childbirth—the whole idea made her break out into a cold sweat.

Livy had been spared from working the streets only because her sister had protected her as long as she could. By the time Livy grew old enough to attract the attention of men who preyed on pretty young street girls, Katie had insisted she dress like a boy and keep her hair lopped off. Since they didn’t have much more than baggy rags scrounged out of the garbage, the ruse hadn’t been hard to pull off.

Yes, Livy had been spared the attentions of men, but as her skills as a pickpocket and a crackerjack lock picker gained notoriety, they’d preyed on her in other ways. At first, she and Katie had hoped her skills would take them off the streets. But the more she stole, the more indebted she became to the ones who could turn on her like snarling dogs fighting over a piece of rotting meat.

Mary sighed and rolled over on her back. Livy stared at Mary’s sweet, innocent profile in the pale moonlight. Mary wouldn’t have lasted a week on the streets of Chicago.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Lord, help me. Help me forget. Tears sprang to the surface, and she blinked them back.

No, Lord, I didn’t mean it. I don’t ever want to forget. Help me remember so I can show girls like my sister there is a better way, that You stand with open arms, ready to forgive and forget, to offer a new and better life.

Livy’s heart pounded, and she breathed deep to calm herself. A pang of sorrow hit her. If they’d only met Mrs. Brooks years earlier. Mrs. Brooks would have taught Katie that succumbing to the pleadings of her beau would be her undoing.

Katie had been wrong. Like so many young girls before her. Livy didn’t want to see more girls fall into that trap. If what she’d learned on the streets of Chicago helped her save ten girls, five, or even one, Katie wouldn’t have died in vain.

And Livy was desperate to not let that happen.

Even if it meant staying away from Jake and the feelings he stirred within her. She’d do it if it killed her. She’d live her life at the orphanage, rescuing boys and girls thrown to the streets like yesterday’s garbage, showing them Christ’s love and His plan for their lives.



* * *





Livy skirted the gathering of men around the potbellied stove, disappointed not to see Jake among them. She lifted her chin and tamped down the feeling. She’d made a promise to herself last night to keep doing the work she felt called to do.

And a pair of twinkling green eyes and a crooked smile would not sway her from her purpose.

She didn’t see McIver, so she took the time to look at the cloth while she waited. She fingered a piece of dark-brown wool, daydreaming of the warm clothes she could make for the children if she had the funds to buy the material. She’d never match Mrs. Brooks’s skills as a seamstress, but she’d learned to sew tolerably well. Her fingers stilled when someone mentioned Jake’s name. The storyteller’s voice, tinged with excitement, wafted toward her.

“I was right there in Lucky’s—saw it with my own eyes. The gambler—somebody said he works in the Copper Penny mine—drew a bead on Jake, but Jake pushed young Will out of the way and dove for cover.”

Livy’s heart lurched in her chest. She grasped the shelf full of cloth, willing her head to stop spinning.

A shoot-out? No. Not Jake.

She forced her numb legs to move, to carry her toward the front of the store. She had to know if—

“If it hadn’t been for Lucky’s shotgun, we’d probably be burying ol’ Jake today.”

Livy stopped, hand clutched against her pounding heart. He was alive. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thankfulness.

A lifetime passed before her shaking limbs gathered strength again.

Someone almost shot Jake? When? It must have happened last night after he’d come by the orphanage. She’d determined not to talk to him or to even think about him. If she ignored him, then he’d lose interest in her, and . . . well, maybe he’d court Lavinia MacKinnion.

The thought made her heart ache even more.

She didn’t want him to court Lavinia MacKinnion. But on the other hand, she didn’t want him to court her either.

Did she?

“May I help you, ma’am?” Mr. McIver’s younger son, Abner, looked like he’d lost his best friend.

Livy stared back, struggling to remember what she’d come to town for. Gathering her wits, she gave him her order. Without a word, he collected the items and wrapped them up, and she realized why he looked so sad. The man had said Will was involved in the trouble last night.

She touched the boy’s arm. “Is Will all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. The deputy brought him home early this morning.” Tears filled the boy’s eyes, and he blinked, his face crumpling.

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled before bolting for the storeroom.

She left McIver’s, her heart heavy. What had happened last night? Abner couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell her anything. Feeble sunlight reflected off the windows of the jail across the street. Would Jake be there or at the boardinghouse? Should she check on him? She hesitated, her heart and head warring with each other.

Her head won, and she pulled her coat tight against the chill and headed toward the orphanage, her steps slow. He’d be fine. He had his mother and Miss Nellie from the boardinghouse to look after him.

And . . . and Lavinia.

She made it to the millinery shop before her heart pulled rank. She’d just make sure he was all right; then she’d go home. That was it. Nothing more. It was the Christian thing to do after all. And besides, Mrs. Brooks and the children would worry when they heard. She could give a more accurate report on his condition if she’d seen him firsthand.

As she neared the jail, her heart lodged in her throat, and her palms grew sweaty. And it didn’t have a thing to do with Jake. She’d never entered a police station willingly. She almost backed out on the spot, but what did she have to fear? She wanted to check on Jake, not turn herself in. Besides, she’d been washed clean of her past sins. She took a deep breath, reached out, and touched the knob. Best get it over with.

The room lay quiet and empty, so unlike the stations in Chicago. They’d been filled to the gills every time she’d been hauled inside, kicking and screaming. Chestnut’s jail, with its sparkling windows and clean-swept floors, didn’t resemble any she’d seen in Chicago. She moved to stand in the center of the room, pivoting in place.

Two battered desks, both littered with papers and wanted posters, sat across from each other with a half-open door between them leading to the back room. Disappointed not to find Jake, she turned to go but froze when a groan came from the back.

She eased toward the door and peered around it. As she’d suspected, all the cell doors stood ajar, and like the front, the barred cubicles were neat and tidy, the cots made. A soft snoring sounded to her left and she almost jumped out of her skin. Her gaze darted to the corner behind the door, housing a cot.

And Jake.

He lay on his side, head pillowed in the crook of his arm. Dark lashes curved against his cheekbones, and his lips parted slightly in sleep. He breathed in a deep, shuddering breath. Her heart turned over. He’d probably been up all night patrolling the streets of Chestnut while she slept—or at least tried to.

She sighed. She’d never cared if a copper might be tired from his job or in danger. She’d never pondered what they did when they weren’t working. Staying out of their way kept her more than occupied. There’d been way too many bad apples to trust the few good that were thrown in. But she’d learned some law officers were cut from a different cloth.

Like Jake.

When Jesus had filled her heart, He had helped her see the good in people where she’d never looked for it before. Back then, she’d been suspicious of Mrs. Brooks’s motives for helping her, but by the time she’d recovered enough to leave, she realized the woman was as good as her word, and she’d stayed. The girl she’d been two years ago wouldn’t have trusted Jake’s mother or Mrs. Warren or their reasons for being kind and generous.

But now she understood. Their actions mirrored Christ in their lives. They could do nothing else but be mothers to the motherless and fathers to the fatherless, much the same way Jesus had reached out to everyone He came into contact with.

Her gaze caressed Jake’s face one last time. She wouldn’t wake him. That would be too awkward. She only wanted to make sure he hadn’t been hurt, and he looked fine. She didn’t even know why she’d worried. If he’d been in grave danger, she would have heard at the mercantile. She turned to go and the hem of her cloak snagged on a mop propped against the wall. It clattered to the floor, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Or at least Jake.

He jumped to his feet like he’d been shot out of a cannon, his eyes wide. His hand slapped his empty holster for his gun.

Livy giggled. She couldn’t help it. She covered her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stop her laugher. “I’m sorry. I came by to see you, and you were asleep. Then . . .” She trailed off, motioning at the mop. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s all right.” Jake raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I dozed off for a bit.”

He looked all male with his dark hair mussed and his eyes heavy from sleep. Livy’s fingers itched to smooth the wayward strands into place. She swallowed and edged toward the door, reining in her thoughts and her runaway heart.

She needed to leave. Now.

“What did you want to see me about?” Jake cocked his head to one side and gave her a puzzled frown.

“Oh. That.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Coming to check on him had been a dim-witted idea, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She’d given in to worry, and now she’d gotten herself into a pickle. How could she explain?

He took a step toward her, all hint of sleep gone. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She bit her lip, looked away, then glanced back at him. The best thing would be to spit it out. “I heard over at the mercantile that you’d been shot at last night, and I was . . . uh . . . worried.”

“You were worried?” A slow grin spread across his face. He narrowed the gap between them, a teasing look in his eyes. “About me?”

“A little.” She sidestepped and waved a hand in dismissal. “You know, as a friend.”

“A friend?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, a friend.”

He moved closer, so close she could see the gold flecks in his green eyes. The teasing look on his face disappeared as his gaze flickered to her lips. “Livy, I’m not sure I want to be your friend.” His voice sounded low and husky.

She wanted to turn and run but felt she couldn’t move if her life depended on it. “Well, I—”

He reached out and pulled her toward him, lowering his face to hers. His lips covered hers, and she drank in the taste of his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer before slanting his lips against hers, deepening the kiss. As if of their own volition, her arms twined themselves around his neck and pulled him closer still. He pulled back and kissed the corner of her mouth, then lifted his head, his hooded gaze moving over her face.

“Just friends?” he whispered, his breathing as ragged as hers.

Tears sprang to Livy’s eyes, and she put a trembling hand to his lips. “Just friends.”

Then she disentangled herself, turned, and ran from the jail, struggling to keep the gathering tears from falling.