Stealing Jake

CHAPTER Twenty-Six



Jake spotted the stranger a stone’s throw from the jail.

His gaze narrowed. No, not a stranger. He’d seen the man at the train station the day he’d inspected Gibbons’s railcar.

The man limped toward him, dressed in a suit and a wool overcoat with a cane clasped in his right hand. They met at the jail. A jagged scar raced down one side of the man’s face. A pair of pale-blue eyes flickered to the sign over the door and back to Jake.

“Afternoon. What can I do for you?”

“Jimmy Sharp. Victor Gibbons’s lawyer.”

Jake jerked his head toward the door. “Come on in, then. He’s inside.”

Sharp insisted on seeing his client alone. Sheriff Carter gave them ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, Sharp came out, his gaze spearing Jake before settling on Sheriff Carter. “I need to see the judge about making bail.”

He was soft-spoken, but Jake could sense the steel that lay beneath the words. Maybe such steel made the man a good lawyer. But if Gibbons was guilty of everything Jake suspected him of, Sharp would have a hard time proving his client innocent.

Sheriff Carter shuffled some paperwork. “You’ll have to wait. Judge Parker won’t be back until Monday.”

The lawyer stared at them, his eyes cold and calculating. “I’ll be back on Monday, then.”

He turned to leave, and the door opened. A tall man, whipcord thin, stepped inside. The lawyer and the newcomer squared off immediately, the tension so thick, it rippled through the jail like an unexpected blizzard. The newcomer pulled his coat back to reveal a six-gun strapped to his leg. “Sharp, what are you doing here?”

“Meeting with my client.” The lawyer didn’t even try to hide his disdain for the other man. “You got a problem with that, Detective Schmidt?”

“Not as long as you don’t do anything illegal while you’re here.”

“Move aside, then, and let me pass.”

The detective stared him down for a long moment and finally stepped to the side. “I’ll be watching you, Sharp.”

The lawyer laughed. “You do that.”

After Sharp left, Sheriff Carter shuffled toward the hatchet-faced detective and pumped his hand in a hearty handshake. “Smitty, it’s good to see you.” He turned to Jake. “I’d like you to meet my right-hand man, Jake Russell. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

The detective’s shrewd gaze raked Jake from head to toe and back again. One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Looks like you came close to finding out.”

Sheriff Carter laughed. “It’ll take more than a couple of Gibbons’s goons to get rid of Jake.”

The smile faded faster than snow on a hot day. “Gibbons? As in Victor Gibbons?”

“You know him?”

“Know him? His brother’s one of the smoothest operators out of Chicago. Took over from their father. I’ve been trying to pin something on the Gibbons family for years.”

“Sharp’s his lawyer.”

Smitty grunted. “Figures. Two peas in a pod.”

“That you, Smitty?” Gibbons called out.

“Yeah.” Smitty moved to where he could see the prisoner and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Well, Gibbons, looks like we’ve got you this time.”

“’Fraid not, Smitty.” Gibbons laughed. “Like I told the deputy out there, they don’t have a shred of evidence against me.”



* * *





Busy didn’t even begin to describe Emma’s Place on Saturday night. The miners sat shoulder to shoulder, lingering longer than usual, eating and rehashing the fire from the night before. Livy kept their coffee cups full and her ears open.

“I heard Gibbons was using young’uns for labor. Brought ’em in from Chicago and made ’em work day and night. Treated ’em like slaves, he did.”

“How’d he get away with that? Seems like somebody would have talked.”

“They worked, ate, and slept in the factory.” The miner snorted. “Well, mostly worked. I don’t think they got much food or sleep. Nobody knew they were there except for Gibbons and his crew.”

“Gibbons better hope he stays in jail. He might have an accident if he finds his way back to shantytown again, if you get my drift.”

A low growl of agreement ringed the table.

“What happened to them kids? They didn’t die in the fire, did they?”

“No. Sheriff Carter said nobody was in there. Nobody knows where they are.”

The miners kept eating. They were probably trying to wrap their minds around the possibility that Gibbons had silenced the children forever. She’d known some cruel men, but that kind of brutality went beyond her worst imaginings.

Please, Lord, let them be alive.

She hurried to the kitchen to grab two more pots of coffee. She turned away from the stove, both hands full, and spotted Jimmy Sharp at the door. Her knees almost buckled. She retreated behind the curtain separating the kitchen from the eating establishment before he saw her.

What was he doing in Chestnut? She could only think of one reason.

Gibbons might not have the guts to kill a passel of kids, but Jimmy Sharp wouldn’t think twice about it. She’d heard horror stories of how he got rid of his enemies by tying weights to their feet and dumping them into the Chicago River.

He hid behind his position as a lawyer, but he was one of the most vicious crime bosses in Chicago. She couldn’t take the chance he might recognize her. He’d been in court a number of times when she’d been brought before the judge.

“Mary, could you pour the rest of the coffee? I’ll wash dishes for a while.”

Mary grinned and reached for a towel. “Be glad to. I’m purely sick and tired of washing dishes.”

Livy stayed behind the curtain, washed dishes, and kept an eye on Sharp. His presence in Chestnut couldn’t be an accident, and she intended to find out exactly why he’d come to town. She followed him when he left the café, keeping to the shadows as he crossed the street and headed down one alley after another. He stopped in front of a saloon. Livy melded with the shadows as he looked to the left and to the right, then limped into a narrow alley between the saloon and a saddle shop. Livy darted down an adjacent garbage-strewn alley. At the other end, she spotted the glow of a cigarette and heard low voices. She eased forward and crouched between two crates, careful not to make a sound.

Sharp stood with two men, his sparse frame small compared to their hulking stances. Livy shivered. Sharp’s lean build had led many in Chicago to underestimate him. And most hadn’t lived to tell about their lapse in judgment.

“What do you want us to do with all them young’uns? Just leave ’em in the mine?”

Fear mixed with thankfulness clutched Livy. At least the children were still alive. For how long was anybody’s guess.

“Blow up the mine.” Sharp’s unemotional voice came out colder than an Illinois winter. “As far as most folks know, it’s closed because of that explosion a couple of years ago.”

“And then what?”

“Get out of town. As soon as I spring Gibbons, we’ll cut our losses here. Chestnut’s too small to do business without drawing attention to ourselves. I told Victor that, but he wouldn’t listen.”

The men separated, Sharp heading back the way he’d come, the two men going in the opposite direction. Livy waited a full five minutes before leaving her hiding place. She followed the path the goons took, choosing the lesser of two evils, in her rush to get back to Main Street.

Livy burst into the jail, winded from running the entire distance from shantytown. Jake jumped to his feet, the pained look on his face clearly showing he’d moved too fast for his bruised and battered body. She didn’t see Sheriff Carter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jimmy Sharp’s in town.”

“The lawyer? He came by here earlier today.” He gestured toward the cells. “Spent some time with Gibbons.”

Livy snorted. “He may be a lawyer, but he’s a crook and a murderer first. I overheard him telling Gibbons’s men to blow up a mine.” Tears filled her eyes. “And those kids are in the mine. They’re going to shut them up for good and then get out of town.”

He grabbed her arms. “Which mine?”

“He said something about an explosion a couple of years ago. How many mine accidents has Chestnut had?”

“Only one.” Jake’s jaw hardened. “The Black Gold mine. The mine was so unstable after the explosion that we boarded up the entrance.”

“We’ve got to stop them.”



* * *





Jake eyed Livy as he tried to decide on the best course of action. Making a snap decision, he propelled her toward the door. “Go to the boardinghouse, and tell Harvey and Smitty to meet me at the mine. Harvey knows the way. Oh, and tell Miss Nellie to send Sam here to the jail. If Sharp’s as dangerous as you say, I don’t want to leave Sheriff Carter alone.”

“Be careful.” Livy’s hand rested against his shirt, the heat of her palm branding his heart.

He hauled her into his arms and hugged her tight, ignoring the pain in his ribs. “You too. Now go.”

As she hurried to the door, he called out, “You stay with Miss Nellie, you hear?” He thought she nodded but couldn’t be sure. As soon as she’d gone, he went to the cot where Sheriff Carter dozed. “Sheriff, something’s come up. I’ve got to go.”

“What is it?” Sheriff Carter struggled to a sitting position, pulled on his boots, and followed Jake into the office.

Jake shut the door to the cells and outlined Sharp’s plans as quickly as possible.

The sheriff reached for his gun belt. “I’ll go. You’ve already tangled with these fellers once.”

“It’s a tough trek out to that mine.” Jake caught and held the sheriff’s gaze.

Sheriff Carter’s eyes blazed. “I know it, but you need my help if we’re going to save those kids.”

“Smitty’s meeting me at the mine. And I’ve sent for McIver to come here to the jail.”

“Good. McIver can take care of Gibbons.” The sheriff grabbed a shotgun and filled his pockets with shells. “Saddle a couple of horses. We’ll ride part of the way.”



* * *





Jake crouched in the shadows near the Black Gold mine, his entire body aching. He ignored the pain. A bunch of kids’ lives were at stake, which meant more than a few bruises and broken ribs.

Sheriff Carter hunkered down near him, his labored breathing loud in the silence. They’d left the horses and walked the last half mile. The sheriff shouldn’t have come, but as sheriff, he felt responsible for those kids. Jake could understand his determination to do whatever it took to save them.

Gibbons’s thugs were nowhere to be seen, but the boards had been ripped from the entrance, so they’d been here and might still be inside.

Simply looking at the gaping black hole made him break out in a cold sweat. He knew this mine as well as anybody alive other than Gus. It boasted more twists and turns than poison on an oak tree. If those kids were to survive, he’d have to find them and lead them out. But could he force himself to go inside?

He didn’t have a choice, did he?

Two men who looked like the two he’d tangled with the night before came out of the entrance, pouring a stream of black powder on the ground. In a matter of minutes, they’d strike a match and blow the entrance.

Where were Smitty and Harvey? They couldn’t wait any longer.

The sheriff tapped Jake on the shoulder and motioned for him to track around behind the men. Jake slid silently through the underbrush, easing closer. In position, he waited for Sheriff Carter to make the next move.

A match flared, and Jake’s heart leapt. They were out of time. What was taking the sheriff so long?

Sheriff Carter stepped into the open, his shotgun trained on the men. “Put your hands in the air. You’re under arrest.”

The man with the match dropped the flame to the black powder and went for his gun. A sizzling stream of fire zigzagged like lightning toward the entrance to the mine. Jake dove for the black powder line in the rocky sand. Before he hit the ground, he saw Sheriff Carter’s eyes go wide, one hand clutching his chest as he staggered backward. The double-barreled shotgun fell from his limp fingers.

Oh, God, no!

Jake’s body severed the line of powder as the blaze sputtered toward him. Praying he’d done all he could to stop the path of the flame, he rolled and came up with gun in hand.

Too late.

He stared into the emotionless face of the man who held a pistol against the sheriff’s pasty-white temple. Jake sought the sheriff’s pain-glazed eyes.

“Don’t worry ’bout me, Jake. Do what you gotta do.”

“Shut up, old man.” The one with the gun pinned Jake with a hard look. “Toss your gun over here.”

Jake hesitated.

The man cocked his pistol. “Do it. Now.”

The thug would blow the sheriff’s head off without any more thought than he’d give to squashing a bug. Jake tossed his gun on the ground. The second man palmed it and pressed it into the small of Jake’s back.

Sheriff Carter clutched his chest and groaned. Jake surged toward him only to be jerked back. “Can’t you see he’s dying?”

The man let go of the sheriff’s collar, and he slumped to the ground in a heap, unmoving. “No different than if I’d shot him, I reckon.” He leveled the cocked gun at Jake. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you? Well, this time there won’t be no coming back.”

Jake squinted at the thug, intent on finally getting a good look at him. A wide face, scarred and battered, with a misshapen nose. The face of a prizefighter. Jake winced. No wonder his fist packed the power of a sledgehammer.

So this is it, Lord? I’m going to die? Leaving Ma, Tommy, and the girls to fend for themselves. And the kids in the mine. Even if I can’t get to them, send someone else. They don’t deserve this. And Livy.

Oh, Lord, Livy.

His heart shattered into a million pieces. He’d hoped to ask her to marry him, to have children with her, to grow old together. But it would never happen.

“No, don’t shoot,” the second man said. “I’ve got a better idea. Throw him in the mine with the others. He can enjoy a long, slow death if the explosion doesn’t get him first.”

A grin slashed across the wide face of the prizefighter, and he laughed, a low, guttural sound that left Jake in no doubt he relished killing. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

Jake tried to jerk away as the prizefighter slammed the pistol against his temple. They grabbed him by the arms and hauled him into the mine. Jake fought to remain conscious, his only thought to save Sheriff Carter and the kids.

He came to inside the shaft and lurched to his feet, holding on to the damp rock walls. How long had they been gone? If he headed out the entrance, they’d shoot or set off the powder with him right on top of it.

Making a quick decision, he turned and staggered deeper into the mine to get as far away from the explosion as he could.

Save us all, Lord.



* * *





Harvey led the way, Detective Schmidt and Livy following. They crashed through the underbrush of a winding, overgrown trail leading to the abandoned mine. The men had tried to get her to wait in town, but she couldn’t, not knowing if Jake and the children were all right. She felt a twinge of remorse. Jake had told her to stay with Miss Nellie. The Bible said she was to submit to her husband, but they weren’t married yet. She vowed she’d do what he said once he popped the question.

“It’s up ahead, around the bend from Gus’s cabin.” Harvey panted, his face ruddy from the exertion of climbing the steep hillside.

Smitty put a hand on Harvey’s arm. “Let’s go slow from here on out. Remember, there are two men, possibly three, working for Gibbons and Sharp. Trust me, they won’t hesitate to kill us if they get the chance.”

Harvey nodded and fell back, letting Smitty take the lead. Moments later, Harvey tapped the detective on the arm and pointed. The opening of the mine yawned before them, a dark hole leading to a pitch-black interior.

Livy shivered, aching for the children.

They’d endured a brutal life in Chicago; then Gibbons had made it even more horrible by enslaving them to work in the glove factory before dumping them in the mine like rotten garbage. Gibbons might be in jail, but with Sharp making the decisions now, they didn’t stand a chance.

Smitty hissed, “Get down.”

Livy and Harvey didn’t have to be told twice. They ducked low while Smitty crept forward. Livy strained to see what drew his attention. Jake? Or Gibbons’s men? Sharp?

“Stop!”

She jumped as Smitty yelled and took off running.

The next few seconds were a blur. Smitty crashed through the underbrush toward two men silhouetted in the clearing. A line of flame shot toward the mine.

Livy’s horrified gaze tracked the sizzling path of the flame.

“No!”