Stealing Jake

CHAPTER Twenty-Nine



The orphanage blazed with light on Christmas Eve. The girls were thrilled with their corn-husk dolls, and the boys galloped their wooden horses around the parlor, filling the room with joy and laughter. Livy kept an eye on the children they’d rescued from the mines. They weren’t as rambunctious as Seth and Georgie, but she figured it would only be a matter of time before they whooped and hollered with the rest of the children.

A knock sounded at the door, and she wove through the crowded room to answer it. Who could that be? It seemed the entire town had already been by to offer them Christmas cheer. She shifted a platter of cookies to her left hand and opened the door to find Smitty and Lavinia MacKinnion. The shock of seeing the two of them together almost made her drop the cookies.

Miss MacKinnion smiled. “Good evening, Miss O’Brien. Detective Schmidt graciously offered to escort me over so I could bring the children some sweets for Christmas.” Her smile faltered and uncertainty clouded her eyes. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Livy took the bag of candy Lavinia held out and glanced at Smitty. “I thought you’d gone back to Chicago.”

His gaze flickered toward Lavinia, and a flush stole over his long, thin face. “I decided to come back for a few days until Sheriff Carter gets back on his feet.”

“That’s wonderful. Jake sure could use a hand.”

Livy held the door wide and ushered them into the front room, unable to keep from staring as the two made their way to Mrs. Brooks’s side. She shook her head as she placed the cookies on the table, already groaning with food. Miss MacKinnion and Smitty? Who would have ever thought it?

She turned toward the kitchen.

Jake’s lazy gaze met hers across the sea of children milling about the room. He gave her a lopsided smile. Warmth that had nothing to do with the overheated room surged through her. She’d barely seen him in the last couple of days. He’d gone with Smitty to take Sharp, Gibbons, and the rest of his goons to Chicago, and she’d been helping get all the children settled in at the orphanage. There’d been no time for anything else.

He moved, making his way toward her, his green-eyed gaze intent on hers. Livy held her breath. When he reached her side, he didn’t even pause. He laced his fingers in hers and led her from the room. Her heart pounded so loud, she feared the entire gathering heard it.

He pulled her into the privacy of the kitchen, shut the door, and looped his arms around her waist. She shivered at his touch and rested her hands on his shoulders.

Sighing, she traced a cut along his jaw. The bruises were fading, the cuts healing. Her heart flipped alarmingly at the thought that she’d almost lost him.

Thank You, Lord, for keeping him safe.

A tiny smile kicked up one side of his mouth. “Light-Fingered Livy O’Brien, huh?”

Livy swatted his arm, her face flaming. “I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?”

“Nope. Probably not.”

Jake sobered, tilting her chin, his eyes capturing and holding hers. “Livy, I don’t care who you were before you came to Chestnut. I know who you are now, and that’s the Livy O’Brien I love.”

“I love you, too.” Livy’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t hold the tears at bay. “I never dreamed I would fall in love or that anyone would ever love me back.”

Jake cupped her face in both hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. Then he drew her forward, tilting her face to meet his. His kiss melted her heart and left her longing for more.

He rested his forehead against hers, and she let herself drown in the soft, tender look in his green eyes.

“You stole my heart the first day I met you,” he whispered. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

Her fingers, light as a butterfly’s touch, tangled themselves in his hair and pulled him to her.





Acknowledgments


I’m in awe of the amazing team at Tyndale House who can take a lump of coal in the form of a manuscript and turn it into a beautiful work of art worthy of publication. The acquisitions team, editing, marketing, sales, administration—the list goes on and on. Each of you adds sparkle to this book, and I thank you for your individual touch. Special thanks to Jan Stob, senior acquisitions editor, for welcoming me into the Tyndale family. It’s been a joy to work with you all.

Even though romantic-suspense author Robin Caroll doesn’t read historicals as a general rule, she’s willing to suffer anything for a friend, and she’s got an awesome eye for burrowing deeper into a character’s motivation and conflict. I owe many, many parts of Stealing Jake to her plotting expertise, but especially Luke’s gut-wrenching life story. Thank you. For everything.

In the early stages of plotting this manuscript, Tracey Bateman suggested I move this story from Wyoming Territory to a rough Illinois town on the outskirts of Chicago. It made all the difference! Thanks, Tracey. Special thanks to the Seekers: encouragement, critiques, brainstorming, the totally hilarious titling sessions, hand holding, pity parties limited to twenty-four hours, and ecstatically happy parties in Seekerville. Almost every one of you read part or all of Stealing Jake at one time or another, some more than once. To some of the best friends—nay, sisters—a girl can have: Mary, Julie, Janet, Debby, Missy, Tina, Audra, Ruth, Myra, Sandra, Glynna, Camy, Cheryl, and Cara. Leave no woman behind.

American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) is my home away from home throughout the year and even more so every September at the annual conference. I can’t imagine not having all of you in my life. What a blessing the loops, chapters, contests, and conference are. If it takes a village, ACFW is a shining city built on a hill.

Thanks to my agent, Steve Laube, a man immersed in the publishing industry. When he speaks, I listen. I might not always understand, but I definitely listen!

I owe a huge debt of thanks to my extended family, who always believed in me, and to my husband, Iran, and my sons, Sean and Darin. The three of you put up with a lot of quick meals and a house that wasn’t always spotless to let me pursue my dream. I couldn’t ask for a better husband and children to share my life with.

I don’t know how my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and my heavenly Father decide these things, but I’m honored that storytelling is the gift I was born with. It seems trite to thank You for that, but it’s one of the most treasured gifts I’ve ever received. I can’t imagine wanting to do anything else.





About the Author


Award-winning author Pam Hillman writes inspirational fiction set in the turbulent times of the American West and the Gilded Age. Her debut book, Stealing Jake, won the American Christian Fiction Writer’s Genesis contest and is a finalist in Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart contest. She lives in Mississippi with her husband and family. Visit her website at www.pamhillman.com.