Stealing Jake (17 page)

“Don’t worry.” Jake tilted her chin up. “I’ll let you know how they’re doing as soon as I can, okay?”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip and her chin trembled.

“Now don’t get all teary-eyed on me again.”

She sniffed, a faint smile brightening her face. “I won’t.”

He kissed her on the forehead and gave her one last hug, then picked up the reins. “Giddyap.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. The streets were practically deserted on this cold Sunday afternoon. Jake stopped the team in front of the orphanage and helped Livy down. He held her by the shoulders, willing her to look at him.

She lifted her eyes, a questioning look on her face.

His gaze went to her lips before rising to capture her misty blue eyes again. He pulled her toward him. “Livy, I—”

“Not yet. Please.”

She touched his face, the tips of her fingers featherlight against his shadowed jaw. Then she drew out of his arms, turned, and hurried toward the front porch.

Jake watched her go, his heart heavy. Did she feel
anything
for him? She’d said, “Not yet.” That meant something, didn’t it? She opened the door and glanced back at him, wiggling her fingers in farewell, a soft smile on her lips. Jake jumped into the wagon, slapped the reins against the horses’ backs, and filled his lungs with a gulp of fresh, cold air.

A wave, a smile, and a “Not yet.”

That left a lot of hope for the future.

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.