by Pam Hillman
“Livy, my mother died in childbirth when I was a girl, probably about the same age you were when your sister passed. I know the circumstances weren’t the same, but for a long, long time, I didn’t want to marry and have children. Then I met my dear Horace. God never saw fit to give us children of our own, but I wanted them. We both did. As you get to know Jake, and fall in love with him, God willing, you’ll feel the same.”
Livy nodded, blinking back tears, aching for her mentor’s loss as she ached for her own.
“I need to check on the children.” Mrs. Brooks hugged her. “Why don’t you set the table while I’m gone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Livy reached for a stack of plates, thinking about Mrs. Brooks’s words. The woman always saw the best in people. She couldn’t know that if Jake had his way, every street kid in Chestnut would be rounded up and shipped right back to Chicago.
Would he still care if he knew about her past?
A tear trailed down her cheek.
And if he did, would she be able to forget the horror of her sister’s death and embrace the hope a future with Jake would bring?
Did she dare try?
Was it worth the risk? The risk of her heart?
* * *
Jake splashed water on his face and stared in the chipped mirror over the washbasin, droplets dripping off his chin. What did Livy want from him? She’d enjoyed his kisses. No, she’d not only enjoyed them, she’d responded, giving as good as she got.
Then why did she insist she wanted to be friends and nothing more? What made her run like a scared rabbit every time she felt ensnared by the possibility of a relationship with him? Her past? What was she hiding?
He toweled his face, rubbing hard. He hadn’t been searching for love, hadn’t even thought about it. The last two years since his father’s death had been chaotic enough without adding a woman to the mix. His duties as deputy and riding out to the farm to help his ma with the chores barely left time to eat, let alone sleep.
Why did he even want to see more of Livy?
Because the thought of not seeing her turned his stomach into knots.
Thoughts of her filled his every waking moment. He saw her eyes in the blue ribbons bedecking the hats in the millinery shop, her reddish-brown curls in the sunset, heard her laughter in the birds’ singing.
And God help him, since Susie had presented the family with a brand-spanking-new baby boy, he’d even started thinking about a family of his own.
With Livy O’Brien smack-dab in the center of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Midafternoon, Gibbons leaned against a post in Ed McIver’s blacksmith shop, his horse dozing while the blacksmith shaped a pair of horseshoes. “Heard anything else from the sheriff about those street kids running loose?”
“Nope.” The blacksmith pounded the horseshoe, the sound of metal striking metal ringing throughout the open area of the shop.
“Don’t look like they’re doing much to find them.”
“You heard ’em in that meeting. Kinda hard to catch them if they don’t want to be found.”
“If Jake would spend more time doing his job instead of out at the family farm and making eyes at that girl from the orphanage, he’d get a lot more work done.”
“You think he’s sweet on her?”
“As sweet as honey.” Gibbons chewed on his cigar. “I just don’t think he’s doing much to find those kids.”
“You might be right about that.” Ed dropped the horseshoe into a bucket of water. The hot metal hissed and steam rose from the bucket.
Half an hour later, Gibbons rode away from the blacksmith shop, satisfied with the morning’s work. He’d planted seeds of doubt in Ed’s mind. With a little prodding, the hotheaded blacksmith could be depended on to do the rest.
* * *
The school board gathered at McIver’s Mercantile after closing time on Wednesday night. Sheriff Carter, Jake, Jesse Tatum, Mac MacKinnion, and Sam McIver sat around the potbellied stove, nursing hot cups of coffee strong enough to pass for liquid coal.
Jake eyed the rest of the men, his stomach growling. He’d missed the noon meal and could already taste the chicken and dumplings Miss Nellie’d promised him for supper. He scowled. If MacKinnion had put a stop to this nonsense when it started, there wouldn’t have been any need for discussion. And they could have saved Livy and Mrs. Brooks a lot of worry.
Livy.
Just the thought of her energized him, made him want to go out and conquer the world and lay it at her feet. Or at the very least sample the taste of her lips once again. He tapped his foot, impatient for Sam to get on with it. If this meeting went as planned, he might skip supper and stop by the orphanage instead.
Sam brought the meeting to order. “We all know why we’re here. Tom, you want to tell us what happened?”
Sheriff Carter stood. “Well, it was like this. Two of the boys from the orphanage got in a fight with Mac’s grandson, Billy. Seeing as how Billy is Lavinia’s nephew, she kicked all the orphans out of school.”
“Now hold on a minute.” Mac’s ruddy face turned as red as the glow from the coals in the stove. “The fact that Billy is Lavinia’s nephew didn’t have a thing to do with her turning those orphans out of school.”
“Then why didn’t she suspend Billy as well?”
“Well, he didn’t do nothing. They jumped him.”
“I saw the two boys. They’d definitely been in a scrape.”
“Anybody could have done that. It wasn’t Billy.” Mac shook his head. “Lavinia wouldn’t have played favorites.”
Jake barely held back a snort. Mac wore blinders concerning his daughter and grandson.
Jesse Tatum spoke up. “Mac, I hate to tell you, but Billy is the biggest bully at school. He runs roughshod over the other children, and Lavinia lets him.”
A fair man, Jesse Tatum wouldn’t have said anything unless he felt strongly about it, Jake knew. Mac caught Jake’s eye. “That true, Jake?”
Jake nodded. Mac probably didn’t even know how Billy’s ma had lorded it over the rest of them when they’d been kids. “Yep, that’s about the way it is. It’s gotten worse as Billy’s gotten older.”
Sheriff Carter leaned forward. “Mac, school’s going to be out from now on until after Christmas. Why don’t you talk to Lavinia and see if she’ll reconsider? I’d rather she take all the children back willingly, but if she doesn’t, then she’ll have to suspend Billy, too.”
Mac sighed. “All right. I’ll talk to her. Maybe the whole thing will blow over after Christmas.”
Thankful they’d made some headway in solving the school suspension, Jake couldn’t wait to tell Livy the good news. Halfway there, he spotted Gus and Little Bit, pulling a small cart filled with coal. The old man stopped at the millinery shop and shoveled the coal bin full for the spinster ladies, then whispered something in Little Bit’s long ear. The two of them set off again. Out of curiosity, Jake followed. Gus made a beeline for the widow Peterson’s house.
Jake moved into his line of vision.
Gus stopped dead still, gripping Little Bit’s lead rope like a lifeline. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Jake.” No matter how hard he tried not to startle Gus, it seemed he always did. He moved closer. “You need some help?”
When Gus didn’t say anything, Jake picked up a shovel.
“You gotta be real quiet,” Gus whispered.
Jake nodded slowly. “Okay. I will.”
Why did the old codger seem so intent on keeping his good deed a secret? Jake did as he was told and filled the bin, keeping the noise to a minimum. When they moved out of earshot of the building, Jake asked, “Where do you get the coal, Gus?”
“Here and there.”
“You’re not stealing it, are you?”
Gus’s eyes grew round. “No, sir, Mr. Jake. I’d never do that.”
“All right. Then where you getting it?”
“You promise not to tell?” The old ma
n squinted at him.
“As long as you’re not stealing it, I promise.”
“I’ve got my own coal mine.”
“You do? Well, I’ll be.”
“But don’t tell. If the other miners knew about it, they’d come steal it; then I couldn’t give Miss Maisie and Miss Janie and the others enough coal to keep ’em warm.”
“All right. I won’t tell.” Gus must have found a small deposit, or he’d be selling coal to the speculators shipping it to Chicago. “Do the ladies know you’re filling their coal bins for them?”
Gus shrugged.
Jake took that to mean no.
Gus and Little Bit kept plodding toward their cabin on the outskirts of town. Jake watched him for a minute, noticing the way Gus’s britches hung on him.
“Hey, Gus.” Jake loped after him. “Can you spare some coal for the jail?”
Gus studied him, considering. “I reckon.”
“Good. Bring some over in the morning, and I’ll have Miss Nellie fix up an extra breakfast. You like bacon or sausage?”
A shy smile lit Gus’s face. “Both.”
Jake laughed. “Both it is.”
He headed over to the orphanage and was disappointed to find Livy wasn’t home. Jake relayed the message to Mrs. Brooks that Mac planned to have a talk with Lavinia, then left for the boardinghouse.
When had Livy’s happiness become so important to him? His stride faltered. No other woman had ever made him feel like she did. Was it her smile, the tilt of her chin when she laughed, her hair, her eyes, her compassion for children?
Jake didn’t have a clue, but one thing he did know.
He wanted to see her again. Soon.
* * *
Livy held her skirt high enough to keep it out of the mud. She’d been to every decrepit shop in town today, asking about the street kids. Nobody knew their whereabouts or what, if anything, they might be eating. One kind woman admitted to giving them some food but couldn’t tell Livy anything else.
She stepped inside a ramshackle building touting itself as a café. Not much more than a shack, but the interior looked clean as a freshly laundered shirt. Rough tables and benches crowded the room, waiting for customers. A middle-aged woman, gray hair pulled into a tight bun, labored over the stove, her movements quick and sure.
Ham sizzled, and the aroma of brewed coffee lay like a soothing blanket over the room. The woman pulled a pan of hot biscuits, glowing golden brown, from the oven. If her food tasted as good as it smelled, she’d have all the customers she could handle.
“Good evening.”
The woman glanced up, barely taking a moment to acknowledge her. “Evening.”
“I’m Livy O’Brien, from the orphanage on the other side of town.”
“Name’s Emma. I heard about the new orphanage.” She smiled. “God bless you for taking care of the little ones.”
“You’re a Christian, then?” Livy didn’t remember seeing Emma in church, but she’d been busy helping Mrs. Brooks with the children. When she could take her eyes off Jake, that was.
“Yes, I am. God’s been good to me. I can’t complain.” She kept working, not wasting a moment. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for some boys who’ve been living on the streets.”
“You and everybody else, it seems.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t mind me. But everybody’s looking for those youngsters, thinking they’re stealing stuff. Maybe they are, and maybe they ain’t, but I feel sorry for them just the same.”
“So you know them? You know where they are?”
“I don’t know about that, but one of the boys comes by every few days and buys a loaf of bread or two.”
“Is he one of them?” Livy stepped closer, a hitch of breathless excitement fluttering through her.
“He doesn’t say much except to ask for bread. And the few times I’ve asked questions, he clams up right quick and takes off.”
Seeing Emma’s harried movements, Livy blurted out, “I’m looking for work.”
The woman paused and pushed strands of hair back from her forehead. “The pay’s not much.”
“That’s okay.”
Emma jerked her head toward the back. “Well, come on, girl. Those miners’ll be here any minute. You know how to make ham gravy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Livy grinned and took off her gloves and cloak.
“Here you go, then.” Emma handed Livy a bowl of flour and pointed at the stove.
Three hours later, Livy hurried into the orphanage, her first wages in her pocket. She passed through the empty kitchen and found Mrs. Brooks and the others in the parlor, getting ready for bed.
Mrs. Brooks looked relieved. “Livy, I was getting worried. It’s been dark for hours. Where have you been?”
Giddy with excitement, Livy pressed the small amount of cash into Mrs. Brooks’s hand. “I got a job. My first job.”
Mrs. Brooks’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. Where?”
“Emma’s Place.”
The wide smile left Mrs. Brooks face. “What exactly is Emma’s Place?”
Livy hugged her, her excitement overflowing. “Oh, don’t worry. Emma cooks breakfast and supper for some of the miners. I can work a few hours in the morning and a few in the evenings and still be able to help out here during the day. And she said Mary could work too.”
Mrs. Brooks shook her head. “Mary’s too young. She needs to keep up with her lessons.”
“Oh, mornings aren’t as busy as the evening meal. She said she’d just need Mary in the evenings.”
“Oh, could I, Mrs. Brooks?” Mary asked, her face glowing. “We could use the money.”
Mrs. Brooks pursed her lips. “I suppose.”
Mary squealed and hugged her. Gracie ran to Livy, tripping over the hem of a too-long hand-me-down nightgown. Livy picked her up and swung her around. Soon, all the children were jumping up and down laughing, most of them not even knowing or caring about the reason for the excitement.
Livy laughed, happier than she’d ever been. She was making an honest wage doing honest work for a God-fearing woman.
She laughed and twirled with Gracie again. It felt good to be able to hand Mrs. Brooks a few dollars to help keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.
Even better than when she’d fingered a mark and scored big.
* * *
Jake eyed the uneven spindles he’d made, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Old man Jacobson had let him use his shop to make a chair for Gus. Jake assured him he didn’t need any help, and Jacobson had gone home for the evening. Now he wished he’d agreed to the old man’s instruction. He’d be here until Easter at this rate.
The door opened, and Sam McIver walked in. “Evening, Jake. Sheriff Carter said I’d find you here.” He eyed the pieces of the chair Jake planned to make. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“Spindles for the back of a chair.” Jake scratched his head. “Maybe I should stick to carving.”
“Nah. We can fix this.” Sam rolled up his sleeves and set to work.
Jake watched as Sam made all his spindles the same length, then planed them down where they were all equal diameter. They worked on the chair for a few minutes in silence, Jake watching Sam’s every move.
“I didn’t know you could make furniture.” Jake handed him a saw.
Sam shrugged. “I can put together a decent chair and table, but nothing to compare with what Jacobson can do.”
He marked the places for holes in the seat and handed Jake the hand drill. “Here, this should make holes small enough. We can whittle them out a bit if we have to.”
They were sanding the pieces when Sam spoke up, his voice low and thoughtful. “Amazing how you knew what you wanted when you started this chair and yet each piece turned out so differently.”
Jake glanced at him, noticing the somber expression on the man’s face. Jake concentrated on a rough spot on a spindle, buffing it smooth. He ran his ha
nd down the wood, pleased with the texture. “What’s on your mind, Sam?”
“Where’d I go wrong, Jake?”
“With Will?”
Sam hung his head. “His mother and I tried to teach him right from wrong, but he’s bound and determined to do everything we’ve ever told him not to do. I’m grateful to you for bringing him home the other day, but it hasn’t done any good. If anything, he’s worse than he was before.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Sam started fitting the chair together, sanding the legs down just enough that they’d fit tight into the seat. Soon, the chair took shape. Sam talked and Jake listened, knowing the man needed an understanding ear.
“He’s come in drunk a couple of nights this week, and he says he’s tired of working for me in the mercantile. He keeps threatening to go to work in the mines.” Sam gave a nervous laugh, sounding anything but amused. “He doesn’t realize how easy he’s got it.”
“None of us ever do.”
“I could take it if he just wanted to work in the mines, but this drinking and gambling is killing his mother.”
Jake handed Sam another piece of the chair. “I reckon raising kids is like making this chair. It didn’t turn out like I expected, but I didn’t give up on it either.” Jake clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Well, I might have if you hadn’t come along. Don’t give up on him. He’ll come around.”
Sam smiled. “I hope you’re right, Jake. We’ve done a sight of praying for him, and I don’t want to see him going down the wrong road.”
Jake thought back to his early years, when he’d been ready and willing to try everything that came his way. He hadn’t had any money to blow on whiskey or gambling, but he’d given his mother grief in more ways than one. Young Will faced so much more temptation these days. But he still deserved a chance.
Just like the street kids.
Jake stopped sanding. He swiped at the wood again. If the kids were stealing from the merchants, there wouldn’t be much he could do to help them, but maybe Livy was right. Didn’t they deserve the opportunity to prove themselves just like anyone else?