by Pam Hillman
She couldn’t resist the teasing glint in his eyes or the snickers from the girls. She reached for her cloak. “All right. Mary, tell Mrs. Brooks I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sun shone bright and cheerful after so many dreary days of snow-laden clouds. Livy smiled, soaking up the warmth.
Jake helped her into a wagon, climbed up, and headed toward town. He motioned to the wagon bed, where two straight-back chairs lay. “Those are for Gus.”
Livy smiled. “He’ll be so happy.”
Jake reached for a burlap sack at his feet. “And these are for the boys. I didn’t want to take them inside. I was afraid Georgie’s curiosity would get the best of him.”
Livy opened the sack and pulled out a wooden horse, the intricate carving revealing how much time and effort Jake had put into this one piece. “Oh, Jake, it’s perfect.”
“It’s a good thing I made so many pieces to begin with. I finished two more this morning, so I think there’s enough to go around.”
“Thank you. You’ll come over on Christmas Eve, won’t you? I want you there when they open their presents.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” His eyes twinkled, making Livy wonder what he had in mind.
As they neared the middle of town, a commotion broke out on the other side of the jail, close to the barbershop. Shopkeepers swarmed out of their businesses heading that way. Jake pulled the wagon up short and set the brake.
“Wait here,” he said, jumping down and hurrying toward the crowd.
Livy didn’t hesitate. She hiked her skirts, jumped out of the wagon, and took off after him, pushing her way through the throng. She came to a screeching halt when she saw the source of the noise. Smitty pulled Jimmy Sharp toward the jail, the lawyer cursing a blue streak and fighting against the handcuffs chaffing his wrists.
“Come on, Sharp. You’ve managed to get out of more than one scrape in Chicago, but not here. Gibbons and his boys are singing like canaries in there, so I don’t think you’re going to worm your way out of this one.”
Sharp jerked against the handcuffs. Smitty yanked him back around, and the lawyer came face-to-face with Livy. His sudden stillness caught Smitty’s attention, and the detective stopped. A sardonic grin split Sharp’s face.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Livy O’Brien.” He cut his gaze back to Smitty. “Hey, Detective, if you want to make the headlines in the Chicago Tribune, she’s the one you should arrest.”
Smitty turned Sharp toward the jail. “Aw, shut up, Sharp. I’ve heard about all of your jawing I can stand. I’ll let you and Gibbons cuss at each other for a while.”
“You don’t want to hear about Light-Fingered Livy O’Brien? The best lock picker in Chicago?” Sharp leveled a shrewd gaze in her direction. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to. Haven’t seen you around the last couple of years. I’d think a little hole-in-the-wall like Chestnut would be slim pickings for the likes of you.”
Detective Schmidt squinted at Sharp, then turned to Livy, his gaze assessing her. “Miss O’Brien, is that true? Not that I’d expect you to admit it if you are Light-Fingered Livy.”
Mr. McIver and the Huff sisters stared at her, their faces cold and unreadable. Reverend Warren looked shocked—and disappointed.
All Livy’s hopes and dreams came crashing down around her. No matter how far she ran, she couldn’t outrun her past. It nipped at her heels, ready to snare her at any moment. She squared her shoulders. She couldn’t lie about her past, not if her Christian faith meant anything at all.
“Yes, sir. It’s true.”
She dropped her head. She couldn’t offer a defense for her past, only that she’d been forgiven by a higher power than the courts of Chicago. Yes, God, in His infinite mercy forgave her, but now she’d have to go back to the city and face her punishment, whatever it might be.
“Well, aren’t you going to arrest her?” Sharp jeered. “Don’t tell me the mighty Detective Nate Schmidt is going soft.”
Livy looked up and could see the indecision on Smitty’s face. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but the evidence—and her own admission—didn’t give him any choice.
Jake stepped in front of her, pushing her behind him. “Smitty, Miss O’Brien has been an upstanding citizen since she came to Chestnut.”
Tears filled Livy’s eyes, spilling over to plop in the mud at her feet. Jake believed in her. He believed in her goodness. Even if Smitty took her back to Chicago, she’d tuck that belief into her heart.
“If it hadn’t been for her, we wouldn’t have caught Gibbons and Sharp here and those goons of his.” Sam McIver scratched his head. “Isn’t there some way to pardon her since she’s done so much for Chestnut?”
Miss Janie sidled up to Livy and tucked an arm around her waist.
Smitty glanced at Mr. McIver, then at Jake, a calculating look on his face. “I’ll see what I can do. Snagging Sharp and Gibbons is a pretty good trade-off for giving Livy O’Brien her walking papers.” His gaze caught Livy’s, and she thought he winked. “You’re free to go, Miss O’Brien. Just don’t leave town, you hear. It wouldn’t look too good, you know.”
Livy nodded, giddy with relief. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Smitty.”
* * *
Jake tapped on Mr. Stillman’s open door. The banker looked up from the papers strewn over his desk. He stood and reached out a hand. “Jake. Good to see you.”
“Mr. Stillman.”
“How you feeling?”
“Better.” Jake rested a hand against his chest. “As long as I don’t breathe, I make it fine.”
“Glad you’re on the mend. It’s hard to believe Gibbons pulled off such a thing in Chestnut.” Stillman shook his head. “And I was one of the ones who went out of my way to get him to open up a factory here.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Stillman. You couldn’t have known he planned to use child labor.”
“Maybe not, but I do feel partly responsible for those poor kids. You can rest assured they’ll be taken care of.” He folded his hands on his desk and peered at Jake over his spectacles. “Now, what can I do for you today?”
“I’ve decided to keep my shares in the mine.”
“What about that explosion? It destroyed the entrance.”
“The entrance behind Gus’s cabin is at a lower point. It’ll actually work better than the original entrance. And while I was down there, I realized that most of the mine is still stable.”
Stillman gave him a shrewd look. “Is that the only reason you changed your mind?”
Jake leaned forward. “MacPherson is going to reopen that mine. And until I know what kind of man we’re dealing with, I plan to be right there to make sure it’s the safest mine this side of Chicago.”
Stillman grinned. “Being stuck in that mine again must have addled your brain. You sure you want to go through with this?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been.”
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.”
&nb
sp; “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.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgments
About the Author