Once a Thief

by Frances Devine

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-60260-591-6

  Copyright © 2009 by Frances Devine. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Prologue

  Chicago, 1899

  Ten-year-old Danielle shivered and crouched down lower as the cold November wind from off the Chicago River whipped around the huge crate. She wrapped one end of her mother’s tattered shawl around Jimmy’s painfully thin shoulders and drew him closer. They had watched, their stomachs growling, as the dockworkers sat down to eat their lunch. Now only one of the burly men remained, and Danielle’s gaze followed his hand as it carried a hunk of sausage to his mouth.

  “What kind of ship is that, Danni?” Jimmy whispered.

  Danielle’s gaze followed her brother’s pointing finger to a schooner just entering the harbor from Lake Michigan. Her breath caught in her throat as the sailors on board began to lower the sails. “I don’t know, Jimmy. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but why’s it full of trees?” A fit of coughing stopped the boy’s questions and Danielle patted him gently on the back.

  A yell from the remaining dockworker caught her attention, and she watched as he jumped up and ran to help two other men lift a fallen beam from the deck of one of the schooners.

  Danielle’s glance darted to the bread and sausage left on the upturned barrel. She turned her brother loose and jumped up. “Wait here.”

  The little boy looked up at her with wide, brown eyes. “Danni, Mama wouldn’t want you to steal.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks and she hesitated. Jimmy was right. Mama would have been mortified if she’d thought one of her children would even consider stealing. But the hollow look of hunger in her brother’s eyes settled the matter. Mama was gone now and she had to take care of Jimmy.

  She darted quickly around the crate and over wet boards to the wooden barrel. Grabbing the food, she whirled and ran back, yanked Jimmy up, and took off down the street at a dead run, half dragging, half carrying her little brother, with his crutch bumping along behind.

  A shout from behind them warned Danielle they were discovered. Too late, she realized she should have crossed the Clark Street Bridge. There, she and Jimmy would have been lost in the crowded sidewalks of the downtown district.

  “Faster, Danni, faster!”

  The terror in Jimmy’s voice gave Danielle an extra burst of energy and she shot past an alley, only to be jerked to a stop as a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her around. She screamed and brought her arm up in front of her face, expecting blows to rain down upon her.

  “Come on. I’ll show you where to hide!”

  Surprised and shocked, she stumbled down the dark alley, following the strange boy around a corner, down another street and into a second alley, where he stopped at a doorway and inserted a key. Danielle pulled Jimmy through the door, and as the boy slammed it shut and bolted it, she fell against the wall, gulping air.

  As soon as she could breathe freely, she looked at their rescuer, who was pounding his knees and laughing.

  “What an adventure! You should’ve seen the bloke’s face when he saw his food was gone.”

  “Well, Cobb. And who are your friends?”

  Danielle’s head jerked up at the sound of the deep voice.

  A man, dressed in gentleman’s clothes, stood in an arched doorway peering at them. He smiled and walked over. Reaching down, he lifted Danielle’s hand. “Welcome to our home, young lady. How may I be of service?”

  Danielle pulled her hand away and shivered. Mother had warned her about strange men. Maybe they’d better get out of here. But just then, Jimmy bent over in a fit of coughing. She couldn’t take him back out into the cold. And after all, the man had sounded kind.

  One

  Chicago, 1907

  Blake Nelson tried, to no avail, to keep the grin from his face. He was sure it was an idiotic grin, just as he was sure the butterflies in his stomach were dancing for joy.

  But who cared? They loved it. All of it. His characters, the story idea, and most of all, his music. Just two more songs and a few changes to the story line and it was a sale. Mother and Father wouldn’t be too thrilled, he supposed, but Pop. . . Blake could always count on his grandfather to be excited for him.

  He walked quickly down the sidewalk, hardly noticing the fresh fallen leaves that scattered about his feet. With umbrella swinging at his side, he pursed his lips and whistled the first few notes of a tune from his new show, Peg in Dreamland. His new show! Laughter exploded from his throat.

  A lady walking by drew her little girl closer and frowned pointedly at him then turned away. Blake winked at the child, and she flashed him an impish grin from beneath her mother’s arm. Chuckling, he turned the corner and headed down the street toward the bank. If he forgot Father’s deposit, he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

  “What. . . ?” Jerked from his reverie, Blake swerved to one side, barely avoiding a young man who had rushed past him.

  Blake stopped and stared, blinking in confusion. Another boy, younger than the first, headed toward him at a dead run. Blake and the boy each tried to dodge the other, and in doing so, both moved the same way. Blake hit the sidewalk with a jolt.

  The boy, who’d landed beside him, yanked his arm from beneath Blake’s leg then scrambled to his feet and bolted around the corner.

  “Stop them! They just robbed the bank!” The shout came from further down the street.

  Before Blake could pull himself up, he saw a set of boot-clad feet running pell-mell toward him. He swung his umbrella toward the fugitive, catching him around the ankle with the handle. Blake was on top of the culprit before he could scramble up.

  “Get off me, you. . . !”

  “Oomph,” Blake grunted and grabbed at the foot that had landed on his stomach. “Not a chance, you rascal.”

  A boot caught him on the chin.

  “Ouch! You little hoodlum. Be still.”

  “I. . .said. . .let me go! I didn’t. . .do. . .anything!”

  Blake dodged another kick aimed toward his midsection.

  “Blake Nelson! You get off that poor girl this instant! What are you thinking?”

  Girl? Jumping up, he blinked hard, trying to make sense of the tumbling mass of auburn curls where a boy’s cap had sat a moment before. Gold-flecked brown eyes flashed up at him from the loveliest face he had ever seen. The red and gold bed of leaves on which she lay only made the picture more captivating.

  A hand pushed him aside, and his neighbor, Amelia Kramer, stormed past, fixing him with a glare. “I would never have believed you could be such a bully. Wait until your mother hears about this.” Kneeling by the squirming girl, she patted her on the arm. “Are you all right?”

  Blake shook himself out of his hypnotic state. “But. . .Mrs. Kramer, she just robbed the bank.”

  “Nonsense!” She whirled around and leveled him with a fierce scowl. “Does this tiny thing look like she could rob a bank?” She turned her attention back to the girl who sat up, rubbing her arm, and smiled tremulously.

  Curious faces peered from the gathering crowd of employees an
d customers from businesses along the street. Benjamin Kramer, vice president of the bank, rushed toward them. Seeing his wife on the sidewalk, he reached down and helped her to her feet. “Amelia, are you all right, dear? Did you fall?”

  “I’m fine, Ben. I was just trying to help this poor girl Blake knocked down and manhandled.” She glared at Blake again, and blood rushed to his face.

  “I didn’t knock her down and I certainly wasn’t manhandling her, I was simply trying. . .” Blake shrugged and released a frustrated breath.

  “What’s going on?” Benjamin interrupted. “Someone said one of the robbers had been caught.” He looked around questioningly at the people who stood around gaping.

  A tall, well-dressed man pushed his way through the crowd, his face red and beaded with perspiration. “Well, I certainly hope so. Someone lifted my wallet and managed to get my watch. It’s solid gold.” The man shifted from one foot to the other, breathing heavily. He showed a cut watch fob, hanging from his vest pocket.

  “I thought the bank had been robbed.” Blake rubbed his hand across his head in an attempt to smooth his black locks that were more than likely standing straight up.

  “No, no.” Mr. Kramer said. “Thankfully, not the bank. But Mr. Fowler appears to have been the victim of pickpockets. Did anyone see the culprits?”

  Blake stepped forward and said uncertainly, “Actually, I did. Two got away, but I think I’ve apprehended one of them, sir. This girl was running after the others.”

  Mr. Kramer glanced down in surprise at the small figure who opened her eyes wide and shook her head.

  “Sir, I’m not a robber.” Her voice trembled. “I was trying to get to the corner before they got away so I could see which direction they ran. I was only trying to help.”

  “There, a perfectly logical explanation, Ben. Does she look like a robber to you?” Mrs. Kramer placed a hand on her husband’s arm and frowned at Blake.

  By this time, Blake was ready to let the matter drop and slink away, but then he glanced down at the girl.

  She stared back at him, her full lips tipped ever so slightly in a triumphant smirk.

  He tightened his lips and scowled at her. The little thief was going to get away with it unless he insisted. He squinted and spoke with grim determination. “Surely someone saw her in the bank. That should settle this matter.” He threw his own “take that” smirk back at the girl.

  Mr. Kramer nodded. “Let’s go into the bank and wait for the police. They should be able to get to the bottom of this.”

  Blake heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced at the girl.

  She quickly lowered her gaze.

  Grim satisfaction swelled in his chest. “Good idea. I’ll escort the young lady myself.” He snatched the cap from the sidewalk and then took her by the arm, none too gently, and helped her up. When she winced, he felt a stab of guilt and loosened his grip. They trooped down the street and into the bank, with the girl casting scathing looks at Blake. He would feel like an idiot if she turned out to be innocent. But she had been running after the other robbers, and besides, what was a young girl doing gallivanting around town dressed like a boy? She was guilty, all right.

  “What’s the trouble here?” Officer Brady’s booming voice preceded his solid frame that shoved through the bank door.

  “Mr. Fowler’s been robbed!” one of the sales clerks blurted out.

  “Well, I know Mr. Fowler’s been robbed.” The officer turned a scathing look on the young man. “I’m here to get particulars of the crime.”

  Mr. Kramer stepped forward. “It seems this gentleman was robbed of his wallet and watch. Mr. Nelson here believes he has apprehended a suspect—”

  “Mr. Nelson is quite mistaken.” Mrs. Kramer interrupted. She motioned to the girl who stood silently. “This poor girl is obviously not a crook.”

  “And I say, at least find out if anyone saw her in the bank during the robbery,” Blake insisted.

  Officer Brady squinted blue eyes at the girl.

  “All right, then. If anyone saw this wee young thing thieving with a gang of hoodlums, step forward and identify her.”

  When no one moved, he nodded and turned back to the girl. “What’s your name, lass?” He gave her the once-over, and one corner of his mouth pulled up. “And what’s a bonny young thing like you doing running around in a lad’s suit of clothing?”

  Blake stared in disbelief. The officer spoke to the girl like a kindly old grandfather. And with a twinkle in his eye at that.

  “Danielle Grays–s–s–s, sir.” She stumbled over the words and spoke so softly, Blake could barely hear her.

  “And what about the boy’s clothes?” Blake demanded, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Was he the only one who thought that was more than a little suspicious?

  Panic crossed her face for a moment. She swallowed and suddenly her face crumpled. “They were my brother’s.” She lifted imploring eyes to Officer Brady and continued. “He died in the orphanage, you see, and when I left, I took his clothing with me.” She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. “Because they were all I had left of him.” She took the handkerchief Officer Brady offered, wiped her nose daintily, and sniffled. “Then my dress wore out, and I had nothing else to wear.”

  Blake looked on in astonishment. Officer Brady had fallen for it. Blake couldn’t help but feel just a touch of admiration for the performance.

  “Now, now, don’t you cry, my dear.” The officer’s lined face seemed about to crumple, too. “And I’ll warrant you’ve been sleeping on park benches now, haven’t ye?”

  The girl looked startled for a moment, then biting her lip, she nodded.

  “Well now, young man,” the officer said with a stern look at Blake. “I think your question is answered. And not one person saw her in the bank anyway.”

  Blake snorted. “Of course they didn’t! She had her hair hidden under this cap.”

  Officer Brady pursed his lips and exhaled loudly, then after throwing a disgusted glance at Blake, he smiled at the girl.

  “Little lady, I hate to be troubling you, but if you please, put the cap on and stuff your hair up under it.”

  ❧

  A bolt of panic shot through Danielle. She looked from the kind face of the patrolman to the challenging expression of the annoying young man who held the cap out to her.

  She didn’t think anyone would recognize her since she’d only been inside the bank for a few seconds. She had stepped into the doorway to block anyone who might be following Hank and Cobb. That was the plan. Cobb said anyone seeing her would think she was a messenger boy who just happened to step through the door at the wrong time. That would give him and Hank a few more minutes to get away.

  Up to that point she had followed instructions. If only she had turned and walked slowly away in the other direction as planned. But she’d panicked. And it didn’t help any that she’d almost given them her real name, just now.

  She reached for the cap and placed it onto her head, trying to place it in a feminine position. Holding her breath, she waited while every person scrutinized her then breathed a soft sigh as, one by one, each failed to recognize her.

  “There. That should be that.” The lady who had championed her stepped forward with determination. “If you have no further questions for Miss Gray, Officer Brady, we’ll be leaving now.” At the officer’s nod, the lady took her arm and began guiding her gently toward the door.

  Suddenly Danielle gasped. What was she thinking, letting someone lead her off like a puppy with no questions asked? She pulled back and planted her feet firmly. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

  “Why, home with me, of course. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep. Park bench, indeed.” She turned and smiled sweetly at her husband. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”

  Ah. Here it comes. My way out.

  Mr. Kramer hesitated and then gave his wife an indulgent smile. “I think it would be all right for now. We can disc
uss things later.”

  Danielle stared at the man, unable to hold back the surprised lift of her brow. Mister, you’re being mighty stupid. The stuff I could lift in a rich man’s house would buy my freedom.

  A bolt of fear shot through her. What would Sutton do if she didn’t show up? He’d more than likely think she’d run out on him. Maybe she’d better try to get away now. But on the other hand, if she could pilfer enough valuables, maybe he would let her and Jimmy go, like he’d promised.

  She glanced at the gentle face of the woman called Amelia and felt a twinge of uncertainty. But with sudden resolve, she pressed her lips tightly together and followed the lady out the door. After all, a body had to do whatever was necessary to survive.

  ❧

  Danielle’s mouth watered. The smell of freshly baked bread and something chocolate tantalized her nostrils, a solid reminder that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning. And only a bun at that. Sutton had rushed them out the door so he could meet with some bigwig friend of his.

  Mrs. Kramer had settled her into a small room off the main hall, promising to return momentarily. Danielle ran her hand over the settee’s velvety soft fabric. There was nothing like this at Sutton’s. And there certainly hadn’t been at Aunt Mary’s.

  A shiver ran through her body. Standing quickly, she went to the bay window and pulled the curtains aside. A squirrel wiggled through a hole beneath the wrought iron fence and scurried up the oak tree in the yard.

  She shivered again, rubbing her arms. It was autumn then, too. Late autumn. Danielle had been ten and Jimmy just four. Papa’s ship had gone down the month before with no survivors. Mama had gone to work at Aunt Mary’s boardinghouse in order to feed them and keep a roof over their heads. But Mother had died giving birth to a stillborn son. The very next day, Aunt Mary handed Danielle a bundle containing their meager belongings. She wasn’t raising two kids, she’d said. Especially a boy with a gimpy leg. After all, they weren’t really her kin. They’d have to make their own way.

  Danielle’s stomach lurched. Again she relived the fear and confusion she’d felt as she took her little brother’s hand in hers and walked down the grimy street. That was the day they’d met Sutton.