Stealing Jake - By Pam Hillman Page 0,105
Gus. Such a tender heart filled with compassion.
“What were they doing in there?” A confused look crossed his face. “It’s been closed for a long time.”
“A man named Gibbons brought the kids here to work for him in the glove factory, but when Jake started asking questions, he moved them to the mine to keep Jake from finding them.”
“They’ll never get in that way.” Gus shook his head. Dirt and rocks from the entire hillside covered the opening to the mine.
His observation hit her square in the chest. “There’s no hope, then.”
Oh, God. Oh, God.
“There’s another way.” Gus motioned for her to follow him.
“Oh, Gus.” Livy sighed. The old man didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
Livy followed simply because she didn’t know what else to do. He led her down the hill and around the bend to a shack. He opened the door to the stable attached to the side of the cabin. Little Bit stared at her from the stall. How could Little Bit help get Jake and the kids out? Maybe Gus thought the donkey could help haul the debris away. It would take a hundred donkeys to clear the entrance to the mine.
“Gus, I appreciate you trying to help, but—”
“Look.” He motioned her forward, moved aside a stack of crates, then a cobbled-together barrier revealing an opening in the side of the hill.
Livy peered at the black hole, hope tickling the edges of her heart. “Where does this lead to?”
“The Black Gold mine.” Gus grinned, as excited as a child on Christmas morning.
Hope became a full-fledged giggle. “Can you lead the way to the old mine?”
He nodded.
Livy threw her arms around him. “Oh, Gus, thank you, thank you, thank you. We’ve got to tell Smitty.”
* * *
“For such a time as this.”
Jake stumbled forward in the dark, his only thought to find the children and comfort them. His hands, scratched and bleeding, tracked along the rough rock walls searching for a cache of emergency supplies.
The miners stashed torches and lanterns all through the mines for emergencies. He kept moving until his hands felt a depression in the rock. His questing fingers located the carefully wrapped provisions lashed against the rock shelf.
For such a time as this.
* * *
“Please.”
McIver and Smitty looked at each other, and Livy knew they weren’t going to let her go.
“Please take me with you. The children will be frightened enough as it is. I grew up on the streets of Chicago. I know what they’ve been through.”
A wiry young man stepped forward, miner’s hat in hand. Determination glinted in his hard gaze. “I’m from Chicago too. I’m going in.”
Four more miners stepped forward, tough men looking like they’d fight anyone who dared tell them they couldn’t go after Jake and the children.
“All right. Grab a lantern and line up.” Smitty stabbed a finger at Livy. “And you, young lady, stay right by my side and do everything I tell you to.”
Livy scrambled into line. “Yes, sir.”
They eased into the mine, Gus leading the way, humming as he moved forward. Smitty sandwiched himself and Livy in the middle of the pack. The miners carried lanterns to light the way.
Livy tamped down the surge of panic rising in her throat as soon as they entered the darkness. She’d been in some tight spots, but she’d never been underground before. She didn’t know what she expected, but the coolness and the dank smell surprised her. And complete darkness so thick she could almost reach out and touch it.
The only light came from the lanterns the miners held high. She shivered. How could these men work like this day in and day out, living their lives underground?
Gus turned left, then right, then left again until Livy’s head spun with confusion. She looked back at Smitty, his face illuminated by the flickering light. “I hope he knows where he’s going.”
Smitty clenched his jaw, looking none too happy to be underground. “I do too. Otherwise, Jake and those young’uns might not be the only ones lost in this mine tonight.”
* * *
Thankful for the lantern he’d found stashed among the emergency supplies, Jake kept moving, searching for the children. His thoughts cleared, and memories long suppressed clamored for his attention. There were two or three logical places to stash the children. But he wouldn’t take any chances. He’d search every nook and cranny, just to be sure.
Systematically, he went from right to left, moving from one tunnel to the next, not leaving any area