Or caterwauling, to be more accurate. He hadn’t heard a peep from the man’s cell in over an hour, so either Skinner had died or he’d fallen into a drunken stupor. And to tell the truth, it didn’t matter which, so long as the drunkard kept a sock in it.
Jake had already gulped downed two cups when the door opened, letting in a blast of frigid air.
“Man, it’s cold out there this morning.” Sheriff Carter shuffled inside and made a beeline for the stove.
Jake tilted his chair back and took a sip of the hot brew. “Looks like we got another foot of snow.”
“I don’t know how much more of this we can take.” The older man huddled close to the firebox, his hands extended toward the warmth. “Did you have a quiet night?”
“Mostly.” Jake jerked his head toward the back of the jail. “Skinner and a couple of strangers are sleeping off a drunk back there. Finally.”
“Skinner?” Sheriff Carter shook his head. “Don’t reckon that boy’ll ever learn.”
“Reckon not.”
They both looked up as the door opened and Sam McIver stepped inside, a frown on his normally cheerful face.
“Morning, Sam.” Sheriff Carter held up the blackened pot. “Coffee?”
“No thanks.” The mercantile owner took off his hat and stomped snow from his boots. “Somebody broke into the store last night.”
“Really?” Sheriff Carter’s eyebrows shot up. “What all did they take?”
“A case of beans, several jars of sausages, some blankets. And a Dutch oven, of all things.” McIver twisted his hat.
Jake snorted. “Nobody’s going to get very far toting a Dutch oven.”
“That’s what I thought. It’s bound to be that riffraff from Chicago.”
“Now hold on, Sam,” Sheriff Carter reasoned. “You don’t know that for a fact.”
“I told my boys to keep an eye on ’em if they came in the store. They’ll steal you blind.” McIver slapped his hat against his pants. “I’m telling you, it’s them. Look at the stuff they took. And if we don’t do something about it, they’re going to take over the whole town.”
“All right. I’ll send Jake over to take inventory of everything that’s missing, and we’ll try to find the culprits.”
“I’ll be waiting.” McIver stomped to the door and let himself out.
“Sam’s mighty stirred up.” Jake moved to the window. The storekeeper stormed across the street, ignoring friendly greetings from the few folks already opening up shop.
“Reckon he has a right to be.”
Jake rubbed his jaw. What if McIver was right? What if the street kids had broken into the mercantile? Livy would be disappointed. She wanted to believe those boys were sweet little mama’s boys, when they were well on their way to becoming faces on the wanted posters on his desk.
“You think it was those kids?” Jake topped off his coffee and took another sip.
“Who else could it be?” The sheriff eased into his chair, leather creaking as he adjusted his weight. “Chestnut’s growing like a newborn Jersey calf. That’s one reason I needed some help this winter, not to mention I’m getting too old for this. Why, before the railroad came through, I’d head home for some shut-eye after I let Skinner out of jail. If someone needed me, McIver’d send Gus or one of the boys to get me.”
“The discovery of coal hasn’t helped things either.” In more ways than one.
If it hadn’t been for the coal mines, his father would still be alive. Jake would be scratching out a living at the farm instead of fighting to keep crime off the streets of Chestnut. He might even be married by now with a family of his own. But he’d never found a woman he wanted to settle down with.
Until now. Big blue eyes and a slightly crooked smile beckoned him.
“You’re right about that. Chestnut, especially shantytown, has tripled in size in the last year.”
“At least they’re tearing down some of the burned-out shacks to make room for new buildings. That’s good.” Jake tamped down thoughts of his family, drained his coffee, and grabbed his coat. Worrying about the past—and what the future might hold—would get him nowhere fast. “I might as well go on over to Sam’s and take a look. He’s fit to be tied.”
Sam McIver’s two strapping sons were shoveling snow off the walk in front of the store when Jake arrived.
“Morning, boys.”
“Morning.” The eldest, Will, sported a black eye as big as a fistful of coal.
“What happened to you, Will?”
The boy, on the verge of manhood, scowled. “Nuthin’.”