of him earlier, and the feeling came back full force now.
Whoa.
Jake stepped back, putting some distance between them. He didn’t have the time or the energy to be thinking about a girl, no matter how pretty she might be. His days and nights were chock-full as it was. He tipped his hat. “Good night, Miss O’Brien.”
Her smile lit up the dreary winter landscape. “Thank you for escorting me home, Mr. Russell. Good night.”
He headed back toward town, rehashing the brief conversation he’d had with Livy O’Brien. She’d sure seemed reluctant to talk about herself. Come to think of it, she hadn’t told him much of anything.
Did he make her nervous? He should have told her who he was, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Knowing he was a sheriff’s deputy would have put her at ease, but she hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in who he was or what he did for a living.
He continued his rounds, confident he’d find out more about Miss Livy O’Brien soon enough. It was part of his job, plain and simple. He chuckled. He didn’t remember anything in his job description that said he needed to investigate every beautiful lady he ran across. Still, it was his job to protect the town, and the more he knew about its inhabitants, the better.
Not that Chestnut needed protection from Livy O’Brien. A pretty little filly like her wouldn’t hurt a fly.
His steps faltered when he stuffed his hands in his pockets and his fingers slid over the cool, polished surface of his father’s gold watch. Not prone to jump to conclusions or get easily flustered, he’d been certain those kids had lifted his timepiece. How could he have been so mistaken?
Good thing he’d bumped into Miss O’Brien, or he would have had a hard time explaining why he’d chased an innocent kid down the street.
Still, he had reason to be suspicious. There’d been reports of scruffy young boys like the two tonight roaming the streets of Chestnut. Urchins from back East, Sheriff Carter said. Run out of Chicago, they rode the train to the nearest town large enough to provide easy pickings.
He settled his hat more firmly on his head. Those ragamuffins didn’t know it yet, but they shouldn’t have stopped in Chestnut. The town wasn’t big enough for thieves and robbers to hide out for long.
Jake clomped along the boardwalk, part of his thoughts on the youngsters, part on the girl he’d left at the orphanage, and part registering the sights and sounds of merchants shutting down for the night.
He hesitated as he spied Paul Stillman locking up the bank. An urge to turn down the nearest alley assaulted him, but he doggedly stayed his course.
The banker lifted a hand. “Jake. Wait up a minute.”
A knot twisted in Jake’s gut. Would Stillman call in his loan today?
The portly man hurried toward him, his hand outstretched, a wide smile on his florid face. “Jake. How’re things going?”
“Fine.” Jake shook the banker’s hand, the knot intensifying. Mr. Stillman’s continued grace made him feel worse than if the banker had demanded payment on the spot.
“And your mother?” His concern poured salt on Jake’s unease.
“She’s doing well.”
“That’s good. I should be going, then. I just wanted to check on the family.”
Jake rubbed his jaw. “Look, Mr. Stillman, I appreciate all you’ve done for my family, but I’m going to pay off that loan. Every penny of it.”
The banker sobered. “I know you will, Jake. I never doubted it for a minute. The last couple of years have been tough for you and Mrs. Russell.”
“Pa wouldn’t have borrowed money against the farm if he’d known. . . .” Jake’s throat closed. “If the crops hadn’t failed the last two summers, I could’ve made the payments.”
The banker took off his glasses and rubbed them with a white handkerchief. His eyes pinned Jake, razor sharp in intensity. “That investor is still interested in buying your father’s share of the Black Gold mine, you know.”
“The answer is no. I’m not selling.” Jake clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t be party to more death and destruction.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Stillman sighed. “I admire your determination to protect miners by not selling, but as much as I’d like to, I can’t carry that loan forever.”
Jake shifted his weight, forcing his muscles to relax. It wasn’t the banker’s fault that life had dealt him a losing hand. “I know. This summer will be better.”
“We’ll see.” Mr. Stillman stuffed the cloth in his pocket,