breath grew more worrisome with each passing day. “Go on and get some rest.”
“You sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I doubt we’ll have any more trouble tonight.”
The sheriff shuffled out the door. Hopefully a good night’s rest would take care of the worn, haggard look on his face.
Jake leaned his chair against the wall, intending to close his eyes for a minute before he made rounds again.
But worries kept his mind from resting.
It seemed like the whole world wanted to cave in on him at once. What should he do? About the farm, about these kids running wild, and about Sheriff Carter?
* * *
The whistle blew for the six o’clock shift change at the mine, jerking Jake out of a deep sleep. Sheriff Carter sat at his desk, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the room.
Jake rubbed a hand down his face. “I must have been dead to the world. Didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Looked like you needed a bit of a rest.” The sheriff handed him a steaming cup.
“Both of us did.”
They discussed the events of the night as the sun crept over the horizon.
Jake sipped his coffee, letting the bitter brew wipe the cobwebs from his mind. “I want to look around before anyone disturbs the tracks. Will you be all right for a while?”
“Yeah.” Sheriff Carter relaxed into his chair. “Pick up our breakfast on the way back. Might as well bring Skinner some too.”
“Will do.”
Only a light dusting of snow covered the boardwalks, so the tracks from the robbery would still be visible. The shopkeepers would be happy, too. They wouldn’t have to shovel snow for the first time in days.
A few people were already stirring, sweeping the walks in front of their businesses, lighting potbellied stoves to knock off the chill. Jake crossed the street to where Sam McIver was unlocking the mercantile. Paul Stillman stepped onto the boardwalk on his way to the bank.
“Morning, Jake. Paul.” McIver greeted them.
The banker took a deep breath and grinned. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
McIver scowled. “The sooner I can get a fire blazing inside, the better I’ll like it.” He glanced at Jake. “You’re out and about early. Something wrong?”
“Another robbery last night.”
Stillman paled. McIver’s eyes flickered to his store and his lips thinned. “Who’d they hit this time?”
“J. G.’s.”
“They stole guns?”
“I don’t think they got away with much of anything. Sheriff Carter and I were making rounds about that time and almost caught one of them.”
McIver shook his head. “I’m thinking of sleeping in my store until these thieves are behind bars.”
“It might not be a bad idea.”
“You know—” Mr. Stillman rubbed his jaw—“I haven’t been too worried about these kids breaking in to the bank, but they’re getting more daring every day. You don’t suppose they’d try it, do you?”
“Surely not. That’s the last thing we need.” McIver motioned to the store. “You gentlemen want to come inside? I’ll have a fire and a pot of coffee going in no time.”
“Thanks, Sam, but I’d better get on over to the bank.”
“Another time. Thanks.” Jake headed down the boardwalk.
Mr. Stillman fell into step beside him. “Glad I ran into you this morning, Jake. Sturgis stopped by yesterday. He wants to have a meeting.”
Jake’s stomach clenched. “You think he’s ready to sell?”
The banker shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. Said he wanted us all together. He’s been adamant about keeping that mine sealed. What about Seamus?”
“He has his good days and bad, but he’s a shareholder, so he’ll have to be there if we take a vote.”
Mr. Stillman paused in front of the bank. “I’ll let you know as soon as we set up a date and time.”
Jake nodded and continued on. If Sturgis sold, they’d have a new shareholder in the mix, and who knew what would happen then. None of them could afford to buy Sturgis out. If Jake could, he’d buy every single share and seal that mine forever, or at least for his lifetime.
He turned down the alley between the gunsmith shop and the bakery, where he’d spotted the thief last night. He didn’t even bother trying to sort out the jumbled footprints. The stack of crates and wooden boxes the thief had crashed into lay scattered halfway across the alley.
An open window above the crates showed where the thief had broken into the shop. J. G. wouldn’t even discover the break-in until noon. The elderly proprietor opened up shop late and closed early, putting in a few hours a day.