the window closed. He’d drop by J. G.’s this morning and give him the news before he heard it from someone else. He edged past the crates and followed the prints they’d made the night before. A tamped-down spot indicated the dropped sack of guns.
Farther on, he distinguished the running steps of the thief versus his. He squatted and pushed his hat back, studying the prints. They looked too large to be a child’s, but the snow didn’t leave any real clear prints to go on. Could someone else be breaking in to the stores, trying to make it look like the street kids? Could they have stolen the blankets and the beans just to throw him off track? The information was worth thinking about, so he tucked it away and retraced his steps.
A scrap of dark cloth snagged on a porch caught his eye. He stopped a few yards from where he and Sheriff Carter had stood last night. A wallowed-out spot snugged against the edge of the building. He plucked the scrap of black cloth from the nail. Had someone else been out here last night? His gaze canvassed the area and landed on a handprint embedded in the snow.
A handprint the size of a young boy’s. He fingered the black material and frowned.
Or that of a woman.
Chapter Eight
Jake sat on his horse in the pine thicket, branches around him sagging beneath the weight of snow. The rumble of a locomotive straining up the steep incline reached his ears. If anybody jumped the train, he’d spot them as the brakeman slowed for the last bend before Chestnut.
The train huffed into view, and Jake pulled farther back into the trees. Black smoke marred the pristine whiteness of the snowy landscape; creaking cars shattered the stillness. Jake saw neither hide nor hair of any freeloaders bailing out, adult or otherwise.
The engine lumbered past, smoke belching, brakes squealing, slowing for the daily two o’clock stop. Jake eased out of the thicket, hat pulled low against the bitter wind. His mare plowed her way through the deep drifts, keeping to the trail she’d cut earlier.
He’d spent the last week combing the area, looking for signs of stowaways.
Nothing suspicious so far. But those kids were coming into town somehow, and the most likely transportation was the train. Chicago was too far away and the weather too fierce for them to attempt to walk the distance. The train had to be their ticket out of the city.
He rounded a bend, and the station came into view. The train was pulled onto a side track, engine idling as passengers got off and others prepared to board for the next leg of the journey. He crossed the tracks, dismounted, and looped his horse’s reins over a hitching rail.
Stomping the slush off his boots, he clomped up the steps and scrutinized the passengers as they hurried into the warmth of the tiny café built onto the side of the building. Most would grab a bite to eat, maybe buy a copy of the Chestnut Gazette, climb back aboard, and be on their way. Only a handful ever stayed, mostly locals returning after a short trip to Chicago or men looking for work in the mines. He saw two children, their hands clasped tightly in their mother’s gloved hands.
Jake nodded at a tall man with a mean-looking scar on his right check, probably a coal speculator, and strode the length of the train. Two men unhooked the caboose. A metal car with its door ajar caught his eye, and he peered inside. Empty. And no evidence of anyone being inside recently. He inspected the next and the next, found nothing, then watched as rail workers unhooked the last freighter.
“Afternoon, Deputy.”
Jake turned to find the conductor studying him. “Afternoon.”
“Can I help you?”
Pushing his hat back, Jake glanced at the empty railcar, then squinted at the man. “As a matter of fact, you can. We’re getting a lot of street kids out of Chicago. Have you had any trouble with stowaways?”
The conductor’s chest puffed out, the brass buttons on his blue coat threatening to pop off any minute now. “I do a thorough check before we leave Chicago and again at every stop along the way. No stowaways on my watch. No sir.”
“Glad to hear it. Since you’re checking anyway, I’ll follow along, just to set my mind at ease.”
The man’s face flushed. “That’s not necessary. Like I said, nobody’s in any of them—except the passenger cars, of course.”
Jake could