Of course they couldn’t turn them away. They’d never do that. But would she be forced to do something drastic to feed them all?
Lord, don’t make me choose. I’m not strong enough.
Heart heavy, she found three worn blankets and carried them downstairs.
Mrs. Brooks met her in the hallway. “They’re in the kitchen. Mary’s already taken the other children to the parlor.”
Her arms laden with the blankets, Livy followed Mrs. Brooks. Two girls huddled together on the bench at the table, their eyes wide and frightened. Poor things. If only she could take them in her arms and tell them everything would be all right. It must be. She’d beg in the streets before she’d let them all starve.
She searched the room for the third child. Her gaze landed on a tall, broad-shouldered man with a tiny dark-haired child nestled snugly inside his sheepskin coat. The man lifted his head, and Livy came face-to-face with Jake Russell. She saw a fierce protectiveness in his haunted eyes.
“I don’t believe you’ve met my deputy, Jake Russell.” Sheriff Carter waved in Jake’s direction.
Dread pooled in the pit of Livy’s stomach, and for the space of a heartbeat, she stared.
“Pleased to meet you, Deputy Russell,” Mrs. Brooks said, her attention already on the two little girls at the table. “I’m Mrs. Brooks, and this is Livy O’Brien.”
Livy jerked her head in a stiff nod. For a few moments tonight she’d let her imagination run away with her, thinking maybe Jake Russell would call on her, that he might want to court her, that maybe he thought she was pretty.
And maybe he would. Maybe he did.
But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.
Jake Russell was an officer of the law, and Livy had spent her entire life running from the law.
Chapter Two
Two weeks of searching, and still no sign of Mark.
Luke crept forward, keeping to the dark shadows of the warehouse but edging closer and closer to the two men who’d brought three crates from the train.
“I need a shot of whiskey.” The man named Butch slapped the top of a crate and growled. “These filthy little beggars ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The other one, Grady, laughed and threw a crowbar on top of a crate. The steel crashed like a clap of thunder in the stillness. “Sounds good to me.”
The two men stomped off, taking the lantern and leaving the warehouse in total darkness.
Suspicion clouded Luke’s mind. They never left the crates unattended. Could it be a trick? No, they couldn’t know he was here. He shot out of his hiding place and knocked on the nearest crate, three times, a space, twice, three more. “Mark? Anybody? Knock if you’re there. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
No response. Not even a whisper.
He moved to the next wooden box, his heart threatening to jump out of his throat like a frog leaping off an overflowing water barrel.
Please. Please. Please answer.
Finally a faint gasp from inside the last crate made him nearly jump out of his skin. He scrambled backward. Where was that crowbar? The crate on the end, near the door. He stumbled through the darkness, counting crates as he went.
One. Two. Three. His fingers touched cold steel.
He wrapped his hand around the metal, then hurried back to the crate and pried against the lid. He gritted his teeth and hung every bit of his weight on the crowbar. The shriek of nails pulling free bounced through the warehouse. He paused, muscles aching. If Butch and Grady came back now, he’d be dead.
Better dead than leaving Mark to fend for himself.
The last nail popped free, and he reached inside. His grasping fingers met rough cotton and a bony shoulder before the kid gasped and jerked away. No time to explain who he was and what he was doing. “Mark?”
The kids in the crate didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even answer.
“Has anyone seen a boy named Mark? He’s five but looks a lot younger.”
“Who wants to know?” A scared voice shot back with a touch of bravado.
“My name’s Luke. I’m his brother. I’ve got to find him.”
“Don’t know no Mark.”
Luke’s hopes shattered like the splintered boards he’d pried off the crate. What had happened to Mark? He should have been in Chestnut by now. But even if his brother wasn’t here, he could pluck these kids out of Grady and Butch’s clutches.
“Let’s go. They’ll be back any minute.”
“Why should we trust you?”
Luke slammed a hand against the side of the crate. “What did they tell you? That they’d found families