Will clambered to his feet looking bewildered by all the commotion. Jake collared him and hauled him and the stranger outside, taking a gulp of the brisk winter air. There’d be time enough later to send someone to fetch Sam McIver.
* * *
Gibbons stood beside the livery stable and watched Jake haul the McIver boy off to jail.
What a shame. McIver’s kid going to jail and all that. That plowboy turned deputy could’ve cut the youngster some slack. His gaze followed Jake as he half carried, half dragged the youngster toward the jail.
They’d all be better off if the deputy would do his job and catch those street kids, instead of spending all his time sparking that li’l gal over at the orphanage and hauling drunks who didn’t mean anybody any harm off to jail.
Gibbons walked away, pondering the situation.
If Sheriff Carter and his deputy didn’t show some progress in catching those street kids soon, he’d demand some changes.
After all, he had a business to run.
* * *
Once all the children were in bed and the kitchen was cleaned up, Livy eased into the bedroom. She donned her nightgown and slipped under the covers, shivering against the chill. Mary rolled over, the covers sliding to her waist. Livy pulled the blanket up around both of them and scooted closer to Mary’s back. Warmth seeped into her bones as she lay there thinking about Jake’s visit.
She relived the moment he’d touched her hair. He’d wanted to kiss her. She’d felt the tension in the air and wanted it too, but the very thought of falling in love terrified her. Marriage, childbirth—the whole idea made her break out into a cold sweat.
Livy had been spared from working the streets only because her sister had protected her as long as she could. By the time Livy grew old enough to attract the attention of men who preyed on pretty young street girls, Katie had insisted she dress like a boy and keep her hair lopped off. Since they didn’t have much more than baggy rags scrounged out of the garbage, the ruse hadn’t been hard to pull off.
Yes, Livy had been spared the attentions of men, but as her skills as a pickpocket and a crackerjack lock picker gained notoriety, they’d preyed on her in other ways. At first, she and Katie had hoped her skills would take them off the streets. But the more she stole, the more indebted she became to the ones who could turn on her like snarling dogs fighting over a piece of rotting meat.
Mary sighed and rolled over on her back. Livy stared at Mary’s sweet, innocent profile in the pale moonlight. Mary wouldn’t have lasted a week on the streets of Chicago.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Lord, help me. Help me forget. Tears sprang to the surface, and she blinked them back.
No, Lord, I didn’t mean it. I don’t ever want to forget. Help me remember so I can show girls like my sister there is a better way, that You stand with open arms, ready to forgive and forget, to offer a new and better life.
Livy’s heart pounded, and she breathed deep to calm herself. A pang of sorrow hit her. If they’d only met Mrs. Brooks years earlier. Mrs. Brooks would have taught Katie that succumbing to the pleadings of her beau would be her undoing.
Katie had been wrong. Like so many young girls before her. Livy didn’t want to see more girls fall into that trap. If what she’d learned on the streets of Chicago helped her save ten girls, five, or even one, Katie wouldn’t have died in vain.
And Livy was desperate to not let that happen.
Even if it meant staying away from Jake and the feelings he stirred within her. She’d do it if it killed her. She’d live her life at the orphanage, rescuing boys and girls thrown to the streets like yesterday’s garbage, showing them Christ’s love and His plan for their lives.
* * *
Livy skirted the gathering of men around the potbellied stove, disappointed not to see Jake among them. She lifted her chin and tamped down the feeling. She’d made a promise to herself last night to keep doing the work she felt called to do.
And a pair of twinkling green eyes and a crooked smile would not sway her from her purpose.
She didn’t see McIver, so she took the time to look at the cloth while she waited. She fingered a piece of dark-brown wool,