laundered shirt. Rough tables and benches crowded the room, waiting for customers. A middle-aged woman, gray hair pulled into a tight bun, labored over the stove, her movements quick and sure.
Ham sizzled, and the aroma of brewed coffee lay like a soothing blanket over the room. The woman pulled a pan of hot biscuits, glowing golden brown, from the oven. If her food tasted as good as it smelled, she’d have all the customers she could handle.
“Good evening.”
The woman glanced up, barely taking a moment to acknowledge her. “Evening.”
“I’m Livy O’Brien, from the orphanage on the other side of town.”
“Name’s Emma. I heard about the new orphanage.” She smiled. “God bless you for taking care of the little ones.”
“You’re a Christian, then?” Livy didn’t remember seeing Emma in church, but she’d been busy helping Mrs. Brooks with the children. When she could take her eyes off Jake, that was.
“Yes, I am. God’s been good to me. I can’t complain.” She kept working, not wasting a moment. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for some boys who’ve been living on the streets.”
“You and everybody else, it seems.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t mind me. But everybody’s looking for those youngsters, thinking they’re stealing stuff. Maybe they are, and maybe they ain’t, but I feel sorry for them just the same.”
“So you know them? You know where they are?”
“I don’t know about that, but one of the boys comes by every few days and buys a loaf of bread or two.”
“Is he one of them?” Livy stepped closer, a hitch of breathless excitement fluttering through her.
“He doesn’t say much except to ask for bread. And the few times I’ve asked questions, he clams up right quick and takes off.”
The woman paused and pushed strands of hair back from her forehead. “The pay’s not much.”
“That’s okay.”
Emma jerked her head toward the back. “Well, come on, girl. Those miners’ll be here any minute. You know how to make ham gravy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Livy grinned and took off her gloves and cloak.
“Here you go, then.” Emma handed Livy a bowl of flour and pointed at the stove.
Three hours later, Livy hurried into the orphanage, her first wages in her pocket. She passed through the empty kitchen and found Mrs. Brooks and the others in the parlor, getting ready for bed.
Mrs. Brooks looked relieved. “Livy, I was getting worried. It’s been dark for hours. Where have you been?”
Giddy with excitement, Livy pressed the small amount of cash into Mrs. Brooks’s hand. “I got a job. My first job.”
Mrs. Brooks’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. Where?”
“Emma’s Place.”
The wide smile left Mrs. Brooks face. “What exactly is Emma’s Place?”
Livy hugged her, her excitement overflowing. “Oh, don’t worry. Emma cooks breakfast and supper for some of the miners. I can work a few hours in the morning and a few in the evenings and still be able to help out here during the day. And she said Mary could work too.”
Mrs. Brooks shook her head. “Mary’s too young. She needs to keep up with her lessons.”
“Oh, mornings aren’t as busy as the evening meal. She said she’d just need Mary in the evenings.”
“Oh, could I, Mrs. Brooks?” Mary asked, her face glowing. “We could use the money.”
Mrs. Brooks pursed her lips. “I suppose.”
Mary squealed and hugged her. Gracie ran to Livy, tripping over the hem of a too-long hand-me-down nightgown. Livy picked her up and swung her around. Soon, all the children were jumping up and down laughing, most of them not even knowing or caring about the reason for the excitement.
Livy laughed, happier than she’d ever been. She was making an honest wage doing honest work for a God-fearing woman.
She laughed and twirled with Gracie again. It felt good to be able to hand Mrs. Brooks a few dollars to help keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.
Even better than when she’d fingered a mark and scored big.
* * *
Jake eyed the uneven spindles he’d made, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Old man Jacobson had let him use his shop to make a chair for Gus. Jake assured him he didn’t need any help, and Jacobson had gone home for the evening. Now he wished he’d agreed to the old man’s instruction. He’d be here until Easter at this rate.
The door opened, and Sam McIver walked in. “Evening, Jake. Sheriff Carter said I’d find you here.” He eyed the pieces of the chair Jake planned to make. “What’s