throat, trying not to stare at the way her lips tilted just so at the corners. But he couldn’t help himself. The right corner tipped up slightly more than the left. His pulse ratcheted up a notch.
Whoa, Russell. Think of something else.
“Sheriff Carter and I spent the morning out at the site of the accident.”
Her smile faded like the winter sun behind snow-laden clouds. “Did you find anything?”
“A Bible with the family’s last name: Hays. The sheriff’s trying to contact the next of kin, but it might take a while. Anyway, I’ve got the family’s supplies in the back of the wagon. There are a couple of trunks, too. Where do you want them?”
“Supplies?” Lines knit her brow.
“Meal, flour, sugar. All kinds of provisions. Seems Mr. Hays was a careful man. Wherever they were headed, he didn’t intend to run out of anything.”
“But we can’t take the Hayses’ supplies.”
“The orphanage is taking care of the children.” He nodded toward the parlor. “And a lot of others from the sound of it. I’d say you’re more entitled than anyone else.”
She worried her bottom lip for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. Pull around back while I tell Mrs. Brooks.”
Jake went out into the cold and drove the wagon around to the side porch off the kitchen. Livy waited, the door open behind her. The two of them unloaded the wagon, Livy taking the smaller items and Jake wrestling with the kegs of flour and sugar and the two trunks. He shouldered the heaviest of the trunks, grunting. Finally they had everything stacked haphazardly inside the storage room.
Jake stood with his hands on his hips, breathing hard. But the expression on Livy’s face made the labor worth it all. She looked like a child at the candy counter over at McIver’s, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It’s an answer to prayer.” She ran her hand over a barrel of sugar. “I can’t believe there’s so much.”
He removed his coat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. “Maybe Mr. Hays intended to open a store.”
“Poor man. Did you ever find out what happened?”
Jake shook his head. “We really couldn’t tell. Something must have spooked the horses while he was taking the harnesses off. It’s a miracle the children weren’t hurt.”
“Yes, it is.” She hesitated and looked away from him, her gaze finally landing on the stove. A blush stole over her cheeks. “Would you like some coffee before you go?”
He hesitated. He’d worked up a sweat hauling in the supplies, but a cup of coffee would be nice. “Thanks.”
“I’m afraid it’s been sitting on the stove awhile.”
“If I can drink that stuff Sheriff Carter makes, I can drink anything.”
She laughed. He liked the sound, like little silver bells.
“Do you take sugar? I’m afraid we’re out of cream.”
“Black is fine.”
As Jake nursed his cup of coffee, Livy stirred a big pot of stew, and he tried to think of something to bring her out of her shell. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before glancing over her shoulder at him, a questioning look on her face.
“How long have you known Mrs. Brooks?”
Her gaze shifted, and she turned away. The ladle in her hand seemed to have become the most important thing in the world. “About two years.”
“Then you’re not from around here, are you? Sheriff Carter said she came from Chicago.”
“Yes, that’s right.” She reached for the coffeepot, her smile firmly in place. Had he imagined her unease? “Would you like some more?”
Her eyes flashed like a bluebird on the wing, and his fingers itched to feel the softness of her cheek, the curve of her jaw. He blinked. What kind of spell had Livy O’Brien woven? Or was he weaving one of his own? He needed to concentrate all his energies on paying off that loan before he lost the family farm. Then, maybe, he’d think about courting, about starting a family. But not for a long, long time.
“No thank you. I’d better get back to the jail.”
He gulped the rest of the bitter brew and grabbed his hat, determined to put some distance between himself and Livy O’Brien.
Chapter Three
The boss turned toward the motley group of kids cowering in front of him. One gangly boy stared back at him, angry defiance on his face. Grady stood in front of the door, muscled arms crossed over his chest. The faint hum of sewing machines in the next room overrode the silence.
The boss pinned the boy with a look that meant