“I heard about that. Rough break for everybody.” Carpenter shook his head. “Look, Deputy, I run a clean mine, even work alongside my men in a pinch. The kid could have been nosing around where he didn’t belong for all I know.” He glanced at the black hole leading into the bowels of the earth, a challenging look on his face. “You’re welcome to go down the shaft yourself and take a look.”
Jake broke out in a cold sweat. “Another time.”
“I don’t blame you. Sometimes I have to force myself to go down. Makes me appreciate my men every time I do.”
Two men Jake recognized pushed a cart out the entrance. Good men, they wouldn’t work in a place that treated kids like animals.
“Hey, Carpenter, we’re shorthanded today,” one of them called out. “Ol’ Skinner didn’t show up again.”
“Skinner in that jail of yours?” The mine owner snubbed out his cigar and squinted at Jake.
“Yep. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t reckon he’ll ever learn.” He headed toward the mine entrance. “Nice to meet you, Deputy. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not today.”
The men disappeared into the mine, and Jake mounted his horse. He’d rather face down a drunk miner with a pistol than go into that black hole. He was a coward, plain and simple. What kind of lawman couldn’t face his fears for the safety of the people he protected?
If he was man enough for the job, he’d turn around and descend that shaft with Carpenter and his crew.
Instead, he rode away. He couldn’t do it.
Not today.
And maybe not ever.
* * *
Livy sponged the boy’s face. How small and delicate he looked now that all the grime had been washed away. He was a beautiful child with a head full of dark-red curls. She patted the cool cloth against his forehead, careful not to press too hard against the bruises. How could anyone treat a little boy so horribly?
Lord, heal this child. Save his hand, his life. And protect the other children that we haven’t found. And help me to convince Luke and the others to come here for their safety.
Mrs. Brooks stepped inside the room, a stack of fresh linens in her arms. “Any change?”
Livy shook her head. “Every so often he mumbles something about gloves and somebody named Jesse, but that’s it.”
“Poor tyke. I’ll spell you soon as I get supper on the table. I’d rather Mary and the others not see him until he’s better.”
“If he gets better,” Livy whispered.
“Have faith, Livy. God has brought him this far.” Mrs. Brooks rested her hand against his forehead, then his chest. “He feels cooler. I believe the fever has broken.”
“Praise the Lord.”
The boy moaned but didn’t wake while they changed the sheets and put a fresh nightshirt on him. When they were done, he slept without thrashing about, looking as peaceful as Gracie taking an afternoon nap. Except for the cuts and bruises on his face.
Tears of thankfulness misted Livy’s eyes.
Mrs. Brooks tilted her head, a frown on her face. “Those red curls look familiar, but for the life of me, I can’t place him.”
“Jessica has red hair.” Livy shot a glance at Mrs. Brooks. “You don’t think this could be her brother, Bobby?”
“Maybe.” Mrs. Brooks bit her lip.
Livy blinked back the tears and wrung out the cloth once again. Jessica had stopped asking for her brother. If this was Bobby, it would be cruel to let her see him and then have death snatch him away hours or days after they had been reunited.
* * *
“Grady, get in here.”
Grady lumbered into the office, and Victor slammed the door behind the hulking giant, shutting out the clamor of sewing machines.
“I told you to get rid of that kid.”
“I did.” Grady’s wide, flat features looked confused.
Victor didn’t know if Grady came with a few loose marbles rattling around in his brain or if one too many rounds in the boxing ring had knocked the sense right out of him.
“Then why is he over at the orphanage, living a life of luxury? As soon as he realizes we can’t touch him, he’ll spill the beans about this place, and that sheriff and his deputy will be all over us.”
“I thought he was dead, boss.”
“Well, he’s not, and those boys that got away from us found him and took him to the orphanage.”
“Sorry, boss.”
Sorry? That’s all the imbecile could say?
Victor raked a hand through his hair. His carefully laid plans were falling apart because