Stealing Jake - By Pam Hillman Page 0,86

of a bunch of dim-witted idiots. He’d picked Butch and Grady for their size and intimidation, not because of their brains. His first mistake.

The hum of sewing machines vibrated through the walls. The glove factory was his first endeavor outside of his father’s well-oiled machine in Chicago, and he’d turned a hefty profit until now. If those kids hadn’t started stealing from the merchants and caused the deputy to ask questions, he’d have been sitting pretty for a long time. But they were forcing him to take action.

What would his brother do? Cut his losses. That’s what.

They’d move the children, and then they’d destroy the building.

* * *

Billy Johansen squirmed like a bug caught in a jug of syrup.

Martha slapped her hands against her hips. “Now hold on, Jake. You can’t come in here and accuse my Billy of being involved with that riffraff from shantytown.”

Jake ignored the boy’s mother, his attention focused on Billy. Lavinia’s older sister had always run roughshod over the rest of them, even back when they’d been children in school. He could easily see that Billy had inherited her overbearing ways. Martha’s timid husband, Clarence, looked on, not saying a word.

“Billy, you were seen with one of the thieves. It’s only going to be a matter of time before they’re caught. It’ll go a lot easier on you if you tell me what you know now.”

Martha huffed.

“Will I go to jail?” Billy asked, the first sign of fear or admission he’d shown.

“It depends on whether you’ve stolen anything. Have you?”

Billy shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Well, then, if you’re telling the truth, you don’t have anything to worry about. Who’s stealing from the merchants?”

“I’ve listened to enough of this.” Martha stomped forward, putting herself between Jake and Billy. “Jake, you should be ashamed of yourself, accusing a child of thievery. Why, it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jake almost laughed. Didn’t it occur to Martha that the entire town seemed intent on accusing a bunch of street kids who didn’t have anyone to defend them—save Livy—of thieving? “Martha, I’m not accusing Billy of any wrongdoing. I’ve been told he was seen with one of the thieves.”

“Well, it sounds like you think he’s guilty of something, and—”

“Hush, Martha.” Clarence spoke up, his deep voice at odds with his quiet manner.

Dead silence filled the room.

Martha’s jaw dropped open and she sputtered, “But, Clarence—”

“I told you to hush.” Clarence turned to his son. “Billy, go ahead and tell Jake what you know. Even your mother can’t get you out of this one.”

Billy paled and looked toward the floor. “Will,” he whispered.

“Will McIver?” Jake asked.

Billy nodded, his expression downright miserable.

* * *

Jake left the Johansens’, planning to head straight to Sam’s, not liking what he must do one bit. Not only had Will started drinking and gambling, but he’d added stealing to his vices. It all fell into place now. Will needed money to support his gambling habit. Jake should’ve realized Will wouldn’t have that kind of money the night he’d hauled him out of Lucky’s. But he’d been so focused on finding the kid drunk and on what that would do to his parents that thoughts of where Will had gotten that much money hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Halfway to the mercantile, he changed his mind and stepped into Judge Parker’s quarters.

An hour later, Jake found Sam alone in the store, all his cronies having gone home or to Nellie’s for the noon meal. Thankful for the absence of prying eyes and ears, Jake rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’ve got some bad news, Sam.”

Sam’s body went rigid. “It’s Will, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” A muscle jumped in Sam’s clenched jaw. “Just tell me straight.”

Jake hated being the bearer of bad news to his friends and neighbors. But as deputy, he didn’t have a choice. He took a deep breath. “I think Will’s been stealing to support his gambling and drinking.”

Sam turned away, shoulders slumped. “I should have seen it. Who else would have known where that watch was or even my sister-in-law’s jewelry?”

Jake gripped his friend’s shoulder. “If anybody should have recognized the signs, it should have been me. Don’t blame yourself. You raised him right, Sam. It’s not your fault.”

“I reckon you’re going to need to take him in.” Sam turned to face Jake.

“I’m sorry, Sam. Where is he?”

“At home. Sleeping off another drunk, I suppose.” Sam bowed his head and took a deep cleansing breath, then untied the apron from around his waist and