tucking his chin against his chest.
“Help McIver any?”
He shook his head. “No, sir.”
Why was he being so evasive?
Gus eased away, signaling the end to the conversation.
Jake scratched the donkey behind the ears, then swiped at the snowflakes clinging to the animal’s back. “It’s starting to snow again. You’d better head on home before it gets real heavy.”
“Yes, sir, me and Little Bit was just about to do that.”
“Take care of yourself, Gus. Are you warm enough? Got enough coal to keep your fire going?”
But Gus and his donkey were already shuffling down the alley, Gus humming a tune that sounded like a Christmas carol. Jake continued his rounds, hoping the old man would be all right. He’d check on him tomorrow, just to be sure.
* * *
By the time Livy draped her heavy black cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood over her hair, darkness covered the town. But she wasn’t worried. The darkness was as familiar as the cloak she wore. She wrapped a shawl around her neck and covered half her face before picking up a basket of leftovers and two blankets. The food wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
She glanced at the overflowing pantry. One prayer answered in abundance. How could she have doubted God? Her faith in God’s provision was so weak—and her faith in herself was even weaker. She’d learn to depend on God and not take matters into her own hands if it killed her.
Hurrying back to the pie safe, she added several more slices of corn bread and the rest of the leftover ham. The food in the pantry wouldn’t last forever, but she couldn’t bear to let even one street kid go hungry.
The latch clicked quietly as she inched open the back door of the orphanage. She paused at the sight of more snow drifting out of the night sky. The drop in temperature from a few hours before caused her to shiver, and the temptation to abandon her mission and go back inside gripped her.
But memories of brutal nights just like this one assaulted her, and she could no more turn around and head back inside to the warmth of the orphanage than she could cease to breathe. She pulled her cloak closer, determined to see her task through.
She picked her way across the frozen ground, watching for icy spots. When the clouds parted, feeble moonlight reflected off the snow, lighting her way. She crossed in front of the laundry and headed down the alley between the livery stable and the blacksmith shop, angled across another street, and came to the edge of shantytown.
The snow was deeper here, but at least the powder kept her from slipping and sliding on black ice. The grist mill lay dormant, ice clinging to the huge paddle wheel. Pausing, she peered into a narrow alley leading to the frozen creek behind the buildings.
At least the wind had died down. For now.
Thank You, Lord.
Stacks of empty crates and boxes leaned haphazardly against the outer walls of the buildings. A heavy blanket of snow covered every inch of the area, creating the illusion of softness and purity. Nothing could be further from the truth. The black mud and coal-dusted surfaces beneath the snow mimicked the bleak circumstances of many inhabitants of shantytown, especially the boys she’d come to find. She picked her way through the cluttered alley to the dilapidated cabins along the creek bank.
The gutted shanties showed evidence of fire in the recent past. Some structures still stood, leaning against each other like drunks after a long night at the saloon. Others lay collapsed within themselves, having succumbed to the ravages of fire and decay. The first big gust of wind—or even another layer of new-fallen snow—might bring the remaining shacks crashing down.
Then it would be too late to find the boys who’d tried to steal Jake’s watch. And too late to convince them to come to the orphanage, where they could have a hot meal and a warm place to sleep.
She’d caught glimpses of them around town a couple of times. Tattered clothes covered their wasted bodies, and a hungry, desperate look emanated from their eyes.
She knew that look. She’d lived it.
It would take courage for them to give up their freedom and come to the orphanage. But she’d win them over. No matter what it took, no matter how long.
Livy peered into the darkness. Would the children come forward tonight? She listened but heard nothing other than raucous laughter accompanied by