until Will set things in motion with his thievery. By trying to flush out the street kids, Jake had uncovered a nest of vipers in their midst.
Sheriff Carter approached him, face grim. “Somebody must have left a lamp burning or something. I haven’t seen Gibbons, but he’s gonna be mad as a hornet.”
Jake tried to suppress the hacking cough that bubbled out of his lungs.
The sheriff glanced sharply at him. “What happened to you? You get downwind of that smoke?”
“You might say that.”
Jake outlined everything leading up to the glove factory’s burning. “As soon as it’s daylight, we need to send a telegraph to Chicago. We might need some help.”
Sheriff Carter nodded. “What do you think Gibbons will do? You think he’ll run?”
“Maybe not. He probably thinks Livy and I died in the fire, if he even knows we were there in the first place. And if I can keep it that way, we might have a chance of catching him.”
Soon the bucket brigade slowed to a crawl as the exhausted firefighters realized the building couldn’t be salvaged and the flames no longer threatened their homes and businesses. Discussion broke out speculating the cause of the fire.
Jake stood in the shadows, studying the crowd. Were the men who’d locked him and Livy inside still around? He didn’t know what they looked like, but he had a gut feeling he’d know them if he saw them. He remembered the three goons who’d flanked Gibbons at the rail yard. Probably more of the same.
Pounding hooves sounded on the road leading to the glove factory. Victor Gibbons galloped into view.
Dismounting, he let loose a string of curse words, then bellowed, “What happened here?”
Sheriff Carter stepped forward. “Nobody knows, Mr. Gibbons. Maybe you can tell us.”
“Me?” the factory owner blustered. “I just now arrived. Somebody destroyed my factory, Sheriff, and I expect you and that deputy of yours to catch the culprits. Probably some of those street kids who’ve been stealing everybody blind.”
Jake eased out of the shadows, close behind Gibbons, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Gibbons, you’re under arrest.”
Gibbons swung around. “My glove factory is burning to the ground, and you’re arresting me? What in the world for?”
“For endangerment of children and attempted murder of an officer of the law,” Jake said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered up the reins of his horse and started to mount. “If you’ve got anything to say, you can say it to my lawyer.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Sheriff Carter pressed his pistol against Gibbons’s backbone.
The factory owner lowered his boot to the ground. The sheriff wasted no time slapping a pair of handcuffs on him.
“I want my lawyer.” Gibbons glared at Jake.
“You can contact a lawyer in the morning.” Sheriff Carter prodded him. “Now start walking.”
Jake took up the reins of the horse and followed, keeping a careful eye out for Gibbons’s hired men. He wouldn’t put it past them to try to rescue their boss before they got to the jail.
Gibbons cursed all the way down Main Street. As Jake locked the cell door, the prisoner sat on the cot, cold gaze trained on Jake. “You’re going to wish you’d never tangled with me. You don’t have a drop of proof, and when my lawyer is done with you, you’ll never work in law enforcement again.”
Jake leaned his forearms against the cell. “I’m not as concerned with that as I am the lives of the children you had working for you. Where are they?”
Gibbons lay on the cot, his hands folded behind his head. “What children? I told you before, I don’t hire kids.”
You don’t hire them; you just buy them like pieces of machinery.
Jake turned on his heel, strode into the front office, and slammed the door.
Sheriff Carter glanced at the closed door. “He’s right, you know. We don’t have a smidgen of evidence, especially now that the glove factory is gone.”
“There’s a bunch of kids out there somewhere who can identify Gibbons as the man who treated them like slaves—or worse.”
“If they’re still alive.” Sheriff Carter poured himself a cup of hours-old coffee and eased into his chair with a grunt. “I’m going to send a telegraph to Chicago bright and early in the morning. I’ve got an old friend who might be able to give us a hand.”
Jake rubbed a weary hand across his face. “Will you be all right for a while, Sheriff? I need to go check on Livy.”