usual.”
“Good. My men are on their way over to unload it.”
Jake stepped forward. “Sir, I’d like to take a look inside.”
Pale-gray eyes rested on the badge pinned to Jake’s coat before shifting to meet his gaze. A bemused expression blanketed Gibbons’s face. “What for, Deputy?”
Jake hesitated. How much did he want to share? The influx of homeless children on their streets wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t want one of the town’s newest and most influential citizens to get the wrong idea. “Looking for stowaways. We’re getting more than our fair share, it seems.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that with my private cars.” Mr. Gibbons’s gaze raked him from head to toe. “I’m sorry, Deputy; I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jake Russell.” Jake clenched his jaw. Gibbons hailed from Chicago, and word had it that he came from old money. The man couldn’t be more than ten years older than himself, but he looked at Jake like he’d smelled something unpleasant.
“Ah. Deputy Russell.” A slight smile played over the man’s face. “Like I said, my freighters are locked tight as a drum all the way from Chicago. No one can get inside. I’ve got a lot of money invested in that machinery, and I’d hate for vandals to have access to it.” He nodded. “Good day to you, Deputy.”
He turned away. Jake eyed the business owner’s retreating back. What did Gibbons have to hide? Seemed like he’d appreciate the local law looking out for his interests. Only one way to find out. “Conductor, open that door.”
“What did you say?” Gibbons whirled around, his eyes colder than the wind blowing out of the north.
Jake faced him, feet apart, legs braced. He jerked his head toward the lone car at the end of the line. “I told the conductor to open her up so I can have a look inside. If everything is as you say, you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”
“It’s not me who has anything to worry about. It’ll be you if you keep on with this foolishness.” His gaze shifted, and Jake glanced around. Three burly men spread out behind him.
“Trouble, boss?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, boys.” Gibbons palmed a set of keys and moved closer to Jake. “Listen, Deputy, I’m going to let you have your look-see to prove there’s nothing in that shipment other than what I said. I’m a man of my word, and the sooner you get that through your thick head, the better off you’ll be.”
Gibbons turned the key with jerky motions, and one of his men slid the heavy door open, revealing two large crates. Other than that, the container stood empty.
“Satisfied?”
Jake searched the shadows of the car and found nothing, other than the crates. He stepped back and tipped his hat. “Just doing my job.”
He strode to his horse as the whistle blew. Mounted, he reined away, but not before he caught Gibbons’s hard-eyed gaze following his every move. Jake headed toward the jail. He’d just made an enemy out of one of the richest men in town, someone Chestnut’s founding fathers had wooed to help grow the city. With a few well-placed comments, Gibbons could have Jake’s tin star pinned to the nearest Christmas tree before he could say, “Merry Christmas.”
* * *
Victor glared at Jimmy Sharp and threw a set of keys on the desk, the clatter a pale imitation of the clamoring anger in his gut. “So my brother sent you in his place, huh?”
“He’s busy.” Sharp stared him down, his ice-blue gaze cutting in its intensity.
Scowling, Victor turned away and poured a shot of whiskey. Busy. Like he’d been for the past ten years. Their father had passed the reins on to his older brother and left Victor with nothing except the crumbs from his brother’s table.
Part of that inheritance should have been his. But his brother didn’t think he was capable of taking over any of the family businesses and always gave the jobs to people like Sharp. And their father agreed
“Good. My men are on their way over to unload it.”
Jake stepped forward. “Sir, I’d like to take a look inside.”
Pale-gray eyes rested on the badge pinned to Jake’s coat before shifting to meet his gaze. A bemused expression blanketed Gibbons’s face. “What for, Deputy?”
Jake hesitated. How much did he want to share? The influx of homeless children on their streets wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t want one of the town’s newest and most influential citizens to get the wrong idea. “Looking for stowaways. We’re getting more than our fair share, it seems.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that with my private cars.” Mr. Gibbons’s gaze raked him from head to toe. “I’m sorry, Deputy; I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jake Russell.” Jake clenched his jaw. Gibbons hailed from Chicago, and word had it that he came from old money. The man couldn’t be more than ten years older than himself, but he looked at Jake like he’d smelled something unpleasant.
“Ah. Deputy Russell.” A slight smile played over the man’s face. “Like I said, my freighters are locked tight as a drum all the way from Chicago. No one can get inside. I’ve got a lot of money invested in that machinery, and I’d hate for vandals to have access to it.” He nodded. “Good day to you, Deputy.”
He turned away. Jake eyed the business owner’s retreating back. What did Gibbons have to hide? Seemed like he’d appreciate the local law looking out for his interests. Only one way to find out. “Conductor, open that door.”
“What did you say?” Gibbons whirled around, his eyes colder than the wind blowing out of the north.
Jake faced him, feet apart, legs braced. He jerked his head toward the lone car at the end of the line. “I told the conductor to open her up so I can have a look inside. If everything is as you say, you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”
“It’s not me who has anything to worry about. It’ll be you if you keep on with this foolishness.” His gaze shifted, and Jake glanced around. Three burly men spread out behind him.
“Trouble, boss?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, boys.” Gibbons palmed a set of keys and moved closer to Jake. “Listen, Deputy, I’m going to let you have your look-see to prove there’s nothing in that shipment other than what I said. I’m a man of my word, and the sooner you get that through your thick head, the better off you’ll be.”
Gibbons turned the key with jerky motions, and one of his men slid the heavy door open, revealing two large crates. Other than that, the container stood empty.
“Satisfied?”
Jake searched the shadows of the car and found nothing, other than the crates. He stepped back and tipped his hat. “Just doing my job.”
He strode to his horse as the whistle blew. Mounted, he reined away, but not before he caught Gibbons’s hard-eyed gaze following his every move. Jake headed toward the jail. He’d just made an enemy out of one of the richest men in town, someone Chestnut’s founding fathers had wooed to help grow the city. With a few well-placed comments, Gibbons could have Jake’s tin star pinned to the nearest Christmas tree before he could say, “Merry Christmas.”
* * *
Victor glared at Jimmy Sharp and threw a set of keys on the desk, the clatter a pale imitation of the clamoring anger in his gut. “So my brother sent you in his place, huh?”
“He’s busy.” Sharp stared him down, his ice-blue gaze cutting in its intensity.
Scowling, Victor turned away and poured a shot of whiskey. Busy. Like he’d been for the past ten years. Their father had passed the reins on to his older brother and left Victor with nothing except the crumbs from his brother’s table.
Part of that inheritance should have been his. But his brother didn’t think he was capable of taking over any of the family businesses and always gave the jobs to people like Sharp. And their father agreed
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