overlapped each other, as though a man had come and gone from the apartment.
Emil has gotten tangled in some trouble.
All she had were rumors and gossip. She knew well enough the lack of truth they contained. She was poor orphan Lily after all.
“Hold the railing. The steps might be slippery.”
They traversed the narrow stairs and crowded onto the landing. She shook off her apprehension. Probably someone had come to check on Emil when he didn’t open his shop. She touched the handle and the door swung open.
Before she could stop them, the siblings rushed inside.
Lily chased after them. “Wipe your feet. Don’t track snow.”
The person who’d been here before them had not been as thoughtful. Footprints tracked across the wood floors. Crouching, she swiped at the marks. The melted snow had dried, leaving only dirt behind.
The space was neat and tidy, though sparsely furnished. The woodpile was well stocked, and Emil’s belongings were scattered about. There was a pipe and a tin of tobacco along with a stack of newspapers. Though clearly occupied, the space was oddly impersonal. The rooms might have belonged to anyone, save for the feather Christmas tree sheltering a stack of gifts propped on a table in the corner.
The walls of her room at the boardinghouse were covered in drawings and postcards. The windows had been decorated with curtains she’d sewed. Even her floors were covered in hand-knotted rag rugs. While she recognized through her experience at the rooming house that men were less likely to personalize a space with their possessions, Emil’s home felt cold and detached. There was certainly nothing warm and welcoming for the children.
Well, almost nothing.
The feather tree was the only touch of homey decorating, which was even odder still considering how early it was in the season. She’d never known anyone who put the tree out before December. After crossing the distance, she rummaged through the brown-paper-wrapped packages. The labels included both Sam’s and Peter’s name.
The two caught sight of her discovery and scurried over.
Peter held a package near his ear and shook it. “These are for us.”
Squinting, he held the box to the light streaming from the second-story window.
Despite the general lack of preparation for the arrival of two youngsters, their grandfather had, at least, bought them presents. Why purchase gifts and then abscond? Feeling guilty but determined, Lily riffled through a stack of books on the side table. She discovered several dime novels featuring Deadwood Dick on the cover. Deeper in the pile, a black-and-white cover displayed a tall man with a hat pulled low over his eyes. The title read Gunman for Hire.
While Sam and Peter explored the open kitchen on the far side of the room, she followed the path the tracks had taken into the small apartment. Once again the arrangement struck her as odd. Where did Emil suppose his grandchildren would sleep? There was only the single bed that hardly looked big enough for a grown man.
The trail ended before a bureau set along the far wall beneath a double window. She ran her finger across the top and came away with only the barest hint of dust. Uttering a brief prayer for forgiveness, she opened the top drawer. A handkerchief box, the lid open, rested in the corner. Several coins were scattered along the bottom.
The years slipped away and she was five years old again. Each night when her father returned from work, he had emptied his pockets of coins and dollars into a similar box. She glanced at the footprints once more. The intruder had known exactly what he was looking for.
Though rifling through a stranger’s belongings went against her nature, she opened the second drawer and discovered a stack of folded blue handkerchiefs. Her heart kicked in her chest. She’d seen the same handkerchief before.
Lifting her head, she gazed out the window. Emil’s bedroom directly overlooked the hotel and the boardwalk, where a wooden chair sat empty.
I like the view.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Jake’s boots. Pointed tips. How could she forget? She’d stared at them propped on the boardwalk rail for nearly twenty minutes. The footprints in the snow had been square-toed.
“Oh, dear.”
She had a bad feeling Emil’s troubles were wrapped up with a man who wore a peacock embroidered vest and winked without closing his eye.
She closed the lid with a snap and hastily exited the space.
Sensing the change in her mood, Sam scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. When we return to the hotel, pack your belongings. We might have to leave in a hurry.” She knelt before Sam and Peter and held their hands. “I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always look out for you. I won’t let anything bad happen.”
Peter clutched his package. “Can we keep the presents?”
“Yes. We’ll take them with us.”
She reached for the doorknob and discovered the metal casing was bent and hung loose.
Sam paused on the threshold. “What do you suppose happened to Grandpa Emil?”
“I don’t know. But I know someone who can find out.”
* * *
Jake prowled the narrow jail cell. The building wasn’t much to look at. A squat brick structure set slightly north of the town. Only three cells flanked the back wall, a cot in each. Obviously Frozen Oaks was a quiet town without need of more lockups. The walls were rough-hewn and covered with maps and wanted posters. A tattered American flag had been haphazardly pinned between two corners.
He should have told Lily the truth. He’d been trying to protect her and instead he’d put her life in greater danger. Impotent fury settled in his chest. He’d made mistakes in his career before, especially in the beginning.
He’d never felt this powerless.
He tested the bars once again, though more to vent his frustration than discover a weakness. The cell wasn’t particularly sophisticated, but he was without tools. The sheriff had even stripped him of his shoes and belt.
The door swung open and Lily appeared in the entry.
He blinked a few times, wondering if he was hallucinating. Had the blow Sheriff Koepke delivered rattled his brain? She was just as he remembered. Her blond hair surrounded her face in a lustrous halo. Her coat was an indistinguishable shade of brown, but the hem of her bright yellow dress peeked out from beneath the wool.
His jaw hung slack. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll explain later. Where are the keys to the cell?”
He motioned with one hand toward a narrow cupboard on the wall.
Lily and her cheerful smiles were a jaunty dash of liveliness in a desolate world. Entombed in a Nebraska winter for eight weeks, he’d begun to think the wind and snow had extracted all the color from the world. The barren landscape and drab buildings
