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He could never do that. It was one thing to take what was going to be tossed out, quite another to brazenly steal something the baker made a living from.
Stomach rumbling, he backed from the room, his foot hitting a wooden crate near the door. He froze, grateful when no one came racing into the kitchen. When he turned to leave, he saw what was in the crate. Nearly a dozen rolls, the tops a bit too brown, the bottoms black as coal.
Unable to believe his luck, he stuffed several rolls into his pockets, resisting the temptation to take every last one of them.
Slipping out the door, he raced down the alley, pausing to grab his brother’s arm. The two boys darted around the puddles, then out to the street, where massive brick warehouses lined the railroad tracks. Toby and Chip lived in the orphanage on the other side. After a quick look behind them to make sure no one was following, Toby guided his brother that direction. When they reached the corner, he saw a man astride a black mare champing at the bit. The horseman, struggling to keep his mount under control, looked their direction.
Toby grasped Chip’s hand, holding tight. Instinct told him to continue on past, as though that had been their intention the entire time.
As soon as they were out of sight, they broke into a run. Up ahead, Toby saw an alcove and pulled Chip into it, hiding his brother behind him.
A few seconds later, he heard the staccato clip of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones. Toby peered out, caught a glimpse of the man, and pressed back against the wall, praying the shadows would hide them.
“Who’s that?” Chip asked.
“Quiet.”
“I’m hungry,” Chip whispered. “And cold.”
There was a familiarity about the man when he’d looked over at Toby.
As though he’d seen him before.
And this was what bothered Toby. Something told him that if he didn’t find out who the man was, his brother and sisters wouldn’t be safe.
After their father, a coal miner, died of black lung disease, their mother had moved them all to Manchester, working in one of the textile mills. But then she’d taken ill, too, and could no longer care for them. They’d lived the last year at the Payton Home for Orphans. Had it not been for Toby’s trips to the bakery, he and his siblings would have starved.
He had to get back to his sisters, but the only way to the orphanage was across the railroad tracks. Seconds ticked by, and the low rumble of an approaching train grew louder. Suddenly the horseman turned and galloped back toward the tracks.
“Wait here,” Toby said, tucking his brother safely in the shadows.
* * *
—
THREE DAYS AGO, if someone had told Toby that he’d be brave enough to follow a horseman in the dark to see what the man was about, he might have laughed. He was the least brave person he knew. But his mother had made him promise to look after his sisters and brother, and that’s exactly what he intended to do.
He’d gone no more than a few feet when Chip appeared at his side. Toby backtracked, taking his brother’s hand. “I told you to wait.”
“I don’t want to stay by myself.”
Toby considered taking him, until he remembered that feeling of terror when he’d almost been caught stealing from the bakery. “Hold these for me,” he said, pulling three of the four rolls from his pocket and helping his brother put them in his. When he pulled out the fourth roll, he held it up. “If you stay here until I come back for you, I’ll let you have the extra one.”
Chip’s eyes went wide as he stared at the burnt bread. But then he s
hook his head. “If I have that, what’ll you have?”
“Ate one in the kitchen before I got out,” he said, hoping the rumble of his stomach wouldn’t give him away. “So hungry, I couldn’t wait. But you want that extra one, you have to stay here.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want Lizzie or Abigail to see you eating it. You think you can do that?”
“Yes.”
When Toby gave him the last roll, he gripped it in both hands, holding it up to his nose.
“Don’t leave here until I come get you,” Toby said, gently guiding his brother back to the alcove. As soon as Chip was safely tucked away, Toby started the other direction, keeping to the shadows.