Cowboy

By: Southern Spell

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

The old cowboy pushed his gnarled hands into the pockets of his pants and stood, staring down at the head stone that had taken him over an hour to find in the massive cemetery. Fresh snow continued to fall as old memories flashed in his mind. The gravestone wasn't very big, but then it didn't need to be for its simple purpose.

"Jack Kelly. 1882-1905."

Frank laughed at the last part. A hollow and humorless sound, that shattered the soft silence.

"A Hero."

The man had known Jack Kelly, known him better than anyone. Kelly had been a decent young man, a bit of a liar, but one who did not mind stepping up to do what was necessary when people needed him. But a hero? The old man shook his head. Kelly's friends had been too generous with the statement. The man thought of all those friends. His memory lingered on a certain girl. She had loved Jack, Jack had loved her. Or at least it was the closest Kelly had ever come to love. Over the years Frank had not forgotten her, of all the other faceless 'darlin's', not her. He hadn't forgotten the boys either. The newsies had been the closest thing to family he had ever known. It was probably the only time in his life that he missed.

But the day Jack Kelly died; there had been no going back for Frank, until now. It was forty years ago to the day. He doubted that anyone he knew then, if they were still alive, could recognize him now. He was the only person who knew what really happened to the young man. Frank had put an end to Jack Kelly.

It was four decades ago, but with the snow falling all around, the old man thought about the day he had got on that train bound for Santa Fe, to live out Kelly's dream of being a cowboy. He had left behind the only people who had ever given a damn about him. The newsies, David, Spot, that girl…He had spent the night before Jack's death wondering if he would get caught. It been exciting and had made him feel like a nervous mess. Now the only things ol' Frank felt was weariness and regret. He had done many things he wished he hadn't, but leaving New York was his biggest mistake. With a heavy sigh he lifted the sack he had set on the ground next to him and pulled out an old, ragged cowboy hat. Jack's hat. He set it on the gravestone.

The biggest mistake Frank ever made was when he stopped being Jack Kelly.

A/N: I wrote this during my math class today and kinda liked it. I hope you did too. review and tell me what you think.