A lone girl wandered down the cobblestone streets, not sure where to go. Over her shoulder hung a burlap bag, small and worn, holding nothing, but there in case she found something. In the distance she heard laughing from a pub, one of the few buildings in Belfast, Ireland, with candles still lit this late. As she walked closer, the laughing gradually changed to angry words, insults thrown out in both Gaelic and English. Just close enough to see the door open, an average size body was little more than tossed outside, landing on its backside, only to jump to its feet and yell insults back. The door slammed shut in its face, leaving a few men outside, taking sides for the inevidable fight. Blinking in the sudden darkness to see, the girl raised an eyebrow. "Da?"
Ben McDonaghey looked up to see his daughter. "Lute...I didn't know you would be here. What're you doing out this late?"
"Just walking," Lute shrugged. "And thinking."
Ben took the few steps it was to reach Lute. "Thinking again?" He laughed and embraced her. "Well, I must be a very lucky man to have a thinker for a daughter."
Glancing sideways at the pub, Lute had to ask. "When do you close? I mean, I can be home alone, I just like it when you're around better."
"Getting to that..." The door to the pub opened once again and some half-drunken Irishmen walked out.
"Oy, Ben, O'Reilly's gonna be wantin' that apron back!"
Ben looked at his feet. "I'm sorry Lute, I know I needed a job, but I just couldn't stay around a bunch of drunks in and out every day."
The figure that had been thrown out of the pub had sat down during the conversation, only to stand up again now, brushing dirt off its pants. Lute gave a disapproving glance as the figure approached them.
"Look, Mister, it ain't got anything to do wit' da drunks. You jest couldn't pour beer fast enough."
Very surprised, Lute saw that "it" was actually an older teenage girl. And, judging by the accent, wasn't from around Ireland. She looked to Ben, awaiting a reply. He gave no words, just a sigh.
The girl laughed. "Not dat this bloody Irish stuff was any good anyway."
"If you come to Ireland, that's what you're going to get. A bit on the strong side, for an American like you," he said a bit disdainfully.
"America? You're...you're from America?" Lute asked, very surprised.
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" the girl replied, picking up a parcel that had laid at her feet.
"I've dreamed of going to America...opportunities, all the people, open minds..." Lute trailed off with a happy sigh.
"Opportunities depends on who ya are and whatcha can do. Dey ain't set out in front of you on a silver plattah."
Ben glanced between the two girls, both about the same age, same height, but so oddly different. "Speaking of America, Lute, if it is the land of opportunity, it may be wise for us to consider emmigrating. I love this country as much as any Irishman, but there's nowhere left for me to work. A ship leaves next week, headed for New York City. We can go through immi-"
"New Yawk City..." the girl laughed. "Anyt'ings in New Yawk, dey say. Yeah, sure. Dat's why all dem immigrants are livin' in houses of a dozen fam'lies each." She walked back over to the pub, and not expecting to be let in, pulled out some salted meat from the parcel to eat.
"I think I could work there, Lute. I could go ahead, find a job, and send for you."
"No, Da, no! I don't want you to leave me here. I could work in America, too," Lute begged.
"I don't know much about the City though. I'm not so sure about taking you to a foriegn place like that."
"Well, we could find a guide, someone who's been there before. Belfast is big enough, there's got to be someone who's from New York." She paused, thinking for a moment, then glanced at the outer wall of the pub. "In fact," she said, grinning slyly, "I believe American opportunity may have already stumbled into our lives."
Ben and Lute went home that night, leaving the American troublemaker to fend for herself. Theirs was a modest home, a cottage tucked away in the hills outside of Belfast. Ben loved the green of the hills, the clovers that grew there, and the fresh smell of spring, but Lute wanted more. Never having been to a large city, New York sounded thrilling. All Belfast had were ports, ports, and more ports. Sure, interesting people came from time to time, but a real city-London, New York, Paris-those she had heard so much about but quite actually knew nothing about them. She dreamed every night of the city, and very much wished her dream to come true.
"Da," Lute said, while stirring some porridge for breakfast, "I think we should leave for America. We don't need much to pack, and we don't have much as it is. There's nothing for us here."
Ben glanced at her, and continued eating. "I could go, but the city can be dangerous. Would you be safe?"
"That American girl-she would know," Lute replied. "I could go find her today, and we could ask her about New York."
Ben mulled over the idea for a few seconds, taking the time to eat a few more bites. "It wouldn't hurt to question an American about their country. You may go find her, I'll stay her and organize what we would need, and what not."
Lute jumped up, excited, and embraced her father. "Thank you, Da, thank you!"
"Nope. Not goin' back."
Lute sighed, realizing she was getting no where with begging, decided to try a new method. "Well, have you any family left over there?" The American's face, which had been emotionless throughout their whole conversation, changed briefly. So quickly, in fact, that Lute wasn't totally sure she'd seen the change. "Well, do you?"
"I got a brudder..."
"I'm sure he misses you."
"Nah, I ain't seen him in..." she counted on her fingers. "Well, I was thoit-teen...musta been near ta four years."
"Don't you want to see him again?" Lute asked sincerly.
The American frowned. "He left me in da streets. No, I don't want ta see him again!"
Lute was troubled. Would she ever get through to this foreign girl? She glanced up to the sun, which was now setting behind a lush green hill. Twilight was fast approaching, even a blind person would be able to tell. The pubs were starting to get more business. "Well, are you hungry? My Da should be making supper about now, we always love visitors."
Mulling over the idea for a very few seconds, the American thought it wouldn't hurt. She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess dat's fine."
Lute led the girl to their cottage, only about a half mile from where they had been. A light shone through a front window, and curling black smoke rose from the chimney. They entered to be greeted warmly by Ben.
"I'm glad to see that you decided to join us," Ben told the girl as they sat at the table. "Are yeh willing to tell us much about yourself?"
The girl nodded as she served herself some potatoes. "What d'ya wanna know?"
"A name would be nice," Lute said slyly.
"Well..." She cut a peeled potato in half. "My family name is Nicoll. I ain't gonna tell ya my foist name, but most people call me Slingshot. Sling foah short. You're Lute, and you're Ben, right?"
Lute nodded. "You're from New York City, are you not?"
Sling shrugged. "I been dere enough. Act'lly, I lived in dis western territory, New Mexico, most of my life. But New Yawk, it was alright."
Ben looked to Lute, who gave him an excited smile. "We want to leave next week for New York City," Ben said. "Would you recommend that as a wise decision?"
"Only if ya like standin' in lines," Sling answered.
"Whatever do you mean?" Lute asked, bewildered.
"Well, dere's dis place, an island, it's called Ellis Island. All da new imm'grats gotta wait dere until some sorta government officials say you can come to da mainland."
"It can't be too bad," Ben said.
"Nah, it's not dat bad, it jist takes a while. And you bette' be healthy, or else dey ain't gonna letcha t'rough."
Thinking over this new information about immigration, they ate the rest of their dinner quietly. Afterwards, as Sling raised to leave, Lute stopped her.
"Please, stay. You're welcome here. We need a guide in New York City. If it is as huge as you've said it is, I don't think we could get anywhere without some help."
"I ain't goin' back. An' I gots somewhere else ya stay." She picked up a cowboy hat from the floor. "T'anks for da offer, though."
Moments after Slingshot had left, Lute and Ben being done with the dishes, sat down near the fire for Ben to smoke his pipe and talk to his daughter. "Americans...they are a very peculiar people. Did you get much information out of her today?"
"No," Lute replied. "She seems...very resentful."
Ben nodded slowly, and closed his eyes, thinking a moment. "Maybe if we paid her...but we haven't all that much money. Do you know where she's staying?"
"On the streets, or various pubs," Lute replied, disgusted. "Why would she not accept our invitation?"
"The Americans, they like to do things on their own. Especially this one, it seems."
"I will get her to come to New York. There has got to be a way, a soft spot in her somewhere," Lute said, very determined. She yawned. "I'll be off to bed. G'night, Da."
Ben McDonaghey looked up to see his daughter. "Lute...I didn't know you would be here. What're you doing out this late?"
"Just walking," Lute shrugged. "And thinking."
Ben took the few steps it was to reach Lute. "Thinking again?" He laughed and embraced her. "Well, I must be a very lucky man to have a thinker for a daughter."
Glancing sideways at the pub, Lute had to ask. "When do you close? I mean, I can be home alone, I just like it when you're around better."
"Getting to that..." The door to the pub opened once again and some half-drunken Irishmen walked out.
"Oy, Ben, O'Reilly's gonna be wantin' that apron back!"
Ben looked at his feet. "I'm sorry Lute, I know I needed a job, but I just couldn't stay around a bunch of drunks in and out every day."
The figure that had been thrown out of the pub had sat down during the conversation, only to stand up again now, brushing dirt off its pants. Lute gave a disapproving glance as the figure approached them.
"Look, Mister, it ain't got anything to do wit' da drunks. You jest couldn't pour beer fast enough."
Very surprised, Lute saw that "it" was actually an older teenage girl. And, judging by the accent, wasn't from around Ireland. She looked to Ben, awaiting a reply. He gave no words, just a sigh.
The girl laughed. "Not dat this bloody Irish stuff was any good anyway."
"If you come to Ireland, that's what you're going to get. A bit on the strong side, for an American like you," he said a bit disdainfully.
"America? You're...you're from America?" Lute asked, very surprised.
"Yeah, what's it to ya?" the girl replied, picking up a parcel that had laid at her feet.
"I've dreamed of going to America...opportunities, all the people, open minds..." Lute trailed off with a happy sigh.
"Opportunities depends on who ya are and whatcha can do. Dey ain't set out in front of you on a silver plattah."
Ben glanced between the two girls, both about the same age, same height, but so oddly different. "Speaking of America, Lute, if it is the land of opportunity, it may be wise for us to consider emmigrating. I love this country as much as any Irishman, but there's nowhere left for me to work. A ship leaves next week, headed for New York City. We can go through immi-"
"New Yawk City..." the girl laughed. "Anyt'ings in New Yawk, dey say. Yeah, sure. Dat's why all dem immigrants are livin' in houses of a dozen fam'lies each." She walked back over to the pub, and not expecting to be let in, pulled out some salted meat from the parcel to eat.
"I think I could work there, Lute. I could go ahead, find a job, and send for you."
"No, Da, no! I don't want you to leave me here. I could work in America, too," Lute begged.
"I don't know much about the City though. I'm not so sure about taking you to a foriegn place like that."
"Well, we could find a guide, someone who's been there before. Belfast is big enough, there's got to be someone who's from New York." She paused, thinking for a moment, then glanced at the outer wall of the pub. "In fact," she said, grinning slyly, "I believe American opportunity may have already stumbled into our lives."
Ben and Lute went home that night, leaving the American troublemaker to fend for herself. Theirs was a modest home, a cottage tucked away in the hills outside of Belfast. Ben loved the green of the hills, the clovers that grew there, and the fresh smell of spring, but Lute wanted more. Never having been to a large city, New York sounded thrilling. All Belfast had were ports, ports, and more ports. Sure, interesting people came from time to time, but a real city-London, New York, Paris-those she had heard so much about but quite actually knew nothing about them. She dreamed every night of the city, and very much wished her dream to come true.
"Da," Lute said, while stirring some porridge for breakfast, "I think we should leave for America. We don't need much to pack, and we don't have much as it is. There's nothing for us here."
Ben glanced at her, and continued eating. "I could go, but the city can be dangerous. Would you be safe?"
"That American girl-she would know," Lute replied. "I could go find her today, and we could ask her about New York."
Ben mulled over the idea for a few seconds, taking the time to eat a few more bites. "It wouldn't hurt to question an American about their country. You may go find her, I'll stay her and organize what we would need, and what not."
Lute jumped up, excited, and embraced her father. "Thank you, Da, thank you!"
"Nope. Not goin' back."
Lute sighed, realizing she was getting no where with begging, decided to try a new method. "Well, have you any family left over there?" The American's face, which had been emotionless throughout their whole conversation, changed briefly. So quickly, in fact, that Lute wasn't totally sure she'd seen the change. "Well, do you?"
"I got a brudder..."
"I'm sure he misses you."
"Nah, I ain't seen him in..." she counted on her fingers. "Well, I was thoit-teen...musta been near ta four years."
"Don't you want to see him again?" Lute asked sincerly.
The American frowned. "He left me in da streets. No, I don't want ta see him again!"
Lute was troubled. Would she ever get through to this foreign girl? She glanced up to the sun, which was now setting behind a lush green hill. Twilight was fast approaching, even a blind person would be able to tell. The pubs were starting to get more business. "Well, are you hungry? My Da should be making supper about now, we always love visitors."
Mulling over the idea for a very few seconds, the American thought it wouldn't hurt. She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess dat's fine."
Lute led the girl to their cottage, only about a half mile from where they had been. A light shone through a front window, and curling black smoke rose from the chimney. They entered to be greeted warmly by Ben.
"I'm glad to see that you decided to join us," Ben told the girl as they sat at the table. "Are yeh willing to tell us much about yourself?"
The girl nodded as she served herself some potatoes. "What d'ya wanna know?"
"A name would be nice," Lute said slyly.
"Well..." She cut a peeled potato in half. "My family name is Nicoll. I ain't gonna tell ya my foist name, but most people call me Slingshot. Sling foah short. You're Lute, and you're Ben, right?"
Lute nodded. "You're from New York City, are you not?"
Sling shrugged. "I been dere enough. Act'lly, I lived in dis western territory, New Mexico, most of my life. But New Yawk, it was alright."
Ben looked to Lute, who gave him an excited smile. "We want to leave next week for New York City," Ben said. "Would you recommend that as a wise decision?"
"Only if ya like standin' in lines," Sling answered.
"Whatever do you mean?" Lute asked, bewildered.
"Well, dere's dis place, an island, it's called Ellis Island. All da new imm'grats gotta wait dere until some sorta government officials say you can come to da mainland."
"It can't be too bad," Ben said.
"Nah, it's not dat bad, it jist takes a while. And you bette' be healthy, or else dey ain't gonna letcha t'rough."
Thinking over this new information about immigration, they ate the rest of their dinner quietly. Afterwards, as Sling raised to leave, Lute stopped her.
"Please, stay. You're welcome here. We need a guide in New York City. If it is as huge as you've said it is, I don't think we could get anywhere without some help."
"I ain't goin' back. An' I gots somewhere else ya stay." She picked up a cowboy hat from the floor. "T'anks for da offer, though."
Moments after Slingshot had left, Lute and Ben being done with the dishes, sat down near the fire for Ben to smoke his pipe and talk to his daughter. "Americans...they are a very peculiar people. Did you get much information out of her today?"
"No," Lute replied. "She seems...very resentful."
Ben nodded slowly, and closed his eyes, thinking a moment. "Maybe if we paid her...but we haven't all that much money. Do you know where she's staying?"
"On the streets, or various pubs," Lute replied, disgusted. "Why would she not accept our invitation?"
"The Americans, they like to do things on their own. Especially this one, it seems."
"I will get her to come to New York. There has got to be a way, a soft spot in her somewhere," Lute said, very determined. She yawned. "I'll be off to bed. G'night, Da."