AN: As promised, here's the next chapter. It has a little bit of the 'Carrying the Banner' song, but for reasons related to the plot I decided to relocate the song to another chapter. And several Newsie characters appear in the story so it should get a little more interesting (hopefully)

Disclaimer: I own Leah, Ginny and Charlie. Everything else belongs to Disney…and history, in some cases.

Chapter Two: How they met Cowboy

Time: Mid-June, 1889

The sights that greeted us weren't exactly what we had expected them to be. We did expect the city, but the streets had filled with people by the time we had gone through the door. I looked behind us to see that the door had disappeared. The sun was blistering hot, telling me that the two worlds weren't too different. We walked farther into the city, just waiting for something to happen.

"I'm tired." Ginny complained. "Can we head back now?"

"Into that tornado?" Charlie asked. "No thanks!"

"Momentai, you two." I yawned. I had forgotten that none of us had slept a wink during the night. And I was in no mood to deal with their crankiness. "Come on, let's go find some place to rest for a while."

It took a while, but we finally found a statue in the middle of the city. The statue was just an old man with a beard and long hair sitting on a chair, and on the block of cement that he sat on was a plaque that had these words:

'Horace Greeley

Journalist & Publisher

"Go West Young Man"

1811-1872'

I had no idea of exactly who Horace Greeley was, but it looked like a nice place to rest. And to my relief, we did just that.

That is, until we were rudely interrupted by singing. Groaning and refraining from muttering words that would make my grandmother faint in shock, I rubbed my eyes before straining to see what all of the commotion was about. A group of boys ranging from my age to Charlie's were singing and walking up to a set of gates sitting not far away from the statue. It looked like an old distribution center for newspapers, but I wasn't exactly sure. This was when I realized something; we weren't actually far away from home at all. We were just in a different time period. I remembered a history lesson about newsies from high school, but I didn't really have all of the details.

"What are they doing?" Charlie yawned.

"I think they're getting ready to buy some newspapers." I answered. "We must be in a different time period."

"What makes you say that?" Ginny asked.

"Well, about a hundred years ago, there were these people called newsies." I explained. "Most people in the 21st century get their news from the papers that are delivered to their front door. But in New York in the late 19th century and going into the 20th century, the newsies would buy their papers from the distribution center-the place where the papers are made-and then they sell the papers to the people walking through the streets and sidewalks of the cities. That's how the kids made their living back then."

"Wouldn't their parents earn the money for them?" Charlie asked.

"Well, many of these kids didn't have parents." I said carefully, trying not to scare the kid too much. "And a lot of them were immigrants-people who had moved to America from a different country to make a better living. Instead of going to school, most of the kids needed jobs to help their families, for a few meager meals, or-if they were lucky-for a place to stay for a night."

"I'm glad that we're not im-im-" Charlie couldn't quite find the word that I had just explained.

"Immigrants?" I said.

"Yeah, that." He said. "Though it would be nice to get more money instead of going to school."

"Well, how about it?" I suggested. "I have a few dollars, but I'm not sure of how long we're going to be here or how long the money will last, so it wouldn't hurt to try and make more so that we could find some place to stay for a night-if need be."

"Let's go!" Ginny exclaimed, standing up to join the singing boys at the front.

"Ginny!"

Charlie and I strained to catch up with her. She was already in the back of the line, waiting patiently as the boys kept singing the song.

"Why are they singing?" Charlie asked.

I shrugged. "Not sure. You can ask when the song's done."

"Let us through, shrimps!" A low voice interrupted our conversation-pushing me and Charlie aside to get through the crowd.

The boys stopped singing, and the crowd at the gates seemed to make a semi circle around two dark figures that were looking at the boys, just begging for trouble. Both of them wore bowler hats, and one of them had a mustache that made him look like a villain. One of the newsies at the front seemed to be sniffing the air around him.

"Dear me!" He exclaimed in a somewhat Italian-and-New York accent, taking his hat off and waving it in front of his face in a joking manner. "What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night."

"Nah, too rotten to be the sewers." One of the younger boys said. This one was African-American…at least, I think he was also American. I couldn't be quite sure.

One of the older boys took up the next joke, and this one carried a crutch under his armpit. "It must be the Delancey brudders!" He said.

This caused a lot of laughing amongst the crowd of boys. I bent down to whisper into my cousins' ears.

"Just so you know, you shouldn't be making bad jokes about people like that." I said.

"Hiya boys!" The Italian said to the two dark figures, which I guessed were the Delancey brothers from what the boy with the crutch had said.

"In the back, you lousy little shrimp." The mustache-less Delancey growled to a plump and curly red-haired boy, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him to the ground.

"Um…maybe these two guys can be exceptions to that rule." I whispered before standing straight back up.

One of the older boys moved to help the boy on the ground back up, and when he did I couldn't help but notice that this character looked awfully familiar to me. He had dirty blonde hair-which actually was mostly dirty-framing the sides of his forehead, and unlike the other boys he had a red bandana tied around his neck and a black cowboy hat hanging on his back. After he helped the other boy back onto his feet, he turned to the mustache-less Delancey.

"You shouldn't call people lousy little shrimps, Oscar," he said in a voice so low that I had to strain my ears to hear what he was saying, "unless you're referring to the family resemblance in your brudda here."

The boys laughed and 'ooh-ed' at the cowboy's comment. It was hard to see who was more insulted, Oscar or his brother. The cowboy turned to the latter of the brothers.

"That's right, Morris." He said to him. "It's an insult. So's this-" The cowboy then proceeded to knock Morris's hat right off of his head, provoking both of the brothers into charging him. But the cowboy, being smart, dashed away and ran around the crowd of newsies, sliding underneath a cart and disappearing. Ginny and Charlie hurried over to the Horace Greeley statue to see what was going on, and I joined them so as not to lose track of them. The Delanceys ran into the cart looking for the cowboy-only to be kicked in the faces after the boy had swung out from underneath a tarp hanging from over the door of a bakery right behind the cart. As the Delanceys rubbed their faces, the cowboy swung down and kept running. I wasn't sure if he was just in the mood for annoying people, or if he wasn't really watching where he was going, but he then proceeded to run straight into me, knocking me into the statue.

"Holy maracas! What do you think you're doing?" I shouted, not even allowing him the chance to apologize. The boy looked as though he were about to answer, but the Delanceys had broken through the crowd again, looking for him.

"Runnin'!" He finally said, rushing past us without apologizing. I just looked after him in a bewildered manner, trying to figure out where I had seen him before…

"Heya, Miss-"

"Leah, look out!"

I was knocked to the ground by both of the Delancey brothers, who were still chasing the cowboy as the newsies resumed their singing.

It's a fine life (Would you look at the headline)
Carrying the banner through it all (You call that a headline?)
A mighty fine life (I get better stories from the copper on the beat)
Carrying the banner tough and tall (I was gonna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty)
See the headline (Would you tell me how'm I ever gonna make ends meet)
Newsies on a mission (Hitched it on a Trolley)
Kill the competition (Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second)
Sell the next edition (Little Italy's a secret)
What a fine life (Bleecker's further than I reckoned)
Carrying the banner! (Go get 'em Cowboy!)

Go!

That was when the gates finally opened. All of the boys rushed through the gates, refilling into a line. Rubbing my shoulder, I led my cousins towards the end of the line.

"Girls were newsies too, right?" Ginny asked. She was normally a brave child-a bit rash at times, even-but she was not too great with people she barely knew, especially if they were mad people like the Delancey brothers.

"Some, but very few." I whispered, pulling out an extra hair tie from around my wrist; I wasn't really sure of what had happened to the loose ponytail I had tied when getting her ready for bed. "I'll buy a couple of hats if they don't let us sell papers, but for now these will have to do. Besides, it's getting really hot outside."

Ginny turned around so that I could tie her hair into a perfectly high ponytail; she couldn't tie her hair up too high, and the hair tie would be useless if her hair was resting on her neck. When I finished, I tied my hair up into a ponytail and rushed to catch up to the newsies, who were congratulating the cowboy while the Delancey brothers passed them, wearing matching faces of loathing and anger.

The cowboy proceeded to rest his elbow on the counter by the bars of the distribution window.

"Oh Mr. Weasel." He said in a singsong voice, ringing the bell above his head.

"Alright, alright! Hold your horses! I'm coming, I'm coming." The man who opened the window was, um…interesting, to say the least. He was an extremely pot-bellied man, looking well on in his years. And he also had a rather large nose that stuck out far from the rest of his face. I wasn't quite sure of what to make of him, and I felt my stomach getting sick. He looked a bit stressed…and from a distance, it was hard to tell if he seemed understanding and friendly enough.

"So, didja miss me Weasel?" The cowboy asked him. "Huh, did you miss me?"

"I told ya a million times, the name's Weisel. Mr. Weisel to you. How many?" The man asked him.

The cowboy appeared to not have heard him; he was reading a newspaper that was sitting below the bars of the window. "Don't rush me; I'm perusing the merchandise Mr. Weasel." He said loudly, causing the boys to laugh. He skimmed through the front page and laid a few coins on the counter. "The usual."

"One hundred papes for the wise guy." Mr. Weisel said. Morris, who had appeared behind the window, slid a pile of newspapers under the bars, which the cowboy took before getting out of line and sitting down, continuing to read through the papers. "Next!"

The Italian newsies was next. "Morning your honor!" He said brightly, lighting a cigar. "Listen, do me a favor, spot me fifty papes? I got a hot tip in the fourth, you won't waste your money."

"It's a sure thing?" Mr. Weisel asked, slightly suspicious.

"Yeah." The Italian said. "Not like last time."

Mr. Weisel nodded, and I wasn't sure if he believed whatever the Italian newsie was talking about, but I wasn't counting on it. "Fifty papes for Racetrack! Next!"

The Italian, Racetrack, took his papers and sat down next to the cowboy.

"Papes?" Ginny whispered to me.

"I think it was a slang word for 'papers.'" I said to her.

The boy with the crutch was next. "Heya Mr. Weisel." He said, brightly and somewhat politely before putting in his order.

"Thirty papes for Crutchy! Next!" Mr. Weisel shouted.

I stopped paying attention to what was going on by the window, but I did notice the cowboy offering a boy around Ginny's age a seat next to him.

"Listen, why don't you and Charlie sit down somewhere?" I whispered to Ginny. "I'll order some papers and let you know when we're good to go."

Ginny looked pleased; I could tell that she thoroughly enjoyed the earlier display of mischief. She whispered something into her brother's ear before taking his hand and leading them over to the cowboy, Racetrack, and the younger boy. I kept my eyes on them as they introduced themselves to the newsies. I wasn't sure of whether or not the boys could be trusted, but for now we had to take our chances. I did make sure to keep my eyes covered by pretending to scratch my nose bridge when Charlie pointed over at me, causing the two older boys to look in my direction.

"Hey, you got your lousy papes, now beat it!"

I turned my attention back to the window to see what was going on. The boy in the front looked indignant, albeit somewhat flustered.

"I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen." He said. He didn't have a New York accent like the newsies did. I guess he was new in town. Maybe if I could…

"Are you accusing me of lying kid?" Mr. Weisel all but screamed through the bars, interrupting my train of thought.

Okay, now I understood why the cowboy called him Weasel. I gulped, and I knew that there would be a slim chance that he would sell papers to a female newsie.

"No." The boy said, trying to remain calm. "I just want my paper."

"He said beat it!" Morris growled.

"Leah!"

I looked down to see that Ginny and Chloe were back at my side. "It's okay, Cowboy said that we could join him to sell newspapers, he's willing to share!"

I breathed a small sigh of relief before turning my attention back to the window. Cowboy was by the boy, flipping through the meager pile of papers that had been given to the boy.

"No, it's nineteen." He finally said. "It's nineteen, but don't worry about it. It's an honest mistake. I mean, Morris here can't count to twenty with his shoes on."

This caused Morris to attempt to jump through the bars-or at least, that was what it looked like-as the boys behind laughed rather loudly.

"Hey Race, will ya spot me two bits?" Cowboy said to Racetrack. Racetrack pulled a few coins out of his pocket and tossed them to Cowboy, who caught them and turned back to the window. "Another fifty for my friend and for the family of three in back."

I breathed another sigh of relief as Cowboy beckoned for me and my cousins to join him, which we did gratefully.

"I don't want another fifty." The boy at the front protested.

"Sure you do." Cowboy said nonchalantly, shoving a bigger pile of newspapers into the boy's hands. "Every newsie wants more papes."

Cowboy made for the gate, with the boy following and protesting. The younger boy who had sat next to Racetrack earlier joined him, and my cousins and I followed close behind them.

"I don't." The boy was saying. "I don't want your papes. I don't take charity from anyone. I don't know you. I don't care to. Here are your papes."

"Cowboy." I finally spoke so that the newsies could hear me. "My cousins called him Cowboy."

Cowboy turned to talk to me. "Yeah, I'm called that and a lot of other things, including Jack Kelly, which is what me mudder called me. What do they call you newcomers?"

Jack Kelly? Holy maracas, we weren't in the past, we were in a movie!

AN: I was tempted to go further with this chapter, but I figured that it was getting long enough and that this would be an appropriate place to end. I do believe that there's a chance that a reader or two might hate me for ending with a cliffhanger, but overall I'm somewhat pleased with how this chapter turned out. I'm doing my best to make the story a little more original, but with a movie like Newsies I see how hard it was; it really has its moments that deserve to be kept in the story. Anyways, reviews are nice!