Chapter 4

KILL

Kill didn't worry too much about Maura once he left her at the lodging house. She was a Montgomery after all. So it was with no guilt at all that he was able to fully focus on the cards that night.

Blue had already won two rounds before Spot and Kill got to Duane Street. Racetrack made sure to let them know he hadn't yet joined the game. Spot made sure to let Racetrack know that he really needn't bother to join at all unless he wanted to have no money left for the actual poker tourney they were planning. Of course, Race fed into that as surely as Spot knew he would and Spot lost a dollar to him that night. He scowled convincingly. Kill folded dejectedly after he had bet quite a bit on a few of his hands, just as convincingly.

Blue didn't play once Spot and Kill got there. He stood back, alternately watching the stairs, the washroom door, the windows, and the boys gathered in the bunkroom.

Spot declared well before his usual hour that he planned to retire for the evening. Jack Kelly raised an eyebrow at that and wanted to know what the deal was. Spot refused to divulge a particular reason, stating that if he wanted to sleep that was reason enough and any self-respecting host wouldn't question a guest about that, but just make sure he had a clean bed and a pillow.

Kill couldn't help but smile to himself at that. Blue eyed him when he did. God knew what these Manhattan boys' faces would look like if Spot Conlon told them he was escorting a young lady to Sunday services tomorrow. Sure, it was just one of Spot's many games and he'd soak any one of them with a gaping jaw. But he was better served by not saying a word himself tonight.

When a random Manhattan newsie, inevitably selling the Sunday edition somewhere nearby, caught a glimpse of the Brooklyn leader walking out of a church tomorrow, he'd spread the word well enough. And in that way, it would become a "supposedly" or a "so I heard" story that no one would quite believe, thereby adding to the many inexplicable anecdotes surrounding Spot Conlon that made it impossible to ever fully know or read him.

Moreover, Sunday Mass attendance tomorrow ensured a continued place at Mrs. Montgomery's table any time Spot was in need of meal. Kill never ceased to marvel at his leader's ability to work all his angles so well at once.


The next morning, Blue headed to the distribution center with the Manhattanites. Spot and Kill got up when the rest of the boys did, but didn't follow them. They said their goodbyes, reiterated the poker tourney plans and headed to "Ms. Dolly's Lodging for Ladies."

"You know what gets me, Kill?"

"What?"

"I had a pair of aces in that one hand I let Race take – I traded 'em in. Damn, that was a shame."

Worth it in the end though, Kill knew.

"Ah, well," Spot sighed, then clapped Kill on the back. "It'll all be worth it when they head our way, eh?"

Kill smiled. "Right. …Ya know, you'd think they'd have figured out our racket after all these times," he mused lazily.

"It's the pride, Kill. It gets 'em every time. They always figure we cheat when we're at home and they gotta try to prove they can outwit us. Let 'em. We're the ones that have the jinglin' pockets when all's said and done."


Maura was sitting in a rickety old rocker when Spot Conlon entered the lodging house, Kill a half-step behind him. Spot greeted her by offering his arm. Both Kill and Maura stared at him, but he insisted he had promised Mrs. Montgomery and the two of them wouldn't make a liar out of him. So Maura took the arm and they walked to the nearest church.

Throughout the entire service, Spot held a perfectly respectable and reverent air about him – back straight, feet on the ground, never once a yawn, a fidget or an eye roll. In fact, Kill could take a lesson or two from him. Maura was forced to elbow him a couple times to quiet his snores as he slept through most of the sermon.

As they walked down the church steps afterward, Kill saw a young, curly-headed kid screeching out headlines just across the street. Several church-goers were headed to him. Between handing out papers and taking change, he looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of Brooklyn and Brooklyn's right hand exiting the church.

Spot looked at Kill sidelong. Kill could only shake his head and smirk. Worked like a charm. Everything always did for Spot.


"Did you get all your plans made?" Maura asked as they started the trek back to their home borough.

She was more than a little curious as to what went down after they left her for the night, Kill could tell.

"That's what we came here to do, Maura, so what do you think?" Spot spoke impatiently in response to her silly question.

"I was just asking."

"Polite conversation, eh?"

Maura balled up her mouth and pushed her next word out as a grunt. "Maybe."

"Don't bother."

"Such attempts fall on deaf ears," Kill explained, trying to calm the annoyance he could see was surfacing. "Unless maybe Blue was around," he added with a wink.

Spot smiled cheekily. "He always has been nicer than either of us, Kill."

"Without a doubt."

Maura spoke up. "It's only 'cause you two say what you're thinking and Blue doesn't. That doesn't make him nicer, I think that just makes him smarter."

"Oh ho!" Kill drew back to look at Maura for a second, a bit surprised his sister would go that far. She needed to learn to roll with the punches, not take things so seriously when they weren't meant to be. "What a thing to say!"

Spot gave her a once over, too. "You've got a mouth on yourself, kid. Jesus, Kill, that's right. Forget Sarah; we need to use her to shut up her brother. We should have stuck her on him last night. Who do you think would win that conversation – saying things too quick without thinking?"

"Still the Mouth. Definitely. Maura only does it with us because for some reason she thinks she can get away with it," Kill answered, lightly knocking his sister in the shoulder.

"You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here, ya know," Maura informed them.

"Well it's true, ain't it?" Spot didn't say it like a question, but like a fact.

"You mean I think I have special privileges?"

They said nothing. In things small and large, the Brooklyn boys usually subscribed to the fact that silence got you more than questions and answers. Give 'em enough rope and all that, as Spot would say. Watch 'em fidget. Then make your big declaration. Better theatrical impact that way, too.

"Is that what you mean?" Maura asked again.

Kill smiled at Maura, in the way a person smiles at a small child. She shot him a look.

"I can speak to you however I want, Kill! And sorry, Spot. You aren't my brother, I shouldn't be quite as rude to you."

Kill was glad she apologized to Spot, even if it was a little angrily done. The leader had a sense of humor, but as regarded himself, you couldn't go past a point, especially if you weren't one of his boys.

Spot waved her off, acting as though it was no issue now. "In theory, you're right, Maura. Never a good idea to let others know just what you're thinking. Blue doesn't, but neither do we. That's where you're mistaken. But it's ok. We don't hold it against her, do we, Kill? She can't be expected to understand everything about the way we work. I wouldn't want her to."

Kill nodded in agreement. It was definitely better if she didn't.


MAURA

Spot Conlon got himself a hot meal Sunday evening when he deposited Maura back home with her mother. Then he and Kill left again, no doubt to find Blue, Maura figured.

After her eventful weekend – some of which she discussed with her mother, some of which she didn't (namely the vaudeville show and Jack Kelly winking at her) – the week chugged along much like any other.

It was Thursday that she ran into Evie Scott. Maura was smart enough to know it wasn't purely accidental. She and Evie ran into each other plenty of times, considering they knew many of the same people, but Maura knew a scheme when she saw one. Kill's little sister, maybe. But still Kill's sister. She was instantly cautious. There was something about Evie Scott that made her uneasy.

Maura had stopped by the bakery on the way home from work. Mrs. Montgomery had her do so frequently, asking for day-old bread which she could get at a cheap price when they had any left.

"Well, Maura, how are you today?"

You couldn't mistake Evie Scott's voice for anyone else's. It was low but not soft, feminine but not sweet. It meant business, but in the politest of ways. It was as though a big powerful man like William Randolph Hearst or Teddy Roosevelt was speaking, but in the guise of a sixteen year old girl. It was a voice you listened to both because you wanted to hear it, and because it demanded your attention.

Maura turned from paying for her bread. Evie Scott was standing just behind her, hands folded in front of her, her black hair pulled into a serviceable braid, her dark eyes trained on Maura. Evie never looked away when she was talking to you. Her eyes never wandered like normal people's. Maura wondered if it had always been that way or if she had picked that up from Spot.

"I'm fine. How are you?" Maura took the two loaves she had bought.

"Just fine myself. You look well, very pretty today."

Maura raised an eyebrow. She looked the same as any day. Raw hands, flushed face, strands of red-blonde hair coming out of her ponytail.

"Thank you…" It was a question.

Evie smiled. "You don't trust compliments, do you?"

"I know better than to trust anything someone seems to offer for free," Maura responded.

"You have your brother to thank for that, I'm sure. Kind of a pity. But true enough, I guess."

Maura moved to leave. "It was nice to see you, Evie."

Evie followed her. "Headed home? I'll walk with you on my way."

"You didn't need to buy anything?"

Evie shook her head, speaking companionably. "Oh no, I just saw you in there and wanted to say hello."

"Ok." Maura could tell there was more to come.

They walked a bit before Evie said anything more. She just watched people they passed.

Finally, "So I heard you were in Manhattan this weekend."

There it was.

"Who told you that?"

"Hm? Oh, one of the boys. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, sure. Went to a vaudeville show."

"Did you? Those are fun, aren't they?" Evie gave a conspiratorial grin. Maura nodded. "What else did you do?"

"Ate."

"Meet a lot of those Manhattan newsies?"

"Yes."

"Jack Kelly?"

"Yes."

"What did you think of him?"

Maura said nothing.

"Did you meet Skittery? I think you'd like him. Never trusts anyone either. Prone to be taciturn as well." Evie had an eyebrow quirked.

"I'm sure we'd get along," was all Maura said.

Evie let out a laugh. Her laughs were nice. Not like tinkling bells, but like organ pipes. Made you want to laugh, too.

"Oh, Maura, those boys have trained you well. You sound just like your brother."

"I consider that a compliment."

"Oh it is. You don't get much better than Kill Montgomery."

They were close to Maura's building now. Maura turned to Evie.

"I agree with you there. Is there something you want, Evie?" She just outright asked it. It was simpler.

Evie studied Maura for long moment. She spoke seriously. "Always. But you know that, Maura."

"Something from me?"

Evie shook her head. "No. I just like talking to you is all."

"Well since I speak so much like Kill, you can always talk to him. He's usually more available than me."

Evie smirked. "I wonder if Spot gives you enough credit."

"I wouldn't know."

They stood for a moment longer outside Maura's building before Evie said anything further.

"I'll see ya, Maura. Tell your brother hello for me."

Maura nodded, then watched as Evie continued to walk down the street, purposeful strides that seemed to shove people out of her way on their own.


Note: I apologize that I've promised quicker updates and they didn't come. I won't make excuses, though there are many I'm tempted to make, and instead just say that I do feel bad about it. I will say only that if you come/come back to this story now, I'm grateful for your time and appreciate you giving my story a shot. Carry the Banner!