Howdy do readers! I am so glad to get the lovin' from you guys. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It's either that or mold… Might be the mold. Anywho, I'm not going to keep you for long because I'm sure my ravings are just sooo interesting –tumbleweed- … Yikes. So without further ado I give you the fourth chapter of the story. MOVING ON…

It was just past noon that Booker arrived on Main Street. He looked for any signs of Higgins or his men, and so far he got as far as he thought he would - which was a whole lot of nothing. But that did not stop the Pinkerton from pressing on. Booker was going to find Thomas Higgins and he was going to tear him apart limb by limb. He stopped for lunch, having not eaten since yesterday morning. As he sat by himself, he listened to the conversations around him, hoping that he'd overhear something about his intended target. For most of his lunch he'd heard nothing, just complaints about the factories, but nothing of note. More hours and less pay seemed to be the common theme coming from everyone's mouth.

"George and Noah still haven't come back today," said a man sitting behind Booker. "They were supposed to get that girl from that Pink and bring her to Tom. Even he's beginning to think they were caught."

"I don't know," said his companion. "I've heard about this DeWitt character. A nasty fellow, he had quite a reputation at Wounded Knee."

"Yeah some of the workers were telling me about how he works," said the first. Booker looked back, silently praying he wouldn't be noticed. They were sitting across from each other, a man in his forties and another in his late twenties. The younger man, the one he suspected to be the first speaker, leaned heavily over the table to not be over heard while the second guy sat back in his chair, he felt safe in his surroundings as most of the clientele were workers like themselves who barely had enough for this lunch if it hadn't been for Higgins charity. The older man sighed heavily, "well with any luck we'll hear from them later. Maybe they're on their way to Tom now."

The second man looked doubtful and shook his head. "I don't know Bill," he replied sadly. "I have a bad feeling we won't be seeing them anytime soon."

Booker felt an immense sense of relief that he'd finally gotten a start. Two men who knew about Tom and the deal to get Anna, it wasn't much, but he could work with that. All Booker had to do was wait, and something told him, he'd get so much more.

Dorothy hadn't the slightest clue what she was going to do with Anna. She couldn't very well go back to her employer's house with her when someone could be waiting for them there. She couldn't go back to her own home since it didn't exist. She supposed she could have gone to her mother's house, but she didn't want to talk about marriage again plus with the addition of a stranger's child. That could get very out of hand, very quickly. She kept walking down crowded streets, avoiding anywhere there weren't at least a dozen people in view. Perhaps she could rent a room for the next two nights, but she didn't know if she had the funding for that.

"Doesn't hurt to try I suppose," she mumbled.

None of the rooms would allow her to bring a baby with her without paying double. Dorothy sighed defeated. She had no idea what she was going to do. She knew she had to protect Anna at all cost before she ended up like the two men in Booker's office. Dorothy knew that was very possible and that he'd considered it after she'd hurt the baby, and it frightened her. "So do you think my mother would believe me if I told her I was just doing a favor for someone who works with Maria's husband?"

Anna looked up quizzing at Dorothy. She had been silent most of the day, all cried out and the pain subsiding. She'd get fussy once in a while, but Dorothy wondered if it had more to do with the baby missing her father. With a sudden frown and a squeak, Dorothy nodded. "Yeah me either."

The walk to her mother's house was a short one and she was relieved to see that she was home. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and was greeted by her mother, Lily Small. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Dorothy with a baby girl in one arm and her face bruised and battered. "Dorothy!" She cried as she pulled her daughter inside. "Do come in! What happened? Your face? Who is this child?"

Dorothy knew better to interrupt her mother's string of questions otherwise she'd just ask them all again. Finally her mother paused and Dorothy began to answer. She told her the story of Norman's kidnap, the workers who had broken into Booker's office and tried to take Anna as well, she finished with the story of Thomas Higgins and how his story connected Booker and Dorothy. What she did not mention was the disappearance of the two men, the gun shots, or the blood all over Booker. Her mother took in what she needed to know. "Darling I'm so glad you're alright, but are you so sure it's safe to be walking around with someone's baby? Especially when a bunch of ruffians like Higgins are willing to get violent just to make a point?"

"Well," Dorothy looked sheepishly at Lily. "That is why I'm here. I can't go anywhere those men might know about me and Anna, and I told Mr. DeWitt that I'd watch over her while he made sure that this Higgins was no longer a threat. I was hoping we could stay here for a few nights?" Her mother's face hardened for a second before Dorothy took her hands into her own. "Please mother, I have nowhere else to go! It'll only be for two days and then Anna goes back to her father."

Lily still looked uncertain, she watched Anna crawl around and explore the large room was she placed in. The longer she explored, the bigger the tugging her heart strings. She was certainly a beautiful baby, the way her blue eyes shined as she held up various knick-knacks and cooed at them just before trying to bite them. It reminded Lily of her daughters, each one of them as curious as the little girl now. "Oh Dorothy, but what if they come here?"

"All the more reason she needs us," pushed Dorothy. "Can you really stand to see someone just harm an innocent child like Anna simply so they can get at Mr. Hanson?"

"Mr. Hanson," scoffed Lily. "Why ever did you take the job from that man in the first place? He's nothing more than a pushy, no good, thief! That mill was your father's long before he swiped it out from under us!"

"I know mother, but I-."

"Never mind it," waved of Lily as she tapped her foot impatiently until a pressure stopped it. When she glanced down to see what it was, she saw Anna looking up at her. Her big blue eyes capturing her own, as Anna silently asked if she could stay, she knew she didn't stand a chance to say no. "Alright, a few days shouldn't be so bad. It'll be nice to have a little one around the house. Heaven only knows neither of my daughters is going to give me any grandchildren any time soon."

Dorothy had a bad feeling this conversation was just waiting to happen and her mother was just itching for an opportunity to bring it up. Trying to dodge being the subject, Dorothy replied, "Isn't Maria planning on having children with Sam?"

"If she ever sees him," Lily sighed dramatically. "He's always working and Maria barely sees him at all." Dorothy didn't know the men in Pinkerton were worked so hard. She wondered briefly about Booker and Anna, and wondered how he was balancing raising a child while being run ragged with work all the time. Though, when she thought about all the empty bottles of whiskey and beer in his office, she had a faint suspicion that he wasn't handling the stress well. "Where is the girl's mother? You've referenced her father a few times, but her mother-?"

"She died a few months back," answered Dorothy. Something passed over Anna's eyes that moment, like she knew who they were talking about and she looked almost sad. "Sam told me that Mr. DeWitt didn't handle her death all that well, but he's been raising the baby on his own."

"Poor man," Lily said as she bounced Anna whose demeanor still seemed different from her usual babbling self. "It's a wonder he doesn't try to find another nice girl to help him care for her."

"Well her death was pretty recent," replied Dorothy. "Perhaps his heart is not yet ready to move on."

"I know that, but even someone to help around the house. Like a nanny or a young woman who works for a thieving, conniving, black-hearted, no-conscious, man such as Mr. Hanson!"

Dorothy bit the inside of her lip, should've seen that one coming. In all honesty, she was surprised her mother was just now waiting to ask about Booker. Dorothy sighed; it was going to be a long two days.

Booker wiped the blood from his lip as he stumbled away from the alley he had dragged the two conversing men to. A fight of two men against one, he could take easily. Three, would be difficult, and four would be pushing his limit, but six men did tend to win a fight much easier than Booker by himself. That was to say, he acquitted his self quite well, even got the information he needed from the first two men, it was when the rest jumped in that Booker knew he was in trouble.

He repeated the address in his head again and again as he stalked down the streets of New York. '210 New Avenue,' not a far distance, but certainly a considerable one on foot. But the more he walked the more he reminded himself of Columbia, and how far he had to walk then though Booker did slightly miss the skyhooks as they were a much more convenient method of travel instead of storming through New York like a madman. If those men were trustworthy, he'd find Higgins, and more importantly he'd destroy him.

For a while he almost regretted what he was going to have to do to Higgins. He respected the man for his want to fight for his people, but he made the fatal error of threatening Anna and therefore there was no way he was going to let that slide. Anything else, Booker may have just let the poor bastard go. He had heard the name Hanson before, he knew about the steel mills and how the people were treated there, and as far as Booker was concerned, this was what Hanson deserved.

Booker picked up the speed when he turned down New Avenue, wondering if maybe he should have killed those men on the off chance they would warn Higgins of Booker's arrival. He counted the buildings, looking for his number, ignoring the people on the streets. With any luck, Booker would have just found the house, shot Higgins, and would be home within a day. But if Booker was basing anything on his own luck, he could be assured that everything was about to go horribly wrong.

And it did

Booker heard the shot before he even felt the pain rip through his left arm. For a moment he wondered how the hell anyone would know what he was there for. But when he turned around he noticed the men from the dinner, the ones he had beaten to a pulp for the information. They stepped out of the carriage and apparently shot Booker while he was looking the other way. While the pain was great, Booker silently thanked them for having terrible aim. If they had been good with a weapon, Booker would have left this job unfinished, and that would not do.

This did leave the problem of being distracted long enough to finish these men off once and for all. He charged in full force, still branding the pistol from his office that the two dead men carried while they tried to take Anna. He also brought a back-up, which was his own pistol just in case. Two shot were all he needed, one for the tall young man, whose head snapped back the instant the bullet pierced between his eyes. The other hit the second, older man, in the neck. He gurgled before dropping to his knees, hands flying to his throat in a vain attempt to stop the blood. Booker approached the dying man, lifting him by the collar of his shirt with his good arm.

"This is your last chance to tell me the truth," warned Booker. "Tell me and I'll make it quick. Stay quiet and you can drown in your own blood for all I care." The man spit blood in Booker's face. Booker sighed, he had a feeling it would come to this. "Fine by me." He dropped the man, none too kindly, before continuing his search. His arm throbbed painfully, try as he might to ignore it, he gritted his teeth as he continued down the street. The wound wouldn't kill him, even with as painful as it was he could have sworn he'd had far worse done to him, and so he didn't let it take him from his mission. He needed to find Higgins! It was the only way he'd be able to protect Anna.

People on the street were still screaming and running at the commotion. Booker hadn't noticed any of them until now when a group of young men were trying to lead him to a doctor. Booker struggled to get away, he had to find Higgins before it was too late, before he skipped town and Booker lost his chance. "Goddammit it," he growled as he kept fighting the crowd. "Leave me alone!"

"Sir you're hurt," said a female voice this time. It sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough that Booker could actually recall who it was. Just that he'd heard it not too long ago. She was a short woman, with short blonde hair tied neatly on her head her eyes were deep amber. She certainly was pretty, and more so familiar. "You need to see a doctor!"

"I'm fine," he barked. "Now leave me be, I'm busy."

"It's no use Booker," Booker cringed at the second voice. No wonder she was familiar, Dorothy said Moorely was her brother-in-law. Booker scowled at Moorely, who did not look at all impressed with Booker's actions. "Higgins knew you'd be coming. He left town even before his boys came after your kid."

"How?"

"Your reputation is well known," said Moorely grimly. "If someone told me to kidnap the 'White Injun's' child, I would leave too. Especially someone who's see you in combat at Wounded Knee." Booker's hand curled into a fist, he very much wanted to hit something. "With that being said, Norman Hanson is still missing with Higgins. I don't know how far he's willing to go to cut a deal with his father, but I don't think Higgins is going to release Norman until something is settled. Booker, you and I both know that after this display, you're as good as fired from Pinkerton."

"Then it's not my problem anymore."

"What if it were your own kid?"

To Booker that was a trick question, because no one, except maybe Songbird (which Booker would be lucky if he never saw that thing again for as long as he lived) would take Anna from him. And even if Songbird was suddenly created, Booker shuddered at the thought; he wouldn't be wasting time seeking help. He'd rush in, guns blazing until everyone who was involved in her kidnap was dead. "It's not my kid, and it's not my problem." He answered coldly.

Moorely shook his head. "You're a real piece of work aren't you DeWitt," Moorely accused. Booker didn't say anything, finally able to shake off the last of the herd of men. "Always looking out for yourself, thinking you're too good for everyone else. But look at you, you left the army, you were fired from Pinkerton, and if those betting slips are any indication you're up to your ass in debt, all of this while pretending to be some good father!"

"And what," Booker raised his voice. "One good deed and all of a sudden my sins just vanish? You think anything I do will change a damn thing?"

"Hanson would pay handsomely for the boys return," said Maria from the side thoughtfully. "Perhaps that would change something. You could pay your debts, you could spend it all on drinking, or you could care for your daughter but everyone wins if you just say yes."

Booker bit back a long defeated sigh, she had a very good point everyone would win. But that didn't mean that he wanted to go around New York (considering Higgins was even still in New York). Moorely knew just by looking at him, that Booker was going to change him mind, and smiled smugly. "Fine," Booker threw up his hands in defeat. "But I expect to be paid for this. I'm not going on some wild goose chase for some kid who may or may not still be alive."

"You were going after Higgins anyway."

"For my own reasons," countered Booker. "None of them involves the Hanson's in any way. Now I have to go about this carefully or they'll kill him. And I'm not going to spend all that time away from Anna for nothing."

"Anna," repeated Moorely. After digging around on Booker and his family, he saw that Annabelle DeWitt, late wife of Booker DeWitt, had died in childbirth. Such a thing was common, but Moorely didn't think Booker would have named the child after his dead wife. He would have expected a name that would take his mind away of the woman he lost because of that baby.

Booker seemed to catch the thoughtful look on Sam's face, which he fought the urge to hit. He knew Sam was looking for some kind of dirt on Booker so he would lose his job, it wouldn't surprise him if he'd found out about Annabelle and how she'd died. But it angered Booker that he was being watched so close so that Sam could finally have his day that Booker DeWitt finally got his. "Yeah, Anna."

"I see," the shorter man put an arm around his wife. "Well then we'll have something arranged for your daughter. Darling perhaps Dorothy wouldn't mind watching the child while Booker does the job for her employer?"

"I'm almost sure she would," nodded Maria. "But that can wait. For now Mr. DeWitt, you should see a doctor about that arm before it gets infected."

Booker finally let out the long sigh he was holding in since the conversation began. This was going to be a long week.

(A/N: Good lord that was getting long winded. Huzzah chapter 4 is finished. Aren't we all happy about that? –Tumbleweed- What the- Will someone get that tumbleweed guy out of here? Anywho, you all know the deal and what nots. Read, review, and remember: I love you!)