Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, Disney does. I do not own the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I own Lucinda AKA Pretty, Amanda Hearst, Patrick Sullivan, and Arthur MacTough.

(A/N: Thanks for the great review, QueenOfNewYork1234! :D)

The quiet night air was pierced only by the sounds of buzzing and chirping crickets; and by the loud thumps each time the wooden wheel of the carriage passed over a broken or missing cobblestone in the road.

"The information you discovered is excellent. If your father every destroys evidence we shall always have concrete proof of his misdeeds. Very well, indeed, Lillian, very well done." Lucinda beamed as she stared at the paper, "Might I ask how you learned to pick a lock and this pencil trick?"

"I watched a newsboy pick a lock once, I watched his hand and wrist movements. Then, when my father left the house each day I would practice on my wardrobe's lock. Then on my door lock, until I became proficient and was able to pick the front door's lock, which is similar to a desk lock." Lily smiled, "I am glad I was able to provide such valuable information....May I ask how much further we shall be traveling?"

"Only a few minutes more," Lucinda replied, "You see we must take precautions. My employer used to work for our main branch in Brooklyn. He saw how greedy his employers had become and disagreed with strike breaking. He says if 95-99 percent of workers in a company or factory strike, then there is a problem in need of immediate addressing. He broke away from the main office and created his own branch, which deals with putting criminals, such as your father, behind bars. The only work we do not involve ourselves in are divorce cases."

"It's been nearly an hour, why so far away?" Lily was curious to know why her employer insisted on living so far from the city.

"Well, the employer he worked for was a vile and greedy excuse of a man. When he left, he was rather surprised that half of the Pinkerton Detective Agency left with him. Because of that his former employer is always looking for him. He moves around constantly because of this, and only his most trusted employees know his location."

"Will we get in trouble with him?"

"Oh no," Lucinda replied with a shake of her head, "None at all. You see my employer's employer, I know this is confusing but I cannot give you his name just yet, can do nothing about people quitting or changing jobs. But he can penalize my employer for starting the movement amongst his detectives."

"I see," Lily looked out the window and leaned closer to the glass. She had never been so far from Manhattan before. There were still houses and buildings. But these were old and dilapidated. They looked as if they were holding their breaths as they waited for their former occupants to return.

"I take you have never seen this part of New York."

"No...I thought...I thought all of the buildings and houses were occupied...I had no idea."

"Oh, these are occupied as well by people who have been evicted from their homes. They live here because there is nowhere else for them to go."
"Do you know how many people there are?"

Lucinda shrugged, "That I do not. Though I feel terrible for them. However, like the newsies, they do not appreciate charity. Their pride controls their actions. I wish they'd realize that there are times when one's pride must be set aside for reason and common sense."

"I fully agree," Lily replied before the carriage turned into a long road that was nothing but dirt and grass. For a moment she wondered if she was in the west. The thought of the west made her mind trail back to Cowboy Jack Kelly, Francis Sullivan, or whatever he liked being called. His sparkling blue eyes, handsome smile, and his accent. She had heard all dialects of a New York Accent, Manhattan, Little Italy, Brooklyn...But something about Jack's was different...Special and just as attractive as he was.

"Well then, we're almost here."

"I have one thing to ask."

"Of course."

"Does the name Amanda Hearst mean anything to you?"

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Jack's hands were shoved into his pockets as he stared into the stars. Thoughts raced through his mind: the strike, how to convince Spot and the rest of the newsies to join, and strangely enough Lillian Snyder. With all the things going on with his life now he thought he would have been able to block the warden's daughter out of his thoughts completely. Obviously his mind hadn't gotten the headline that he didn't want to think of the girl he didn't know any longer. If he wanted to think of any girl it should have been Sarah: there was no connection to Snyder, no danger, and she was beautiful and sweet. Not very smart....But beggars can't be choosers.

"Hey Jack, youse comin' back in any time soon?" Race asked in annoyance as he looked up at him from the fire escape.

"Yeah, I'se will be up soon, Race," he replied, "Why youse up anyway?"

"Waitin' for youse," he replied, "Aftah all, youse started dis strike. We'se can't have youse fallin' off da roof or nothin', cause we'se don't know what to do."

Jack laughed, "You'd know, if not you'd do what I was doing: Ask da Walking Mouth."

"I'se t'ink I'se would skip out on dat one," Race replied, "He's a good kid....But face it, Jack, somethin's wrong wid him. How can someone not agree ta bettin' on horses?"

Jack smirked, "Not awll people ah in ta gamblin'."

"So what cha thinkin' about?" Race asked as he climbed atop the roof.

"Da strike, how ta convince Spot ta join, and Sarah."

"Sarah? Eh, I dunno 'bout dat one, Jack. Anytime youse see a woman wid red hair youse jump and toin. I'se t'ink youse t'inking about Lillian Snyder."

"So what if I'se am, Race?" Jack turned away a little.

"Nuthin', jist that youse shouldn't ignore heh. She's got more brains dan Sarah Jacobs, still can't believe she asked da waiter why da resteraunt was named Tibby's. I'se t'ought it was common knowledge!" He exclaimed as he scratched his head.

Jack laughed, "He's got enough ads in da papes for it ta be common knowledge..."

"So, what about Lillian attracts youse?"

"Nuthin'."

"So dat's why youse nearly ran Spot's futcha goil ovah yellin 'Lily! Lily!'"

"I'se did not!"

"Well, youse ran ovah ta heh and said, Lily, Lily," Race replied, "Can't blame me for improvin' da truth a lil' bit."

"I'se jist wanna find her and tell heh ta stay away from me."

"Shoah youse do," the other newsboy replied, unconvinced.

"Hey, Race. What do youse t'ink of da strike so far?"

"Well, befoah I'se thought it couldn't be done, but now I'se beginnin' ta have second thoughts. Youse ain't havin' second thoughts ah youse?"

"No," Jack replied, "I just wanna make shoah I'se doin' da right thing."

"Youse ah. Youse know, Spot, he's stubborn. When da time is right, he'll get it t'rough his thick skull dat we'se need ta have a strike. Sides if papes start ta cost too much dan he's outta da 'King of da Newsies' job, and we'se all know he'd lead a strike all of his own den." He laughed.

Jack laughed hard and loud, "Dat's true, his egos so big he'd be his own army."

The two laughed for another minute before starting to cam down, then both started looking at the stars.

"Youse know, I'se have a friend who used ta live out west," Racetrack suddenly exclaimed, "She says da Lakota Indians have a story bout da stars. Dat da stars are all our ancestors dancin' in da heavens watchin' out ovah us."

"Dat's a nice story," Jack replied.

"Yeah," Race replied, "Too bad it ain't true."

Jack shrugged, "Deys say every story starts from somewheah."

"Yeah, dat's true," Race replied with a nod, "Dat's true..."

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Patrick Sullivan stared at the empty building, it was nothing fancy but it would accommodate his needs well. All he needed was a place to rest his head at night, a hideout, and a place to take his son before they left. He placed folded his arms behind his head and stared upwards at the ceiling, which was dark in some places and light in the other. He assumed it must have caught fire, since he didn't smell anything it must have happened years ago.

His boy led an interesting life. For a newsboy, he was well connected. Pride swelled in Patrick's chest, his Francis took after him and his mother. His eyes slightly blurred at the thought of his pretty wife, Beth. She was the gunslinger Johnny Ringo's niece. On her 17th birthday (right after their wedding) her uncle was shot and found lying between two roots of a large tree, a single bullet stuck in his head. His lovely Bethy had been so upset that day, she sobbed and mourned for weeks. Her mourning ended when she learned they were pregnant with their son.

Since the moment Francis was born Beth told him all about his great uncle, Johnny Ringo. She told him stories about the West, and especially stories of Santa Fe, New Mexico where she was born and raised. When Francis turned 3 his darling Beth died from Pneumonia. But amazingly, little Francis never forgot her stories.

Even now he remembered them. Patrick had listened to his son singing about his desire to live in Santa Fe the other night. He smiled as he remembered one part he sung, "For a dreamer nights the only time a day." Beth always said that. Always.

He sighed and glanced out the window. His son was standing on the roof of his lodging house staring into the stars. A smile etched across Patrick's face, don't worry son. You'll be free of this damned hell hole you call 'home' sooner than you know. He knew his son would make an excellent outlaw, which would be good. The skills he had learned in New York he would need out west. A smirk curved across his face as he remembered the head of the newspaper he had read in the small town of Prosperity Springs, Arizona. German Duke To Visit Out West: Brings Collection of Jewels and other Rare Gems...

"Soon son, soon you can go to Santa Fe and have your own damned ranch if you want," he whispered then snickered, "Though it won't be yours for too long." He loved his son, however he loved money more. If it came between the gems and Francis, he'd choose the money. A man had to draw the line somewhere, after all.

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Lucinda was pleased with the meeting between her employer, Mr. Arthur MacTough and Lillian. For the first few minutes Lily was shy and spoke not a word. Then, gradually, she left her shell and was comfortable with talking to the gray haired Scottish detective.

"Lucinda tells me you will make a great asset to this branch of the Pinkerton Detective Agency," Arthur smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I hope I will, sir," Lily replied and kept her hands clasped on her lap.

"Seeing a few of the hidden talents you have only makes me more convinced that Lucinda was right to come to you for help. Now, may I ask if you have overheard any conversations with the warden and a guard?"

Lucinda looked over at Lily, her pupils faced the ceiling as she thought about any conversations she could have heard.

"Only one, sir, but it was a long time ago."

"Do you remember anything?" Arthur questioned.

Lucinda reached into a drawer and took out a notepad and pencil. If Lily remembered any details she would document them before she forgot.

"I remember I was around 14 or so. My father was arguing with someone in the living room. I only remember hearing him yelling at a man that he promised to get him a job as warden of the refuge. Then, the other man agreed that he had made that promise and he would see to it the promise was fulfilled."

Lucinda jotted down the information, "Any exact words?"

Lily paused, "Yes....There was one.....It unnerved me, which is the only reason why I can recall it. 'When the girl gets of proper age she is to be given to my son as a gift.'....I believe my father was talking to Alexander's father that day."

"Do you know Alexander's father's name?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright, m'dear," Arthur gave a kind smile.

"That's so sad that your father would exchange you for a job," Lucinda said softly. "I'm so terribly sorry, Lily."

"I am not sorry," Lily replied, "If he had not I never would have met you."

"True," Lucinda smiled, "Very true..." She glanced away and recalled Lily's question back in the carriage 'Does the name Amanda Hearst mean anything to you?' Oh yes, that name meant everything to her. A few minutes later Lily walked out to the carriage and Lucinda stood to follow.

"Lucinda, stop."

She turned, "Yes, Arthur?"

"Sit down," he commented as he placed the tip of his pipe between his lips, "You were pale when you walked in and looked as if you had seen a ghost. The look has returned to you, might I ask what is the matter?"

Lucinda paused, "Lillian found a picture of her parents holding me as an infant."

"I see....Do you wish to still be Amanda Hearst?"

"No. Never again," she replied with a shake of her head.

"Then continue being Lucinda. That picture's past died along with Amanda, you know that," he said softly.

She nodded, "I know. Good night, Arthur. I shall return here-"

"No, I will be moving to another residence, in the city."

She looked up in astonishment, "You cannot! Your employer-"

Arthur calmly held up his hand, "My employer will be busy attempting to break the newsie strike. We have an important job, Lucinda. To put Warden Snyder behind bars before he does more damage."

Lucinda nodded.

"Lucinda."

"Yes, Arthur?" She turned to face him once again.

"I loved your mother dearly, and I still do. I am so sorry that..." he paused.

"My mother did not want me," she replied softly with a shrug, "I never knew her, it has very little effect on me. I know that you love me and want me as a daughter, which is all I need to know."

"I am just so sorry that I did not learn sooner of your whereabouts," he frowned.

"From what I remember Mrs. Snyder was very kind, and back then so was the warden."

"How time changes people..." Her father mused.

Lucinda silently agreed and walked out of the house. She looked at the carriage, Lily's head was resting against a window. It appeared she had fallen asleep, which was good. Tomorrow would be a busy day for Pretty and for Lily.

Lucinda glanced at Lily and decided she would wake her when they were halfway back to Manhattan and tell her she needed her help once again. Lily was going to have to spend a day with her father. They needed more evidence to build a strong case against Warden Snyder.