I began to think as the noise around me grew increasingly louder. I was glad that I had accepted Mush's offer for friendship. I owed him that much, I reckoned, for saving my skin at our first meeting. And the second meeting...blast! I grinned a little at the thought. He had also kept my identity a secret from his pals, and although neither of us had said anything, I could tell that he was curious as to why I chose to live as a boy in Manhattan. I stole a glance at him and noticed him watching me again. Well, I supposed it might be nice to have at least one person that a fellow knows he can trust as his friend.

Just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, a redheaded, short coupled boy of about eighteen with scars on his face suddenly appeared in the ring below us. He gave a loud, piercing whistle through his teeth to get the attention of the rowdy men and boys who were by now swarming all over Brooklyn's docks.

"Aye, we's a'carryin' th' banner, eh, lads?"

The crowd roared their approval upon hearing the young man and hooted good-naturedly at his Irish brogue. With a wide grin the boy swept his newsboy cap off and bowed deeply at the waist, enjoying every second of the crowd's interaction with him. I couldn't help but laugh as several of the Manhattan newsies threw their hats into the air and blew kisses to the young, sanguine vagrant.

After a few moments the young man held up his hands to quiet the now noisy hoodlums. Once he had them listening again, he went on to tell in great detail, after he had thanked Spot and his boys for their hospitality, who would be fighting tonight and where they were from. His speech sounded as if it were copied off a real genuine announcer, although his improper grammar and humor made it clear that he was also jocularly mocking the formalities. At any rate, the people gathered hooted and cheered when he was finished and introduced the first fighter.

As he began the introduction for the other contestant, I noticed little Chance fidgeting and squirming around where he sat, looking thoroughly bored. He was a little young to enjoy an outing like this.

"Hey, bud, want to go over there, by the water?" I asked, pointing to the side where several young boys near his age sat, throwing stones into the harbor. His eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. I took his hand and stood up, gruffly excusing myself from the other fellas, namely Mush and Racetrack, who were still trying to listen to the announcer.

We walked quickly around the makeshift bleachers that had been set up, and I found a large wooden post where I could lean and see the fight and also keep an eye on Chance. The little boy walked timidly up to the other boys and said hello. I grinned as they immediately took him in to there little group. Turning my attention to the fight, I saw that the second contestant had entered the ring. He was a muscular, stocky boy, but appeared to be quite agile. I remembered watching my mothers' people back home in similar contests. Heck, even the cowhands back home had there fights and bets. My pa could whup them all.

I grinned as I noted the first fighter make a mistake in calculation as he threw the first punch, and it only glanced off the stocky boy's head.

The newsboys and dock workers howled as the fight progressed. I watched with vague interest as the two obviously skilled fighters tangled. I checked Chance over my shoulder every couple of seconds, to make sure he was still all right. I was a bit away from the crowd, and to my right there was a stack of barrels filled with water. Behind them was a very dark, open area that was about a hundred yards long, and went back up to the mainland.

Just as I focused my attention back on the fight, I felt a rough hand grab my shoulder and yank me toward the stack of barrels. My initial reaction had never been to cry out, and so I retaliated by wrenching away quickly and turning to face whoever this might be. A lantern hanging from the post just barely illuminated the muscular form of a suspendered figure. I squared up.

"Can I help you, partner?" I said quietly, sizing things up. The noise from the ring would easily drown out anything that might happen here.

The figure looked surprised at my reflexes, and paused a moment, before flashing a smirk. "Texas, is it?" The figure removed his hat and tossed it aside, and dirty dark blond hair fell into icy blue eyes. I cocked my head to the side, wondering what on earth Spot wanted. I could see briefly a curious look flit across his face, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that he couldn't quite figure... Then he moved toward me threateningly, in the direction of the barrels. I stepped toward him, not willing to give him the advantage right at first. We were close to the same size, although he obviously had a few more muscles than me.

Surprised at my boldness, Spot chuckled. Then without warning he struck quickly with his left hand and pushed me back, in the same general direction as before. I tripped on a coil of rope and fell hard onto the wooden dock, but rolled to my feet immediately.

I was suddenly grateful that I had learned, from my brothers, to be quick, and watchful of your opponent's moves. Although it wasn't considered appropriate in my mother's culture, my father had insisted that I be taught to defend myself. He reasoned that if men, who were stronger, must learn self defense, it is doubly important for a woman to have some training.

Spot's face was set determinedly, eyes flashing, as he drove in again, but this time I sidestepped just enough to avoid a blow, and at the same time belted him hard in the stomach with an undercut. He doubled over in surprise, and I said, "Well, now, Brooklyn, we don't have no bones to pick with each other." I studied him thoughtfully, then drawled, "Why don't you just settle down a bit, and we can talk?"

But Spot wasn't interested in talking. He hadn't been angry before, but now I could see a dangerously wild look on his features as he lunged at me, and I knew that I had to be quick, for he was most definitely stronger than I was, even though my muscles were hard from stable work. Before I could move this time, he doubled up and landed a stinging blow to my nose. I staggered back, with my hand to my face. My vision was blurred, and I could feel blood. But there was no time to waste now, and I flung a hard right from my position and came in as fast as I could, and peppering him with blows to his face and chest. I miscalculated one punch, and I missed. Spot blocked and grabbed, twisting it. I tried not to yell, gritting my teeth, but soon didn't need to because the air was knocked out of me by a smashing hit to my stomach.

I kicked his knee hard, forcing myself to think through the pain, trying to breath as I did. He yowled painfully, then with an angry growl, Spot tackled me full force, and we both hit the hard surface of the dock with a crack. Something suddenly changed as we hit the ground. I wasn't sure what, but he wasn't fighting as good.

Trying to pin each other, we rolled over several times, each trying to get the upper hand. My knee came up brutally into Spot's stomach, and I pounded the back and sides of his head hard, with both fists. I was aiming for his temple. I hadn't started this fight, but doggen, I'd like to finish it!

He tried to shield the blows with one arm, and even though I couldn't see, I could feel something sticky on my knuckles. Either his face or my hand was bleeding.

He finally rolled me over and pinned my arms above my head with great effort, because I was fighting wild now, and I knew where to hit. Since tackling me, he hadn't hit me once, and now he just sat there for a second, keeping me pinned, and both of us caught our breath for a moment. My lungs burned, and Ii gasped for air. Most people don't realize how much energy a fight really takes. Trust me, its a lot.

I waited, wondering what he would do. He shifted a little so that he was leaning over me, still carefully keeping my arms over my head, and his body flattening mine. Then he came down face to face, his nose almost touching mine, a smirk lighting on his face. His eyes burned in a way that I knew wasn't just elation from winning the scuffle, and we looked at each others' now bloody faces. His body pressed against mine.

We breathed hard for a moment, then…… I knew it was over. The secret…was out.

"I knew it," he said quietly, but with triumph in his voice. "I knew you was a girl. You almost had me fooled by the way you fights, but I knew."

One of Spot's hands trailed down my arm to my chin, and his face was seductively close to mine. His eyes held a hint of humor as he wiped the blood off of his cheek and licked his lips, and I could feel his hot breath close on my neck. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. "You had better get off of me…right now, partner."

His hand trailed to my waist and he said huskily, blue eyes flashing, "Somethin' was different, I knew you wasn't no boy. You had me thinkin' I'd been wrong, cause you are a dang good fighter. I wouldn'ta pounded you if you hadn'ta fought like a boy." His lips barely brushed the curve of my jaw.

I opened my eyes and jerked my arms free. With one hand I grabbed a handful of blond hair, and with the other grabbed Spot's face and pushed it hard, sending him sprawling.

I jumped to my feet, and Spot leapt up again to face me. But I realized he wasn't looking at me. His gaze went past me. I turned and saw Jack, Race, David, and Much running quickly towards us, Chance pulling them by the hand.