Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚
MANHATTAN – JULY 1899
The strike was all but settled. The Newsies Banner had been delivered to child workers all over the city. Sweatshop laborers, factory kids, street peddlers.
All there was to do now was wait for the day of reckoning. The city-wide strike was set for Tuesday afternoon, a walk-out from employment, and all the newsies were anxious for the day to arrive. But Jack had his own business to attend to first.
It started when a letter arrived at Denton's apartment from his sister, Ingrid. Denton had asked for her help on Jack's behalf, inquiring about a child who'd been brough to the Children's Aid Society as a baby. One who had been adopted out west for some time, and then sent back to New York. He'd given her as much detail as he could, but even Jack was at a loss for specifics. He figured even Grim wouldn't know as much.
If Tide and Grim were to hang, and there really was no chance of mercy from the state, then the least Jack could do was let Grim see his son – the one he thought he'd lost five years ago.
Ingrid must've pulled more than a few strings for information, or perhaps someone at the CAS owed her a favor. Her letter was more helpful than Jack could've ever hoped for.
Denton brought him the letter to read at the lodging house, and Jack could barely contain his excitement. The letter stated there was indeed a baby sent from Randall's Island in October of 1895 to a Children's Aid Society orphanage in the city. The birth certificate mentioned the mother – Natalie with a redacted last name – was deceased and the father – Miles with a redacted last name – was a reformatory inmate. The baby was taken west with a train full of orphans in November of the same year and immediately placed with a couple outside of Santa Fe – a Mr. And Mrs. Isaiah Haywood.
The letter went on to say Mrs. Haywood had fallen ill and died in 1898 of influenza, and Mr. Haywood returned the child to New York later that year. The child – now called Henry – was back at the same CAS orphanage. And if it happened to be the child Jack was looking for, he was welcome to visit so long as he didn't mention Ingrid had helped. The children were not allowed to have non-family members visit unless they were serious about adoption.
For a reason unknown to Jack, a tear slipped down his cheek as he read the letter. It made him think about his own parents. Made him think about how lonely that little boy must feel, to have been abandoned twice.
"Do you know where the orphanage is?" Jack asked Denton quietly.
Denton shook his head. "She sent an address. It's on the other side."
Jack turned the letter over, seeing the neat cursive address. "I recognize that street," he mumbled. "But how am I gonna see him? I ain't related to him."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," Denton had said with a smile.
And that's where Jack stood now, on the steps of the orphanage on Cherry Street, dressed in the nicest ensemble he owned, having traded his cowboy had for a traditional newsboy cap.
The building was ominous and gloomy looking. Jack wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go in.
Sarah Jacobs found his hand with hers, giving it a light squeeze in reassurance. "We can turn back, if you like," she said softly, as if reading his mind.
Jack shook his head and pressed on, leading her up the stairs, and knocking.
Sarah was dressed in one of her cleaner shirtwaists and long brown skirts, her hair tucked neatly in a bun atop her head. She held tightly to him but maintained more confidence in her step as they entered the foreboding building.
They both straightened as a robust but overly charming matron greeted them in the foyer.
"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan," the matron said with a smile, shaking their hands firmly. "I'm Mrs. Bellows, the directress."
Sarah smirked at the disguise, privately delighting in the idea of their being married.
Jack was frozen, as if searching for the right thing to say, so Sarah stepped in to take the lead. "Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Bellows," Sarah said evenly.
"Ingrid Denton mentioned you were looking to adopt. She said you have a small farm upstate, and that you're good, God-fearing people," Mrs. Bellows continued, giving the two an approving grin. "And friends of Ingrid are friends of mine."
"Thank you, Mrs. Bellows," Sarah chirped.
"I must say, you're much younger than I expected," Mrs. Bellows, looking Jack and Sarah up and down.
Sarah hummed with a shrug, and Jack forced a fake smile, pulling Sarah closer.
"But no matter. Follow me if you would," Mrs. Bellows said, turning on her heels.
They started up the stairs, passing by another matron shepherding a line of children headed the opposite way. Jack watched them go over his shoulder, noticing the way the matron chastised a young boy for walking too slow.
Finally, Mrs. Bellows lead them to a dormitory just off the staircase. Sarah was stunned to see so many children, all looking miserable and neglected. Jack had been expecting much worse.
"Here are some of our little angels," Mrs. Bellows announced.
"There must be fifty or more in here," Sarah mumbled to Jack, looking around the crowded room. There seemed to be two or three to a bed. "How do they all fit?"
"Oh, they're always on their way out," Mrs. Bellows chuckled, patting Sarah's arm. "The westbound trains take a number of our foundlings to Christian homes. Good country air for their lungs, that's the ticket."
By the looks on the children's faces, Sarah knew some fresh air could do them some good. Following Mrs. Bellows, Jack and Sarah passed beds, seeing hopeful faces staring back up at them.
Jack felt guilty about the charade – not about deceiving Mrs. Bellows, but about misleading these children into thinking they'd be taken home.
One little girl pulled on Sarah's skirt, looking teary-eyed, calling Sarah 'mama.' Mrs. Bellows hurried over, putting the girl back in bed, and scolding her quietly.
"I'm sorry," Mrs. Bellows apologized. "They ought to know better."
As they walked into another dormitory for slightly older children, Jack spotted a blonde-haired boy sitting alone, huddled on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He gazed up as Jack walked by, setting his light blue eyes on the young man in resigned sadness.
Jack knew those eyes. They were Grim's eyes.
"Hi," the little boy said to Jack, suddenly cheerful and full of hope. "Hi!" He repeated, this time sitting up straight and folding his little hands in his lap.
Jack paused, looking down at the kid curiously. "Hi," he said slowly, looking back at Sarah and Mrs. Bellows who were already on the other side of the dorm.
Sarah caught Jack's eye and looked at the small boy before turning to Mrs. Bellows, hurriedly talking her ear off in distraction.
Jack nodded, a small smile on his face as he bent down next to the boy. "What's your name?"
"Henry," he said, beaming as Jack extended his hand to shake the boy's.
"Nice to meet you, Henry. I'm Jack."
Henry seemed genuinely astonished Jack had replied. Delighted with this interaction already, he flashed a wide grin, showing off a missing front baby tooth. "I like marbles!" He continued, tilting his head in thought as he smiled. "Do you have any marbles, mister?"
"Oh…uh, no. Sorry, I don't," Jack said, patting his empty pockets. "And I'm not a mister. I'm only seventeen."
"Guess what? I'm five-years-old, and I have been on a train before," Henry said, holding up his hand as if to prove his point.
"Really?"
"Yeah, and…and one time, um, I was on the train, but I was a baby," Henry continued rambling, seemingly proud and pleased to have been chosen as the subject of interest by these prospective parents – Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. "But I growed up, um…in New Mezzico," he finished, shrugging.
"What are you doing back here, then?" Jack asked softly.
Henry sighed sadly, his little eyebrows knitting together. "Well, my daddy was bad, so I'm bad, too," he said, pausing to think some more on the subject, straining to remember. "That's what Mr. Haywood said. He said I have to be in New York because that's where bad kids go. He don't like me no more."
"Mr. Haywood was your father for a while, huh?" Jack guessed. "Out west."
Henry nodded. "He didn't like it when I called him 'papa' after mama died. Um, he hurted me if I called him that. Look," he said, turning around and tugging at his worn shirt.
Jack flinched, not sure if he should help. Henry managed to pull the shirt off to reveal multiple, still-healing scars across his back.
Jack looked somberly at the scars, haunted by the image of seeing Grim's back all torn up in a similar fashion from Snyder's whip. "I'm sorry," Jack whispered, feeling tears sting his eyes.
Henry pulled his shirt back down. "Oh, it's okay," he said, turning around and patting Jack's hand. "They don't hurt anymore, I promise!"
Jack looked down at his own worn-through boots. They were caked in dust and dirt, and the laces were frayed and ragged. A hole stretched to the size of a dime at the toe of his right foot.
"He shouldn't have hit you," Jack said, holding back his curses, folding his arms. "It ain't right."
Henry's dimpled smile brightened as he nodded, mimicking Jack's movements and folding his arms as well.
Jack watched Sarah in the center of the dormitory, speaking to Mrs. Bellows as a few more children clung to the girl's arms, her voice muted under their voices.
"Um, are you going to take me home?" Henry's high-pitched voice sounded optimistic. "I'll be good. I don't eat much."
Jack frowned to himself, and then tried to force a smile for the little boy. He knew full-well that wasn't going to happen. "We're just visiting today, kid."
Mrs. Bellows made her way over, followed by Sarah. "It's almost time for their lunch," Mrs. Bellows said, ushering Jack away. "We must be on our way."
Sarah gave Jack a look. "Shall we come back another time, Jack?"
"Sure," Jack mumbled, getting up, and giving Henry one last smile. "So long, kid."
Henry watched him go, bringing his knees back up to his chest, looking dejected – like he'd just been slapped.
Jack couldn't look back. He knew it would kill him.
Sarah felt like she had to pull Jack out of there and down the steps. He looked furious.
"That was a horrible place," Jack said, spitting onto the sidewalk. "It ain't suited for cattle."
"And that dreadful matron," Sarah added, holding his arm worriedly. "She seems like a bitch."
Jack gave her a sideways look. "I have never heard you cuss before."
Sarah shrugged, leaning her head slightly against Jack as they walked. "So, how are you going to get him out?"
Jack sighed, staring straight ahead, feeling helpless. "I have no fucking idea, Mrs. Sullivan."