October 17th, 1891

Andrew frowned in intense concentration, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, as he tried to balance his weight on his crutch and also reach up into the high cabinet to retrieve the plates for dinner. He could reach them before, but now they seemed just a little too far out of reach. A little more. A final stretch, and his fingers seized around the edge of the topmost plate and pulled it out of the pile. It almost slipped from his hand but he caught it, and his balance, just in time to place it gently down on the counter. Success!

A close one. But a success nonetheless. At least the stack was lower now. He reached the next plate a little easier, then the next, until he'd retrieved all four that were needed for setting the table. He grinned at his handiwork before realizing he had to bring them all to the dining room now. This would be a lot easier if he could use both hands. Or even his right hand, which was now occupied with keeping a hold on his crutch. He scowled at the pile of plates now sitting tauntingly on the countertop, insisting to be carried carefully one at a time to the table, rather than all at once as he once could do. He sighed and started the slow repetitive trips to and from the kitchen and the dining room

Elizabeth looked up from her place at the stove and smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Andrew!"

"Welcome, Mrs. Lemay," He mumbled as he fixed his attention at timing his stride to miss the little uneven spot on the floor between the two rooms. His elbow still throbbed black and blue from his last fall, and he didn't intend to make the same slip twice. Balance, step, push. Obstacle successfully avoided, he moved easily to the table in the dining room and set down the first plate before making his way back to pick up the next one.

"You're getting around much better," she observed, "I think that might have been a record trip for you!"

"How long did it take me?"

"Only a minute," She grinned and followed him with a pot of soup as he went back into the dining room with his second plate.

"Really?"

"It took you almost three minutes a few days ago! You're getting so strong!"

He grinned – it was hard to be bitter about not being able to use his right hand when he could walk again. "I told Clara we should get another crutch by gluing and tying a few sticks together and do a race where she has to move around the same way I do. I have more practice than her, so she'd be real slow, and that'd be funny. But Mr. Lemay told her not to steal any more sticks from the park so I'm not sure if we'll have the chance to do that."

"That would be funny," Ms. Lemay conceded, internally praising her husband for his good sense in drawing the line with Clara on bringing outdoor things indoors. She sat upstairs in her room, working on some new scheme for school. "With some more practice, you should be back up to speed in no time. We should start working on your handwriting."

"I can use my right hand to write when I'm sitting down," Andrew argued. "Why should I learn to write with my left?" The idea of doing even more worksheets with his free time and dealing with the frustration of smudging all the ink did not sound like very much fun.

"It will give you good practice. If you can control your motions, then you'll be able to do more work when you're walking around. Who knows, maybe you will need to sign something standing up. It's a good skill to have."

"Can you write left-handed?"

"Well, No."

"Then you should practice with me!" Andrew grinned. That had to be a good way to get out of this assignment. He'd finished bringing the last of the plates into the dining room now and started on the silverware. Clara's books and slate lay scattered on the table from a homework assignment that afternoon and he shoved them to the side so he could finish his task.

"That's a good idea. We can start after dinner," Mrs. Lemay agreed in a cheerful tone, and Andrew groaned at the news. Foiled again. She gave him a smug look. "Now don't go turning into Clara on me. I have enough trouble keeping her from growling at me whenever I ask her to do something."

"I do NOT!" Came the indignant reply from the ceiling.

"Then put your bookbag on the hook by the door and clear your things off the table. It's almost time for dinner," Mrs. Lemay responded, raising her voice slightly so that Clara could hear her through the vent. "And you can stop shouting across the house as well if you'd like to prove your point."

Clara dutifully returned to the kitchen and hung her bag on the hook as requested before moving to help with the rest of the dinner prep. Soon enough, Mr. Lemay returned home from his work and they sat down to eat. The conversation started slowly as they all tucked into their chicken soup. It tasted wonderful, especially with the weather taking a sudden cold turn. Eventually, Andrew spoke up again.

"Have you heard any new news from my family?"

Mr. Lemay shook his head and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Nothing since the last letter. Why?"

Andrew's face fell. "It's been more than a month. I just thought they'd have sent something by now." He poked at the carrots floating in his broth. "It can't take that long to settle, can it?"

"In their last letter, they were still building tracks. It can take a long time to travel West as it is in wagon train caravans that can keep moving each day without being tied to a railroad route," Mr. Lemay explained. "It might be another few months before they even reach the location of their homestead. And more to be settled – to build their house and start their farm."

"I didn't consider that…"

"They said they'd send for you as soon as possible!" Clara added hopefully. "If you don't hear anything it means they're making progress!"

Mrs. Lemay nodded in agreement. "Clara's right. You'll have to be patient but we do know where they are, and that they're getting closer every day."

Andrew nodded, paused, and took another bite of soup before looking up again. "Could we send them something back? I know they said they'd moved on from La Junta but they were going to Santa Fe – if we sent the letter ahead of them, it could be waiting for them when they reach the next city!" Clara grinned. Now there was a clever idea.

"Could we send a telegram?" She suggested. "Hannah told me that the telegraph lines from the transcontinental railroad are being expanded too along with the rail lines."

"We could tell them I'm better already! That I'm walking on my own again!" Andrew added, already getting caught up in the exciting idea of it all. Imagine the look on his mom's face when she'd get their letter – she'd be so happy to hear he was ok. They might even send for him right away!

Mr. Lemay considered this briefly. "It's a possibility I suppose. I want to reach them as much as you do. Several problems could occur along the way. There was just an article in the Tribune this morning that the executives from several companies met and are running into money problems with a government subsidy, so any movement along the lines may be halted for a little while."

Clara frowned. "Can I see the paper?"

"After dinner," Mrs. Lemay she said to her daughter, before turning to Andrew and giving him a kind smile. "And after dinner, we can look at a map to find where they might be."

Andrew lay in his bed later that evening unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling – whether from his aching leg or his thoughts running a mile a minute he couldn't tell. Yes, it'd only been a month since the last letter. That wasn't too long, and he could understand that much. But they left at the beginning of August. Four and a half months now. How much longer would he have to wait?

They knew where his family would be. If he did some clever math, he could probably predict where they would be in another month. Only a little further than Santa Fe.

What if he could catch up to them?

They had to build the new rail lines – as Mr. Lemay said, they could stop for days and their progress would be so slow as they carved a path through the landscape for the tracks. But Andrew didn't have that hold up. The rail lines were built behind them – he could just ride the trains out as far as he could to reach their last location. Surely a city couldn't just misplace a whole caravan of workers. If he asked enough people, somebody would be able to point him in the direction of his family. He would just have to a hitch a ride from someone to follow the new train tracks to the camp where his family would be. How simple, really. The hardest part would be finding his family in the camp, but if he looked long enough, someone would know the Morris's. He could see it now, some friendly stranger guiding him through the sea of tents to his family, and they would look up to see him running towards them.

How excited they would be to see him! Peter would think him so brave for traveling so far find them, and James would call him clever, and his father would pick him up on his shoulders just like he used to and his mother would hug him and cry. Andrew smiled to himself. What a grand idea!

He'd need a good plan – enough money to buy food or water, or enough packed to last a few days until he could find some more. He'd need to pack his clothes of course, and his crutch. His shoes were a little worn, but they'd make do. He'd saved a little from when he helped his brothers work at the orphanage, tucked in a little bag in his school satchel hung from his bed. Andrew rolled over and propped the covers over his head as he fumbled for his bag in the dark. He pulled out the little purse and dumped the coins out on the pillow. A little over two dollars.

That couldn't be enough to buy a train ticket, but maybe it would take him a few stops in the right direction. Hmmm. Maybe he could find another job to earn a little more money before he caught the train. Or he could hitchhike. His mother probably wouldn't approve of that, but it was an option. That would be a small problem once he got on the train – there had to be dozens of odd jobs to do around the stations and if he could make friends with the conductor, maybe he could earn a free ride.

Of course, he would miss the Lemay's. He'd been so sad about the idea of leaving Clara and his friends when his parents told him they'd be moving in the first place, and they wanted to make the best of the last few weeks they'd have together. Funny how things turned out.

Could he say goodbye before he left? Clara would probably be all for the idea, but her parents would be much less enthusiastic. If they caught on, they'd try to stop him, and ask him to be patient just a little longer, but he couldn't wait anymore. He'd have to leave quietly, so they wouldn't notice he was gone until morning. He had to leave now. He would write them lots, for sure. They wouldn't be so distant after all.

He could do this. He had a plan. He had a goal.

He would find his family, and there was no time to waste.

A/N: In case you were wondering how I'm ever going to bridge the connection between 9-year-old Andrew and Clara and anything vaguely Newsies related, you're about to find out. In the meantime, I hope you're enjoying all of this backstory, and I'm curious to hear if you have any predictions for where this is going to go next. Let me know what you think in the comments!

On a tangentially related note, I am an ABSOLUTE history nerd if you haven't noticed yet and I found an actual Trib article from October 17th, 1891 talking about the executive of the Santa Fe rail line that's referenced in this story while I was writing it. I thought that was cool and exciting so I had to share. If you haven't checked it out already, the National Archives and Library of Congress both have fantastic databases of digitized newspapers, maps, and other documents ranging from pre-Newsies stories within the age range of the characters like this, all the way through the canon timeline and after for all your primary source needs, and the World is a popular one too!

Thank you for reading! :)