One Small Step: "Werewolves," 2x12
Because I can't change the world.
The Inspector's words echoed in his head as George lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour, too worked up to rest.
Jimmy McLeod was as capable as any man of becoming a constable. He remained calm under pressure. He stuck with the facts, took orders well. George though of him, working in the stables, and was reminded of the menial tasks he'd first had to do when he'd joined the constabulary at Station House 1. He'd soon moved through the ranks. But Jimmy? Jimmy would remain there forever, or until such time when the world looked past the color of his skin to see his intellect, his keen senses, his sharp mind.
It's unfair. George rolled over, pounded his pillow. It was unfair that a man as capable as that couldn't be a constable! More than that, it's unfair that a good man like that can't be a constable.
He thought of Detective Murdoch. Murdoch would never rise through the ranks, forever stuck as Detective, because he was Catholic. And that's not fair either, George thought.
Growing up, the Reverend had taught him to look past people's outward appearances. "I am just a man," he'd told George once. "The Lord did not attempt to change people on the outside, rather, He accepted them as they were." He'd ruffled George's hair and added, "What is on the outside does not qualify a man. What matters is what's in his heart."
Perhaps one day, things will change, George thought, rolling over to face the wall. Perhaps someday, people won't be judged based on their skin color, or their heritage, or their religion. And what a world that will be. Perhaps one day, men will be revered for what's on the inside, in their hearts and minds, rather than what people can see outwardly.
His eyes widened. The Constabulary may not be accepting of Jimmy as he is, he thought, an idea coming to him. He grinned and shook his head. But I know someone who might be.
The next morning, George was dressed and at Station House 4 far earlier than his shift start. The boys on the night shift seemed surprised to see him there so early. He asked the desk sergeant to put in a call for him.
When the operator connected, the sergeant handed it over to George. "O'Mara," he grinned. "You old devil."
"George Crabtree. Aye, but it's been some time! You sound the same!"
George rolled his eyes. "You've not lost your brogue either, O'Mara. Say, listen. I have a man you may be interested in meeting…"
George was practically bouncing on his heels as he waited for Jimmy McLeod to leave the Inspector's office after giving his final account of the night before. "Jimmy!" he called out, jogging to catch up with the tracker.
Jimmy paused, turning around with a smile. "You off, then?" George asked him.
Jimmy nodded politely. "Back to the stables," he said. His voice was light, but George detected a hint of disappointment underneath it. He caught George's sympathetic expression and they shared a thin smile.
"Well," George said, "it was a pleasure working with you." He meant every syllable. "But you know, in my opinion, the constabulary are wasting your talents," he burst out.
"Well, there's no changing the world, George," Jimmy reminded him, echoing their carriage ride conversation from a few nights ago.
"Maybe not," George replied, knowing that at least to some extent, that was probably true. For the moment. He couldn't change the world but, he thought, I can maybe change just one thing. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Jimmy. "But this might help you," he told him.
Jimmy looked at the name and address scribbled on the paper. "What's this?" he questioned.
"This," George said, "is a friend of mine who works at the Pinkertons. I told him about you. He seems very keen. You should go to the local office and ask for him."
Jimmy was silent for a moment. Then, he looked at George. "I'll think about it."
George nodded. "You do that."
The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then, Jimmy offered his hand to George. George shook it, hard. Jimmy held up the piece of paper as he walked away, and George noted a smile on his face.
No, perhaps there's no changing the world, George thought. At least, not overnight. But perhaps if we all started with just one thing, even something small…
With a satisfied smile, George returned to his desk. What a world, indeed.
Author's Note: Perhaps someday, George's thought of the world will come true. Hope you enjoyed this thinly veiled allegory LOL.
Interesting fact, the Pinkertons, since their founding, had made it a point to hire women and minorities. So I like to think that Jimmy McLeod ended up working for them, putting his skills to good use.