Part 1: Ten Years
"Ten years" Francis Sullivan spoke out loud. He looked down at the calendar he was holding. July 14. The first day of the strike. "I can't believe it's been ten years." He didn't know where the time had gone. He shook his head, walking toward the window of his small house that sat on the out skirts of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He'd been there every since he left New York about a year after the strike. He hadn't been there since. He thought about everything he had left behind - his friends, his make shift family, his love. He had his reasons to leave. He didn't want to face what he had done.
He peered out the window at the carriages, horses, cattle. It was great. He loved being there living his dream - being a real cowboy. He still wore his trademark red bandanna around his neck. A tattered black cowboy hat sat on his back. He had bought it when he made it to Santa Fe. His old one he had been given to Les so long ago. He wondered about Les offend. The kid who thought he had hung the moon - he wanted to know how he was. He wanted to know how everyone was. And, what kind of kids took their places at the Newsboys Lodging House. He grabbed his duffel bag, and headed out the door to the train station…
~*~
The large locomotive - that housed dozens of passengers - came to a halt at Grand Central Station. Francis Sullivan grabbed his bag, and stepped out of the passenger car. It was almost midnight so it was too late to go exploring for the day. He walked down the streets recognizing buildings and businesses. He decided to just hang around in a tavern till morning. He ducked into a small tavern with a lot of ruckus going on inside. There were drunks, barmaids, and some interesting people in there to say the least. He sat down at the bar, and ordered a drink. The bartender came back a minute later with a beer.
Francis took a sip as he looked around at the room. Something caught his eye. A red headed girl - couldn't be any older than fourteen - was sneaking around looking suspicious. No one else noticed because they were all drunk or didn't care. He saw another girl with brown hair sitting at a table - with men years older than her - playing poker. She looked like she was winning too. He then saw a taller girl, who looked older then the other two, standing silently by the door - holding eye contact with the bartender. He struggled the thought off of the three girls when the piano in the corner started playing. Another girl with curly blonde hair all the sudden appeared next to the piano. She was wearing a low cut pantdress ((a dress with a divided skirt)) - standing proper like a lady. She didn't look a day over fifteen either. She had a porcelain looking face that was flawless. The noisy crowd grew quite when she started to sing.
"Please gentleman…listen to my song…life down here is hard for you…life has made you strong…but I'll be good to you…with my attitude…" She grabbed her skirt and started swushing it as she danced around the piano. "Hey fellas…this is the time…hey fellas…tonights the night…for me to be good to you…" She playfully pointed at a man sitting at a table. The girl standing by the door ran over to the piano. She leaned against it, and started to sing with her. "Ya tough guys…we know ya all drawn out…ya bad guys we know ya bad…but we don't care…hey fellas…ya babys here…let us be good to you…" The singing continued on as the two girls distracted the crowd.
Francis was enjoying the show, but he was more alert than most of the people there. He felt something touching his side. He turned, and grabbed a hold of an arm that belonged to the suspicious looking girl. Her green eyes grew big as he stared at her. She finally broke out of the trance, and whistled to the other girls.
"Cinderella's carriage is turnin' into a pumpkin!" she shouted. It only took a second for the other three girls to run out of the place with the red headed thief. Francis shook his head as he turned back to the bartender.
"They come in heah often?" he asked the bartender who was wiping some glasses.
"Yeah. They good for business" he replied, smirking. Francis known what that meant. He didn't feel like arguing about it. It wasn't any of his business. He'd never see those girls again.
"Ten years" Francis Sullivan spoke out loud. He looked down at the calendar he was holding. July 14. The first day of the strike. "I can't believe it's been ten years." He didn't know where the time had gone. He shook his head, walking toward the window of his small house that sat on the out skirts of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He'd been there every since he left New York about a year after the strike. He hadn't been there since. He thought about everything he had left behind - his friends, his make shift family, his love. He had his reasons to leave. He didn't want to face what he had done.
He peered out the window at the carriages, horses, cattle. It was great. He loved being there living his dream - being a real cowboy. He still wore his trademark red bandanna around his neck. A tattered black cowboy hat sat on his back. He had bought it when he made it to Santa Fe. His old one he had been given to Les so long ago. He wondered about Les offend. The kid who thought he had hung the moon - he wanted to know how he was. He wanted to know how everyone was. And, what kind of kids took their places at the Newsboys Lodging House. He grabbed his duffel bag, and headed out the door to the train station…
~*~
The large locomotive - that housed dozens of passengers - came to a halt at Grand Central Station. Francis Sullivan grabbed his bag, and stepped out of the passenger car. It was almost midnight so it was too late to go exploring for the day. He walked down the streets recognizing buildings and businesses. He decided to just hang around in a tavern till morning. He ducked into a small tavern with a lot of ruckus going on inside. There were drunks, barmaids, and some interesting people in there to say the least. He sat down at the bar, and ordered a drink. The bartender came back a minute later with a beer.
Francis took a sip as he looked around at the room. Something caught his eye. A red headed girl - couldn't be any older than fourteen - was sneaking around looking suspicious. No one else noticed because they were all drunk or didn't care. He saw another girl with brown hair sitting at a table - with men years older than her - playing poker. She looked like she was winning too. He then saw a taller girl, who looked older then the other two, standing silently by the door - holding eye contact with the bartender. He struggled the thought off of the three girls when the piano in the corner started playing. Another girl with curly blonde hair all the sudden appeared next to the piano. She was wearing a low cut pantdress ((a dress with a divided skirt)) - standing proper like a lady. She didn't look a day over fifteen either. She had a porcelain looking face that was flawless. The noisy crowd grew quite when she started to sing.
"Please gentleman…listen to my song…life down here is hard for you…life has made you strong…but I'll be good to you…with my attitude…" She grabbed her skirt and started swushing it as she danced around the piano. "Hey fellas…this is the time…hey fellas…tonights the night…for me to be good to you…" She playfully pointed at a man sitting at a table. The girl standing by the door ran over to the piano. She leaned against it, and started to sing with her. "Ya tough guys…we know ya all drawn out…ya bad guys we know ya bad…but we don't care…hey fellas…ya babys here…let us be good to you…" The singing continued on as the two girls distracted the crowd.
Francis was enjoying the show, but he was more alert than most of the people there. He felt something touching his side. He turned, and grabbed a hold of an arm that belonged to the suspicious looking girl. Her green eyes grew big as he stared at her. She finally broke out of the trance, and whistled to the other girls.
"Cinderella's carriage is turnin' into a pumpkin!" she shouted. It only took a second for the other three girls to run out of the place with the red headed thief. Francis shook his head as he turned back to the bartender.
"They come in heah often?" he asked the bartender who was wiping some glasses.
"Yeah. They good for business" he replied, smirking. Francis known what that meant. He didn't feel like arguing about it. It wasn't any of his business. He'd never see those girls again.
