First off. Major shout-outs:To Bluehag and Rebellious Observer. I loved your reviews! They were hilarious! Okay, so I'd already had waffles by the time I read them, and syrup makes me HYPER!!! But I was rolling. My brother came in and asked me if I was allright. He thought I had gone nutters! It was great. Thanks, Bluehag, for reviewing every chapter as well. (And I'm glad I got that image to stick in your head all day. Thanks for the compliments on my realistic parts and yes, I try to do my homework before I get started. It's better if you have it be period-correct.) And Rebellious Observer, I'm glad that you liked Sidetracked. I like her. I think she's me, though, so I will have to try hard not to let her (or Savannah) turn into Mary Sue's)

Moving on...I hope that time-line helped you all out as much as it did me. If you want, I can post one every few chapters. Tell me in the review. Well, that's all I have to say for now, so Enjoy The Story!!!


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Spot sat up higher as the wagon pulled into the driveway of a small, one story red-brick house. There was a white sign hanging by the front door that said "Doctor Flynn", so Spot presumed that he was at Doc Flynn's house. Savannah got out and went to knock on the door while Spot slowly maneuvered himself out of the back. He wished he had his cane, but the last time he had seen it, was right before he was knocked to the ground back in the city. By the time he had gotten to the porch, the door was being opened by an old man in a black suit. He had gold-rimmed glasses, and a silver pocket watch.

"Hello, Doctor Flynn. I'm sorry to bother you so early, but this boy needs help." Savannah gestured to Spot. As Doc Flynn's eyes racked over him, Spot felt horribly self-conscious and Savannah realized how dirty he was. 'I could have at least let him wash himself up a bit.' She bit her lip. Doc Flynn was one of those sort of people who think that they're better than everyone else, just because they had the money to go to medical school. She didn't like him, but he was the next closest doctor was all the way in the city, and Flynn lived only three miles away.

"Well, come in, then, and sit on the table. Don't even think about using the chairs. You're covered in filth." He wrinkled his nose as he opened the door wide enough that both the others could come through with out accidentally touching him. Spot gave him a healthy glare as he passed.

Once inside, Spot and Savannah both decided to be facetious and stand up. The doctor let the room, and was gone for a very long time. Spot was getting dizzy again, but he forced himself to stay standing just so as not to do what the doctor ordered. He used one hand to brace himself, though, or else he wasn't sure if he would stay up much longer. Flynn finally returned, now with a white coat over his suit and carrying a small, black leather bag. A woman walked in behind him, wearing a white coat just llike his, but hers was buttoned so as to cover her blue dress. Unlike the doctor, she was smiling and looked happy. She was carrying a bowl, two towels, and a bar of soap. On closer inspection, Spot saw that the bowl was full of water, and one of the towels was really a washcloth. He looked at all of this suspiciously. She wasn't gonna try to wash him right here with everyone in there, was she?

Doctor Flynn turned to the woman. "Millie, he's all your's. I'm going too see about Mrs. Akerly." He grabbed his hat as he walked out the door and went to his own wagon, which was much nicer than Savannah's. The two turned to Millie.

"Now, you're a bit dirty, my boy, and we need to get you cleaned up a bit before we can see what's wrong with you." She smiled at them. "Savannah, dear, if you don't mind?"

"Oh. I ummm...I should move the wagon out from right where it is." She left the room. Spot looked at the woman like she had grown another head.

"Come on, honey. Sit on the table. It doesn't bite." She said cheerfully. Spot narrowed his good eye. She bustled about, setting everything down on the opposite end that he was supposed to sit on, andgetting the washcloth soapy and wet. She turned back to him, and he was still staring at her like she had suddenly sprouted wings. "Oh, come on, boy. I'm a nurse. I promise, I won't go telling any of your friends. Speaking of, I haven't seen you out this way before. Are you new here?"

"No. I live in da city." He was feeling a bit more at ease with this woman, but he still didn't want her to go washing him and all. He leaned on the table. "I um..I had a accident. I guess you'se could call it dat."

"Ah. I see. Did this 'accident' have anything to do with drinking? Or perhaps other boys?" Millie was trying to find out what had happened, obviously, and put him at ease at the same time. He decided that she made a great nurse, and obliged.

"Yeah. There's these scabbah's, an dey's always messin' with me an me boys. And so I'se decides ta teach em a lesson. In front a their goil. She left em. Dey blames me." He said, as he sat lightly on the edge of the table.

Millie nodded, and spoke. "There, now. That wasn't so hard, was it? Undo your shirt so I can take a look at your side." Spot looked down and saw that the entire right side of his shirt was soaked red-brown with dried blood. No wonder it had hurt like hell when he tried to get up. More than a bit curious about it himself, he unbuttoned his shirt and slid his right arm out of the sleeve and the suspenders.

The ruined material was sticking to the gash, that was nearly three inches long. Spot winced, and Millie had to pull the shirt the rest of the way off herself. With him squeezing his eyes shut, Millie dabbed at it with her soapy towel, then poured burning antiseptic in it. With him somewhat cleaned, she could see a bit more of the severity of the wounds. The three-inch cut wasn't the only one. There were several small ones across his chest, and shoulders. He was what Millie termed as "just one big bruise, then, aren't we!"

When he was finally truly clean, he had a grand total of seventeen wounds needing stitches, and over thirty small ones that didn't. Millie was worried that he may have cracked a rib, so she made him lie down as she felt him up. (A/N-does that line creep anyone else out? Maybe I should have said it different...) She decided after extreme Spot-tourture, that it was just the massive bruising that was hurting him so much.

"Well, that's all we can do for you here. Now. Here's what you have to do. You keep to bedrest-" at a protestful cry from Spot, she changed her mind. "Keep to the house, then, and no more moving than you absolutely have to, for three days. That should be enough time for the swelling and bruising to go down. After that, keep to as light of work as you can, for at least a week, or else you'll open up those stitches. You come back here then, in twelve days, and we'll see about getting the stitches out. I've got to get you more bandages, so just sit tight for a moment and I'll be back to show you how to dress them properly." With that, Millie gathered up all the towels and suture kits and scurried away again, always busy.

Once she had left the room, the front door opened and Savannah walked in. She looked at Spot and her jaw dropped. He wasn't wearing a shirt! And, bloody hell! He looked like shit. She realized that she was staring, and blushed, but Spot hadn't noticed. He was too pre-occupied with trying to sit up again. He looked up at her when he heard the door shut, and she said, "Oh, sorry. I saw Millie leave and I thought you all were done. I'll go back outside." She turned to go.

"You'll do no such thing, m'dear. I need to tell you what he's supposed to do so he dosen't injure himself further." Millie had come back, with a package full of bandages. "Now. He needs to keep still for three days, and only do light things for the next week after that. He'll need to be back in twelve days to have the stitches removed. About theses, now, the bandage will need to be changed at least once a day, and again if he splits the stitches. If he does that, he'll need to return. Now, both of you pay attention."

She pulled one of the rolls out of the brown paper package (tied up with string...Oh. Sorry. Tee-hee.) and unwound the end. She motioned to Spot to lift his arms, and he complied. She wound it around his middle, covering the big gash, and most of the larger smaller ones. When she got to the end of the roll, she showed them how to tuck the end into itself to fasten it.She also wound one that covered the top of his left shoulder, and went around his chest, and under his right arm. That done, she gave the dressings to Savannah while Spot put his clothes back on. The suspenders were left to hang at his waist.

Shoving his hair back from his forhead, Spot got down from the table. He leaned on it for a moment, and then walked over to where Savannah was standing, by the door.

"Thank you, Millie. What do we owe you?" Savannah asked.

"This wasn't much dear, so how about some eggs? A dozen should cover it all."

"All right, then. I'll deliver them tomorrow. Goodbye, Millie." Savannah turned and held the door for Spot. Once they were both outside, and away from Millie, Spot spoke to her.

"You'se gonna pay her with eggs?"

"Yup. I got eggs. She needs eggs. That's how it works."

"You don't gotta give 'er no money." Spot said, incredulously.

"We ain't got much money out here. We...oh, what's the word? Barter? Is that the right word?"

"Uhh...I dunno. Sounds good ta me." By now, they were back in the wagon, and Savannah was driving them home. They fell into silence until they got into the driveway. "Savannah?"

"Yeah."

"How'm I gonna pay you back? I ain't got nuthin that you need, and I ain't got no money, eithah."

"You can...ummm...Oh! I know. You can help with the harvest. I ain't got much of a garden, but it'll need to be brought in in about two weeks. That'll be right after you get your stitches out." Savannah pulled back on the reins, urging the two horses to a slow stop.

Spot got out, and Savannah drove the horses to the barn, where she unhitched them. Spot stood on the porch, watching. It was so much different out here than it was in the city. The city. He missed his friends. Especially the ones in Manhattan. Jack, Race, Mush, Fox...Thinking about them made him kind of homesick. He sighed, and continued to think about them until Savannah told him to come to the kitchen, for supper. They had chicken. It made him think of Tibby's.


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'Waking up is the worst thing in the world.' Thought Race, as he woke up. They had been at Medda's all night, not getting home unitl three. They'd had to sneak in the fire escape, so as not to wake Kloppmann, who slept downstairs. Now thinking about the night at Medda's, Race smiled to himself as he went to the washroom. He had spent the entire night taking to Sidetracked.

After slicking back his hair, he turned and walked straight into Jack. Jack laughed at the goofy grin. "Geez, Race. You'se actin like you'se in luv er sumthin'!"

"Shuddup, Cowboy." Race tried to make himself stop smiling. He didn't want them to know it, but he was starting to like Sidetracked...In the way that Jack liked Sarah. He held his arm out to Sidetracked as she walked up the steps, from where she had spent the night, in the sick room on the second floor. Jack said she absolutely could not sleep up there in the bunk room it Kloppman wouldn't let Sarah even stay at the lodging house. Race suspected that Jack was a bit bitter that his girl didn't want to spend the night with him yet.

Sidetracked smiled to herself as she looked at Race. She was awfully glad that she helped him out yesterday. Now, she would get to spend all the time she wanted with him, which was a good thing.

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How'd you like it? Answer me my useless poll!

Should I put a timeline up every few chapters?

A) Yes
B) No
C) What's a timeline?
D) Could you repeat the question?
E) I like stoplights!


Read? Review!!!!
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