AN: Eh, boy problems in the real world are not as fun as in the newsie world. I don't have as much control and that blows. So, what's the solution? Hop on the treadmill, run for a good hour while watching Newsies, and hope that creative energy can somehow form out of all this restlessness.
This is story numero duo. Book one will be set totally outside of NYC, who knows about Book two, you'll have to read. This story line is not as clear in my head as the first. Let me know what you think
Oh! Just in case you were wondering, the main guy in both stories is going to be Jack, cause he stole me heart and won't give it back. Thought you might like to know.

SO's:

Miracle: Yea, Spot is sort of already promised. But maybe you'll like this one better. He won't show up until book two so read and let me have some of those ideas!

Dakki: Yea! You finished The Deepest. As usual your reviews were very helpful. I'll be sure to return the favoras soon as you post the next chapter of Home'. C'mon, I need something to distract my over analytical mind and English Lit. homework just isn't cutting it!

Klover: Geez, am I glad I don't go to your school. Although your input into the attitudes of Eppie's classmates will be much appreciated!

JustDuck: It was hard to end Tess and Jack, but I didn't want to drag the story on, ruin what I thought was a decent piece of work so far. But if I have another idea pop up (a sequel perhaps) then I'll definitely continue those characters. As of right now though, I'm getting pulled in two different directions with these new stories. If you have an idea of your own, let me know! Maybe we can co-write something, huh huh?!

DodgerMcClure: First off, cool name. Second, when I figure out what story I'm going to expand I'll let ya know about the CC. If you could just leave your info anyway, then I'll know what type of character to be thinking of.

Anyway, on with the Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of the newsie characters, and those that I created were influenced by everything surrounding me.


Upstate Races

Prologue

They met Mr. Washington at the Brockton train depot, only a mile and a half from Lewiston and Mr. Washington's home. The country surrounding the boys seemed to be pieced together of new and exciting things: dirt that seemed coarser than city dirt, shrubs wild and more overgrown than the neatly groomed Central Park, softer sounds, smells that turned your head.

But it's the same sky?' The thought entered Jack's head no more than twenty minutes out of Brockton. By then, situated in the back of the wagon with Race and Kloppman's things, the familiarity of the train station had been left behind for the open plains of upstate New York. In the front of the wagon was Mr. Washington, steering the two large horses pulling the wagon, and Kloppman, catching up on the family news with his son in law.

You eva seen so much land? Racetrack exhaled slowly, questioning Jack and expecting an answer until he noticed the cowboy hat covering his face. Unaltered by this obvious inattentiveness, Race continued to ramble. Seriously, I've hoid of fields, but dis is ridiculous. Tink of how many houses you'se could build dere. Da whole Bowery could fit in dat plot!

Not in this town, son. Mr. Washington cracked the reigns lightly. That's farming property, no man's going to build on that unless he's building onions.

Eh, I hate onions.

Mr. Washington chuckled to himself and it reminded Jack of what his own father had sounded like. The chills made him shift from his slumber until returning to another decent position. The first time out of the city since becoming a newsie wasn't sitting too well with him. He'd been wishing to get away for so long, but now, no longer surrounded by the usual sights, he felt strange abandoned.

So Frank, how was the trip?

Getting out of the city was fine but after dat, so many towns. Dey all look the same once I get up to dese parts. Again the hearty laugh interrupted Jack's sleep. But he couldn't help listening. It was part of the reason why he'd jumped at Kloppman's offer to travel upstate. This vacation of sorts would provide a whole new view of Kloppman and the life he hid from the Manhattan newsies.

He'd gotten the letter on Thursday afternoon, asked Jack that night, and been on the train, with Jack and his appointed sidekick Race, the next morning. Apparently Kloppman's eldest granddaughter was expecting a child, twins to be exact, and he'd been saving for the occasion. Jack hadn't even known Kloppman had been married, let along a father, and now, gandfather.

Ms. Birdie was watching the lodging house, another deciding factor in Jack's acceptance. That lady was as large and as mean as any bully this side of the Brooklyn bridge. She'd helped out Kloppman years before, when Jack had been a newbie, and he'd learned quickly that she was one to be weary of. Even miles away the image of her upper lip moustache made Jack shiver.

So, you think dat dis Webster is going to mind us helping out? Jack peeked out from underneath the brim of his hat and watched as Race handed Mr. Washington one of his cigars.

After puffing lightly, Mr. Washington turned back to the road. Sure, Mr. Webster isn't one to worry about anything not directly connected to his company. A couple of new workers will pass right under his nose. But it's a busy time of year and I really appreciate you boys coming up with Frank. Missy's been about to pop for the last month and it's hard with her husband working all day.

What is it dat we'll be doin exactly?

he chuckled again and let out another puff of smoke, Mrs. Webster likes her lawn to look mighty perty.

This Mr. Webster made Jack leery. He was the Washintons' employer. The whole family, husband, wife and four kids lived on the large Webster estate along with the other servants. Mr. Washington ran the stables while Mrs. Washington, the best cook in New York according to Kloppman, ran the kitchen in the grand house. There were maids for each of the three Webster children, drivers, gardners, a tutor, and even a dog walker for Mr. Piddles, the Webster's prized sheepdog.

The shade from the surrounding woods helped in covering the noon day sun and Jack chose this moment to sit up, returning his hat to the proper place. Nice of ya to join us Jacky-boy. Chided Kloppman, smiling his toothy grin which Jack returned easily.

He stretched his hands over his head to crack his back. Just resting up for dis week's woik, dat's all.

Mr. Washington smiled also, nodding his head in approval as he began to explain more about his family and the little town that lay on the outskirts of the Webster land.

Holy St. Francis, what was dat? Race turned in the direction of the crashing leaves and rising voices, dropping his cigar from his lips and watching it crunch under the heavy wooden wheels. He strained to see further behind them, either watching his smoke or looking for what could have made the unusually loud noise.

Mr. Washington didn't seemed to be alarmed so Jack rested one arm on the side of the wagon and peered ahead, noticing the clearing they were reaching and an end to his shade. He was about to lay back down when Race stood up abruptly, rocking the balance of the wagon slightly.

Sit down, will ya. Jack groaned, reaching to pull down his friend by his suspenders. But Race dodged the swing, one hand holding his cap on his head and the other pointing far out to the left where the trees ended to meet the dull brown of the open field. There, moving out of the woods as fast as a slingshot could shoot a marble came two horses, racing so fast that dust kicked up behind them.

Look at em! Race exclaimed, still standing and testing Jack's patience. Dey could win at da tracks easily! I ain't neva seen a horse dat fast in da city!

Mr. Washington averted his eyes momentarily. How you know so much about horses, kid?

Well sir, I'se been selling me papes at da track eva since becoming a newsie. You loin a few tings Race continued to watch the two figures, each with a rider on the back, weave in and out across the field. Those riders got skill too. Dey need jockies like dat back in Brooklyn, fo sure.

That seemed to interest Mr. Washington and he trusted the horses to plod along the road without his assistance as he surveyed the riders closely. That there's me boy Roz, he's the fastest boy in Chester county. Raced last year at the summer fair.

There a track near by? As the two onlookers became distracted with all the racing talk, throwing around lingo that Jack had heard before but didn't pay attention to, the two riders were moving closer and closer. The one in front, the one Jack assumed was Roz, had bent, head close to that of the horses' and haunches high in the air, riding what looked in an awkward shape upside down. The next rider was crouched much closer to the horse, as if hugging the large beast's neck and whispering in it's ear, asking him to move his legs faster. And faster he did, catching up with the other horse so that they were side by side only 100 yards away from where the road intersected the field.

Jack looked between the racing duo and his own transportation, flashing a worried glance at Mr. Washington who was still involved in the previous conversation with Race.

This continued until Jack was so close he could hear the voices of the riders, Roz's shout startling his father so that the wagon was halted just in time for one rider to slip in front. But it was the unknown rider, the one who could talk the horse to speeds imaginable that made Race fly to the bottom of the wagon, for fear of decapitation. The horse landed steadily, the loud thud-thud' echoing in the surrounding woods, so that when Jack peeled himself off of the wagon bed, it was prancing excitedly in place, head bobbing up and down.

The rider grinned at the sight of Jack peaking over the edge of the wagon, tipping the hat that she wore on her head and spinning the horse around. Roz, don't think that you win! There was an interference. As she rode away, trotting gently and gradually picking up speed to catch up with Roz, it struck Jack that rider was female, long auburn curls blending with the mane of her horse.

Race noticed also, bending next to Jack and exclaiming, hand on his heart. I tinkI'm in love.

And that was my daughter, Mr. Washington jumped down from the front bench, walking around to check his own horses and the wagon, He stopped on the passenger's side and watched his two children disappear back into the woods.

Kloppman exhaled shakily, wiping at his forhead with a worn hankerchief. Glad to see that she hasn't settled down.

Much to her mother's frustration, I must admit. Mr. Washington handed Jack his cowboy hat, dusting off the dirt it had accumulated after it's fall. She's got a big heart though and she sure comes in handy when we need an extra pair of hands in the stables. He shrugged at the two boys staring at him with such wide open eyes. Girls back in the city came in two forms, mean and harsh or weak and dependent. This new creature seemed intriguing.

She sure can ride. Race mumbled, turning around in the wagon and catching his breath.

Gives her brother a run for his money.. He nudged Race in the shoulder and laughed again. ... and drives her mother crazy. Gwen swears that it's the country raising and I'm about this close to agreeing. How can you raise a lady around all this dirt? He laughed again, patting Jack on the back soundly and knocking any uneasiness out his body.

Jack turned to look one last time in the direction that Roz and Annabelle had darted off to, twisting his neck around as the wagon began again and the road weaved in another direction.