One big shout-out to all my lovely reviewers! I really hope ya'll are enjoying this...in this chapter, things really start to come together...or fall apart, however you wanna look at it...
~*~*~
The rest of the week went by pretty smoothly for the boys in New York. Skittery, Specs, and Snoddy continued to sell in the Bronx, occasionally visiting Harlem and Queens, Blink and Race continued to leave them alone, and Cut O'Shea continued to fester. Manhattan's two new leaders were adapting well to their positions and things were beginning to get back to normal…whatever that was. The headlines were selling great, the weather was pleasant, and the newsies were adjusting nicely to life without Jack Kelly. However, Santa Fe wasn't exactly doing the same for Jack. Since initially arriving, he had already been fired from his first job as a waiter for mouthing off to a rude customer and was currently seeking employment at a nearby saloon. He had taken up temporary residence with his previous employer, so he currently had nowhere to sleep for the night. However, his rather non-illustrious career made it seem highly unlikely that Jack would be getting a job around these parts anytime soon. A kindly patron of the saloon listened in as the ragged boy relayed his sad story to the owner, who insisted that he did not need anymore bartenders. The man stopped Jack as he walked dejectedly out the door.
"Life been treatin ya bad, son?" the stranger asked through a full beard, kind brown eyes looking the boy up and down.
"Ya might say dat, Mister." Jack tried once again to leave. He didn't need to waste his time talking to this crazy old man.
He grabbed Jack by the shoulder and spun him around to look at him. "I've got a proposition for you, boy. I own a cattle ranch out here round these parts, and I could use a new hand. I'll provide you with food, shelter, and decent pay, if you do your job right and don't cause me no trouble."
Jack was so stunned he didn't know how to respond. Here he was, barely a week in Santa Fe, and already had a job offer to be a real cowboy. The man must have noticed the shocked expression on the boy's face. "Well, ya interested, son?"
Jack wagged his head up and down adamantly. "Yes sir, dat sounds great!"
"Can ya ride a horse, boy?"
"Yes sir."
"What's yer name, son?"
Jack was glad to tell him. He was beginning to tired of being called 'boy' and 'son.' "Jack Kelly."
"Pleased to meet ya, Jack, the name's Mike Rogers. You don't sound like you're from around here. What's your story, son?"
"Oh, I'se from New York. I'm an orphan, made a livin sellin newspapas on da streets." Jack felt no need to lie to his new employer. It felt strange telling the truth for once. It actually felt pretty good.
Mr. Rogers looked at him strangely. "So you're one a them newsboys I been reading bout it the paper." He chuckled at Jack's sheepish nod, clapping him on the back. "You kids did a mighty deed there. You should be proud of yourself."
Jack was taken aback. "Da news spread awl da way out here?"
"Yes siree, it's all over da country."
HTML"Wow," he whispered. The world really did know. Technology these days was amazing. He couldn't wait to tell the guys. iThe guys that he would never see again./i He quickly pushed these thoughts out of his head as he heard Mr. Rogers talking to him again./HTML
"So what brings a city boy like you out here to Santa Fe?"
Jack continued to tell his story as he and his new boss walked out of the saloon into the dry Santa Fe heat. The future cowboy had no idea what was in store, but he sure was looking forward to it.
---
Cut O'Shea, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was going to do, and was somewhat looking forward to it. These little Manhattan boys needed to be shown their place, and that it wasn't in the Bronx. He had planned a "meeting" for a few of his boys to go to Manhattan and talk to Kelly and set him straight once and for all. He didn't go himself because he had a feeling that things would get messy, and he didn't want to be blamed when they did. Or if he was, he wanted to have some time to make a break for it. He had learned his lesson after accidentally inciting a small war between the Bronx and Harlem. Hadn't ended well, he remembered…
---
Jack walked on with Mike, chatting about each others' pasts, presents, and futures. He decided that he really liked this man. Jack's bleak introduction to the West had seemingly taken a turn for the better. They continued on their way. Jack noticed a small but beautiful home in the near distance with a large mass of fenced-in property and several animals in the yard. The orphan couldn't imagine ever living in a place like this. As he was formulating the future story of his life in this lovely home, he tentatively and hopefully asked, "Is dat your place?"
Mr. Rodgers laughed heartily and clapped Jack on the back. "Heavens, no, son!" Jack's hopes fell until Mike added, "That's my place."
Jack followed the pointing finger in the other direction towards an elegant Victorian ranch house, just the right size, with a barn to the side and a huge pasture in the back. Jack's breath caught in his throat and his eyes threatened to well up with tears as he took in the site of his new home. "Wow," was all he could manage to squeak out.
"Yeah, I'm quite proud of 'er. Me an' the wife been savin' all our lives, it's been our dream." Mike smiled lovingly on his home. "But it does get a bit lonely, all of the kids have moved on and all our hands live on their own. It'll be nice to have someone occupyin' one of the extra rooms."
Jack smiled. "Yeah, I think it'll be real nice."
---
Cut's two right hand men walked through the streets of Manhattan where they knew that Jack's boys could usually be found, looking for someone who could be of use to them. "Hey kid. Where's Jack Kelly?" Esco Anderson asked Snipeshooter, roughly pushing him.
Snipes cowered slightly, but put on a tough face. "What's it to you?"
"We need to talk to 'im." The rather large boy glared menacingly at him.
"Well, he ain't here." Snipes cleared his throat as his voice cracked.
Esco was beginning to get annoyed. "Well where is he?"
"He's gone. Left for Santa Fe." Sniper tried to turn around and walk away, but Butcher Halloran grabbed him by the collar. The small boy saw Blink and Race a few yards away and caught their eyes with an imploring glance.
"Well den who's in charge o' yer lousy little butts?" the large boy growled angrily, nearly lifting Snipeshooter off the ground.
"We are!" Race announced heroically, he and Blink each standing up to one of the men.
"You run along now, Snipes," Blink muttered to the trembling yet enraged boy, who backed off a bit but decided to stick around, just in case they needed his help.
"Well uh, what seems to be da problem here, boys?" Race asked challengingly, somewhat avoiding eye contact.
"We wanna tawk ta Jack Kelly."
"He ain't here. Anyt'ing we can 'elp ya wit, gentlemen?"
Esco was getting quite agitated with Race's cocky attitude. "Yeah, yous can help me. Cut O'Shea sent us here on account of some o' your boys been sellin round da Bronx. You need to keep your own newsies on your own turf." He began to shove Race, and was consequently shoved right back.
Poker O'Shea, a girl of about fourteen who was new to the Manhattan newsies, was selling nearby with Mush and Dutchy. She heard the commotion and looked over, recognizing the two bigger boys as her brother's cronies. "Come on, let's see what's goin on." Poker dragged Mush and Dutchy with her.
Meanwhile, Blink was trying to keep everyone calm. "We'se sorry, guys, we didn't mean to cause no disagreements or nuttin. We'll keep our guy in 'hattan from now on."
But Race was still mad. "Yeah, we'll keep 'em outta da Bronx! We don't want 'em catchin' no diseases!"
Blink tried to pull his friend back before any punches could be thrown, but he was too late. Butcher's fist met Race's eye and threw the boy backwards.
Blink caught his friend as he fell, then swung his own fist in the general direction of Butcher's nose. It met with a resounding crack. Then Esco got in on the fight, punching Blink hard in the jaw. In a matter of seconds, the small scuffle had turned into an all-out brawl.
"Guys, what are doing, stop it!!" Poker shouted. But her cries were lost in the jumble of bodies, flailing limbs, angry cries, and blood, which Mush, Dutchy, and even Snipeshooter had joined in on. She jumped on Butcher, attempting to pull him away from Mush, but was roughly thrown back and kicked, landing in a heap on the ground.
As Dutchy connected an uppercut to his chin, Esco realized that he and Butcher were greatly outnumbered. "Butch, come on, let's get outta here!" As he pulled the other boy along, Esco noticed that the crumpled heap on the ground behind him looked a lot like little Poker O'Shea. He remembered seeing Butcher knock a random smallish person to the ground in the brawl, but he figured it would bode much better for the two of them if he told his boss that his beloved little sister had been beaten up by one of the 'hattanites.
"What!?" Cut bellowed upon hearing this news.
"We'se sorry, Boss." All of a sudden, Esco found his shoes very intriguing. "We didn't even know she was around!"
"Yous wasn't supposed to start a fight!"
"Dey started it!" Butcher lied quickly. "Little scrawny kid t'rew da foist punch!"
Cut took a deep breath and bared his teeth. "Well didja tawk ta Kelly?"
"Eh, no, uh, not really, no," Esco stammered, wincing at Cut's menacing growl. "He's gone, jus up an' left. Dey put some shrimpy lil' Italian n' dis kid wid an eye patch in charge."
"Well didja tawk ta dem?!"
"Yeah, yeah, we did! Dey said dey'd stop!"
Cut rubbed his temples. "So how did da fight start?"
Esco looked nervously over at Butcher, realizing that they story they had told Cut so far didn't quite mesh with what had actually happened. "I-I dunno, dey jus jumped us!"
"Yeah!" Butch agreed. "Dere was like, ten of 'em, dey ganged up on us!"
Esco dropped his head and scratched his neck as his partner continued to improve the truth.
Cut interrupted a rambling Butcher. "So what happened with Poker?"
Esco thought fast. "Eh, she saw us an' tried to fight us off, I guess, but one o' da other guys creamed 'er by mistake."
Cut's anger flared. "Who was it?!"
"Eh, I t'ink it was da kid wit da patch," Esco lied.
Cut took a few deep breaths. "Alright boys, we'se stakin out 'hattan tommorrah. We'se gonna teach dese lil twerps a t'ing or two bout property rights…"
~*~*~
The rest of the week went by pretty smoothly for the boys in New York. Skittery, Specs, and Snoddy continued to sell in the Bronx, occasionally visiting Harlem and Queens, Blink and Race continued to leave them alone, and Cut O'Shea continued to fester. Manhattan's two new leaders were adapting well to their positions and things were beginning to get back to normal…whatever that was. The headlines were selling great, the weather was pleasant, and the newsies were adjusting nicely to life without Jack Kelly. However, Santa Fe wasn't exactly doing the same for Jack. Since initially arriving, he had already been fired from his first job as a waiter for mouthing off to a rude customer and was currently seeking employment at a nearby saloon. He had taken up temporary residence with his previous employer, so he currently had nowhere to sleep for the night. However, his rather non-illustrious career made it seem highly unlikely that Jack would be getting a job around these parts anytime soon. A kindly patron of the saloon listened in as the ragged boy relayed his sad story to the owner, who insisted that he did not need anymore bartenders. The man stopped Jack as he walked dejectedly out the door.
"Life been treatin ya bad, son?" the stranger asked through a full beard, kind brown eyes looking the boy up and down.
"Ya might say dat, Mister." Jack tried once again to leave. He didn't need to waste his time talking to this crazy old man.
He grabbed Jack by the shoulder and spun him around to look at him. "I've got a proposition for you, boy. I own a cattle ranch out here round these parts, and I could use a new hand. I'll provide you with food, shelter, and decent pay, if you do your job right and don't cause me no trouble."
Jack was so stunned he didn't know how to respond. Here he was, barely a week in Santa Fe, and already had a job offer to be a real cowboy. The man must have noticed the shocked expression on the boy's face. "Well, ya interested, son?"
Jack wagged his head up and down adamantly. "Yes sir, dat sounds great!"
"Can ya ride a horse, boy?"
"Yes sir."
"What's yer name, son?"
Jack was glad to tell him. He was beginning to tired of being called 'boy' and 'son.' "Jack Kelly."
"Pleased to meet ya, Jack, the name's Mike Rogers. You don't sound like you're from around here. What's your story, son?"
"Oh, I'se from New York. I'm an orphan, made a livin sellin newspapas on da streets." Jack felt no need to lie to his new employer. It felt strange telling the truth for once. It actually felt pretty good.
Mr. Rogers looked at him strangely. "So you're one a them newsboys I been reading bout it the paper." He chuckled at Jack's sheepish nod, clapping him on the back. "You kids did a mighty deed there. You should be proud of yourself."
Jack was taken aback. "Da news spread awl da way out here?"
"Yes siree, it's all over da country."
HTML"Wow," he whispered. The world really did know. Technology these days was amazing. He couldn't wait to tell the guys. iThe guys that he would never see again./i He quickly pushed these thoughts out of his head as he heard Mr. Rogers talking to him again./HTML
"So what brings a city boy like you out here to Santa Fe?"
Jack continued to tell his story as he and his new boss walked out of the saloon into the dry Santa Fe heat. The future cowboy had no idea what was in store, but he sure was looking forward to it.
---
Cut O'Shea, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was going to do, and was somewhat looking forward to it. These little Manhattan boys needed to be shown their place, and that it wasn't in the Bronx. He had planned a "meeting" for a few of his boys to go to Manhattan and talk to Kelly and set him straight once and for all. He didn't go himself because he had a feeling that things would get messy, and he didn't want to be blamed when they did. Or if he was, he wanted to have some time to make a break for it. He had learned his lesson after accidentally inciting a small war between the Bronx and Harlem. Hadn't ended well, he remembered…
---
Jack walked on with Mike, chatting about each others' pasts, presents, and futures. He decided that he really liked this man. Jack's bleak introduction to the West had seemingly taken a turn for the better. They continued on their way. Jack noticed a small but beautiful home in the near distance with a large mass of fenced-in property and several animals in the yard. The orphan couldn't imagine ever living in a place like this. As he was formulating the future story of his life in this lovely home, he tentatively and hopefully asked, "Is dat your place?"
Mr. Rodgers laughed heartily and clapped Jack on the back. "Heavens, no, son!" Jack's hopes fell until Mike added, "That's my place."
Jack followed the pointing finger in the other direction towards an elegant Victorian ranch house, just the right size, with a barn to the side and a huge pasture in the back. Jack's breath caught in his throat and his eyes threatened to well up with tears as he took in the site of his new home. "Wow," was all he could manage to squeak out.
"Yeah, I'm quite proud of 'er. Me an' the wife been savin' all our lives, it's been our dream." Mike smiled lovingly on his home. "But it does get a bit lonely, all of the kids have moved on and all our hands live on their own. It'll be nice to have someone occupyin' one of the extra rooms."
Jack smiled. "Yeah, I think it'll be real nice."
---
Cut's two right hand men walked through the streets of Manhattan where they knew that Jack's boys could usually be found, looking for someone who could be of use to them. "Hey kid. Where's Jack Kelly?" Esco Anderson asked Snipeshooter, roughly pushing him.
Snipes cowered slightly, but put on a tough face. "What's it to you?"
"We need to talk to 'im." The rather large boy glared menacingly at him.
"Well, he ain't here." Snipes cleared his throat as his voice cracked.
Esco was beginning to get annoyed. "Well where is he?"
"He's gone. Left for Santa Fe." Sniper tried to turn around and walk away, but Butcher Halloran grabbed him by the collar. The small boy saw Blink and Race a few yards away and caught their eyes with an imploring glance.
"Well den who's in charge o' yer lousy little butts?" the large boy growled angrily, nearly lifting Snipeshooter off the ground.
"We are!" Race announced heroically, he and Blink each standing up to one of the men.
"You run along now, Snipes," Blink muttered to the trembling yet enraged boy, who backed off a bit but decided to stick around, just in case they needed his help.
"Well uh, what seems to be da problem here, boys?" Race asked challengingly, somewhat avoiding eye contact.
"We wanna tawk ta Jack Kelly."
"He ain't here. Anyt'ing we can 'elp ya wit, gentlemen?"
Esco was getting quite agitated with Race's cocky attitude. "Yeah, yous can help me. Cut O'Shea sent us here on account of some o' your boys been sellin round da Bronx. You need to keep your own newsies on your own turf." He began to shove Race, and was consequently shoved right back.
Poker O'Shea, a girl of about fourteen who was new to the Manhattan newsies, was selling nearby with Mush and Dutchy. She heard the commotion and looked over, recognizing the two bigger boys as her brother's cronies. "Come on, let's see what's goin on." Poker dragged Mush and Dutchy with her.
Meanwhile, Blink was trying to keep everyone calm. "We'se sorry, guys, we didn't mean to cause no disagreements or nuttin. We'll keep our guy in 'hattan from now on."
But Race was still mad. "Yeah, we'll keep 'em outta da Bronx! We don't want 'em catchin' no diseases!"
Blink tried to pull his friend back before any punches could be thrown, but he was too late. Butcher's fist met Race's eye and threw the boy backwards.
Blink caught his friend as he fell, then swung his own fist in the general direction of Butcher's nose. It met with a resounding crack. Then Esco got in on the fight, punching Blink hard in the jaw. In a matter of seconds, the small scuffle had turned into an all-out brawl.
"Guys, what are doing, stop it!!" Poker shouted. But her cries were lost in the jumble of bodies, flailing limbs, angry cries, and blood, which Mush, Dutchy, and even Snipeshooter had joined in on. She jumped on Butcher, attempting to pull him away from Mush, but was roughly thrown back and kicked, landing in a heap on the ground.
As Dutchy connected an uppercut to his chin, Esco realized that he and Butcher were greatly outnumbered. "Butch, come on, let's get outta here!" As he pulled the other boy along, Esco noticed that the crumpled heap on the ground behind him looked a lot like little Poker O'Shea. He remembered seeing Butcher knock a random smallish person to the ground in the brawl, but he figured it would bode much better for the two of them if he told his boss that his beloved little sister had been beaten up by one of the 'hattanites.
"What!?" Cut bellowed upon hearing this news.
"We'se sorry, Boss." All of a sudden, Esco found his shoes very intriguing. "We didn't even know she was around!"
"Yous wasn't supposed to start a fight!"
"Dey started it!" Butcher lied quickly. "Little scrawny kid t'rew da foist punch!"
Cut took a deep breath and bared his teeth. "Well didja tawk ta Kelly?"
"Eh, no, uh, not really, no," Esco stammered, wincing at Cut's menacing growl. "He's gone, jus up an' left. Dey put some shrimpy lil' Italian n' dis kid wid an eye patch in charge."
"Well didja tawk ta dem?!"
"Yeah, yeah, we did! Dey said dey'd stop!"
Cut rubbed his temples. "So how did da fight start?"
Esco looked nervously over at Butcher, realizing that they story they had told Cut so far didn't quite mesh with what had actually happened. "I-I dunno, dey jus jumped us!"
"Yeah!" Butch agreed. "Dere was like, ten of 'em, dey ganged up on us!"
Esco dropped his head and scratched his neck as his partner continued to improve the truth.
Cut interrupted a rambling Butcher. "So what happened with Poker?"
Esco thought fast. "Eh, she saw us an' tried to fight us off, I guess, but one o' da other guys creamed 'er by mistake."
Cut's anger flared. "Who was it?!"
"Eh, I t'ink it was da kid wit da patch," Esco lied.
Cut took a few deep breaths. "Alright boys, we'se stakin out 'hattan tommorrah. We'se gonna teach dese lil twerps a t'ing or two bout property rights…"