Shout-outs to everyone whose name I'm too lazy to look up and acknoledge that you reviewed! But I hope ya'll love this chapter...I should place a warning on it though, character death. It's not graphic (shame on me!) but he dies nonetheless. So, here's chapter five:
~*~*~
"Skittery! Come 'ere, we need ta tawk ta yous!" Race was pretty mad. His eye was beginning to swell up, and Poker probably had a broken nose. Mush had carried the unconscious girl back to the lodging house and lain her in the sick room.
"Whaddya want?" Skittery trudged over to Race and Blink across the bunk room, followed by Specs and Snoddy.
"You'se been sellin in da Bronx again!" Race chided. "I thought we agreed dat you t'ree was gonna stay on da east side."
Skittery sniffed. "So what if we don't? Ain't like no one had no trouble wit us or nuttin."
"Oh, is dat whatchu t'ink, huh? Dat whatchu do only affects you n' no one else? Well, you'se wrong, Skitts! You'se dead wrong!" Blink tried to calm down a raging Race.
Skittery was puzzled. "Whaddya talkin' about?"
Blink explained. "A couple o' guys came over from da Bronx today, complainin dat some o' our boys been sellin in dey're turf. A fight started. People got hurt."
The three looked away ashamedly. Then Specs cut in. "So yous two is sayin awl dis is our fault?"
"Well dat sure is how it looks, ain't it?" Blink was beginning to lose his cool as well.
Snoddy shook his head pensively. "So this is what it comes to, is it? Our beloved leader walks out and you two take it upon yourselves to be the self-proclaimed dictators. Well how do you think we poor peons feel? Did we get a say in who became the new leader? No. Did we get a say in any of this? No. So as soon as something goes wrong, you two place the blame on the only people who took a stand against your reign of tyranny."
Everyone stared at Snoddy, their mouths slightly open, heads slightly cocked. He speaks, thought the collective subconscious. And quite eloquently, too, for an uneducated New York newsboy. Perhaps there was more to Snoddy than met the eye… but that wasn't the issue at hand.
"No, Snoddy, dat ain't how it is," Blink continued after a moment of shocked silence. "We'se jus tryin to do what's best for you guys, an' da rest of da boys. Yous was wrong, we warned ya not to go to da Bronx. Yous didn't listen, and now we could 'ave a war on our hands."
Snoddy gave Race and Blink a defiant look and turned to face Skittery and Specs. "Come along now, boys. We don't have to stay here and take this. We should have done this when all of this began a week ago." He moved to his bunk. "We're moving out." Skittery and Specs looked at him in shock, then gave their former leaders a contemptible glare and followed Snoddy.
"Yeah, we don't need yous!" Skittery shouted.
"Good!" Race shouted back. "Please leave, see how much bettah it is livin on da streets!"
Snoddy had slunk back to the background and silently relinquished control of the small contingent back to Skittery. The three began to pack their meager belongings as Blink and Race stormed away and sat on Race's bed. Neither mentioned anything about Snoddy's outburst. It truly was rather creepy. However, Snoddy alone was the least of their worries. "Who would've thought?" Blink mused quietly.
"Why those low-down, dirty-rotten, sons-of-a--"
"Race, calm down, don't worry about it. We'se bettah off witout 'em. We don't gotta worry bout where dey sell no more."
Race took a few deep breaths. "Yeah, but we do gotta worry bout dem Bronx boys. I t'ink we may have jus started an all-out turf war today."
As the discouraged leaders sat contemplating the events of the day, which they feared would lead to more carnage, one thought weighed heavily on both of their minds. "What would Jack do?" they both murmured softly.
However, carnage on the streets of New York was the furthest thing from Jack Kelly's mind at the moment. He thought he was in a dream. The "Cowboy" formerly of the Manhattan newsboys now truly was a cowboy. Roping cattle, wrangling wild horses…sometimes, when he got lucky. But mostly just cleaning the stables, grooming the sheep, branding the horses, fixing fences, and a plethora of other jobs that needed done. However, being a cowboy wasn't all a bed of roses. Jack hadn't bargained for all the hard work. The hours were long, the sun was hot, and the work indeed very hard. But the pay was better and boss nicer than he could have ever hoped for. Nevertheless, when Jack lay awake at night, physically exhausted but somehow unable to sleep, he couldn't help feeling that he had had more freedom back at the place that had trapped him all of his life.
---
"Alright, come on fellas, get up!"
Blink groaned and rolled over, his mind automatically reminding him of the foreboding danger that the day could bring. His dreams had been littered with blood, death, and the occasional giant pink koala. Not that he even knew what a koala was…He hopped down from his bed and greeted a groggy Racetrack.
"Sleep well?"
Race yawned, stretched, and gave Blink an annoyed glare. "Like a baby," he snorted sarcastically.
"Ready to run from da Bronx boys today?" Blink joked, heading for the washroom.
Race rubbed his temples agitatedly. "Oh, don't remind me." He followed Blink to the washroom and looked at his haggard form in the mirror. "I don't know how much more o' dis I can take, Kid."
"Me neither," Blink muttered, his thoughts focusing more on his troubles at hand than on the sharp razor gliding over his face.
The boys continued to get ready and headed out on a dreary, drizzly day. Not very promising for selling. "Dis day jis keeps getting bettah n' bettah," Mush muttered to Race as the rain started to come down harder. Most of the guys knew of the happenings that had taken place yesterday and last night. They had been advised to stay in groups of at least five. Jake had been elected to stay at the house with a recovering Poker and the little ones, just as a precaution. The guys didn't want to start to panic or anything, but, as Blink put it, "bettah safe den sorry."
After the boys bought their papers, Race took Dutchy, Pie Eater, Bumlets, Snipeshooter, and Swifty, and Blink went with Boots, Mush, Itey, Crutchy, and Snitch. After a rather slow, discouraging, and dampening half-day of selling, the two groups met up at "newsie square" for a short conference, all in attendance so far unscathed.
"Race, we didn't see nuttin," Blink reported. "How bout you?"
Race frowned and shook his head. "Nah, I guess dey forgot about us."
"Eh, I don't know. We should still keep an eye out, jus in case."
"I knows it, but I'se jus sayin we don't need to be scared or nuttin." Then, to the rest of the boys, "Alright guy, ev'ryt'ing's okay, yous can split up again. But jis be careful an' tell me n' Blink if ya see somethin suspicious."
Confused murmurs and apprehensive glances circulated through the crowd, but eventually they split up into their normal selling groups. As Blink and Race branched off on their own, they were accosted by none other than Spot Conlon.
"Heya boys, how's it rollin?" Spot extended his hand to Race in a spit shake.
Race returned the gesture. "Whaddayou doin' here, Spot?"
Spot spit shook with Blink. He shrugged casually, rubbing his nose and looking up at the sky. "Oh, I jus been hearin some t'ings. T'ings from da Bronx. Dey been sayin yous been havin a few, uh disagreements or somethin since Jacky skipped town."
"Boy, news sure does travel fast round dese parts," Blink commented.
"You bet yer patch dere, Kid," Spot quipped with a slight nod. "So, Kelly jus up an' left and nobody thought ta tell me? Dat hurts, boys."
Blink and Race glanced at each other, somewhat intimidated into grudgingly retelling the story. "Yeah well, we woke up in the middle o' da night an' Jack was gone," Blink explained, somewhat wearily, yet still with a hint of bitterness. "We went out to find 'im, but awl we found was a note dat was gonna leave us. Said he was goin ta Santa Fe."
Spot shook his head disbelievingly as Race relayed the rest of the story up to the night before, when Skittery, Specs, and Snoddy walked out. "Wow, dat's crazy. So now Racetrack Higgins n' Kid Blink Campbell is following in da footsteps o' Cowboy Kelly. Ain't da somethin else?"
The other two snorted and shook their heads, any thought of selling for the rest of the day vanquished. "You're tellin me," Blink agreed. "I dunno how you do it, Spot."
Spot shrugged rather arrogantly, examining his fingernails. "Eh, it jus takes a little practice, I guess." He looked up with a knowing smirk. " An' it also 'elps if ya don't start a borough war after your first week on da job. So what kinda trouble you'se gettin yourselves into today, or ya jus savin it all fer later?"
Race chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Nah, it's been pretty quiet. We stayed in big groups earlier and left da kids back at da lodgin' house. But we ain't seen nuthin."
Spot's brow darkened and his tone changed from joking to somewhat worried. "Well, I wouldn't get yer hopes up jus yet. I 'ear Cut's sendin some boys over to pound yous for beatin up Poker."
Blink stopped pacing and looked at Spot, eyes filled with confusion and desperation. "Beatin up Poker? She got hurt durin da fight, but it wasn't our fault. Dat big guy hit 'er!"
"Well, dat ain't what Esco an' Butch told Cut. Dey told 'im dat yous started da fight an' hit Poker."
Race shook his head adamantly. "No, da big guy t'rew da foist punch!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a very frantic Snipeshooter ran up, almost barreling into the three boys. "Guys, ya gotta 'elp us! Dutchy's hurt real bad!"
As if their conversation had been somewhat of an omen, the three glanced at each other grimly and followed Snipeshooter to the bloody scene a few blocks away.
Dutchy lay in a pile on the ground, blood welling up around him. Mush stood over him, in little better condition, a black eye and blood dripping from his knuckles. Blink ran up to Mush and lay an arm across his shoulders, trying to calm the other boy.
"Mush, what happened?"
Mush's words caught in his throat as he took frantic gasps for air. "Dese guys jus came an' jumped us, we didn't do nuthin, they hit Dutchy real hard, we tried to fight 'em off but dey was too big, an den dey jus ran off, an--"
"Mush, Mush, calm down buddy." Blink tightened his grip on his friend's shoulders. "You awight?"
Mush breathed deeply as he began to calm down. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. But, Dutchy!" Mush turned his head away, near tears.
"Come on, man. Let's get yous two back ta da lodgin house."
---
Mush was indeed alright. But he had been right about Dutchy. It was too late for him. The lodging house was very quiet that night, and most of the guys went to bed early. Except for Blink and Race, however. They sat on the dingy yet somehow stimulating roof in the dark, chilly New York night air with Spot, collaborating.
"Well, I guess if Jack's newsies is in trouble, Brooklyn can't back down. I'se wit ya awl da way, boys," Spot affirmed sincerely, giving them a grave yet somehow reassuring look. Spot Conlon had a way of doing that. You felt safe knowing he was on your side.
However this time, even the promise of Brooklyn couldn't do much to instill hope in these distraught leaders. "Thanks Spot." Blink gave him a wan smile and pat on the back. "But how long is this gonna go on? How many more people'll have ta die 'fore dey realize how stupid all dis fightin really is?"
Spot shook his head vaguely. "Hard to say, really. Wars has been fought for months over stupider stuff den dis. We'se jus gots ta teach 'em a lesson, den come ta some agreement. But ya gotta fight back, da Bronx ain't big on peaceful negotiations 'less dey's backed inta a corner. Ya guys t'ink ya gots what it takes?"
Race took a deep breath. Heck no, he thought. But they had to be, he realized. Either way, it sure was too late now. Even with Brooklyn, Blink was right. How many people would have to die, be seriously injured? As it had been so many times in the past week, the only thought on Race's mind was, "What would Jack do?"
Spot's brow furrowed. "What didja say?"
"Oh, nothin. Yeah Spot, we got what it takes. But we sure is glad you'se wid us.
"Can't let Jacky-boy's newsies go down witout a fight, eh?" Spot joked, giving Race a light punch in the arm.
Race stood up and spit shook with Spot. "Thanks again, Spot. Ya wanna sleep 'ere tonight, it could be dangerous goin back ta Brooklyn dis late."
"Nah, dat's awight. I'll be okay, dey's don't know I'se on your side yet anyway." He stood to leave and spit shook with Blink. "I'll se yous two tommorrah. Sweet dreams!" he called back sarcastically.
Race and Blink chuckled and bid their ally goodbye. "See ya, Spot, be careful." As Spot tread off into the darkness, twirling his cane challengingly, the other two descended the stairs to the bunkroom where they climbed quietly into bed, eventually drifting off into fitful, dream-filled sleep.
~*~*~
"Skittery! Come 'ere, we need ta tawk ta yous!" Race was pretty mad. His eye was beginning to swell up, and Poker probably had a broken nose. Mush had carried the unconscious girl back to the lodging house and lain her in the sick room.
"Whaddya want?" Skittery trudged over to Race and Blink across the bunk room, followed by Specs and Snoddy.
"You'se been sellin in da Bronx again!" Race chided. "I thought we agreed dat you t'ree was gonna stay on da east side."
Skittery sniffed. "So what if we don't? Ain't like no one had no trouble wit us or nuttin."
"Oh, is dat whatchu t'ink, huh? Dat whatchu do only affects you n' no one else? Well, you'se wrong, Skitts! You'se dead wrong!" Blink tried to calm down a raging Race.
Skittery was puzzled. "Whaddya talkin' about?"
Blink explained. "A couple o' guys came over from da Bronx today, complainin dat some o' our boys been sellin in dey're turf. A fight started. People got hurt."
The three looked away ashamedly. Then Specs cut in. "So yous two is sayin awl dis is our fault?"
"Well dat sure is how it looks, ain't it?" Blink was beginning to lose his cool as well.
Snoddy shook his head pensively. "So this is what it comes to, is it? Our beloved leader walks out and you two take it upon yourselves to be the self-proclaimed dictators. Well how do you think we poor peons feel? Did we get a say in who became the new leader? No. Did we get a say in any of this? No. So as soon as something goes wrong, you two place the blame on the only people who took a stand against your reign of tyranny."
Everyone stared at Snoddy, their mouths slightly open, heads slightly cocked. He speaks, thought the collective subconscious. And quite eloquently, too, for an uneducated New York newsboy. Perhaps there was more to Snoddy than met the eye… but that wasn't the issue at hand.
"No, Snoddy, dat ain't how it is," Blink continued after a moment of shocked silence. "We'se jus tryin to do what's best for you guys, an' da rest of da boys. Yous was wrong, we warned ya not to go to da Bronx. Yous didn't listen, and now we could 'ave a war on our hands."
Snoddy gave Race and Blink a defiant look and turned to face Skittery and Specs. "Come along now, boys. We don't have to stay here and take this. We should have done this when all of this began a week ago." He moved to his bunk. "We're moving out." Skittery and Specs looked at him in shock, then gave their former leaders a contemptible glare and followed Snoddy.
"Yeah, we don't need yous!" Skittery shouted.
"Good!" Race shouted back. "Please leave, see how much bettah it is livin on da streets!"
Snoddy had slunk back to the background and silently relinquished control of the small contingent back to Skittery. The three began to pack their meager belongings as Blink and Race stormed away and sat on Race's bed. Neither mentioned anything about Snoddy's outburst. It truly was rather creepy. However, Snoddy alone was the least of their worries. "Who would've thought?" Blink mused quietly.
"Why those low-down, dirty-rotten, sons-of-a--"
"Race, calm down, don't worry about it. We'se bettah off witout 'em. We don't gotta worry bout where dey sell no more."
Race took a few deep breaths. "Yeah, but we do gotta worry bout dem Bronx boys. I t'ink we may have jus started an all-out turf war today."
As the discouraged leaders sat contemplating the events of the day, which they feared would lead to more carnage, one thought weighed heavily on both of their minds. "What would Jack do?" they both murmured softly.
However, carnage on the streets of New York was the furthest thing from Jack Kelly's mind at the moment. He thought he was in a dream. The "Cowboy" formerly of the Manhattan newsboys now truly was a cowboy. Roping cattle, wrangling wild horses…sometimes, when he got lucky. But mostly just cleaning the stables, grooming the sheep, branding the horses, fixing fences, and a plethora of other jobs that needed done. However, being a cowboy wasn't all a bed of roses. Jack hadn't bargained for all the hard work. The hours were long, the sun was hot, and the work indeed very hard. But the pay was better and boss nicer than he could have ever hoped for. Nevertheless, when Jack lay awake at night, physically exhausted but somehow unable to sleep, he couldn't help feeling that he had had more freedom back at the place that had trapped him all of his life.
---
"Alright, come on fellas, get up!"
Blink groaned and rolled over, his mind automatically reminding him of the foreboding danger that the day could bring. His dreams had been littered with blood, death, and the occasional giant pink koala. Not that he even knew what a koala was…He hopped down from his bed and greeted a groggy Racetrack.
"Sleep well?"
Race yawned, stretched, and gave Blink an annoyed glare. "Like a baby," he snorted sarcastically.
"Ready to run from da Bronx boys today?" Blink joked, heading for the washroom.
Race rubbed his temples agitatedly. "Oh, don't remind me." He followed Blink to the washroom and looked at his haggard form in the mirror. "I don't know how much more o' dis I can take, Kid."
"Me neither," Blink muttered, his thoughts focusing more on his troubles at hand than on the sharp razor gliding over his face.
The boys continued to get ready and headed out on a dreary, drizzly day. Not very promising for selling. "Dis day jis keeps getting bettah n' bettah," Mush muttered to Race as the rain started to come down harder. Most of the guys knew of the happenings that had taken place yesterday and last night. They had been advised to stay in groups of at least five. Jake had been elected to stay at the house with a recovering Poker and the little ones, just as a precaution. The guys didn't want to start to panic or anything, but, as Blink put it, "bettah safe den sorry."
After the boys bought their papers, Race took Dutchy, Pie Eater, Bumlets, Snipeshooter, and Swifty, and Blink went with Boots, Mush, Itey, Crutchy, and Snitch. After a rather slow, discouraging, and dampening half-day of selling, the two groups met up at "newsie square" for a short conference, all in attendance so far unscathed.
"Race, we didn't see nuttin," Blink reported. "How bout you?"
Race frowned and shook his head. "Nah, I guess dey forgot about us."
"Eh, I don't know. We should still keep an eye out, jus in case."
"I knows it, but I'se jus sayin we don't need to be scared or nuttin." Then, to the rest of the boys, "Alright guy, ev'ryt'ing's okay, yous can split up again. But jis be careful an' tell me n' Blink if ya see somethin suspicious."
Confused murmurs and apprehensive glances circulated through the crowd, but eventually they split up into their normal selling groups. As Blink and Race branched off on their own, they were accosted by none other than Spot Conlon.
"Heya boys, how's it rollin?" Spot extended his hand to Race in a spit shake.
Race returned the gesture. "Whaddayou doin' here, Spot?"
Spot spit shook with Blink. He shrugged casually, rubbing his nose and looking up at the sky. "Oh, I jus been hearin some t'ings. T'ings from da Bronx. Dey been sayin yous been havin a few, uh disagreements or somethin since Jacky skipped town."
"Boy, news sure does travel fast round dese parts," Blink commented.
"You bet yer patch dere, Kid," Spot quipped with a slight nod. "So, Kelly jus up an' left and nobody thought ta tell me? Dat hurts, boys."
Blink and Race glanced at each other, somewhat intimidated into grudgingly retelling the story. "Yeah well, we woke up in the middle o' da night an' Jack was gone," Blink explained, somewhat wearily, yet still with a hint of bitterness. "We went out to find 'im, but awl we found was a note dat was gonna leave us. Said he was goin ta Santa Fe."
Spot shook his head disbelievingly as Race relayed the rest of the story up to the night before, when Skittery, Specs, and Snoddy walked out. "Wow, dat's crazy. So now Racetrack Higgins n' Kid Blink Campbell is following in da footsteps o' Cowboy Kelly. Ain't da somethin else?"
The other two snorted and shook their heads, any thought of selling for the rest of the day vanquished. "You're tellin me," Blink agreed. "I dunno how you do it, Spot."
Spot shrugged rather arrogantly, examining his fingernails. "Eh, it jus takes a little practice, I guess." He looked up with a knowing smirk. " An' it also 'elps if ya don't start a borough war after your first week on da job. So what kinda trouble you'se gettin yourselves into today, or ya jus savin it all fer later?"
Race chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Nah, it's been pretty quiet. We stayed in big groups earlier and left da kids back at da lodgin' house. But we ain't seen nuthin."
Spot's brow darkened and his tone changed from joking to somewhat worried. "Well, I wouldn't get yer hopes up jus yet. I 'ear Cut's sendin some boys over to pound yous for beatin up Poker."
Blink stopped pacing and looked at Spot, eyes filled with confusion and desperation. "Beatin up Poker? She got hurt durin da fight, but it wasn't our fault. Dat big guy hit 'er!"
"Well, dat ain't what Esco an' Butch told Cut. Dey told 'im dat yous started da fight an' hit Poker."
Race shook his head adamantly. "No, da big guy t'rew da foist punch!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a very frantic Snipeshooter ran up, almost barreling into the three boys. "Guys, ya gotta 'elp us! Dutchy's hurt real bad!"
As if their conversation had been somewhat of an omen, the three glanced at each other grimly and followed Snipeshooter to the bloody scene a few blocks away.
Dutchy lay in a pile on the ground, blood welling up around him. Mush stood over him, in little better condition, a black eye and blood dripping from his knuckles. Blink ran up to Mush and lay an arm across his shoulders, trying to calm the other boy.
"Mush, what happened?"
Mush's words caught in his throat as he took frantic gasps for air. "Dese guys jus came an' jumped us, we didn't do nuthin, they hit Dutchy real hard, we tried to fight 'em off but dey was too big, an den dey jus ran off, an--"
"Mush, Mush, calm down buddy." Blink tightened his grip on his friend's shoulders. "You awight?"
Mush breathed deeply as he began to calm down. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. But, Dutchy!" Mush turned his head away, near tears.
"Come on, man. Let's get yous two back ta da lodgin house."
---
Mush was indeed alright. But he had been right about Dutchy. It was too late for him. The lodging house was very quiet that night, and most of the guys went to bed early. Except for Blink and Race, however. They sat on the dingy yet somehow stimulating roof in the dark, chilly New York night air with Spot, collaborating.
"Well, I guess if Jack's newsies is in trouble, Brooklyn can't back down. I'se wit ya awl da way, boys," Spot affirmed sincerely, giving them a grave yet somehow reassuring look. Spot Conlon had a way of doing that. You felt safe knowing he was on your side.
However this time, even the promise of Brooklyn couldn't do much to instill hope in these distraught leaders. "Thanks Spot." Blink gave him a wan smile and pat on the back. "But how long is this gonna go on? How many more people'll have ta die 'fore dey realize how stupid all dis fightin really is?"
Spot shook his head vaguely. "Hard to say, really. Wars has been fought for months over stupider stuff den dis. We'se jus gots ta teach 'em a lesson, den come ta some agreement. But ya gotta fight back, da Bronx ain't big on peaceful negotiations 'less dey's backed inta a corner. Ya guys t'ink ya gots what it takes?"
Race took a deep breath. Heck no, he thought. But they had to be, he realized. Either way, it sure was too late now. Even with Brooklyn, Blink was right. How many people would have to die, be seriously injured? As it had been so many times in the past week, the only thought on Race's mind was, "What would Jack do?"
Spot's brow furrowed. "What didja say?"
"Oh, nothin. Yeah Spot, we got what it takes. But we sure is glad you'se wid us.
"Can't let Jacky-boy's newsies go down witout a fight, eh?" Spot joked, giving Race a light punch in the arm.
Race stood up and spit shook with Spot. "Thanks again, Spot. Ya wanna sleep 'ere tonight, it could be dangerous goin back ta Brooklyn dis late."
"Nah, dat's awight. I'll be okay, dey's don't know I'se on your side yet anyway." He stood to leave and spit shook with Blink. "I'll se yous two tommorrah. Sweet dreams!" he called back sarcastically.
Race and Blink chuckled and bid their ally goodbye. "See ya, Spot, be careful." As Spot tread off into the darkness, twirling his cane challengingly, the other two descended the stairs to the bunkroom where they climbed quietly into bed, eventually drifting off into fitful, dream-filled sleep.