Eep, another short chapter. Boots torture in this one. Nothing big, he just gets scared a little.
Chapter 7: Don't Shoot the Messenger
It wasn't until Spot and Whistler got back to the Brooklyn lodging house that they realized just how soon they'd be seeing Deuce again. Having taken the long way around, they arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. There, in the downstairs common room, was none other than Boots.
"Whatcha doin' here, Boots?" Spot asked, more than a bit worried. The young black newsie was notorious for his fear of Brooklyn and Spot. If Boots was in Brooklyn, it meant that there was trouble enough in Manhattan that Jack wasn't thinking clearly.
"Ya won' like this, Yer Majesty," Boots said. "Big trouble."
"Well, what is it?" said Spot. Boots looked around, obviously scared out of his wits.
"Yer ma an' yer little sister—" he began, then stopped.
"Spit it out, Boots."
"Deuce's thugs got 'em!" Boots cried. His mission completed, he covered his head with his hands and cowered. Whistler sat down next to him and patted him on the back.
"Don' worry, Boots," the older boy said. "Spot don't shoot the messenger, just the sender."
"It weren't Jack's fault!"
"Jack ain't the sender, Deuce is," Whistler explained. "If he hadn't kidnapped Spot's mum an' sister, there wouldn't a' been a message." He turned to Spot, who hadn't so much as twitched since Boots' first exclamation. "Right, Spot?"
The King of Brooklyn didn't even bat an eye. Instead, he grabbed Whistler's arm with one hand and Boots with the other, and dragged the two into the bunk room, tossing out the newsies playing a game of poker.
"Git yerselves downstairs," he growled at them. The four boys took one look at their leader's face and ran for their lives. Spot steered his prisoners over to his bunk and set them down, then sat across from them.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Boots, I want details. Whistler, make sure you remember everythin'."
Boots looked from one grim face to the other and started to cry.
"Dammit," Spot growled. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart!"
Boots gave one last hiccup and began to talk.
"Well, at first we didn' know anythin' was wrong, see," he said. "You'd jus' left 'Hattan, an' Mrs. Conlon'd taken Emily to the park. Then some kid comes up an' says that he's from Spot an' he wants Mrs. Conlon an' Emily to come with him, cuz Spot wants to show 'em somethin'." Here Boots took a deep breath. "Jack tol' me to follow them, jus' ta make sure nuthin' happened, but then the kid brung them into an alley, an' I saw one a' Deuce's guys knock 'em over the head, first Mrs. Conlon, then Emily. Then Deuce's guy an' the kid took 'em off toward Queens."
Spot nodded. Whistler gave a long slow whistle. Boots looked like he might start to cry again. Finally Spot broke the uneasy silence.
"Alright," he began. "Boots, go on back to 'Hattan. Tell Jack I got it under control, an' to keep an eye on things in case Deuce decides to pull somethin' over there." He turned to Whistler. "You, get the guys together. I got a plan."