I want to get right to the story…
Chapter Seven: Stained Glass
"Papa," Saint said, pouting, "Why can't I go to the ball?"
"'Cause," Racetrack answered, "I'se don't want you getting' hurt by some guy."
"I won't! I'm nearly sixteen, Papa!"
"'Rene, you'se two when it comes to beggin'…" he said with a smirk.
They were sitting at the front desk, and the boys were filing by, one by one, and paying to stay at the lodging house that night.
"Listen to your daddy, Saint," Jack said when he walked by. "He knows what he's talkin' about."
"Sure he does," she said with some sarcasm. "He's a fifteen-year-old girl who wants to wear make-up, get dressed up, and go to a Mardi-Gras ball at Irving Hall!"
"Nope, but he's been to Irving Hall enough to know what goes on there," Race replied, hoping that she'd give up soon.
He honestly didn't care if she went or not- but Brooklyn would be there, and she didn't want her dancing with one of Spot Conlon's boys. Specifically Ford Conlon. He'd heard enough about the famous murderer… And Irene might find out about the conflicts between the boroughs.
"Like what?" Irene inquired curiously.
"Will you'se just shut up already?" Skittery asked, in another bad mood.
"Not a chance, Skitts- my little goil's never gonna quit," Race said with a smile. He knew it was true- although Irene probably would go to confession that very night, he knew how determined she could be. "Alright," he answered with a sigh, "you can go to that dance. But you are not wearin' one of those new hobble skirt things."
Saint laughed. "Don't worry, Papa- I won't. Oh, grazie, Papa!" She threw her arms around her father.
Race grinned. He loved to see her happy. "Well, go see Sarah tomorrow and see what she can do."
"A dance, Pep? Are you nuts?" Ford said, shocked at what his friend was telling him about.
"Nah- but I heard that Mid-Town's got some pretty goils right now, and I thought that you might want to check it out, 'cause you'se single and all," Pepper replied.
"Pep! I'm happy about bein' single!" Ford explained in his dialect. He used some of the New York accent, but knew enough about the English language to know better most of the time.
"No you ain't! C'mon, Ford, it'll be fun!"
"But what will my father say-"
"He'll be happy that you'se actually got out! Besides, who's gonna tell him?"
Ford sighed. They both knew that Pepper's theory wasn't true- Spot liked to make sure that no one knew where Ford was, except when he was selling his newspapers.
"It's a masked ball- no one will even know it's you!"
"But where am I supposed to get clothing for it?"
Pepper grinned. "I know just the place."
"THAT'S WAY TOO TIGHT!" Irene screamed as Sarah pulled her corset tighter.
"Hey- you want to look slim, don't you?" Sarah asked.
"Well yes, but-"
"But what? I know what you're thinking, Miss Saint. That you're going to find the boy of your dreams at that ball. But it's not going to happen if you keep whining about how tight your corset is."
They were at B. Altman's in the Custom Department, and Irene was getting a dress made. Usually, custom made, designer dresses were very expensive, but Sarah worked there as a seamstress and was allowed to use the fabrics for her own work. She got her boss Eric (an up-and-coming designer) to help her make and design Irene's dress, gloves, and mask in time for the ball.
"You've got a wonderful figure," Eric said as he walked around Saint.
"What do you think would look best?" Sarah asked him.
"Hmm… black lace would look good with that pale skin… over satin. A dark magenta satin. It should go a little past her knees…"
Soon, they were off pining down fabric and measuring her, cutting and sniping all the way.
After a while, they were finished. They took off the pieces, and Sarah said that she would have it sewn and finished by the next day.
As much as Saint liked the attention and the fact that she was getting a new dress, she was glad that this part of getting ready for the ball was over.
She slipped back into her regular blue dress and ran to the church she went to with her father. Saint went inside, and knocked on the door Father Matthew's office.
"Yes? Who's there?" a voice came from inside.
"It's Saint Higgins."
A tall, Irish man opened the door and came out. He sighed.
"Here for confession again, Saint?"
She nodded, and followed him into the confessional.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned…"
"Here's the place," Pepper whispered as he walked into the church.
"Pep, I didn't know you were a Catholic!" Ford said, surprised.
"Yeah, neither did I. I've never been here before." He knocked on one of the priest's door. "Guess he ain't here… why don' we wait a few minutes?"
They sat in a pew. This was the first time he'd ever actually been in a church, that he could remember. Ford looked at the stained glass windows, filled with pictures of Mary and the Saints and Jesus.
He knew some about the Catholic faith- mostly things from the Irish newsies in Brooklyn. He knew who Jesus was, and knew a few bible stories. He knew he prayed to God, on the off chance he actually did pray. But he'd never been to church.
Just as he was getting lost in thought, a man walked out of a small room. Following him was a girl he had never seen before.
He watched as the girl walked aside, genuflected, and went into the nearest pew.
It wasn't until Pepper punched him in the arm that he looked up.
"C'mon," he whispered. They walked over to the priest.
"Ah, Bartholomew, it's been a few days since I last saw you," the priest said.
"Bartholomew?" Ford whispered, acquiring a piece of blackmail.
"Shut up, Samuel," Pepper answered. "So, Father Matthew, this here's my friend Ford. It took a while, but I convinced him to come to the ball with me."
"Ah," Father Matthew said. "So you're the famous "Ford Conlon" I've heard so much about.
"And you said that you'd never been here," Ford whispered to Pepper again. "Uh huh…"
"Don't worry- I won't get you into any trouble. Although, if your father finds out that you were here, you might be in a bit of a jam…"
Ford was puzzled. "You know my father?"
"We talked briefly a few times, concerning your baptism. But that was… fifteen years ago, I think. My, have you grown… and so has your father. But I don't believe that's why you're here, Samuel. Now, as you were saying, Bartholomew."
"But-" Ford started, but was cut off by Pepper.
"Yeah- we was wonderin' if maybe you'se people at the church could give us somethin' to wear to the ball."
"I think something could be arranged…" Father Matthew said.
Ford didn't pay much attention to the rest of the meeting. After Pepper talked to Father Matthew for a little while longer, they walked out of the church. As they were leaving, the girl waved to Father Matthew and walked towards the door on the opposite side of the church.
The two started walking back to Brooklyn, talking all the way.
"So," Pepper said. "We'se are to come here before the ball and get ready."
"Sounds good. By the way, Bartholomew, how do you know that guy?"
"That guy's actually my uncle. I chat wit' him occasionally. I told him a little about you. Not much, though, Samuel."
Ford laughed. "How comes he never uses anyone's nicknames?"
Pepper smirked. "Unless they have anythin' to do wit' religion, he doesn't use 'em. You know that goil that was in there?"
"Yeah?"
"He uses her nickname. That'll be Saint Higgins, Racetrack Higgins's daughter. You know, one of Manhattan's leaders?"
"Uh huh…" Ford said. "I've heard of him. Who hasn't? Hey, have you ever talked to that girl?"
Pepper looked uncomfortable. "So what if I did?"
"I'm just asking… don't shit your pants."
"If your dad gets wind that I'se said two words to the enemies daughter, I'se dead. He'll say that I ain't "loyal" to Brooklyn. He'll kill me. Ever heard of Pipes Johnson?"
"No."
"The most famous case of not bein' "loyal" ever. Happened 'bout fifteen years ago, apparently. Not that a lot of people knew about it- it was covered up by both sides. So Pipes is Spot Conlon's best man. He ends up in an- uh, how do I say this- compromising situation with Julia Lattori, Conlon's cousin by marriage and only living relative. He starts skipping meetings, disappearing, and sneaking away- all during the Newsboys strike of 1899. So Spot sends his boys to kill him- and Julia. But Julia gets away somehow… and has Pipes's daughter. Eventually, they catch up to her an' kill her. But who should find her, but Spot's ally an' friend, Racetrack Higgins!"
"But Manhattan and Brooklyn-"
"This was before that. Actually, they were really good friends, Conlon an' Higgins. So, in a note she left, she says that she got a daughter, and that the person who finds her has to take care of her. That, in turn, is how Saint became Race's daughter. But it wasn't long 'til he found out 'bout what Spot did… and that's when all ties between 'Hatty and Brooklyn were broken."
"Wow… that must'a been around the time I was born. I wonder why I never heard about it."
"'Cause Conlon and Higgins don' want anybody knowin'! But word gets around…"
"Yeah…" Ford answered.
He pictured the story he heard like the windows in the church- stained glass. He just wondered which panels depicted him.
Author's notes: Well, that was a longer chapter then I usually have! But it was fun writing… I actually spent most of Columbus Day working on this story, so the next few chapters are from then.
Shout Outs (I didn't get many reviews last time :-( ):
madmbutterfly713: Yeah... what a coincidence! And it was... really.
Elyse: The term "El Shaddai" means "God Almighty" in Hebrew and is coming up in a few chapters. Actually, Spot's really good at covering up where he and his son and the rest of Brooklyn have been... once again, more with that later. Thanks for the complements.
christianrockstar: Nope... Spot just gives the orders- Ford's the real killer. More with that later... dundundun...
Hopefully I'll get more reviews this time... :-D