Disclaimer: If you don't know it by now...go somewhere else.
AN: The last name Washington has been changed to Mooring. I have no reason why besides the fact that typing Washington takes too long...weird finger placement.
Upstate Races
Prologue
They met Mr. Mooring at the Brockton train depot, only a mile and a half from Lewiston and Mr. Mooring'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. Mooring, 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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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, grandfather.
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. Mooring one of his cigars.
After puffing lightly, Mr. Mooring 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. Rose'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 Washingtons' employer. The whole family, husband, wife and four kids lived on the large Webster estate along with the other servants. Mr. Mooring ran the stables while Mrs. Mooring, 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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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 unimaginable 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.
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. Mooring 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. Mooring 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 can sure ride. Race mumbled, turning around in the wagon and catching his breath. That's for sure. Drives her mother crazy thoughGwen 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.
He 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.
AN: Huh, huh?! Miracle...are ya reading. Huh?
You had no faith! No faith and it made me, well, a little hurt. I told ya I'd put out the other one, here it tis. Enjoy, fill me review box. Unfortunately Spot and you will not be involved until Book Two. But look at if this way, that just gives us more time to perfect that specific part of the piece.
As for everyone else. Did you check out Tuesday Morning? Was it somewhat enjoyable? I was having a hard time deciding which story to write and then I realized, hey, why pick just one?!
Now, writing both stories was also prompted by a little comment via Dakki (yes you!) She said I needed a plot and I was all, aww, but I did that already. And then, after moping around in my pjs, I decided she was right...as usual. So I started stressing, Upstate Races has a plot, that much I know, but Tuesday Morning?
Ack! I need a plot.
So yea, that one will probably be pushed out to the weekends, cause I need time to ponder. As for UR (haha, funny shortening) I can punch those chapters out after school. That's the schedule, sound good? If both stories get too overwhelming, or I'm not updating as much as I would like, I dunno. Somethings might change.
Cause I hate starting something a not finishing it.
Enough rambling, on to the first chappy.
