Disclaimer: Ah, you know what is means...

AN: First chapter, what do ya think? I'm having a little trouble cause there's so much I want to say. Organizing is a bitch. At least I don't need transitional phrases. If you love only one thing about creative writing, love that there is no need for slow transition. Jumping from one thought to the other, aw, as fresh as rain.

Yea, I know, a little crazy. Just read...

Upstate Races: Book One


Chapter 1


Papa's home! The little girl skidded beneath her mother's enveloping skirts, making it out of the swingins screen door and leaving the heat of the kitchen behind. But there was no fear of punishment for her boisterous enterance for the two women were as excited as she was for their father's return. They moved slower than the little girl, one because of her old age, the other because of her protruding belly.

But it was fast enough, and as the wagon rounded to a stop by the side entrance of the Webster estate, all three were ready and waiting. Letty waited only three seconds, counting on her pudgy little fingers, before flinging herself into her father's arms. He chuckled at the sudden embrace, hoisting her up and resting her bottom on his forarm. With his free arm he welcomed his wife, kissing her cheek and wiping off some flour before rubbing a warm hand over his eldest daughter's pregnant belly.

Welcome home, Papa. Rose smiled, hugging her father as best she could.

Kloppman was slower to exit the wagon, but with a smile just as wide as he embraced his own daughter. Mrs. Mooring fretted over her father, hugging and kissing his cheeks until he was able to greet his other granddaughters.

The whole family reunion was somewhat chaotic, Letty dancing about the feet of the grown-up, swinging to herself, while other employees quickly unloaded the wagon of the goods Mr. Mooring had acquired in town.

And throughout the whole matter, Race and Jack stood awkwardly to the side. They'd hoped out of the wagon as soon as it had begun to be unloaded, Jack grabbing his duffel before it was snatched into the kitchen. Watching Kloppman's envelope him was a bitter reminder to the boys just how alone they were. Race lighted a cigar and nodded at Jack, the two finding shade beneath a near by tree, patiently waiting until they were remembered.

Letty was the first to notice them, conversing softly in the shade. She stopped her twirling and raced over to her grandfather, tugging on his hand until all his attention focused on her halo of brown curls. Grampy, who are they?

Oh, those are my friends from the city. Kloppman explained, patting Letty's head reassuringly.
Mr. Mooring bent to his daughter's level. They've come to help me and Tom

Rosie's Tom? She asked innocently.

He nudged her forward as the boys noticed everyone watching them. Go say hi. Remember your manners.

Letty shuffled her feet, creating a dust that blew past the boys. She stopped at the sight of them squinting, blocking their faces and moving out into the sun. Standing in front of them she leaned back so that she could view their faces, both much taller than her wee form.

Race was the first to bend, offering an outstretched hand for the little girl to shake while holding his cigar away from her face. Name's Racetrack.

What a strange name. Letty slipped her little hand into his and shook as he father had taught her, Race chuckling at her set lips. It was obvious that she had taken to his boyish smirk, waiting as he motioned for Jack to bend also.

And dis here's my friend, Cowboy. Jack smiled also, slipping off his hat and bowing comically so that Letty giggled behind her hand.

He rested on his knees, returning the hat to his head. Are you really a cowboy? She asked.

Can you keep a secret? He whispered, waving her forward. She glanced back at her mother, who nodded in approval, before bouncing on one of Jack's knees and offering her ear for him to whisper into. My real name is Jack. And I'm not a cowboy, yet.

Letty jumped back, racing back to tell her mother the secret she'd received. The two boys laughed to themselves before standing and brushing off their clothes as best as possible before Kloppman's introduction.

Mrs. Mooring was the first to speak, shaking each boys hand with both of hers. It's so nice of you boys to help us up here. It must be a real change from the city.

Sure is ma'm. Jack offered, hat once again off his head but switching awkwardly between his two hands. From some reason, he really wanted the Mooring's to like him. They were decent people, a different kind from what one found in the city, and their respect and opinions, had suddenly begun to mean a lot to him.

A brief tour of the grounds was conducted, Rose the only one not joining the group and returning instead to the Moorings' small house on the north side of the estate. Only half through the tour and it was evident to Jack that the Webster's had a very large steady income. All servants, including family members, were housed on the premise, some sharing in dorm like facilities, while others, like the Moorings, enjoying homes of their own. The gardens were in full bloom, creating a wonderland of hues that Jack had only seen in paintings. The stables were the last place they visited, Race once again starting a conversation with Mr. Mooring about the fine sportsmanship of horse racing.

Mrs. Mooring threw her hands in the air, turning to Kloppman and Jack when she said, Don't tell me we have another horse master among us. If I never hear a word about racing this or racing that then I'll die happy. Jack chuckled to himself at Mrs. Mooring's teasing, the color of her cheeks spreading when Mr. Mooring grabbed her arm and twirled her into his embrace.

Despite the awkward dance she shared with her husband, Mrs. Mooring continued her story. By son Roz, that's all he wants, more than anything else in the world. Mama' he says just let me ride and I'll win you all the money in the world'.

And he will too. Mr. Wasington finished, dipping his wife just in time while Letty clapped her hands in amusement.

Her giggles, surprisingly girlish, were overshadowed by the stamping sounds of hoofs as all heads turned in the direction of the side road. Come on Race Letty reached for her new friend's hand, tugging him outside and snatching Jack's grasp on the way. The others followed, exiting the barn just as Roz and Annabelle came to a halt.

Roz slid off easily, his smile resembling that of his mother's as he embraced his grandfather. He was easily Kloppman's height and by the old man's reaction, had grown that way just recently.

Annabelle's voice called everyone's attention as she hopped off the horse, much as her brother did, and threw herself into her grandfather's grasp, dirty skirts flying each way as she did so.

he cooed, rocking his beloved granddaughter slightly as she closed her eyes and breathed him in. They had a special relationship, his understanding of her rambunctious spirit always comforting when he visited. How's my favorite red hed?

She pulled back, about to speak when Letty jumped in. Bee! Bee, Grampy brought friends. One's named Racetrack, in't dat funny? And the other's one's named Cowboy, but he's not really a cowboy. He said I can call him Jack and there gonna help

Annabelle laughed, noticing the new faces standing behind her baby sister and smiling lightly at them before focusing on Letty. Letty, I know, I know

You do? Asked her sister, surprised once again at how smart her older sister was.

Annabelle stood, her smile widening as she caught Jack's eye. Yeah, you could say that we met already.

Before proper introductions could be made, the horse Annabelle had been riding neighed loudly, prancing slightly as if to tell her owner that food was in order. Okay, okay, don't be rude. Annabelle grabbed the reins, scratching underneath the animal's ears as she turned back her family. Pa, is there grain in their pens?

Not unless you filled it before you left. Annabelle nodded and began to lead her horse towards the pen.

Not so fast, Mrs. Mooring's happy smiled was now a tightlipped line, directly solely at her middle daughter. Don't think that just because there's company you can ignore your duties. Tell your father just exactly when you skipped off this afternoon. Annabelle leaned in closer to the neck of her horse and as if the animal understood the tension, she headed towards the barn.

But Mrs. Mooring moved in their way, hands firmly planted on her hips. Before she had finished helping in the kitchen, that's when. And even when Mrs. Webster had asked her to listen in on Fanny's ediquette class.

Although he disagreed slightly with his wife's more strict approach to raising Annabelle, Mr. Mooring felt inclined to inforce some sort of punishment. he said, trying to catch her eyes. Instead, she glared effectively at her mother. this is not acceptable.

Pa, I'm to blame. She was gonna stay but I challenged her. Roz stepped forward, feeling the same as his father. He didn't understand why Annabelle's life revolved around what she could and could not do. He considered her one of the best riders he'd ever raced and the fact that she was female, had no input. She's beaten me two out of the three times we've raced around Tuck Cemetary and I Roz's attempt to soften his sister's misbehavior backfired as he slipped just where they had been riding.

Tuck Cememtary! Young lady what have I told you about going to that god awful track! Annabelle sneered in her brother's direction, mistaking his slip as some sort of trick to get her in trouble.

Fet up with whole situation she stamped her foot. But Mama, it's not fair. Roz can go ride, he can train, he can race, but I'm stuck in that horrible kitchen She threw her arm out to the side, motioning towards the house that seemed to constantly loom over her life. or with that horrible Mrs

Catching where she was intending to tred, Mr. Mooring matched Annabelle's anger with his own. Watch your mouth or you're going to regret your fiery tongue.

Roz, take Macy from your sister, she's needed in the house. Roz obeyed his mother, moving closer and rubbing Macy's neck slowly as the tension in the air made the animal antsy. Mrs. Mooring continued to scold her daughter, an act of love that was in everyway misled. Mrs. Webster is expecting an apology.

Without dropping eye contact with her mother Annabelle handed her brother the reigns, ignoring the comforting nudge Macy's nose offered to the side of her head. Glancing one last time at her father, hoping for some sort of support but receiving none, she lowered her disappointed eyes to the ground and took off towards the house. Pausing at the top of the steps she looked back when she thought no one else was watching. Her eyes at that moment, now a simmering shade of dark brown, were hidden under knitted brows. Her face was flushed and caught staring, Jack wondered if she huffed one last time in anger from his watch.

With Roz now heard rummaging around the barn, and Letty clinging to her grandfather's hand, the rest of the group returned to the Mooring house, Race and Jack being shown where they would be staying during their visit. It was a neat little house and Jack found the happy disposition somewhat disturbing, considering the fact that moments before he'd seen her wrath directed towards Annabelle.

I'm gonna go back to the kitchen now and finish up with supper. Annabelle, Rose and I will have dinner on the table around six today, Mrs. Mooring turned to address her husband. Why don't you go introduce the boys to Tom, show them where they'll be tomorrow. That should get you right up til supper.




It was hard telling Letty a story that night. Happy thoughts were not the kind dominating her mind at the moment. Normally she would have asked Rose to take over, but the stairs were too much for her expanding belly.

And she wasn't speaking with her mother.

So Annabelle was forced to hurry along a tale she'd already made up over a week before, hoping that Letty wouldn't remember. But she did and it was times like these that she wished her sister wasn't as sharp, or as outspoken. Eventually though, after Grandfather managed his way out of the conversation downstairs, Letty was drifting off to his soothing voice.

Annabelle remembered when he used to tell her stories, before they'd moved away from the city, when he'd visited often. He would lean in close, whispering a story that Roz and Rose were never allowed to hear. He smelled of soot, from the chimneys he cleaned during the day, and Mama's bread, which she always made when he came for dinner. He'd tell her stories not of princesses or fairies, but of his friends, the newsies, boys who had the best life- they never had any rules.

If her mother—thinking of the lady made her fume and hug her elbows tighter—had ever heard those stories, they would be to blame. That would be the reason why she was so improper'. At the moment she was blaming horse racing, the country, everything that Annabelle cherished.

Standing at the window upstairs, Letty's story coming to an end and blending into the background noise of nighttime sounds, Annabelle peered into the darkness, trying to see as far as she could into the surrounding woods. It was game she played, molding the shadows in her mind, somehow making them into images that she thought were real. At the sound of the front door opening below, she slid open the window and leaned her elbows on the ridge.

Boys had it much easier, this much her mother had taught her. Roz, walking with Jack and Race in tow, was slipping off to the barn no doubt. If I'da done that, Mama would have scolded. Annabelle whispered, scuffing her bare feet on the wooden floor. She listened to the boys' low voices, her curiosity bending her further out of the window to try and hear every last word. That boy, the one Letty had called a cowboy, had caught her attention first. He seemed to have that quality about him. It was the way he stood, how he carried himself, the easy manner in which he spoke to her grandfather. That alone, her grandfather's respect, was enough for Annabelle to grow interest.

But then, everything from the afternoon had overwhelm her and he'd slipped from her mind. From her experience, involvement with boys was another feminine requirement that bored her senseless. If he was anything like the shmucks from town, he'd be reaching up her dress before sunrise.

The other one, the shorter one with his constant smirk and battered hat, Annabelle liked him. He was friendlier with a welcoming smile that he didn't feel the need to reserve. She liked how he joked with grandfather, how he showed Letty all his card tricks even when she asked over and over again. And he knew about horses.

Her and Roz had shared the same thought when Papa had told them of Race's interest in the tracks. He could help them win the county race. They'd seen the competition that day, while at Tuck Cemetary, and although it was all the same guys from the year before, many of them had improved. Roz would be the youngest, if Papa allowed him to race, and Annabelle prayed he'd win.

Don't fall out now. Her grandfather's hand, resting on her shoulder gently, pulled her back into the room and into reality. She turned and smiled at him, choosing not to speak and disturb the quiet that had surrounded Letty in her sleep.

Kloppman leaned out the window, catching the last of Race's hearty laugh. He shook his head, What am I gonna do with that boy? Never knows when to keep quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck, peering into the woods Annabelle hand been exploring only a moment before. But, then again, always tells me what I need to know. Especially when it comes to those horse races

Annabelle's eyes darted to her grandfather's wrinkled face and he if noticed, he didn't let on. Always tells me the one to pick. Has a talent really, kinda scary. Said he was looking into helping with the jockeys. Annabelle's smile had widened, stretching across her whole faces so that the whites of her teeth shone in the moonlight as she hugged her grandfather. He chuckled, smoothing her hair as she giggled into his sweater. But if that mother of yours asks, you didn't hear it from me.

He kissed her once on the forhead, nudging her affectionately before slipping down the stairs. He shut the door behind him, that was Annabelle's final sign. She turned to the open window before glancing back one last time at Letty fast asleep. It was warm enough that shoes were of no concern. Spring had made the ground soft and plush, so that a drop from the ledge below the roof wouldn't cause a sprained ankle. She rolled when she hit the grass, tucking like Roz had taught her, and landing in the covering bushes at the side of the house.

Bending on one knee, she caught her breath and watched the small illuminated window on the side of the house before darting off, her legs beginning to twitch.