He stood just a couple of blocks up from the piers, in the shadow of one of the taller buildings and blessedly on the top of a hill he only had to walk down. It was just before sunset, a chill wind swept through the shade and the street bustled with horse hooves and creaking carriage wheels. David Jacobs took a slow breath and closed his eyes for moment.

The city of San Francisco, could on occasion and in very specific places, remind the man of New York. Sometimes it could feel like home. The buildings were taller than they had been anywhere in the western landscape of the plains. There were church spirals casting the right kind of shadows and rooftops with the familiar views. People thrummed, packed and constant, and pressing unlike the vast loneliness of desert.

"Are you drunk?" An agitated voice demanded as a young woman shoved past him. David snapped his eyes open catching the glimpse of two laundry girls scurrying around him in annoyance.

"Don't be daff Maisie, I've never seen a drunk stand that still unless they were dead." A cheerful voice responded, as neither girl even bother to look back at him.

"There ain't even a bar near here." A newsboy hooted at them as he shoved David, just above his hip with a pointy elbow. The boy didn't even try to sell him the afternoon edition. David hurried across the street and continued down the hill towards the water.

Dave wasn't much prone to the homesickness that overtook his travel companions. He didn't miss the city, not usually, but he did miss the people. He ached for his family, his mother's cooking, his father's advice, his sister's laugh and his brother's quick wit. It still felt unfamiliar and unwelcomed when he didn't find familiar faces among the washing girls and news peddling boys. The ache, David thought, made him more aware and more accommodating to his friends.

He gazed out towards the water, a pacific ocean more blue than the murky blacks the East River had ever been, before scanning the docks in a motion that stirred a familiar search. David caught sight of him almost immediately, frowning at the living memory quality of how Spot Conlon leaned over a crate draped in netting.

"Your shoes need new soles, Dave." Spot grumbled releasing a breath of smoke as Dave approached. Dave frowned down at his worn shoes, the soles were in fact completely worked through and had developed holes under his toes just this morning.

"I was going to see to the china man cobbler, tomorrow." David shrugged, pulling his coat closed as he tried to control a shiver. Spot quirked an eye brow and glanced back at him.

"We should buy you a new pair, it's still cold out." Spot sighed as the last bit of his cigarette burned out between his fingers. Spot Conlon was wearing the nicest, newest coat, he had ever own in his life. Caitlin Conlon and likely Critter O'Connell had sent the parcel as an early birthday gift, after Jack had written that Spot's old coat had been ripped on the ferry.

"How did you…" Dave started, biting back the fight to let him mend the shoes on his own. David Jacobs had learned somewhere along Kansas that Spot and Jack had grown far to accustomed to caring for others to stop on his account.

"The step sounds different, softer." Spot shrugged finally giving up on the cigarette by flicking the ash into the waters. The man turned blinking up into the sudden sunlight as the clouds parted in the strange way of the west coast.

"Happy Birthday." David stated cautiously. The icy blue glare was predictable.

"Kelly has a mouth on him." Spot growled.

"It wasn't a well-kept secret in Brooklyn." David pointed out, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and holding it out to Spot. A peace offering.

"Jack sent you to fetch me?" Spot eyed the offering, hesitating enough that David thought he might refuse it. Dave nodded.

"He found a chap with one of those kodak cameras, you know he wants to get our pictures taken to send to Laces." David patiently explained. "For her birthday."

Spot glared at David once more, but snatched the offered cigarette. He flicked his wrist and lit another match, contently inhaling the smoke once before taking off to climb the nearest hill. The hills were David's least favorite part of the city.

"How was school?" Spot asked as they reached the nearest hilltop. David had secured a teaching post at one of the many elementary schools in the city, thus ensuring the three men would be stationed in San Francisco until at least July. The young man had been enjoying the work much more than anything else they had done across the country.

"We've started reading The Wizard of Oz." David explained happily.

"Different from the Dickens you read at night?" Spot asked conversationally. David occasionally and only on request from Jack or Spot, would read out loud to his friends. David nodded absently watching a post wagon stop in front of one of the many post offices of the city. They were in the mist of Oliver Twist as a group after David had found a worn copy in a train depot back in New Mexico.

The two men travelled through the city, at a quick and natural pace and completely at ease. David couldn't help but smile at how much more comfortable Spot and even Jack seemed in a city, even one so much smaller than New York. Spot had picked up work as a shipping clerk in the ship yards, among piers and water that seemed to bring back an old color to his cheeks.

Turning a corner, David's glaze found Jack Kelly much in the same fashion as he had with Spot Conlon earlier. A street lined with shops and market carts, young men wandering home from a day of work, but running down the street unmistakably was Jack Kelly. David couldn't help but wonder how it was that his friend had managed to stay hidden from Snyder for so long. He was loud and bright, and commanding in a way no one else on this street or very many other streets David had ever been on had seen.

"Do you think…really think he'll be all right?" David whispered. Spot wasn't looking at Jack, but the old Brooklyn leader didn't always need to see the old Manhattan leader to know he was near.

"He said he would be, didn't he?" Spot snapped impatiently. David had been offered the teaching post earlier in the week, almost immediately after the men had arrived in the city. It was a longer commitment than any of them had expected, but being in a city had invigorated Jack and Spot and made them willing to stay.

"But it will be more than a year, and if we decide to stay in Santa Fe next. It might be near two years…" David sighed.

Jack had stopped at a fruit cart for apples. Apples were Spot's favorite.

"She's forgiven him. She said as much in her last letter, she's started writing."

"She wrote one letter." David argued.

"She's written more." Spot said confidently. "But the post isn't like the morning papers Dave, letters take time to reach us."

"But what if she stops again?" David worried.

"She won't." Spot shrugged.

"But Spot, what if…"

Spot growled, impatient and intolerant of speculation. Spot Conlon didn't daydream, or wish, he only dealt with what was in front of him.

"We're in this city until July, because you've got this post Dave. Jack and I will be here, I've got good job down at the shipping yards and Kelly will luck into something that suits him here. We will stay until July and talk about it then." Spot stated simply.

Jack was trotting towards them, grinning madly with a paper folded under his arm and a bag of apples in his hand. Jack reached them and was already speaking, loudly and happily.

"Took you two long enough, let's go up to see Matthew about this picture and then get a beer and a hot meal. It ain't every day Spot Conlon, almighty leader of Brooklyn, turns twenty." Jack clasped an arm around Spot and swung their steps into a nearby building.