Cassie's Santa Fe Adventure

- By ShoeGoil

DISCLAIMER Newsies is the property of Disney. But I am the property of myself. I know I am an interesting person, so I don't blame you for wanting to put me in your stories. Please ask for permission, so I can make sure that you are my friend, otherwise I don't want a story written about me. Um, yeah. I am also the owner of the name ShoeGoil. That is my name. Do not steal my name. I am cool cuz that is my name. Thank you. I luv you! (in a non- david/denton way, of course!)

DISCLAIMER'S DISCLAIMER So you found this story, huh? Let the author now warn the reader that the story (and the first Disclaimer) were written when the author was 16. She is now 24 (assuming it's still the year 2006). No doubt the reader has countless questions regarding this story, like "Why in the world is the silly thing even accessible?"

Part 8

"Okay, we gotta have a gig so wild and crazy that no one will ignore us. Any suggestions?"

Jack sipped his coffee and shrugged. "No," he said, and I rolled my eyes. What a big help!

"If you son't give me an idea, I really will dress ya' as a clown." His eyes opened wide.

"Fine. You wea' an outfit like Medda." Now it was my turn for my eyes to open wide.

"No way. I'm not gonna be seen in public in head to toe pink!"

"It's a good idea!" Jack protested. I still shook my head. "Den, how 'bout anudder color? You'd look good in blue." I thought for a second. Should I take this chance to get a new dress?

"I'll get a blue dress, but I'll keep these shoes and stockings. It'll be cheaper." and, I won't have to be in head to toe blue, I thought to myself, shuddering at the thought of being the next Medda Larkson fashion victim. "But Jack, if we get costumes, then we'll have less money for our tickets."

"Now youse werried about dat? Don't worry, it's a good investment. It'll make da men come running!" I shrugged in agreement and bit into some toast.

"Okay, let's go, then. We'll get a dress for me, and a nice jacket for you, and we'll book ourselves into other saloons for tonight."

A week later, Jack and I waited backstage at the Saddle Inn. I was tired, because a train had come into town, making a lot of work for the two of us this morning. But, I was excited, because it meant that even more people would be watching our show, and that meant more money for us.

The music started, and just like our first night we had performed, we hugged eachother for good luck, then I pushed him on stage. He started his melodious singing, and I enjoyed every minute of it, until a loud voice spoke up from the crowd.

"Hey, Sissy boy! Get off the stage so we can see the woman dance!" I saw anger blaze in Jack's eyes, but he remained calm outwardly, and continued to sing with his heavenly voice. The angry man called out again for some women, but this time he was answered by a much louder voice, also in the audience.

"Ya know whut? I outta soak ya brains out! Dat ain't no way to talk to my pal, Cowboy!" Jack instantly stopped and stared out in the audience. Who had said that, I wondered. I couldn't see from my spot back stage, but It almost sounded like a certain newsie...

"Race!" Jack yelled, surprised out of his mind.

"Heya Cowboy. Nice place ya got heah!" It WAS Race. Good old laid-back Racetrack Higgins. Funny.

"Race, I don't believe it. What 're ya ddoing here!" Angry shouts rose from the audience as the trouble maker ran out of the place, and the rest of the people called for more of the show.

"Race, come to our room afta da show, and we'll catch up!" Jack began again with renewed spirits that his best friend was there. I shook my head, grinning. What the shoe was Race doing here, anyways?