Jack didn't sleep a wink.
When he heard the first round of guards filter in when dawn broke, he demanded to see Snyder.
Once Snyder was on the scene, Jack requested an audience with Pulitzer.
The field trip was arranged rather quickly.
"I haven't heard anything from your girlfriend," Snyder remarked.
"You left her in the care of an old friend. You'll be lucky if they're both alive."
That was cause enough for Snyder to order a few guards to check on Fawkes before they left.
Pulitzer was waiting in his office in the World Building when Jack was shown in.
The old man nodded as the door was closed behind the cowboy, "I didn't know who would show, the murderer, or the thief."
"Fox ain't no murderer. She's a cattle rustler. That makes us both thieves," Jack remarked.
Pulitzer was not amused, "Are you willing to take my deal?"
Jack smiled, "That's why I'm here and she's not. Fox doesn't make deals, she only offers them."
Pulitzer eyed him carefully, as if a prolonged stare would give weight to Jack's assertion. Hopefully, Pulitzer was questioning who was really the brains of the operation. That was Jack's hope. A desperate person would jump at Pulitzer's offer of freedom. All you had to do was sell your soul and break the strike you fought for. Then you could get your money and leave.
Of the pair of them, Fox was the desperate one. She was too stubborn to turn her back on her beliefs. Jack had that to his advantage. He'd counted on Fox refusing to take Pulitzer's handout. He didn't want to be the one to do it, but he could make it work for him. It would tear at his heart, but if everything went as planned, there were some redeeming factors.
"Here's how it's going to happen: I'm going to sell your papes, as good as I ever did-on the condition that you make sure my record gets expunged. Fox's too. I won't sell a pape until I know that girl's free."
Pulitzer stood, "She's got other crimes to answer for, boy."
"I'm aware, but if she's free and clear here, it's somebody else's job to catch her."
"You are aware that you're in no position to bargain," Pulitzer sized him up again.
Jack flashed a smile, "You offered us a life in jail or a life of freedom. You didn't say we both had to choose the same thing. I'm choosing freedom for both of us. You'll do it because you want this strike over and the sooner I'm seen on the streets, the sooner their resolve will crumble. You'll give me the money you promised too because you want to encourage me to leave the city as soon as is convenient for you so I can't start any more trouble."
Pulitzer was silent for a spell, no doubt sizing up the give and take. Jack knew where he had the upperhand. Pulitzer's mistake was in not asking what Fox would get up to once she was free.
The old man demanded one of his lackeys enter.
The lackey took Jack shopping. Some place nice. Since he was Pulitzer's man now, the old man wanted him dressing sharply. His intention was so that the newsies could see how benevolent Pulitzer could be. It also demonstrated the amount of class he wished his newsies had.
As Snyder was freeing Jack's hands from the manacles, Pulitzer approached, "I'll have the charges dropped for you and your friend. She'll still have the extraditions to worry about. I'd suggest you tell her to get out of town so she doesn't get into anymore trouble. Who knows what'll happen if she gets picked up again?"
Jack recognized the threat and bit back the urge to tell him to go ahead and try to tell Fox what she could and couldn't do. She was going to join the picket line as soon as she was free, regardless of the charges hanging over her head.
Pulitzer's men whisked Jack away and soon he was too busy to think about whether or not the old man had kept his word.
It was about midday when Fawkes heard footsteps approach.
She'd alternated between hiding behind the door, looking out the window, and pacing. She jumped behind the door, fearing Mackey.
There were some words exchanged and then the door swung open.
No one entered.
Cautiously, Fawkes peered around the edge of the door. There was a guard standing a safe distance away. "Let's go," he barked.
Go? Fawkes wondered. Go where?
She stepped into the hall, prepared to be clasped in irons. It never happened.
The guard prodded her forward. She took the hint and started walking. He stayed half a length behind her as she marched through the hall, down the stairs, and into the sun.
She stood, one hand at eye level to block out the sun as the guard stepped out behind her.
The gates stood open.
Was this some kind of trick?
Fawkes wasn't about to ruin the moment by asking.
Just as she was about to set off for the gates at a run, she saw Mackey on the steps of the building, talking to Snyder. He did not look pleased.
Snyder marched down to her level and glared at her, "You're free to go. But I'd warn you against committing any further offenses."
Fawkes didn't need to be told twice. She sprinted towards the gates, not considering the catch until she was a block away. She'd run too fast for Mackey if they intended to follow her.
Her first destination was Medda's. Her things were still there. Good. She was going to need them-and a job once she sorted out what the hell was going on. She found some boys still milling about near the circulation center.
Racetrack was sitting in the shade of a statue, smoking a cigarette. His back was to her, but she would know that dark head of hair anywhere.
A few sizable Brookies rose up to meet her.
Fawkes stopped dead. With everything that had happened, she hadn't considered the fallout of the past couple of days. She'd rescued newsies from Snyder's clutches so she had that going for her. At the arraignment all her aliases had been outed. Word had to have gotten round about that by now. She hadn't thought about it because it hadn't been a concern. She hadn't expect to be in the thick of things again.
She stood, squaring off against three big Brooklyn boys, trying to figure out if they were going to wallop her for being Connie, or because they didn't like strangers.
Before she could get words out, a cane she was all too familiar with snaked in front of her and thwapped the stomachs of the boys. All three yielded immediately.
Spot stood in her line of sight, looking a little worse for wear. "How are you here?" He wanted to know. He had every right to be suspicious.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
"Where's Jack?"
"I don't know."
Spot didn't like it. She could read it in the expression on his face. Fawkes knew why. Last time she'd disappeared she'd taken a leader with her. If it had only been a one time thing, it could be forgotten about. Now they were looking at two instances.
"I don't know why they cut me loose. To sow seeds of suspicion? To create unrest? Maybe Jack got out too and they're following us. I have no idea. I came here to see if you guys had any leads."
"Fox?" That was Racetrack's unmistakable voice.
He hurried over to her with a big grin on his face. "Man, I sure am glad to see you. We could use you and Jack in this fight. They lined the streets so thick with bulls today we couldn't get close to a scab. Where's Jack?" He tried looking around her.
"I don't know," Fawkes repeated.
Race didn't look nearly as put out as Spot, "Snipeshooter's been telling everyone what you did. 'Impersonating an officer' doesn't do the crime justice. I want to hear the story from your point of view."
Fawkes made a face. It seemed like a world ago. And all for naught-since they'd both gotten captured.
The girl took a seat and explained how she'd used the Brookies to make her exit and snuck Jack outside. How she'd stolen the paddywagon out from under the noses of the cops and how she'd got taken down trying to get Jack out.
"You knocked Jack out?" Spot wasn't trying hard to conceal a grin.
"I didn't mean to," Fawkes's voice was quiet. "It was just the stress of the situation-I didn't want it to look he'd come without a fight."
"What now?" Racetrack asked.
"Get ready to man the lines tomorrow. This fight is far from over," Fawkes answered, but her mind was elsewhere.
The girl wracked her brain for places she might find Jack. She decided to hit up Kloppman's. Boots was behind the desk. He grinned when she walked in. "This came for you," he poked a faded and salt encrusted black cowboy hat that could only belong to Jack Kelly.
Fawkes picked it up liked she'd been expecting it the whole time and stuffed it into her pack. From there, she made her way to Medda's. Once inside the safety of her tiny dressing room, Fawkes pulled the hat out and felt all over for a clue. The edge of something caught her finger.
There was a slip of paper tucked behind the salt-encrusted rim. The girl pulled it out and read three poorly written words: Be careful tomorrow.
The redhead let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and sat back in the chair. He'd had something to do with her release. She told him to take the deal with Pulitzer. She hadn't expected him to make her part of it.
That kid was always trying to save her life. Ever since the beginning.
Why hadn't Snyder told her anything?
The answer was obvious. He wanted her to screw up again.
Jack knew she wasn't going to leave town. She was going to see this strike through. Snyder knew she was trouble, but Pulitzer didn't think so or else she wouldn't be free. It didn't matter. She didn't care.
She was free and she was going to strike. They were probably expecting that. It was why Jack had given her his hat. It would keep her identity safe for at least one day.