The Cowboy Returns Chapter 4: "Viva"

June 22, 1900

"Da usual," Jack said, as he wondered if Weasel would remember how many "the usual" was in… some time from then.

Jack walked down the steps with a smile on his face that hadn't been there for the past few weeks, maybe months. It didn't go unnoticed.

"You seem to be in a good mood, Cowboy."

"I am, Dave," he said, spitting in his hand.

"I guess going to bed early was just what you needed. Sleep works wonders," David said, careful not to sound too proud of his suggestion. He then spit in his own hand and offered it to his best friend and leader.

"Yep," replied Jack as they shook. That was all he said. He didn't have the heart to tell his right-hand man that he actually hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night, nor did he have the heart to tell him why.

"Ready to go?"

Jack nodded and the two began their daily trek.

Jack sold faster than normal that morning. He wasn't sure if it was the headlines or his excitement for things to come. Before the sun could even begin its summer assault, he'd sold over seventy papes.

"Maybe one of these days you'll catch up to me, eh Dave?"

"I think that day will be here sooner than you think. That woman just bought number fifty-one."

Jack smiled. David was getting better each day. He'd be fine.

"I think I'se gonna head back. I'm beat for today."

"Beat?" said David, waving another newspaper in the air. "You're not even finished selling yet. NEW YORK MAN GAMBLES AWAY FORTUNE!"

Jack chuckled to himself as David sold a paper to a middle-aged man who looked all too pleased to read about the misfortune of the fortunate.

Jack knew the story to which David was referring. It was about an upper-class widower who lost 450 dollars in a philanthropic poker game. Jack beamed. He had taught his best friend everything he knew about being a successful newsie, and David didn't let any advice go to waste. He paid special attention to the motto Jack himself had created: Headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes. The Walkin' Mouth had certainly caught onto the art of improving the truth, and it showed. Jack wondered if David would be even better than him by the time he returned.

"I can sell the rest of 'em on the way to your place."

"My place?"

"Yeah, I gotta talk to Sarah."

"Alright," David shrugged.

As Jack took his first few steps away, he heard David call back to him.

"Make sure you make it to Tibby's! Eliza will be there so everyone can finally meet her."

Jack nodded. He was surprised at how cautious he'd become in choosing his words.

"I'll see ya, Dave."

He wasn't lying. He was just… improving the truth a little.

Present Day

Jack was overwhelmed with disappointment. As much as he tried not to think about it, the fact that David was no longer a newsie kept pressing on him. He'd taken him under his wing. He'd taught him every trick in his book, helped him become a leader in his own right. He treated him like a brother. He assumed that he would come back and find out that David was peddling one hundred papes a day— even more with a good headline. But David had a new job now; he had gone back to school. He wasn't a newsie anymore. What could have possessed him to do it?

The reason Jack feared the most- which he would never say out loud- was that David was a coward. This "Capelli" fellow had scared him away. It was possible that David had chosen to run instead of face the man and stand up to whatever he was doing. It didn't sound like something David would do, but he had quit being a newsie. Jack was prepared for anything.

Jack saw it: the Newsboys' Lodging House, complete with a sign that looked like Kloppman had planted the tree used to make it. None of it looked any different, thank goodness, but he did notice two tough-looking men standing in front of the main entrance. They stood with their feet apart and arms folded. Who were these guys? Was one of them Capelli? He knew better enough than to wait around to try and figure it out. He nonchalantly walked around to the other side of the building, careful to keep his distance. He reached for the fire escape rail but snapped his hand away when he recalled Sarah's warning. He couldn't be seen.

He scanned the surrounding area, not quite sure who or what to look for. He didn't see anyone, so he began his climb. It was a longer journey up than he remembered. The steps seemed like they'd shrunk since the last time he felt them under his feet. The slight rattle of the rails which used to instigate daring now caused his fingers to cramp and his knuckles to turn white. Nothing could affect his speed, though. It had been long enough.

"Hey, fellas! I think I hear Davey coming up," said a voice near the window. Jack grinned. It was an involuntary action, but he didn't mind. His heart thumped as he took the step that would allow him to see through the window into the bunkroom. He practically leapt onto it, anxious to reveal himself to one of his favorite pals.

"Heya, Crutchy."

Crutchy didn't say anything. He just stared back in shock.

"I just got here today and figured I'd stop by and see if me old bunk's available," Jack said as he climbed the last few steps and sat in the window. He swung his legs over and stood, at last, in his old place. It had been his castle, of sorts, and it felt great to be back in it.

With each movement forward he made, however, Crutchy hobbled backwards, as if he were afraid of something. Or of someone. Of him.

"Whatsamatta? Crutchy, it's just me. Jack Kelly. Cowboy. Remember?"

The question was supposed to be rhetorical, but Crutchy's behavior caused Jack to wonder at the actual answer.

The chatter in the bunkroom died down a bit as several heads turned to the scene by the fire escape.

"Jack!"

"It's Jack!"

"He's back!"

Jack had heard the newsies shout these things before. They were said in a completely different tone this time, though. Jack froze. His stomach sank.

"You'se got a lot of guts showin' your face around here, Cowboy," said Specs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Decided to come back, didja?" said Skittery. "Why, Jack? So you'se could cause us more trouble?"

Jack wanted to pinch himself. Could this really be happening?

One by one, the newsies formed a half-circle around him. Not knowing what to say or do, he leaned against the bunkroom wall, still frozen. He hurt more with each angry face that confronted him. It was everything but what he expected. He couldn't wrap his head around why his friends weren't happy to see him.

The only people who hadn't joined the mob were Racetrack and Tumbler, who sat silently on the latter's bunk. Jack wasn't surprised to see a cigar sticking out of the side of Racetrack's mouth. Several cards lay about, which Tumbler studied intently before looking up. The two watched the event with interest, but they did not move from the bed.

Jack caught Race's eyes; he couldn't read them. Several years of gambling had allowed Racetrack the opportunity to perfect his poker face. It didn't matter- Jack was sure he must have been angry, too. Jack was actually shocked that Race wasn't in the center of the group, egging everyone on in their bitter remarks. This was not to say that he found their behavior valid- he didn't- but Jack Kelly was a firm believer in the phrase "history repeats itself." The last time the newsies stood in front of him in anger, Racetrack's words had the most bite. He'd practically spit on him with his comments, as if he was worth no more than street dust. It hurt.

Race stared at him for a few seconds before he sighed and stood up. He looked at Jack once more, rolled his eyes, and took the cigar our of the mouth.

"Alright, boys. Boys? BOYS!"

The newsies stopped debating what to do with "the snooty little traitor" and turned their attention to the short, albeit commanding, Italian.

"His fault or not, yellin' at him ain't gonna do us any good. Look at his face," he said, softening his tone slightly, "he don't have a clue what's going on. And I'm bettin' he doesn't know why you idiots look like a bunch of hungry wolves."

He didn't speak up to be kind. He simply spoke in a straight-forward manner. Either way, Jack was grateful for the intervention.

"Have a seat there on the floor, Cowboy. We'll tell ya everything."

Those were the four words Jack had wanted to hear since the moment he realized he was not welcome back. He sat on the floor as Race instructed. He wanted to sit on his bunk, but he decided not to push his luck.

"I just came from Sarah's. She told me a little but not everything. All I know is that some guy named Capelli is tryin' to take over the newsies. And that he killed Roller."

At the mention of the name of the former leader of Queens, the boys' expressions changed.

"Not just killed," said Snitch, "tortured and murdered."

"What?"

"They cut off his fingers and shot him in the face." said Itey. "All because Capelli and his lot wanted to make an example outta him. They messed him up any way they could think of."

Jack was bothered by this information, and the others' faces told him that he was not alone.

"But, why?"

"To keep the leaders at bay," said Skittery who, along with a few others, decided to sit on the floor. "To keep them from fighting back when the Caps come to take over."

"The Caps?"

"Capelli's men. We don't know who they are and what they're called, so we'se just call 'em 'Caps'."

Jack's mind raced through a million different questions, but one stuck out. He didn't know anything about Capelli, save for one thing: Capelli was a leader. Jack was a leader, and he knew that a good leader always had a goal. Capelli wasn't taking over the newsies for fun- he wanted to accomplish something.

"What does he want with us?"

"Us?"

"The newsies."

"Well, we don't know what he wants from us," said Skittery, with too much emphasis on the last word, "but whatever it is, he wants it bad enough to kill for it."

"So... dis man is running around, takin' over lodging houses and killing the leaders if they don't give in?"

"And throwing out anyone who objects," added Boots. "Most of the Queens boys are out of a job. The Caps'll knock them out cold and leave them somewhere in the outskirts of the city. If you don't follow their rules, you're done for."

The more Jack heard, the more he felt a certain fire in his belly grow. It was the same fire that had initiated the strike- and won it. It was the same fire that helped him dream of Santa Fe for several years- and the same fire that made him leave it.

"Well, what are we gonna do about it? We can't just let them take over the whole city!"

Specs snickered in an almost maniacal way.

"'We'? You don't have to do anything. You're not our leader anymore," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, hey, you'se done enough already."

"What did I-"

It was then Jack heard a voice behind him. He recognized it immediately and felt an immense relief wash over him.

"How's it rolling, fellas?"

'Heya, Dave!"

Jack knew David wouldn't be mad at him. He didn't know how he knew this, but he knew. Given what had happened when he turned scab, this "knowledge" should have been a stretch. Maybe it was a stretch. Maybe Jack was just making a grand assumption because the alternative- that no one was on his side- was too much to handle.

"What?" said David as he climbed through the window. "Did you all miss me so much that you decided to gather around and wait-"

Jack could tell what had happened. He was in no way a genius, but he had enough sense to figure out why the Walkin' Mouth had stopped speaking.

Jack stood up and turned around to face the person who was still- he hoped- his best friend.

"Jack..." David said, almost in a trance.

The awestruck look on his face disappeared and was replaced by a look far more serious. He looked out the window, then back at Jack.

"Did anyone see you come in?"

"No, no," said Jack, confused by the drastic change in tone. He was still sure David wasn't angry, but the question was not asked casually.

"Sarah already warned me to make sure nobody was watching. I'se still don't know why, but listenin' to your sister's advice never did me any harm before."

"Sarah told you to come here?"

"Yeah. Well, sorta. She said she couldn't explain everything about Capelli herself, so I thought I'se should ask the newsies."

David scanned the room and returned his gaze to Jack. He seemed interested. "How much do you know so far?"

"They told me about the Caps and about Roller. Why they killed him an' all. What I don't understand is- well, there's a lot of things about all dis that I don't understand- but what really... I mean..." Jack attempted to keep calm, but his frustration grew the more he realized he had nothing to do with what happened. "I don't see what you all are blaming me for! I'se didn't tell Capelli to take over the newsies!"

David stopped Skittery, Dutchy, and a few others from giving rebuttals before speaking.

"Have another seat. There's a few more things you should know."

David sat down several feet in front of Jack. He placed a small pile of papers he'd entered with on the floor beside him.

"Jack, this Capelli- he knows what he's doing. I hate to say it that way, but it's true. The Caps are slowly taking over each borough; they get rid of the leader and completely run the lodging house. I assume they chose Queens first because Roller is- was- a strong leader. Maybe not so strong physically, but he was unbreakable in every other way. When he tried to fight back... well, you know what happened."

It made Jack uncomfortable to hear anything even slightly negative about Roller, even if it was true. He knew David didn't mean it as an insult- he was just analyzing the opponents. He shifted his weight anyway.

"When Caps are in charge, they set the rules, and the rules are extremely strict. They keep a close watch on every move, every word, every smile and nod. Did you see those two guards by the front door?" Jack nodded. "Those are Caps. They make sure no one comes in who isn't supposed to."

"Which is why Davey comes in through dat window," said Snipeshooter, who seemed amused by this fact.

"They don't keep a watch on the windows?" Jack asked, bewildered. That much should have been obvious.

"Not for us, no. Capelli doesn't see Manhattan as much of a threat, so the rules aren't as bad here as they are other places."

"They don't know our Walkin' Mouth here even exists. If they did, things would be much worse," Race said. The statement had a hint of fear behind it. Jack wondered if Race had seen more than the others; he wondered if maybe Race had been gambling in Queens the day Roller died.

David gave a humble, but appreciative, smile.

"The bums go easy on us because we ain't got a leader," said Skittery. His words were icy, changing the entire mood in the bunkroom. "They don't pay much attention to us, and why should they? Once they found out that you aba- that our leader left us to the wolves, they moved in quickly. We didn't have any time to prepare."

"Skittery, this isn't-"

"No, Dave! He needs to know what he did. We had no one tellin' us how to fight back. We had no organizer. You weren't there when we needed you to be. The Caps treat us like a joke. Like cowards! An' we have you to thank for it."

"But I wasn't even here! How could all this be my fault? I was gone!" Jack practically shouted, hoping they'd all make the connection.

"Exactly," said Swifty. "You were gone."

Wrong connection.

He couldn't think of anything else to say. Again, he had no defense against their state-of-mind. He stood up and, pushing through any newsies in his way, walked to his bunk and began to climb.

"Where do you think you'se going?"

"To sleep. I'm sick of hearing these lies."

"That ain't your bed no more, Cowboy," Skittery said. "You'se can't sleep there. Find somewhere else."

"I sleep where I want." He knew he sounded like a tight-wad, but he couldn't think of anything else to say to these people who could see no reason.

"Stop climbing," Skittery warned. Jack ignored him.

"I said stop climbing!"

He ran at Jack and tried to pull him off the ladder. Racetrack was on Skittery's tail. He pulled him away from Jack and the bunk just in time. David stepped in between the two, narrowly missing a punch in the head from his former leader which had been meant for Skittery.

"You're not going to solve anything by soaking him. Now calm down."

Skittery took a few deep breaths and stopped struggling- partly out of respect for David and partly because Race was still holding his arms. A little more relaxed now, he shrugged Race off and went to the washroom, slamming the door behind him.

Jack nodded his thanks to the little Italian who was apparently much stronger than he looked. The rest of the newsies had scattered about, willing to watch the would-be fight from any angle.

"He's right though," David said, turning to face Jack. "You can't sleep here."

"I don't understand."

"Jack, the Caps know who you are. They know you're name at least," he added when Jack widened his eyes. "The first time they came- well, I wasn't here exactly..." He looked at Race to continue.

"It was sometime in February. They all came rushin' in here like a race was about to start or something. Capelli asked if our leader was here, so we told him no. Then he said, 'There's no Jack Kelly here?' I made my usual genius remark, which he didn't find too funny, and then told him how you'd left over six moths ago. They must've thought we was lying at first 'cause they kept a close watch on us for a few weeks. Then they eased off."

"See, Jack? The reason I'm able to sneak in every night- the reason we can plan how we're going to fight back is because we don't have a leader. If they find out you're back, even though you're not..." Jack knew David was looking for a political way to say it, so he motioned for him to continue. He understood perfectly. "Caps will start moving in right away, at full control. They'll force them to sell in the worst places. They won't make any money, and whoever puts up a fight will be dropped off in no man's land."

'Them?' 'They?' It was then Jack recalled that David was no longer a newsie.

"Not to mention," David continued, "they'll force you to step down and leave. They'll threaten to kill you if you ever show your face again.

To Jack, it didn't really sound so bad. It sounded more humane than what the newsies were putting him through.

"And I know you; you'll want to fight. You're good, but you can't beat them, Jack. Not yet."

Jack didn't think it could be that cut-and-dry, but he decided not to argue. Besides, who would want to sleep in a room full of ex-friends who wanted nothing more than your head on a silver platter? Jack, feeling defeated, picked up his belongings and climbed out the window. He didn't say a word.

As he stood on the fire escape, he again heard David' voice behind him.

"Jack."

He turned around and saw David leaning his upper body out of the window. His eyes held some sympathy, but his tone was all business.

"Be careful going down. Don't let any Caps see you. If they do, don't tell them your name."

"Please," he added softly.

Jack nodded. He was about to begin his decent, but he couldn't help himself. He had to know one more thing.

"Why'd you leave the newsies, Dave?"

Jack could tell David was taken back by the question, but he answered it anyway.

"I didn't leave them, Jack. I come back every night to help however I can."

"You know what I mean. You'se got a different job now. You'se back in school."

David smiled.

"My dad finally found a job at another factory. He told me I could still be a newsie, but I had just proposed to Eliza-"

"What? You'se engaged?"

"Shhh... keep it down. Yes, I'm engaged."

"To who?"

"Eliza. She's the one- oh, that's right," he said, lowering his eyes, "you never got to meet her."

For the first time since he'd returned, Jack caught a little bit of anger in David.

After a brief pause, David resumed his normal mood. Almost.

"Well, goodnight. And please be careful."

"I will. Night, Dave."

By the time Jack spit in his hand, David had already gone from the window. He could hear his voice fade as he took each step down.

"Alright, fellas. I brought our old plans with me because I think our original strategy was more on-target than the one we have now..."

Jack was feeling a lot of things. Hurt, angry, disappointed, shocked, and slightly guilty were just the tip of the iceberg.

He walked around aimlessly for a while, not sure where he'd be sleeping. He had assumed he'd move back into the lodging house and hid old bunk without any problem. Since it didn't look like that would ever happen, he weighed his other options.

He had enough for a night in a hotel, but he didn't think it smart to spend the money. He realized then that he no longer had a job, either. He couldn't go back to selling newspapers. There was no way the newsies would let him sell, especially with Caps always watching. He'd have to look for a job in the morning. He felt more overwhelmed with each second that passed. The day had been everything but the homecoming he'd expected. Everything was bad news, and the worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it. The newsies wouldn't let him do anything about it. He felt useless. He felt dejected. He felt alone.

He spotted an empty bench and decided that it would be as good a place as any. Humiliated, he lay down and used his small bag of belongings as a pillow.

He waited for sleep, but it did not come. His mind was reeling over all the information he learned within the last hour. He tossed and turned multiple times, never able to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He had a feeling it would be a long while before he ever slept again.

It was completely silent, save for the occasional person passing by. He listened carefully to each one's footsteps. He kept himself occupied by guessing the ages and social classes of the strangers. Most were poor men; the sound of work boots was the easiest for him to distinguish.

There was one that gave him a run for his money. It was the sound of a more expensive shoe, but the steps were not perfectly straight. They kind of wandered from side to side, indicative of a lower-class walk. And the steps were light. It couldn't have been a woman, Jack reasoned, because no woman would walk around Manhattan by herself at night- and this person was definitely alone. He came to the conclusion that it was a younger boy returning home late from the factory. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Satisfied with his conclusion, hr turned his attention back to the Sandman.

That was his intention, but curiosity got the best of him when he failed to hear the footsteps of this factory boy pass him. Instead, they moved closer. And closer. They eventually came close enough to put Jack on edge. He could feel the boy's presence looming over him, and it made him feel uneasy. His mind automatically went to a worst-case scenario: This person was a Cap. He had recognized Jack, and he would carry him off to Capelli. Thinking defensively, Jack decided to pretend to be asleep. If the element of surprise was his only asset, he would milk it for all its worth.

Before Jack had time to figure out exactly how he was going to do this, the person spoke up.

"So you really are a terrible bluffer."

Jack immediately relaxed. He had been wrong. He didn't know the voice, but it didn't belong to a boy.

"Open your eyes. Come on, I know you're awake." Her voice lost any amusement it carried in her first statement. She sounded rushed. Jack opened his eyes and was grateful to see a friendly, albeit serious, face staring down at him. She was definitely a girl. Any hair she had was hidden under a newsie cap, but he had no doubt she was female. In fact, if this was a boy, Jack felt very sorry for him.

"You Jack Kelly?"

He wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah," he said, and regretted it. He should have lied until he knew who she was.

"You're in danger. Come with me."

Without even a chance to ask why, Jack felt the girl grab his hand and pull him off the bench. She did it so quickly and with such force that he barely had time to grab his bag.

Jack hadn't run this fast since Chaser escaped from her stall. He felt like he was running for his life. For all he knew- maybe he was.

He could tell she was taking him down the lower east side, but he was too busy trying to figure out who she was to pay attention to where they were.

The possibility that he had met her before crossed his mind; though he didn't recognize her, he recognized her hat. Jack thought this was an odd thing to remember about a person, but it was true. He knew that hat, but from where?

"Do I know-"

"No questions yet. They'll slow us down."

In silence, Jack allowed this strange girl to lead him through the darkness. As he ran, he tried to ignore the stings that hit him. He felt them each time his mind replayed the day's events.

Jack noticed less and less street lamps as they ran into the night. He wasn't sure where this girl would take him.

He secretly hoped he would somehow end up in yesterday.