Chapter 45

June 29, 1912

Cal arrives to his regional office in the New York, where his father also ran a steel business there. along with another business partner there. He and his servant Robert arrived the night before and immediately went to his private apartment in Manhattan soon after the train stopped at the Grand Central Station. He had been drinking heavily since the disappearance of his beloved fiancé, and is doing all he can to get her back so he can commence with the wedding plans. He had sent Ruth a telegram telling her that he and Rose were going to New York for their last minute preparations for the wedding, except he conveniently left out the part Rose ran away; that would come at a later time. He dreaded that the day would come, but he knew it had to be done.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come." Cal orders. A young woman appears, with his coffee and more papers.

"Thank you, Rebecca. Just put them there and get out!" Cal says, slightly angry. Rebecca places the coffee and papers on his desk, then closes the door behind her. He sips his coffee, careful this time, as he doesn't want to repeat the scene he did back at his home office. He reads the papers, the same ones as he got them back in Philadelphia. The first was business is picking up back at home, his father wanted to hear the good news if the wedding was still commencing. He puts them aside, then looks out the window. The plant billows smoke as the iron ores are mixed with carbon to make his precious materials to be used the world over, and the train manufacturer here in New York also buys his steel to build the subway and locomotives. It was indeed business as usual. Cal returns to his desk, pondering about on how to bring Rose so he wouldn't have to tell Ruth the awful news. If it weren't for that gutter rat, or for that matter, Jesse, she would still be with him.

With Jesse now completely taken out of the picture, all that was left was the gutter rat that remained. He knew they were still somewhere here in New York; it was just a massive city to find just one single person. He needed a way to narrow it down, until he realized his new maid Marion was missing as well. Of course! She would be the puzzle that would ultimately lead him back to his beloved Sweetpea. He had money he could've offered her; but why she went with the gutter rat, he will not comprehend. He had known she wanted to be free, alive and completely wanted nothing to do with the society she was stuck in, even though she had the luxury, money, and all the troubles that Ruth's late husband would be gone forever. Instead, she had run away with that rat, and had long thought it was Jesse's doing. He tried to remember the time he saw Jesse back on the Mauretania. He was a first class passenger, but was never content with being there. His father accompanied him, taking him to Europe, but what the hell was he going to do there? After the nasty fight, he was escorted by an officer, hoping they had kicked him off the ship, as he never saw Jesse the entire journey there. He was a pretty boy, he wouldn't think he would make it out in the real world he was in, especially Jack, the gutter rat. It was around the same time Mr. Williams had become Mr. Hockley's associate with his steel business, even though Mr. Williams only worked with automobiles and horse carriages. Cal knew nothing about Jesse, just that he was simply a pretty boy.

There was a knock on the door once more. disrupting Cal from his thoughts again. "Come." He says.

"You have a business meeting scheduled at noon today, Mr. Hockley." Rebecca reminds her employer.

"Thank you." Cal looks at his watch before returning to his thoughts. It was a quarter after ten.

He thought about being back on Titanic, and Jesse was a third-class passenger. It didn't make any sense. After he and the rat pulled his fiancé back on the ship. He remembered seeing Jesse for the first time, before being interrupted by Rose. He was dressed similar to Jack, except he had on a belt; while Jack was in suspenders. Something was indeed different with Jesse. Cal was almost intrigued by Jesse's looks, even for a third-class passenger. Almost.

What was he doing down with the third class; he'd stand out more than those passengers. He was indeed prettier than any of the passengers down there, including Jack. Jack was handsome, while Jesse was a pretty boy. During the dinner he knew Jack almost blended in with the first class; it was Jesse who had easily blended with the first class, a proper gentleman. What was he doing down there? On top of that, what was he doing in Europe? Something didn't add up. He knew very little about Jesse's father. He came from an automotive background, despite it's infancy in nature. He also had an older son and daughter, both living in New York. He had hoped Jesse lived in New York as well, but he was now dead, and has no dirt on his siblings, just that they lived in the city. Right then and there he had run into dead end leads. Rose was gone with that gutter rat, who knows. He knew Rose wanted freedom from the society she was trapped in; she despised her mother on almost everything, even the forced loveless marriage she would endure, and of course his sudden outbursts. Her mother forced her to marry so their debts can be forgiven, from her late husband, and to save their reputation, as well as her beloved name. His father also wanted the marriage to happen, so he can provide an heir to the company. Now that was gone, to those penniless kids which made no sense whatsoever. He looked at his watch, it was almost quarter to noon. He got up, picked up his coat and left his office to attend the meeting.

Back in Albuquerque Jack decided to look for employment as an artist once more. Fabrizio was driving him around, as he needed to look for employment as well. Jack decided he'd try the local marshal's office after Jesse recommended he try there; even then he knew he had a slim chance to become a small-town sketch artist for a marshal's deputy. Jack gets out of the car, nervous that for the first time he will be working for the marshal's office.

Inside it was busy, more of a small town busy, compared to the ones in New York. Jack walks up to the counter, as a deputy writes something in a little book, then looks up at him.

"I-I'm here for a sketch artist." Jack says nervously.

"Why, certainly." The young deputy says, then shouts for the senior officer. "Please have a seat, and he'll be with you shortly." the deputy says, then returns to his writing. Jack waits anxiously in the chair, clutching his sketch book. He had removed some of the offending sketches, but kept the ones that would be worthy for his new employment. A young deputy walks out, about 30 years old, and clean shaven. He had just recently taken an outlaw to the jail before being called out to this young artist.

"Howdy. What's your name, son?" the senior officer asks, straightening his hat, and adjusting his bolo tie. Jack stood up, as he didn't expect the man to speak English, let alone some of the officers in that small adobe building. The first time he arrived he thought being in this part of the early United States he would be hearing Spanish, but he was wrong. He did hear people speak Spanish in the small room, and a couple of other languages he didn't recognize.

"Jack Dawson, sir." Jack says, little bit nervous. They shook hands, before Jack handed his sketchbook to the senior officer. He flipped the pages, mostly of Jack's practice around the house.

"These are good, son. I'm impressed." the officer says, then took Jack to his new office. He had hoped Jesse would tour him around, but he had to go to work. They only stayed at the house for a day before finding employment, and he needed some money so he can start out his new life with Rose. Their ultimate dream is to go to Santa Monica and do all the things they had talked about back when they were on the ship, now that they were much closer than they realized. He was also giddy by the fact she was pregnant with his child, which he found out last night. Things were now looking up to this couple, and hopefully away from Cal for good.

They walked nearly to the back of the building, and turned to the right, away from the small chatter of the lobby. The officer unlocks the door, where Jack was led inside. The window was large, overlooking the Sandia in the distance. A desk was in the middle of the room, and next to it was an easel pad. There was only one chair behind the desk, and a stool to the front, where witnesses would sit. The room wasn't small, but it wasn't large either, and Jack was content with that. Jack walks up to the desk and puts finger to it, then looks out the picture window. He walks back to the desk and opens a drawer. Inside were pencils and charcoal, fresh sheets of paper, and a notepad, something he found out of place for a small-town marshal.

"We were glad you came. The previous sketch artist retired just two days prior, and I hope you know how to operate a camera. We'll help you, of course." The officer says. "Well, make yourself comfortable. Oh. Before I go, my name's Henderson. Welcome aboard. Occasionally things do pick up, but you know, we're a small town." He smiles, then walks out, as Jack gets ready for his first day doing his first sketch composite of an escaped convict.

Jesse had never been hard at work in his father's shop. Earlier he had to help out some Pueblo Indians with their wagon wheel and tongue, then a farmer wanted Jesse to do a little brazing work, followed by fixing a fence, for a fellow rancher's fence outside of town. He had just arrived when he heard someone honking his horn. He turned to see someone in a Ford Model T, its driver was asking for fuel. A young man walks to the driver, then fetches the container for the gas inside the hardware store. Before Jesse could ask the owner to see if he needed anything else, a man in a top hat emerged from the back seat. The driver simply says he needs his oil level checked and to check the air in his tires, as well as wiping his windows. He had just finished when he heard someone yelp in pain. Jesse carefully closes the car's hood before he runs back to the garage, only to find one of his colleagues sucking his fingers, from the shock he received from the spark plug wires.

"Hey Jess, what are we going to do with those cars?" He asks, pointing to a few cars in the back of the garage. With one hand on his hip, Jesse brushes his hair from his eyes, as he scanned the back row of cars behind the shop. He took the pencil from his ear and tapped his cheek with it, then using it as a pointer.

"That one needs a radiator, still on order. And then over there, that needs an axle, and finally, that one needs a new engine to be put in." Jesse says, wiping his hands on a rag before proceeding to the Ford Model T man. It turned out this was no ordinary customer, as he had seen the man before. He had been paying attention to Jesse since he arrived back at his father's establishment. His father comes out of his office, and greets the man.

"Ah, I see you've finally met my son, Mr. Smith." Mr. Williams says, shaking hands with the man. The man tips his hat down in acknowledgement, then taps his walking stick into the dirt.

"Ah Henry. I can imagine your son working for me in the near future, after he gets his formal education in engineering and such." Mr. Smith says with a slight British accent, then asked his driver for his pipe.

"Why certainly. He's already popular once more now that he's back from that tragedy." Mr. Williams says.

"Ah, yes. Quite terrible indeed. So many souls lost on board. Tell me, is your son ready for another trip back to Europe? I know it's too soon, since he's still recovering from that tragic accident." Mr. Smith asks. His father looks at Jesse, as he was wiping his hands on a rag, then slings it over his shoulder, as he returned to whatever work he was doing to the car in the shop.

"I think it's up to him to decide if he wants to go or not." Mr. Williams knew his son wasn't ready to get on another voyage, at least for the time being. Seeing all those people, dying in the cold Atlantic, as the ship slipped beneath the waves. It would be awhile again before his son would step foot in another ship. He decided to turn down this man's request, so that his son could help him run his business. With the men still watching Jesse saw a Pueblo couple, trying to explain their car trouble in their language, to the young attendant. Jesse turned to help the couple, then looked in their car. He pulled something from the engine compartment, only to pull out a shredded remains of a belt out of the car. With his father and Mr. Smith continually watching on, Jesse runs back into the hardware store, and returns back to the couple, with a new fan belt in hand. He installs it in the car, helping the couple return on their way, before paying him.

"That's my son. He learned their language from his mother and grandparents." Jesse's father continues to explain his business to the man, when it came time to close for the day. Jesse takes off his hat and hangs it up, shaking his hair once more. He closes the garage doors before meeting his father in his office. They both drive back to the house, where Fabrizio is making dinner he had learned while on his lunch break. Jack and Rose also came by, after Fabrizio had gathered his supplies from Jesse's father's store, then picked up his friends at the hotel. Karl feeds the stove more wood, and Jack lights the kerosene as the sun slowly disappears behind the hills. Jesse sets up the new bedding he had bought from the Pueblos back on their reservations. Later they had gathered around a simple dinner of beans and sausages, on a table Karl had built earlier that day. The house is once again filled with laughter as jokes and stories are told.

"Marion wants to know how you're doing." Jack says, remembering Rose had brought him telegrams from the hotel office.

"I miss her. Tell her I'm doing great and its too damn hot today." Jesse says, smiling, and fanning his shirt before wiping a little sweat from his brow. They all return to their laughter, until it was time to call it a night.