Eleven Pipers Piping
Page 4
Mr. Broadwater had the floor as Evan sidled along the wall of the overstuffed, smoke-filled room. “I say, five years has been long enough gathering at our offices.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Power answered, “I hear there’s property available at Sixth and Fuller.”
“Then why don’t we form a committee and investigate. Our ranks are swelling.” He waved a cigar in the air gesturing around the room before settling an elbow on the table to point the butt at Evan. “There’s standing room only as it is.”
A chorus of male voices joined in agreement, “Hear, hear.”
Mr. McDonald sat with the other businessmen around the enormous conference table in the Gold Block meeting rooms. He stood and scraped back a chair. “I better be getting on my way, gents. My wife hasn’t stopped yammering at me to get home at an earlier hour since that last snow. She’s still going on about the winter of ‘86 as if it happened yesterday.” He shook hands with the men on either side of him as he worked his way out of the room. “Somehow I think that woman cares about this old hide of mine.” A few chuckles acknowledged the admiration for the McDonald’s long marriage record.
Evan felt the blood drain from his face. He froze as he had when he found Nadine, mostly covered by a drift. She’d curled into a ball at base of the barn door, beside the downed cow she’d tried to save. His small wife hadn’t been able to push the door closed to keep the animal inside before the blizzard built up icy drifts against it. That winter stole his wife, ranch, and way of life. That winter caused such a deep desperation that he’d left Joseph with his brother’s family, where the little boy should have been safe, instead of taking him into the dangers of mining camp life. That winter would only melt from memory when he knew Joseph was safe—or what happened to his little son.
Then Mr. McDonald noticed the effect his words caused. He stopped next to Evan. “Ah, son, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He bowed his head as he lifted a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You’ll find him. Don’t give up.”
Evan blinked his eyes, coming back to the present. “Thank you. I won’t.” The quiet settled in the room as heavy as the dark night outside. Better to make it useful than leave all these men with a bitter taste. “Gentlemen, may I have the floor? There’s been a development in the situation with the street boys you might want to be a part of…”
Chapter 5
Cookies, coffee, hot cider for the children, and a bit of information about each newsie waited for the good-hearted people. Mirielle surveyed the room for any last minute forgotten detail. Each newsie had a small biographical page for the potential sponsors to consider. Instead of reading lessons, they boys had one-on-one assistance preparing small speeches for the coming attendees. Calista, Evan, and Albert helped her prep them. But one little boy failed to attend both times. Joey.
“Miss Mirielle?” Frankie peeked his head into the schoolroom.
She set down the last plate of cookies. “Frankie! Are all the boys with you?”
He moved into the doorway. “No, ma’am.” His eyes shifted around the room rather than focusing on her.
“Is everything all right?” She scooted around the chairs set up for an audience in rows. “Is Joey sick? He hasn’t been around all week. I’m worried.”
“W-e-l-l…”
“Where is he? I’ll go get him right now.” She turned to pick up her coat.
“He’s here.”
“Here. Where here?” Leaving the garment untouched, Mirielle turned back to the boy. “Frankie, what’s going on?” She leaned over him for a better view, and then looked around the corner into the hallway. A frightened Joey plastered against the wall as if hiding. Another questioning glance at Frankie’s tight lips, and Mirielle crooked her finger and wiggled it calling the younger boy into the room without a word.
Joey walked forward with halting steps.
“I’ll ask one more time. You know you can trust me.” She gave both boys direct eye contact. “What is going on?”
Joey crumbled into tears. “I don’ wanna,” he hiccupped. “I don’ wanna leave Frankie.”
“Honey,” she knelt down and held her arms open. Joey melted into her embrace. “Honey, what makes you think you have to leave Frankie?” But the little guy just rolled his face back and forth on her shoulder.
“Miss Mirielle,” Frankie stopped and took a deep breath. “Miss Mirielle,” he started again as if it took every ounce of courage he could muster. “I think I gotta be givin’ Joey to Mr. Evan.”
Mirielle gasped. She pried they tyke, who sobbed all the harder, away to look at his face. She squinted as she studied the dirty hair, shape of his eyebrows, and the rest of his face. “Why yes, you do have a resemblance under all that soot.”
Joey pressed back into Mirielle’s warm hug. “Don’t let ‘im take me.”
“What’s all the hubbub?” Evan asked as he walked into the classroom. “Did he bump a knee or noggin?”
Joey crumpled. The unexpected motion knocked Mirielle off her heels. Both child and teacher landed in a fluff of skirts on the floor.
Evan rushed to their aid as Frankie grabbed for Joey. Their heads knocked hard landing them both right beside Mirielle and Joey. The surprise landings and stunned faces on all four caused Joey to crack a hint of a giggle. Just enough to release the tension and light laughter in Frankie and Evan as they both rubbed the tops of their heads at the same time.
“Let’s stay put for a moment.” Mirielle turned Joey around to sit in her lap and wrapped her arms around him. “I think we have a few minutes before anyone else arrives.”
Frankie rolled his lips in and bobbed his head in the tiniest of motions.
“Anyone want to let me in on—” Evan’s attention caught on Joey’s face. He reached out to touch the boy’s hair. But Joey jerked backward away from Evan’s hand. Evan dropped his hand into his lap. “Joseph?”
Even as he pressed backward against Mirielle, Joey asked, “Are you really my father?”
Before Evan could answer, Frankie put an arm around the younger boy. “I brought Joey ‘cuz maybe you could be his daddy and he could be warm and safe. But jes soz you know, he don’t wanna be here.” Frankie’s voice shook a little. “But I done told him if’n you was his daddy that he could grow up in a nice house with food every day ‘stead of beggin’ like we do.” Frankie’s chin lifted. His eyes shimmered while he worked to hold back the tears. His face contorted in pain as he tried swallowing the tears. “But before you take him,” he gulped. “Before—” Frankie sniffed and looked to the corner of the room in silence as he visibly fought for self-control. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I jes wanna know he’s really gonna be safe or you can’t have him.”
Frankie couldn’t stop the hot tears banking over his efforts to hold them at bay. But he lifted his chin a tad bit higher like a fox cub against a bear. He looked defeated though he’d fight for his little brother to the end.
~*~
Tears coursed down Evan’s face. He let them flow only wiping a few away so he could see his son. Joseph sat a hand’s breath away. He wanted to hoot to the sky or dance in wild abandon tossing his son high into the air and catching him again. But the boy looked ready to run at the slightest movement with a badger of a guardian watching out for him.
Evan chose his words, and then delivered them quietly so the boys wouldn’t spook at the powerful emotion raging inside his chest. “Frankie, Joey, yes. I know you’re my son. You have your mama’s hair and the shape of her eyes. But see the color of mine? That’s the color of yours.”
Frankie leaned in to inspect Evan’s eyes. And nodded.
“See the shape of your brow and nose?”
“No.”
“Uh, sorry. Of course. We need a mirror.”
Mirielle picked up Joey from her lap and set him near Frankie. “One moment. I have a compact in my reticule.” She went to her desk, retrieved it, and knelt beside the boys. “Take a look. I think you’ll see what we all can see.”
Looking back into his reflection, Joey’s finger traced an eyebrow. He looked back and Evan and held up the same finger toward his father’s face.
Evan leaned into Joey’s hand and the little boy traced his father’s eyebrows, nose, and chin.
“What do you think?” Mirielle asked. “Would you like to get to know your daddy?”
A small whisper from Joey made them all lean in to hear. “Yes, but I don’t wanna leave Frankie.”
Evan accepted his comment, thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Frankie, he says you made him come. You had all the last week and a few days. But why did you bring Joey today and not another day?”
“I wasn’t sure before.”
“You weren’t sure of what?”
“I found Joey. He was kind of a mess of a little kid. But—” he shrugged as he wiped his nose on a sleeve.
Both Mirielle and Evan waited and allowed Frankie to tell his story.
“It was hard to be alone and he didn’t eat much. But it’s been hard to get him shoes and a coat and stuff. When you showed up lookin’ fer him, at first I thought you’d jes be takin’ him away.” He looked at Joey. “Then I remembered what the pastor said about puttin’ others first. I wanted to make sure Joey had a chance even if I didn’t.” He lowered his eyes.
“When you gave your word, did you mean it?” Evan asked.
“Yeah. I gave my word.” Another tear threatened Frankie’s composure. “But I had to be sure you was who you said you was and he was the son you lost.”
“Even if it means you’ll lose Joey, you still want to make sure he’s safe back with me?”
“Yeah,” Frankie’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Frankie, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the care and love you’ve given Joseph.” Evan cocked his head to the side trying to catch Frankie’s line of sight. “You remember I also gave my word on something, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad one of the boys is gonna get you as a sponsor, sir.”
Evan shook his head. “Not just one of the boys, Frankie, I’d be honored if it would be you.”
“Me?” Frankie’s head popped up. Then he wrinkled his brow. “I can’t accept.”
“Why in the world not?” Mirielle asked, her brows furrowed. “Frankie, you can’t pass up this opportunity.”
He shook his head with a sad expression, but he squared his shoulders as if resolved. “I got more guys out there, Miss Mirielle. I can’t leave ‘em all. They gotta have a leader. Someone to help ’em learn how to survive.”
Evan answered, “I’ll tell you what, Frankie—”
“Son, I say you give the rest of us a chance.” Mr. Broadwater called into the room startling all four of them. Mrs. Broadwater stood next to him with a hankie pressed to her cheek. Behind them, quite a crowd gathered waiting in the hall respectfully.
The boys jumped up quick as hotcakes flipping on a griddle.
Mirielle sighed as Evan offered his hand to help her to her feet. She draped elegant fingers across his palm. With radiating excitement, she stood and then leaned in to him. “I think it’s all going to work out, Mr. Russell. We’re going to build a life for these boys!”
He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. He looked into the depths of her soul and said, “Yes. We are.”
“Isn’t that so romantic?” Mrs. Broadwater asked a little too loudly of Mrs. McDonald. Other invited guests continued to fill the room and join in the social festivities. “And they say they aren’t courting. Pooh.”
Mirielle pinked all the way into her brunette tresses. “Mrs. Broadwater—”
Evan interrupted. “Yes, Mrs. Broadwater, I’m declaring my intentions to court Miss Sheehan,” he looked only at her willing a positive response, “if she’ll accept.”
Mirielle’s pretty mouth opened a tiny bit. Would she agree? The seconds ticked away in silence.
“I, uh,” she dipped her head and peeked up through her lashes. “I would like that, Mr. Russell.”
The two ladies, and a few of their friends, clapped in glee.
“Now that’s settled, I knew it would be.” Mrs. Broadwater slipped an arm around Mirielle’s waist. “Shall we choose our boys?”
Evan looked down at the two boys near him and shrugged. They shrugged back with grins on their faces.
Frankie spoke first, “Womenfolk. They sure go fer that sweet stuff.”
Evan broke out in laughter. “Makes life awfully nice for the menfolk though.”
Frankie sagely nodded.
Evan ruffled the boy’s hair. “I have a surprise for everyone, including Miss Mirielle. Would you get the other boys and help me?”
Frankie called his team to follow. A few minutes later, they reemerged with huge grins. Each boy carried either a drum, a penny whistle, or a hand drum. Except one youngster carried bagpipes.
The crowd burst into applause.
Mirielle wove through the crowd. “How in the world did you do this?”
He gestured around the room to the other men tipping a nod to him here and there. “I had a little help from the Montana Club members.”
“It’s just wonderful!” She turned back with a worried look. “But I don’t play or teach bagpipes.”
“Ah, but Mr. McDonald does.” He shook hands with the older man. “Miss Mirielle Sheehan, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. McDonald. He and his wife would like to sponsor the boy with the bagpipes. That lucky young man will get instruction on the instrument and, should it be earned, on graduation will also be granted an internship at Mr. McDonald’s import business. He has a series of warehouses and needs to raise up management to take over for him.”
“How did you figure all that out?” Mirielle asked.
He felt like a hero in her eyes. “It wasn’t hard. We had a talk the other day at the club meeting. A few of the members took it upon themselves to get the donated instruments.”
“But the McDonald’s?”
“They have no children to inherit. Jonathan is one of the older newsies. If he can prove himself a good student, he’ll get quite the opportunity starting in management with Mr. McDonald’s business dealings.”
One-by-one, the boys were sponsored by the end of the tea. Those sponsors would also act as mentors with regular visits to help the boys continually learn social skills. Their speeches drew both adoration and chuckles from the crowd. Two hours went by faster than his hat had the day he dropped it into the stream accidentally. It was out of sight before he’d taken three steps.
“That’s it, Frankie. I bet you fellas are tuckered out.” Evan put an arm around the lad and gave him a quick squeeze.
“Yup. Speechifying’s real hard.”
Evan laughed. “Yes, it is. Looks like the speechifying worked. Every boy has their sponsor—except one.” Evan held out a hand. “Shake on it?”
Frankie’s eyes lit up. “Yes, sir.” As they shook, Frankie tossed out a question. “You gonna take Joey now you kept yer word?” He tucked both hands in his pockets and waited.
Evan put his hands in his pockets too. “I haven’t had a chance to think it all through yet, have you?”
Frankie didn’t speak. He just looked at his shoes and wagged his head back and forth a little.
“What would you think if I rented a room next to mine for the two of you?”
“Can’t do it, Mr. Evan. Got my guys to think about, you know.” He tossed a side-glance at his new sponsor before resuming his downward gaze. “I think Joey’s gonna need some time. He used ta have some real bad nightmares after I found him. Sometimes they come back.”
Evan twisted his bottom lip to the side, scrunching up his lips as he considered the problem. “That’s a hard one.”
“Yeah. But we been doin’ good before you came.” He rocked back and forth, heel to toe and back again as if he rolled on l
og.
“Surviving is good.” He agreed. If Frankie changed his mind and bolted with Joey, it’d be a hard road finding them again. “You never know when things might go south.”
The boy-man took another soul-wrenching look into Evan’s eyes. “What d’ya say we let Joey get ta knowin’ ya first. He’ll come around.”
“What do you say I make sure all you boys get back to the Shanahan’s each night for the time being? I hear they make sure you’re all safe in the carriage house and their footman stays too.”
Frankie gave a slight smile with grudging admiration in his eyes. “You been doin’ some checkin’ on us.” Then he turned to face Evan and stuck out his hand. “Man-to-man, I give you my word I’ll help Joey get ready to come be with you.”
He repeated their earlier test. “You good for your word?”
Stretching to his tallest, Frankie said, “Yep. You good fer yers?”
“You better believe I am.” Evan accepted the boy’s handshake without scoffing at a boy playing a grown up role. So much maturity, not yet a man but trying hard to act like one. It was his turn to admire Frankie. “If you’ll help finish the cleanup and bring the newsies together, I’ll let Miss Mirielle know our plan so she won’t worry.” Though I will, until Joseph is safe with me. But forcing the matter when the boys’ had shown themselves both trustworthy wouldn’t rebuild a strong relationship with his son or his new charge.
~*~
It was the hardest moment of his life, when Evan let his son leave the safety of the wagon even on such a mild night. Holding himself back, watching Joseph walk away after just finding him, ripped Evan’s heart raw. That Mirielle insisted on coming helped. He knew she’d hold him accountable if he backed down. But more than that, he drew strength from her presence.