Crossing Oceans

By: Fanci

Note: All words in Italics are meant to be said in French, but I don’t really speak French so I could only use a few real words here and there. So, use your imagination and bear with me. Also, I realize that a lot of things are really “convenient” in this story. Just ignore the cheesiness and enjoy the story. Without the conveniences the story would be either WAAAY too long or simply impossible to write well. I will stop ranting and let you read now.

France, the Chontelle estate

Marie Chontelle sat at her place at breakfast. Suddenly, the butler appeared behind her holding a message on a tray. “Merci,” she said. The message was from her father requesting an audience in his study. Marie quickly went to her room and changed into her dress then went down the hall. Cautiously, she stuck her head in through the door. She had always hated this room. The dark surroundings—mahogany paneled walls and heavy navy drapes—soaked up what little light there was. “You wanted to see me, Papa?” she asked.

“Oui, come in and sit down,” he replied, indicating the chair in front of his desk. “I wish you to know that I have urgent business in New York City—”

Marie interrupted him. “Papa, no!” she exclaimed. She was immediately ashamed. She sounded like a spoiled child. She silenced instantly at a look from her father.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “What I was going to say was that this trip is going to take so long that you’ll have to come with me. I could be gone for weeks—even months. We leave tomorrow and stay until my business is complete.” He smiled at her stunned face as he finished.

It took Marie a moment to realize that he was serious. When she did she grinned at him and bolted out the door. She ran into her room and rang for her maid, Gweneth.

The young woman hurriedly entered the room. “Oui, mademoiselle?” she asked.

Marie dispensed of pleasantries and got right to the point. “I need you to pack me some clothes for Papa’s business trip. Pack a lot. I don’t know how long we will be gone. Merci, Gweneth.”

Marie left the room and a slightly dizzy Gweneth behind to find Pierre. He was the stable boy. Mr. Chontelle had hired him eight years ago when he and Marie had both been nine years old. He had slowly worked his way up from mucking out stalls to caring for the Chontelles’ many horses. The pair had become fast friends and remained so ever since. They both knew it was probably because they were each the only other person their own age, but they didn’t care. Marie stuck her head in the barn door and looked around. Not seeing him, she went in. “Bonjour, Pierre?” she called.

She saw Pierre stick his head out of the stall of her horse, Sunbeam. She smiled; knowing her friend had been taking special care of her horse. “Hello, Marie!” he cried, coming over to her. He saw her beaming face and knew she had good news for him.

“My father has a business trip to New York City!” she nearly screamed this.

Pierre was confused. Marie was usually upset when her father had an overseas business trip. “Could you calm down and tell me why this is good news?” he asked, holding her shoulders.

“It is wonderful news because he is taking me with him!” then she pushed his hands away and twirled around the barn. Pierre was happy for his friend but he knew he would be lonely in her absence. So he plastered a smile on his face and hoped she wouldn’t see through it. She didn’t. By the time he was finished thinking, she was already heading out the door. Pierre shook his head and went back to grooming the horses.

That day, Marie ran all over the estate telling the whole staff her good news. By dinner she was so exhausted she went straight to bed after eating.

New York City 2 weeks later

Marie stepped out of the house, blinking in the sunlight. After living in the countryside her whole life, the hustle and confusion of the city thrilled her. She had finally convinced her father to let her go outside and explore around the house they had rented. She was not to go far, though, her English was terrible. But, caught up in her excitement, she went farther down the road than she had meant to and she got lost. Trying to find her way back, Marie went into an alley. Now she found her way blocked by two large grinning men. In their eyes Marie saw the same gleam she had seen in the eyes of men at the village brothel. She tried to run but they caught her and held her in place in front of them.

“Well well, whadda we got here?” said one of the goons. “What’s yer name, chickey?” Marie, with her limited grasp of English, simply stood frozen in front of him. The other man’s hands moved towards a very personal area and Marie did the first thing that came to mind. She kicked him in the groin. As he doubled over, his grip loosened. With half of their strength no longer focused on holding her still, Marie slipped away. Even with one of them injured that still left the other. He ran after her and tackled Marie to the ground. She screamed as she fell.

*****

Jack, Racetrack, and Spot had just sold all their papers for that morning. They were walking around and just generally goofing off. Suddenly Spot stopped. His friends began to question him but he shushed them. “Did you heah dat?” he asked. They all listened for a moment and then heard a distinct scream. Spot led the way as they headed to an alley. Looking down the alley they saw a man harassing a girl who was feebly trying to beat him off. She certainly had good lungs. The proof of that had all three newsies plugging their ears. They saw the other man rolling on the ground and they could pretty well guess what had happened to him.

Jack decided to take charge. He walked over and pulled the man off his captive. “Sorry ta seem rude, but, foist: ya don’t do dis stuff in an alley. An second: ya do it wit someone who wants to.” Then Jack punched him squarely in the nose. The guy was obviously not as brave as he made himself look. He ran off, dragging his injured friend behind him. Jack went back to his friends. “Guys, I don’t think she’s hoit but she looks pretty shaken up. Race, you go talk to her.”

Race went and knelt down in front of her. The girl was obviously new in town. Had she lived in New York for any length of time, she would have kept her distance until she knew his motives. Instead she threw herself at him and clung like a child around his neck, whimpering and crying. Race awkwardly put his arms around the trembling girl and looked to the other guys for help. Alarm registered on his face when she spoke. She wasn’t speaking English! Jack and Spot were no help at all. They just shrugged and tried to hide their laughter behind their hands. Race pulled away and looked at her. He almost gasped. Underneath the thick layer of street grime was a beautiful face. Her eyes were large, gray-green, and framed with long, dark lashes. Gently he helped her to stand up and walk to the rest of the group.

*****

Marie followed the boy to his friends. She was blushing at how she had behaved. She couldn’t believe how silly she had been. The three boys quickly discussed the situation and turned back to her.

The boy she had cried on spoke very slowly. “We—are—taking—you—to—a—restaurant.”

Marie recognized the word restaurant and smiled. The three friends led the girl to Tibby’s.

(Author’s note: the way we write these stories, you would think there are no other restaurants in New York!) They were supposed to meet David there. Jack remembered something about David learning another language at school. He prayed his friend would understand her.

The foursome entered the tiny building and was waved over to a table by David. As they neared, David laughed. “Woo hoo! Did Jacky-Boy get over my sister so soon?” he hooted.

Jack slapped him upside the head. “Ah, shad up! We just got her away from da DeLanceys. Besides, if she’s anybody’s goil, she’s Race’s.”

Then Race hit Jack in the head, his face indignant. Marie angrily smacked both of them in the head simultaneously while yelling in French.

They all turned at the sound of a hand slapping a knee. “Now she’s all mad atcha fer hittin’ each udda!” Spot managed to gasp out as he laughed.

A look of realization passed across David’s face. “She’s French!” he exclaimed. Jack’s hope was renewed.

“PLEASE say you can talk to her!” he begged.

David laughed. “Actually, French is one of my better subjects at school. Bonjour, mademoiselle. Je m’appelle David.”

Marie grinned. “Bonjour! Merci, merci, monsieur David! Je m’appelle Marie.”

“She says her name is Marie,” David told his friends.

Jack was shocked. “You can undastand her?”

David laughed again. “French is just like English except the rules are different,” Jack just looked at him like he was nuts. Spot introduced himself and his friends.

The guys' time alone with Marie was cut short by a small voice from behind them. "Have any of you seen Mush anywhere?" it was Timi, the love of Mush's life. The newsies called her Timi because she was very timid. Even now after all the guys had become almost brothers to her, she was still very quiet—except with Mush or at the lodging house surrounded by her friends.

Now Jack greeted her. "Heya Timi. Nah, I ain't seen him since da circulation bell. Why ya lookin' fer him?"

"I just wanted to see him before we got back to the house and he had his macho face on," she kidded. That got a laugh from the whole group. Everyone knew how Mush felt about Timi and he made no attempt to hide it. Then Timi spotted Marie. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing. "Jack's new girlfriend?"

Jack wheeled on her. "Why does everybody think she's MY goil?" he yelled. "Why can't she be Race's goil, or Davey's?"

There was a choking silence in Tibby's. Everyone was staring at Jack. NOBODY yelled at Timi. First, Mush would beat them to a pulp. And second, the newsies just hated to hurt her and with her deep distrust of men, that was easy to do.

Kid Blink came up behind her and she turned and clutched him. "Whaddaya think ya doin, Cowboy?" asked Blink, soothing Timi.

Jack rubbed his face. "I dunno what got inta me. I guess I'm just mad cuz everybody's been thinkin' dat Marie's me goil. She ain't. Will ya forgive me, Timi?" Timi pulled slowly away from Blink who kept a protective hand on her back. She carefully approached Jack and let him give her an apologetic one-armed hug.

Then Mush walked in. Timi looked up at the sound of the door. Her face broke into a grin. "Mush!" she screamed, running to him.

Mush swung Timi around and kissed her. "Heya, beautiful!" he said. It was obvious that Jack's outburst had been forgotten. They didn't mention it. Then Mush noticed Marie. "Who has a new goilfriend?"

*****

Marie didn't know what a 'goil' was but she was sick of being called one. She started forward but Race and Spot grabbed her arms and pulled her back. She looked at David. "Tell them to let me go. I want to sit down."

"She want's to sit down, guys," he translated.

They released their hold on her and she sat across from David. He smiled at her. She almost smiled back but then she remembered her father. "Oh my goodness! My father is home today! He will worry if I don't get back soon!"

The standing trio questioned him with a look. "She needs to get home before her father worries," David explained. "I'll find out her address and then you three take her home." Then he switched to French. "Where do you live?"

Marie just looked at him. "I think I know what street it is on. I know what the house looks like."

"What street is it on?" David pressed.

"I think it is 42^nd street."

David interpreted. Race clenched his teeth. All the newsies knew that 42^nd street was in the richest part of Manhattan. Marie looked up and wondered why Race looked so upset. Then she stood and looped her arm through Spot's. They started to leave but David blocked their way by putting his hand on the table across the aisle. "Hang on. You three are just going to save her life, bring her here, make me talk to her and then take her home and just forget about her?"

Jack pretended to think for a minute. "Um . . . yeah."

"I don't think so," replied David. Then he looked at Marie and told her something in rapid French.

"What'd ya say ta her?" asked Spot.

"I just said that we would ALL meet her here for lunch tomorrow at one o'clock.” They grudgingly agreed and then headed on their way.

*****

They led Marie quickly through the streets of New York. They got to 42^nd street Race stood in front of the little group and crossed his arms. “So, where’s ya house?” he asked impatiently. Having little understanding of the language, Marie was much more conscious of things like voice tone that aren’t normally noticed. Race’s tone told her he was still upset and she still didn’t know why. She couldn’t do anything but look up at him feeling intimidated.

Spot noticed. “Whatsamatta wit you, Race?” he asked.

Race’s shoulders drooped a bit and he sighed. “I dunno. I guess it’s just cuz I ain’t eaten taday. I’m just grumpy. Sorry.”

Marie felt better when he relaxed. She went over and silently took his hand in both of hers, squeezing it a little. Race’s eyes widened the tiniest bit when he saw how tiny and pale her hands were against his. He pulled his hand away and beckoned to his friends. “C’mon. Let’s get goin.”

They walked down the street for a few moments before Marie began pointing. “Dis must be it,” said Spot. They went up to the door and Race knocked.

A tall man came and saw the disheveled group. Then his eyes widened. “Marie!” he cried. “Oh! You’re all right! What did these ruffians do to you?”

Marie put her hands on his chest and spoke soothingly. “Papa, speak French.”

“Later dear,” he told her, pushing her behind him. Then he grabbed Race and yelled, “What did you do to my daughter?”

Marie pushed past him and pulled on his arm. “Papa, stop! I can explain!” she shouted.

Mr. Chontelle put Race down and looked at Marie. Race’s knees buckled and he sat on the wall. “You shoulda seen yer face when he picked ya up!” said Jack. He and Spot were doubled over, pounding their fists on the steps as they laughed. Race blushed and looked at Marie. She was shaking with silent laughter.

Mr. Chontelle swiftly chilled the mirthful air. “Marie, I am waiting for an explanation.” She began her story as her father listened a little less than patiently. Every once in a while he would shoot the boys a poisoned look.

Marie finished and took him aside. “Papa, I know you don’t like them but could we invite them to dinner? Please?”

“Marie . . . ”

“But Papa, they saved my life today. Don’t you think they deserve a little credit?” She made her eyes huge and batted her lashes at her father.

Mr. Chontelle made a small sound of protest and then sighed. He could never refuse anything to that face. “All right. They can come to dinner. But after that I don’t want you around these hooligans. You never know what they might do to you.” They walked over to the guys and told them the news. Jack and Spot were thrilled to get free dinner but Race passed. He said he had to go play cards with some friends. Marie was sorry to see him go.

*****

Race stepped down from Marie’s stoop and began to wander aimlessly through the city thinking about Marie. About Marie being rich. Kicking himself for liking her. He had been with a rich girl before. She had been using him to get back at her father. He didn’t want to set himself up for that again.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see where he was going and ran into a tall stinky figure named Morris DeLancey. Oscar was hovering over his brother’s shoulder, his usual moronic grin plastered across his face. “Heya, Higgins!” said Morris. “Listen, I got a little problem. Ya see, dis mornin, I was out walkin around and I see dis goil all alone wit no boyfriend ta protect her. So I decided to have a little fun.” When he heard this, Race saw red in spite of himself. “And just when I’m getting somewhere along comes da Rescuers. If I rememba right, yoah a part a dat, ain’tcha? So, you three ruined my good time and I think Cowboy broke my nose. Now, do you think dat’s right?” he backed Race against a wall and added darkly, “I shoah don’t.” Morris drew back and slammed his fist into the Italian’s stomach. As he doubled over, Race vaguely heard Morris laughing and knew what was coming next.

*****

Marie heard the front bell and jumped up. She went to the door and found Race on the steps. He could barely stand. His face was swollen and bloody and he had the arm that wasn’t holding him up around his middle. “Oh my! Papa, come quickly!”

Mr. Chontelle heard his daughter and rushed to her side. He saw Race’s condition and took quick action. “Marie, take him up to a bedroom.” By this time Jack and Spot had come to see what the commotion was. he addressed them in English. “You two, go get warm water and rags from the kitchen. I’ll call for a doctor.” All of this overwhelmed Marie. She felt as though her corset was laced too tight as she led the staggering Race upstairs. Together the limped into the first bedroom she found and he flopped, groaning in pain onto the bed. Marie suddenly felt so nauseous she thought she might have to lay down with him! Jack and Spot rushed into the room. Spot had a wash basin with water sloshing over the sides and Jack had so many rags he had to peek around them to see where he was going. Jack looked at Race who said one word—DeLancey. Spot clenched his jaw. Nobody, especially those two beat up Spot Conlon’s friend and walked for long.

Marie wasn’t feeling well at all. She put one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth and ran from the room. She ran to her room and rang for Gweneth. The maid ran in and Marie gasped, “Take this suffocating corset off!” Gweneth looked alarmed but obeyed. As the strings slackened and the stays flopped away Marie took a deep, heaving breath. How she had waited for the day when she could wear a corset. For her it had symbolized a passage into womanhood. Now all she waited for was bedtime so that she could take the blasted thing off. Gweneth fastened up her dress and Marie rushed back down the hall and into Race’s room. On her way to the bed she grabbed a rag from Jack and soaked it in the bowl Spot was still holding. “Oh, mon petit cabage!” she crooned. Race tried to get up and she gently, but firmly pushed him back down. Race groaned again but was in too much pain to argue. Marie began to gently swab his face with the wet rag as she whispered calming words in French. She drew on her experience of treating cuts and bruises for Pierre after he tripped over a trough or got kicked by a horse. It was a mistake. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat at the thought of her friend. She touched the small locket that she wore around her neck. In one side was a tiny pencil drawing of her parents and in the other was one of her and Pierre. A frustrated “OW!” from Race pulled her out of her trance. Marie looked up and giggled at a blushing Spot. He had tried to help clean up his friend and pressed too hard. She took back the rag and began dabbing again. But Race pushed her hand away and pointed at the locket. She opened it and pointed to Pierre’s tiny figure and smiled. “Pierre,” she told him. She looked at him again after she closed the locket and was confused at his expression—or lack thereof. It was as though he had closed shutters behind his eyes.

She began to clean him again, this time in silence. Then Mr. Chontelle came in with the doctor behind him. “Marie! Why don’t you have your corset on?” he cried at his daughter’s curved back.

Marie stood up. “I apologize, Papa. I felt faint and I had Gweneth take it off so that I could assist Monsieur Racetrack until you returned with the doctor.” She smiled charmingly over her father’s shoulder at the doctor and curtsied. “Bonjour, Monsieur.”

“That is all well and good. Thank you for acting as nurse, but please go and get properly dressed now,” said Mr. Chontelle.

Marie returned to her room. “Gweneth, will you please put my corset back on?” she asked. Gweneth did it and then left to help in the kitchen. Marie went back to Race’s room as the doctor was leaving. He tipped his hat and she nodded as they passed each other. She went to her father and asked what the doctor had said. He told her that Race was, for the most part, all right and could leave in a few hours. Marie went into the parlor to work on some needlepoint so that Race could have some quiet to heal.

After several hours Race felt up to going home. Jack went and got Marie. When she came into the room they managed to make it clear that they planned to leave. She gave them each a hug and a peck on both cheeks. Race’s careful composure slipped for a second when she kissed him. With Race being supported one either side by Jack and Spot, Marie led the boys down to the door. Mr. Chontelle stood with his daughter in the doorway as they left. “Au revoir!” she called, waving. They waved back and then continued down the street.

As soon as he shut the door, Mr. Chontelle turned to Marie. “Tonight I am going to telephone your Uncle Michel and tell him that you will be over tomorrow. He has a daughter about your age.”

Marie had to suppress a groan of frustration. It was bad enough that she was forbidden to see her new friends, now she couldn’t even sneak out! “Yes, Papa,” she sighed,

The Next Day

When Marie woke up she felt like Sunbeam had trampled her. The window faced east so the morning sun prevented her from going back to sleep. She started to roll out of bed to ring for her maid but every muscle in her body protested. She resigned herself to simply yelling. “GWENETH!”

Seconds later, Gweneth came bustling in attempting to tie her apron strings and pin up her hair at the same time. When she saw Marie lying calmly in bed, her shoulders slumped and she gave Marie a stern look. “Mademoiselle, I thought there was something wrong! Now get up and I will help you dress.”

Marie groaned at the thought. “I don’t think I can move!” she whined.

Gweneth sighed and went to pull the exhausted girl out of bed. She put a limp Marie into a standing position in the middle of the room and then headed for the wardrobe. “Now you know what to do when your muscles hurt,” Gweneth told her sternly. Marie nodded wearily and slowly began to move each of her stiff limbs until she could dress with little pain.

As Gweneth did up the last button Mr. Chontelle knocked on the door. “Marie, the carriage is waiting.” Marie smiled and put her locket around her neck as she walked out the door, through the house, and out the front door to be helped into the coach.

The ride to her Uncle’s was long and bumpy. Finally the jarring stopped and the footman opened the door, offering his hand to help her down. Marie stepped carefully onto firm ground and dismissed the carriage with a wave of her small, gloved hand. She took a deep breath and realized—she was on a farm! She began to wander around, taking in the sights and sounds of the barnyard and discovering how homesick she was.

Suddenly she heard a voice from behind her. “Who are you?” Marie whirled around to face a dusty girl pointing a long pitchfork at her. She raised her hands to protect herself and began to babble in a panic. She stopped talking when she heard the other girl laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize who you were,” said the girl in perfect French. “I’m Laurel, Michel’s daughter. You must be Marie.”

Marie relaxed and examined the newcomer. Laurel was grimy, covered in dust and mud with bits of hay sticking out of her long brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She was a bit taller than Marie was. Her face was diamond-shaped ending in a pointed chin under almond-shaped light brown eyes and freckled cheeks. Laurel led Marie up to the house where she quickly changed into a skirt and blouse as simple as her hairstyle. She directed Marie to the informal parlor where they settled themselves on one of the plush sofas. Marie noticed that her cousin was not wearing shoes or a corset. She felt odd in her voluminous, silk skirts. The only thing Laurel could see about Marie that she didn’t like was that she spoke no English. Despite her background, French was her least favorite subject. They got acquainted quickly and were soon laughing pleasantly together. Soon Laurel made Marie’s day. “Do you want to see our horses?” Marie’s face lit up like a lamp and Laurel chuckled. “I guess that’s a yes. Come on.”

On the way to the stables Marie’s excitement had transferred to Laurel who jumped and skipped like an excited toddler. “I can’t wait to show you Battlecry! He’s the biggest and best stallion in New York! He’s 17 hands (approx. 68 in.) high, black, with one white hoof and a little white star on his forehead. You’ll love him!”

“I’ll bet Jack would love him too,” said Marie thoughtfully. “He dresses like an American cowboy.”

Laurel stopped in her tracks. “Jack who?”

“Kelly, why do you ask?” Marie replied.

“THE Jack Kelly?” Laurel pressed.

“Well, I suppose so.”

“Oh! I can’t believe it! You’re friends with Jack Kelly, leader of the Newsies Strike?” Laurel screeched, coming over to hold her cousin’s hands.

Marie’s brow knotted slightly. “What strike?”

Laurel couldn’t seem to breathe. “You don’t know about the newsboys’ strike?”

“Um, no. Should I? Remember, this is only my second day here,” said Marie.

“That should have been in newspapers around the world! It started a revolution in labor in this city! Isn’t Jack handsome? I wish I were you!”

Marie shook her head. “You don’t know how I BECAME his friend. Two men attacked me yesterday. Jack, Spot, and Racetrack saved me from them.”

Laurel had to hold on to Marie to stand. “You know Spot Conlon too? Augh!”

Marie suddenly had an idea. “Is your horse strong enough to carry two?”

“Is he strong? I’d say he was the strongest horse in America! Why?” said Laurel. “And don’t call him ‘my horse’. Call him Battle.”

Marie nodded absently. “I think I know how you can meet the boys.” Laurel went pale. “Do you think Battle could carry us both into town and then back here quickly and quietly?” Laurel couldn’t seem to talk. She just made noises that sounded like a yes to Marie. She took her stunned cousin back up to the house and let her gather her senses again.

When Laurel had come out of her shock, she turned to Marie. “How can we get there? My father knows you are supposed to stay here.”

“I was supposed to meet them for lunch today. I don’t need to be there until one o’clock so we have hours until we must leave. You often ride Battle for pleasure, right?” Laurel nodded. “Well, if we are questioned, simply say that you are taking me out riding with you. We will take another horse to make it look that way and put it in the pasture until we return. If all goes well, we will come riding up from the pasture late this afternoon and no one will be the wiser.”

“How long will we be doing this? How many days? My father and yours will catch on eventually no matter how careful we are.”

“It should only take me a few days—a week at the most—to convince my father to allow me to see them without secrecy. We will simply have to put on a show of you meeting them for the first time.”

“This all sounds great. There is just one thing you have forgotten.”

“What?”

“You need to learn some English. I am really getting sick of speaking French.”

The girls spent the next few hours in deep study. Marie was a quick learner and rapidly grasped the language. She learned that the boys spoke with an accent and poor grammar. Their English should not be a model for her. They began with simple phrases and worked their way up. By the time they were preparing to leave, Marie’s English was halting but exceptional for someone who had begun learning that day. They headed out to the stables again, this time purposefully. They didn’t meet anyone on the way there. Marie had changed into some of Laurel’s slacks and a blouse. They were surprisingly comfortable. They went to Battle’s stall and Laurel swung expertly onto his back. She pointed to the stall next to her. She was determined to make Marie fluent in English so she refused to speak French. “There’s a horse you can use out to the pasture. Her name is Cream.” Marie opened the door slowly. Tears pricked her eyes when she saw the striking resemblance Cream had to Sunbeam. She quickly pulled herself onto the horse and followed Laurel out of the stable. The joy of riding a horse for the first time in over two weeks filled Marie to the brim. She reached up and pulled her hairpins out, slipping them into her pocket. They soon reached the pasture where Marie dismounted and sent Cream on her way. Laurel helped her cousin onto Battle’s broad back behind her and then squeezed with her knees. Battle sprang into a fast trot. They held that pace until they were safely off Michel Chontelle’s property. Then Laurel signaled for Battle to slow to a walk. Laurel used the trip into town to continue Marie’s lessons.

About 45 minutes later they were riding through a square with a large statue of a bald man in the middle. Around the statue was a huge group of boys. Four of them were obviously worried. Marie dismounted, followed by Laurel. She tiptoed over to the group. They were all facing her but Race. Marie signaled to the others to keep quiet. They somehow managed to keep their faces straight. She came right up behind Race and said in heavily accented English, “Hello, Racetrack. How are you today?”

He whirled around. She noticed that his black eye had already begun to heal and his movement was barely stiff at all. His first reaction was to sweep her into a rib-crunching hug. After the other three had greeted her as well, Race started yelling. “Jeez, Marie!” he exclaimed. She drew back from him. “You scared us outta our wits! Why didn’t ya just tell me ya wasn’t gonna be heah?” His last question was asked in a voice that told her he was hurt. She tried to cup his face in her hands but he turned away and pushed David forward. “Ask her why she didn’t come fer lunch.”

Marie held up a hand to David. “Ask me yourself, Race. I know some English now.”

Race turned around slowly and looked at her. “Aright, why didn’t ya come ta lunch?”

Marie explained about her father and uncle. Soon everyone understood that circumstances had been beyond her control. Laurel soon came over, staring openmouthed at Jack. Marie pulled her cousin forward. “Laurel, this is Jack. Jack, this is my cousin Laurel.” Laurel held out a shaking hand to Jack who shook it, rather negligently. He was busy gazing at Battle. He had never seen such a huge horse. How could this girl who was barely taller than Marie ride a horse that big? Slightly disappointed, Laurel turned back to Marie who was talking with Spot. “Who is your friend?” Marie was asking him.

Spot put his arm around the brunette next to him. She was rather short with large brown eyes and long, dark brown hair clipped back at the nape of her neck with a flat gold barrette. She was wearing a grey wool cap similar to the ones other newsies wore. “Dis is Fanci,” he said, grinning broadly. “She—”

Fanci interrupted him, also smiling. “I keep him out of trouble.”

Spot let his jaw drop in mock-indignation. “What trouble?” The humor was lost on Marie and Laurel was sulking so the two of them went into Tibby’s continuing their banter.

“Hey Jack, I bet you couldn’t ride a horse like dat!” said Mush, nudging his friend and pointing to the steed the girls had arrived with.

“Oh really? Ya willin ta bet fifty papes on dat?” Jack replied, his ego kicking in.

“Sure.” Then Mush looked over his shoulder. “Hey guys! Who wants ta bet wit me dat Cowboy can’t ride dat big black horse?” A large group heard and the boys immediately divided. Some said that Jack could ride and others saying he couldn’t. Jack swaggered over to Laurel and asked her if he could ride Battle. She nodded and then ignored him—still slightly miffed about their introduction. Jack puffed out his chest and walked over to Battle. He had some trouble at first but was soon got up onto the horse’s broad back. The guys who had bet in his favor whooped and cheered. The guys on Mush’s side booed him good-naturedly. Jack grinned and waved like he was Teddy Roosevelt. Then Les and some of his friends playing swordfight hit the big stallion on the rump with one of their wooden swords. Battlecry whinnied and began to run. Now sides and the bet were forgotten. All the guys cheered. Jack made it about halfway across the square before he slid off the horse’s slick back. One of the guys tapped Laurel on the shoulder and pointed out the runaway horse. She stifled a giggle, put two fingers in her mouth, and whistled loudly. Battle promptly turned around and trotted over. Jack was still on the ground. Laurel left Battle with Marie and went to check on Jack.

Jack was lying on his side. Laurel helped him up. He dusted himself off and assured her he was fine. As he turned to walk away, Laurel saw, through a ragged tear in the back of his shirt, long scratch. “Not so fast,” she said, grabbing his bandanna. She herded him over to the statue and began to inspect the wound.

*****

Race was mesmerized by Marie. She was standing with the horse, calming him. He knew she was small but in these clothes—a loose, baggy shirt and too-long pants cuffed at the ankles—and standing next to a horse that was almost as tall at the shoulder as she was, she looked positively tiny. Her hair held his attention as well. The day before it had been tied up in a bun and he hadn’t been able to see much more than its color and the feathery wisps that always framed her face. Now it fell on soft waves to the middle of her back. In the sun it gleamed as though it had a film of gold on top of it. He went over to David and asked him a question. David looked a bit surprised but answered. Race smiled and snuck around behind Marie. He tapped her shoulder and she wheeled around. She laughed when she saw him. Then Race attempted to deliver his surprise. “Bon-bon-b-b-bon-jar, uh, Mada-mada-maa . . . hiya, Marie.

“Nice try, Race,” she said. “You were doing all right.”

Race blushed and looked down. Mentally he was yelling at himself. He was usually so slick with girls and now this one got his tongue all tied in knots. “So, ya speak English now?” he said, for lack of better conversation.

“I am still learning but I know enough for now.” So began Race’s first conversation with Marie.

*****

Jack was trying to be frustrated. This girl wouldn’t leave him alone! But there was something about her that made it impossible for Jack to be mad at her. Laurel was busily preparing some bandage strips. She always carried a few when she went on long rides. She paused and tucked her hair behind her ears—again.

“Heah, let me,” he said. He turned her around and picked up her hair. “I used ta play wit me mudda’s hair when I was little an I taught meself how ta tie it widout any string.” While he was talking he had been pulling her hair into a thick braid. Now he muttered, “Twist, twist, double tuck, wrap, and walah!” he let go.

Laurel reached back and found that her hair was indeed braided and tied without a single thread. “Thanks for taking care of may hair. Now get your shirt off so I can take care of that kick.” Jack sighed but pulled his shirt over his head obediently. Laurel’s eyes widened and she quickly turned him around and began swabbing the wound with her handkerchief.

She soon had it cleaned and bound and helped him put his shirt on. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment and then decided to try to make conversation. “So, dat’s yer horse, huh?” Laurel nodded. “If ya don’t mind me sayin, he’s really big. How do ya control him wit no saddle or nuthin?”

“Well, first of all, he was spooked by a little kid when you were riding him. Second, I raised him from a colt. He knows me, trusts me. He knows I won’t hurt him. He goes where I tell him to go because he loves me and I love him. We’re friends.”

Laurel was unaware of it but when she had been talking about Battle a light had come into her eyes. She had the expression of joy that one only gets when talking about or doing something one truly loves. Jack suddenly felt drawn to her. “Ya know, I wanna go ta Santa Fe someday. I wanna have a horse ranch.”

Laurel looked at him, her expression frank. “I know. I read all about you in the Sun when you won the strike. I even know your real name.”

Jack’s face hardened. “Dat ain’t me name no more. I went to da courthouse and got it changed ta Jack Kelly. Francis Sullivan ain’t who I am any more. It neva was.”

Laurel was suddenly uncomfortable. “I think Marie and I should get home before my father finds out we’re gone.”

*****

Marie and Race were deep in conversation. Race was just telling her the story of how he had gotten his nickname. He finished and there was a short silence. Marie finally worked up the courage to ask him the question that had been plaguing her since the day before. “Why did you look so strange after I showed you that picture of Pierre?”

“You’ll laugh if I tell ya,” he responded quietly.

“No, I will not. Tell me, please.”

Race shook his head. “You’ll laugh, I know.”

Marie caught Race’s eye and pinned his gaze with hers. “I would never laugh at you, Racetrack.”

Race squirmed slightly. “Well,” he began, “I thought he was your boyfriend.” He cringed a little, waiting for her to burst out laughing or run away in disgust or something. He didn’t hear anything. Cautiously, he cracked open one eye. She was smiling gently.

“Pierre is not my boyfriend. He never was and he never will be. We have been friends since childhood.” She was going to say more but Laurel came over, followed by Jack.

“Marie, I think we should go. Father might notice that we are gone before long.”

“All right. Race, Jack, can we do this again tomorrow?” said Marie.

The guys agreed and Rider called Battle. She sprang up onto the horse’s back and Race helped Marie up behind her. Before she had fully turned the horse toward her home, Jack gave her a small wave and said quietly, “G’bye, Rider.”

The girls rode back to the farm quickly. As Marie dismounted in the pasture to get onto Cream Laurel grinned down at her. “Did you hear him?”

“Hear who?” Marie was confused.

“Jack! He called me Rider! I have a nickname! I’ve never had one before! And Jack Kelly gave it to me!”

Marie twisted her fingers into the mare’s long mane and smiled at her cousin’s excitement. Then her face became serious. “Um, Laurel, is that your father?” she asked, pointing.

Laurel turned quickly and sure enough, Michel Chontelle was striding quickly towards their location. “Just let me handle this,” Laurel whispered. Marie nodded in agreement.

“Laurel, where have you been all afternoon? I have been trying to find you! Your uncle Phillippe is coming to dinner tonight,” said Michel.

Laurel was the picture of apology. “I’m sorry, Father. It’s just that Marie hasn’t ridden since she left France and she was eager to ride when she heard we had horses. I suppose we just lost track of time. I taught her quite a bit of English, so the afternoon wasn’t wasted. We’ll put the horses away and then come up to change for dinner.”

Michel was reluctant but left his daughter and niece to their business. As he went back to the house, Marie let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Do you think he does not believe us?” she asked, anxiously.

Laurel shook her head. “I think he is just displeased with me for keeping you out so long. He’ll get over it. Now, let’s get these two up to their stalls so that we can change for your father.

As they walked from the stables to the house Marie warned Laurel of how old-fashioned her father was compared to Michel. “He lets you wear pants, ride bareback, have your hair down! You do not even have to wear a corset! You are so lucky! I would speak French to Papa if I were you. He has been tense since yesterday when Race, Jack, and Spot brought me home.”

Laurel agreed as she smiled, thinking of her afternoon with Jack Kelly. Then she looked at Marie earnestly. “You must come back tomorrow! Whether in secret or openly, we have to see them again!”

Marie took gripped her cousin’s hands tightly. “I will try my best to convince Papa tonight that the boys are not dangerous. But he is very stubborn. It may take me days to turn him around. But I promise you I will return as many days as I can while we are here.”

(Author’s note: whenever Marie’s father and uncle are together I will refer to them by their first names—Phillippe and Michel respectively. Any other time, they are Mr. Chontelle, depending on which one is in the forefront of the story at that time. Okay, I will try to shut up now.)

They reached the house and ran up to Laurel’s room together. The girls assisted each other in dressing in the complicated Parisian garments and then did one another’s hair in simple styles. At the last moment Marie remembered her locket. They gracefully descended the stairs side-by-side just as Phillippe Chontelle walked into his brother’s house. He smiled benevolently at his daughter and niece as they curtsied at the foot of the stairs. They settled down around the table to eat. Between courses, Phillippe turned to his daughter. “Marie, you’re very cheerful this evening. How was your day with Laurel?”

They had rehearsed for this while dressing. “Oh, it was wonderful, Papa! You never told me my uncle had such fine horses! We rode all afternoon. Laurel even taught me some English!”

Phillippe smirked and switched abruptly to English. “How much did she teach you?”

“Oh, I learned quite a bit. She made me practice all day,” replied Marie in heavily accented but nearly perfect English.

Phillippe sat back, an impressed smile creeping across his face. “Well, Laurel. You appear to be a very good teacher.”

“I’m flattered, Uncle but really, it wasn’t difficult. Compared to French, English is quite a simple language.” Laurel spoke French to keep her uncle in his good mood in order to gain as much of a foothold for Marie as possible.

Phillippe turned back to Marie. “You say you rode all afternoon yet, your clothes are clean and your hair is not mussed.”

“Laurel was kind enough to allow me to borrow one of her riding outfits so as to spare my dress. As for my hair, I wore it pulled back in order to be able to put it back into a proper style this evening,” replied Marie.

From the other side of the table came a loud cough. It was Michel. He had his hand over his mouth as though covering a cough but Marie could’ve sworn she saw a smile behind that hand. He had seen her that day in trousers with her hair down, flying in all directions. Mercifully, he didn’t comment.

After supper Phillippe was eager to leave. Marie hugged Laurel tightly before following her father to the carriage. During the hug Laurel wished her luck in a quiet whisper. She left her uncle’s house and climbed into the coach. On the long ride home, Mr. Chontelle made idle chatter with his daughter. “Michel gave me the impression that his daughter was rude and unfeminine. He said he was hoping you could be a good influence on her. She seemed all right to me.”

“I hope I was, Papa,” Marie replied demurely. “I was hoping I could go back to Uncle Michel’s tomorrow. I have come to like my cousin very much and I get so homesick for the horses.”

“Of course you may return tomorrow. I will send you first thing in the morning.”

Marie decided to take the plunge. “Papa, you remember the boys who brought me home yesterday, no?” Mr. Chontelle nodded gravely. “Well, I was hoping you would reconsider your decision to forbid me to contact them. They had many opportunities to hurt me yesterday. I was very vulnerable. They are kind and honorable men. Just because they make their living on the streets doesn’t make them untrustworthy. How many people do you know who would have saved a woman in trouble and returned her safely home?”

Mr. Chontelle started to retort fiercely but stopped. He considered his daughter an intelligent girl and truly valued her judgement. Perhaps he was simply reacting to anxiety because she had never been in the city before. His few moments of contemplation felt like an eternity to Marie. When he finally met her gaze again she gulped and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. “Very well. I will allow you to see these boys. However, Laurel must always accompany you when you go to see them. I don’t want you to be alone with any of them.” Marie agreed, glad in spite of the stipulation.

The next day Marie awoke refreshed and energized. She dressed in her split riding skirt and a plain white blouse. She pinned her hair up loosely so that she could easily take it down when she arrived at her uncle’s. She kissed her father goodbye and climbed into the carriage. When she arrived Laurel nearly knocked her over with a tackling hug. “Well?” asked Laurel. Marie happily told her the news. Laurel squealed and pulled Marie in for another hug. “So are we going to meet them today?” Marie’s cousin was suddenly all business.

“Well, I asked them yesterday as we left but I did not set a time to meet. Shall we just go at one as we did yesterday?”

Laurel agreed and the girls headed to the house to tell Mr. Chontelle that they planned to go into the city that afternoon. The rest of the morning was passed in nervous anticipation. Laurel continued Marie’s English lessons. As soon as the clock struck one they raced out to the stables. Marie decided to ride her own horse this time and took Cream out of her stall. They knew that they no longer had to rush about to keep their secret but the girls hurried anyway. Laurel wanted to see Jack and ask him about what he had said the day before. They reached the square and found a few newsies wandering around while they waited for the afternoon edition to get printed. They jumped down from their mounts and tethered them nearby. Marie stopped a little boy and asked him if he knew where Jack and Racetrack were. He told her they were in Tibby’s having their lunch. The girls smiled at each other and headed into the tiny restaurant.

The boys closest to the door looked up when they heard the bells jingle. Laurel and Marie smiled nervously around the room. One guy next to them yelled to the far corner booth. “Hey Race, someone ta see ya!” This remark was met with laughter and ‘ooh’s of appreciation.

Race made his way from the shadowy corner, laughing with the jokers. His mirth vanished abruptly, though his smile remained in place. “Heya, Marie. I wasn’t sure you was gonna come back taday.”

“I promised, did I not?” she asked, grinning at him. She looked over when she noticed movement from Laurel’s direction. Her cousin was smiling broadly and straightening her clothes and hair. Jack was approaching from another part of the room, also smiling. He gave a small wave as he neared the trio and Laurel returned it.

“Heya, Rider,” he said quietly.

Laurel’s smiled didn’t fade but confusion registered distinctly on her face. “You called me that yesterday too. Why?”

“Well, it’s kinda fitting, ain’t it? I mean, dat’s da biggest horse I’ve eva seen and you control him like yoah inside his head. I think Rider is a great name for ya.”

(Author’s Note: Once a girl receives a nickname I will refer to her by that name for the remainder of the story. Just FYI)

“I like it a lot. I’ve never had a nickname before,” said Rider, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Jack grinned and then took on a stance of mock-discipline. “Now, I thought we talked about dis! Turn around.” She obeyed and he braided her hair again. When he finished she inspected the braid with her fingers. She felt fabric. She turned around to look at Jack and noticed that his trademark red bandanna was gone from around his neck. Her hand flew back to her braid and she pulled it over her shoulder to look at it. Sure enough, the bright red cloth was twined with her hair. She gasped and suddenly threw her arms around him. He chuckled and hugged her back. She soon realized what she had done and tried to pull away. “Uh, I wouldn’t do dat just yet,” Jack said.

“Why not?”

“Cuz ya feet ain’t on da floor!” Rider swung her legs a little and realized that he had picked her up a few inches off the ground. She laughed sheepishly as he planted her solidly on her feet. Jack took her hand. “Ya know, dere’s a bench outside. We could go talk.” Rider nodded and the new couple headed out the door.

Marie looked at Race. “We should go with them. My father agreed to let me see you but I must never be out of the company of my cousin. Maybe we could just stay close to their bench and walk around.” Race agreed and followed her outside. As they exited the restaurant they laughed. Rider was animatedly describing some of the more eventful aspects of having trained a horse as willful as Battle. She was pantomiming being thrown from the saddle of a bucking horse as Jack watched with rapt attention. As Race was watching this Marie slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. His head snapped around and she raised her eyebrows as though challenging him to mention it.

They began to wander aimlessly. “So, you’re from France, huh? What’s it like dere?” asked Race.

Marie’s face changed completely. A small smiled played at the corners of her mouth and she seemed to be looking at something very far away. “France is wonderful! We live on a large horse farm south of Burgandy. There is a wine maker not too far away who gives us free bottles of each batch. We have many horses. Mine is named Sunbeam—” Race looked at her sharply, his brows knitted. She hadn’t realized she had said the horse’s name in French. “Well, that is what I call her. I do not know how you would say her name in English. It is a . . . piece of . . . sun that comes through the clouds.”

“A sunbeam?” Race guessed.

“YES! That is it! Thank you, Racetrack!” cried Marie. “Sunbeam,” she murmured, testing out the new word. “That is why I got lost and in trouble the other day. I have never been in the city before. We have a small village a few miles away but it is not a city. It is not like this place. Here there are so many people, so many things happening. Everything is going on at once. And the buildings! They are all so huge! I feel tiny when I walk next to them. I thought my house was large, but I could fit it into one of these apartment buildings three times.” Her eyes suddenly became misty. She used her free hand to wipe away the tears before they fell. “I am sorry. I miss my home. But do not think I do not like being here with you! You are wonderful. You and your friends have been so kind to me.”

“Well, it’d be hard not ta be nice to such a pretty goil,” Race remarked quietly. “When I saw ya two days ago, even though you was cryin’ and ya face was all dirty, I knew you was something special. Den I found out dat you was rich. It ain’t nuthin personal. I was wid a rich goil a while back. She didn’t really wanna be wid ME. She wanted ta get her dad scared enough ta give her sumtin she wanted. Once she got it, she dropped me and last I hoid she ended up marrying a guy old enough ta be her grandfadda. I didn’t wanna like ya afta I found out dat you was rich too. But ya don’t seem ta be anything like Renee.”

“Racetrack, I would NEVER use you. You are so genuine, so honest. You seem to be very easygoing. Not many things would upset you.”

“You can call me Race. Most people do. So, do ya miss France a lot?”

“I prefer to call you Racetrack. I miss my home less when I am with you, but yes. I especially long to see Pierre. He is so dear. He must be so lonely without me. I brought something of his with me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grungy handkerchief. Inside was an old clay marble. The blue paint was chipping off, revealing the gray-brown underneath. “He had two when he came to work for us. The other one is yellow. He gave it to me when we became friends. When we have to leave each other we exchange them.”

Race looked down. “I don’t got anything like dat ta give ya. Well, no, maybe I do.” He reached into his vest and pulled out a brass pocket watch. He held it out to her, dangling it on its chain. “Dis was my fadda’s.”

Marie shook her head. “Race, I could not take that! It is too special. You do not need to give me anything to remember you by.”

*****

Rider and Jack were both in heaven. Jack had finally found a girl who shared his two great loves—horses and ranching. Rider had found that Jack Kelly was everything she had imagined.

“You know,” she was saying. “If you wanted to, you could come back to the farm with me and I could give you some tips on riding Battle.”

“Really? Dat would be great!” said Jack.

“Good. So, after Marie and Racetrack are finished you can just come home with us.”

“Why can’t we just go now? Dey look fine. Race won’t let nobody hoit Marie.”

“I wish we could! But her father set one condition for letting her see him. We can never be apart. I have to be something of a chaperon to her. Don’t worry. It won’t be forever. Just until my uncle learns to trust him. I know he can be trusted, MARIE knows he can be trusted. It’s just a matter of convincing her father.”

Jack nodded and sat back on the bench. Rider had been standing and she sat down next to him. He casually stretched his arm out behind her and she leaned back. “Well, ya know I wanna go ta Santa Fe someday, I suppose.”

Rider rolled her eyes. “No, I know pretty much everything about you except your lifelong dream!”

Jack laughed. “Have ya eva thought about goin down dere?”

Rider’s breath caught. “Well, I’ve never really imagined leaving my father’s farm, but now that you mention it, yes. I think it could be a beautiful experience. I’ve heard that herds of wild mustangs can run right in front of you, so close you could touch one.”

“Yeah, I hoid dat too. I’d love ta see dat,” said Jack, his voice getting softer.

Rider looked up at him and found him staring into space, a small smile playing at his mouth. “Hey. Where are you?” she asked gently.

Jack didn’t snap out of his trance but his smile widened a bit. “Santa Fe,” he whispered.

Rider frowned a little. “Do you miss me?” she asked.

“Naw,” said Jack. Rider made a little exclamation of indignance. “Yoah heah wit me.” Before she could react he had turned to her and kissed her tenderly.

*****

Race and Marie had stopped talking. They were simply walking together, enjoying each other’s company. They heard a whistle and Marie lifted her head from his shoulder when she felt him jerk. “What is it?” she asked.

He shushed her and moved so that she was standing behind him. “Why’s he comin ova heah? I ain’t done nuttin!” he muttered to himself.

The officer reached them and grabbed Race by his arm. “You’re under arrest.”

“What’d I do?” asked Race, yanking his arm away. “Ya can’t arrest somebody widout a reason—even a newsie!”

“How’s this for a reason: you have kidnapped Miss Marie Chontelle.”

“WHAT??” Race almost screamed. “I ain’t kidnapped nobody!”

“I was told that if I saw the two of you together alone to assume that she was with you under duress. Now, come with me.” The officer attempted to lead Race away but Marie stepped between the two men.

“Wait! Do I not have any say in this matter?” she asked. “Race did not kidnap me! I came to meet him for lunch today! My cousin is right over—” as she pointed she noticed that they could no longer see the bench where Rider and Jack were sitting. “Oh dear.” She thought fast. “Shall we make a deal?” she asked the officer. “Racetrack and I will allow you to accompany us to my father’s house where we will talk to my father ourselves.”

The officer looked a bit torn but agreed. He still refused to let go of Race’s arm and motioned for Marie to lead the way. They stopped at Jack and Rider’s bench and she told her cousin the shortened version of what had just happened. Rider was alarmed but Marie told her to simply take both horses back to the farm if she left before Marie returned.

*****

The trio soon got to Phillippe Chontelle’s house. The officer started to knock but Marie just opened the door and marched inside. “Papa, where are you? I need to speak with you!” Marie called up the stairs.

A door opened and shut and heavy footsteps hurried to the stairs. Mr. Chontelle came down the steps and moved to embrace his daughter but she backed up beyond his reach. “Marie, dearest, what’s the matter?” he asked, hurt.

Marie spoke English for Race’s benefit. “Papa, how could you? I thought I meant more to you than this!”

“What are you talking about?”

“THIS! Telling the police to arrest Racetrack if we are seen alone! Papa, what has happened to you!”

“I think this would be easier to discuss in the parlor.” Mr. Chontelle sent the officer away and the three of them headed into the parlor.

Marie laced her fingers with Race’s and they sat together on a sofa. Mr. Chontelle gave them a pained look and sat in an overstuffed chair. “Papa,” Marie began, her voice pacifying. “Why all this? I thought you had begun to realize that I can make a decision when it comes to the people I know. Racetrack, Jack, and Spot saved my life two days ago. They were alone with me for the next hour after that while they took me to a restaurant to find a friend who could speak French so that they could understand me. Then they were alone with me again for another half an hour while they led me home. How many times do you think they could have hurt me? And yet they did not. If that does not make them trustworthy I do not know what does.”

Mr. Chontelle ran a hand through his slightly thinning hair. “Marie, please forgive me. I don’t know what has come over me. I am your father. I provide for you and keep you safe.”

“Is that what this is about? You think I am replacing your protection with that of Racetrack and his friends?” asked Marie, “Well, in a way you are correct. As much as you might want to, you cannot be with me all the time. When I am not at the house I need friends who can look out for me. If I am forced to survive this trip with no friends outside this family it will not be pleasant for anyone.”

“I know that. It’s just that you are my little girl. Now you are suddenly growing up so fast that I can’t keep track! At home in France you stayed innocent. You didn’t need anyone else except us. Here in this city full of strangers you have the opportunity to make many friends and when you do you may forget about the people who love you the most.”

“Papa! I could never forget you or anyone who loves me! I still miss our home. I miss Pierre and Sunbeam and everyone else. I promise that no matter how many friends I make or . . . what man I love, you will always be first in my heart. You are my Papa and I will always love you.”

(Author’s note: I realize it is the epitome of cheesiness but she had to say something to shut him up and let her get on with her life!)

Race felt a bit out of place and forgotten. He squeezed Marie’s hand. She turned to him and asked what he wanted. “Has ya fadda met me yet? I mean, besides when I came ta your house beat to a pulp.”

“Oh, I am sorry Racetrack. Papa, this is Racetrack Higgins. He has been very kind to me. He has shown me only the utmost respect and courtesy.”

Mr. Chontelle looked at his daughter and then at Race. Then his eyes moved to their entwined fingers in Marie’s lap. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and stood. He held out his hand to Race. Race looked at Marie who nodded reassuringly. The short Italian got to his feet and clasped Mr. Chontelle hand firmly. Mr. Chontelle looked steadily at the newsie. “Hello, Racetrack Higgins. I am Phillippe Chontelle. I hope that what my daughter has said about your treatment of her is accurate.”

“Oh, it is, sir. I ain’t done nuttin ta Marie. A lotta times I thought she forgot about me. I promise dat me an’ my friends will keep a good eye on ‘er. We won’t let nuttin hoit ‘er.”

Mr. Chontelle winced a little at Race’s grammar but quickly masked it. “You will have her here or at her uncle’s by nine o’clock every evening. Marie, you are always to wear a skirt, never trousers like your cousin. If you wish we will buy you more riding skirts as you seem to prefer them for your outings. I would prefer that you stay in the company of your cousin at all times but it is not a requirement. With that said, Racetrack, do try not to break her heart.”

Marie smiled and threw her arms around her father’s neck. He hugged her tightly and then pulled away. “I have something for you. Wait here.” He quickly walked up the stairs and soon came back down. “Here, this was your mother’s. she would want you to have it.” He held out a necklace to her. It was an opal teardrop dangling from a fine silver chain.

Marie took it gently in her hands and examined it. Then she turned and handed it to Race. “Racetrack, will you put it on?” With slightly shaky hands Race fastened the tiny clasp around her neck. As he finished Marie suddenly gasped. “We still have time to tell everyone the good news! Papa, may we leave? Race will come for dinner tonight and the two of you shall get acquainted.” Mr. Chontelle nodded his assent and the couple rushed out the door. As they headed down the street Marie suddenly twirled around to look at Race. “You know, I was talking about you when I said ‘any man I love’.”

Race was almost speechless. “You—you love me??”

Marie smiled and nodded. “Yes, I think I do.” Then she looked at him a little closer. “Except for this little bit of hair, right here over your forehead.”

“I’ll cut dat.”

Marie laughed and looped her arm through his and they continued on down the street towards where their friends were waiting.

**Epilogue**

With Mr. Chontelle’s blessing, Marie and Race’s love continued to bloom—as did Jack and Rider’s. Spot and Fanci started a quick succession of weddings several years later followed by Marie and Race and then Timi and Mush. Jack and Rider decided to wait until Jack was more financially secure before marrying.