Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (24 page)

“Tell me everything Scotty said before he left, where was he going to look for us?”

Mary said Scotty was nearing six feet tall, his hair was curly and black and he let it flow out behind its cap, he had filled out tremendously from the farm work he had done, was strong and competent. He was going to search the Five Points, the Brewery, the docks; he wanted to pick up work and had hopes of finding us as well. He left Binghamton for numerous reasons, but didn’t know she was with child. He was coming to New York to find us, but also for respite.

“Well,” I cracked my knuckles deprecatingly, not happy with the situation in Binghamton that Mary described, but certain we could find a way through all the nonsense. Why, Scotty and Mary could live with us, we had a spare room we used for Candy’s sewing, but it would be easy enough to clean out. I was already picturing a cradle and bed; the thought amused and delighted me. “I’d better be going then.” I went to Mary and patted her arm, “I’ll be back with your lad, have no worries about that.”

I had not wandered through the Five Points in some time, preferring the fresher air in midtown Manhattan to the polluted stink of the slums. I also feared running into anyone from the Roach Guards, I wouldn’t be forgiven easily and wanted no part of that life anymore.

I heard tell of a grand fire taking nearly half the shops several years ago, apparently the looting was fierce and shop keeps lost everything. Still, there were structures in place with signs depicting bakeries, grocery stores, clothing, and more.

I walked up and down Anthony Street before making my way to Cross, and then over to Orange Street. There was no sight of a man fitting Scotty’s description. I hated to admit it to myself but I feared if a man came to New York in search of work and was unable to find it, he might be lured into the underworld of fighting. Fighting was in Scotty’s blood, I had put it there when I allowed him to train and get revenge on the gang who nearly took his life when they caught him spying for me. I encouraged him and watched him grow from a scrawny youth to a kid with confidence in the ring. There was decent money in the ring, especially for an unknown who would have a better split if he found the right promoter.

Fights always took place at dusk; they were even more prevalent now as the rate that immigrants came to New York City was still growing alarmingly. Men fresh from the boat jumped into the ring for quick money.

I asked around about the upcoming fights and heard tell of Vladimir the Victor, any man even willing to step in the ring with him was given a large sum with no split. He earned it, too, and mostly likely used it for medical bills if what the townsfolk said was accurate. Vladimir was lethal, a hulk of a man with no empathy, he pummeled his opponents and had to be pulled off by three or four men before his opponent died.

I found the location of the fights and grabbed a beer from the tavern before heading to the rings. I would need a stout or two to loosen up and face the lifestyle once more.

A changing landscape of figures milled about a large arena with three levels of decks. The top level had ladies entertaining men, as many as six per hour. It was a lucrative business for the women on fight nights. Bookies took bets, talked up one opponent over another and soon enough the first men appeared in the ring. It was a lightweight fight; the men were immigrants, speaking no English and looking weary before the bell rang. The red corner came out strong, the fighter was scrappy and stronger than he looked, he had the blue corner against the ropes most of the first and second round, then knocked him out cold in the third. The next fight started immediately, I sat watching both the fights and the people milling about. Asking everyone if they heard of a fighter named Scotty. No one knew Scotty but I was determined to find him. I slipped upstairs in case the ladies knew him, I paid a jezebel for any information she had, and she whispered what she could do to me for just a few more coins. “No thanks,” I replied and noted her stunned reaction; surely she was not often turned down with such sales tactics.

The bookies were busy, but I approached under the guise of placing a large bet on a fighter named Scotty.

“How much you gonna wager?” The bookie in the tan cap asked before spitting a wad of chew to his left.

“Well, I’ll wager my entire wallet on Scotty.”

“Okay, then Scotty it is, he is the ninth fight. Got a tough match up that one, you sure now?”

Holy shit, Scotty, or at the very least a fighter named Scotty was here somewhere. Fighters warmed up all over the arena, some doing so to psych up their opponents, others to calm their nervous energy. But if I remembered correctly Scotty liked quiet before his fights so he could focus. I ducked into every corner, looking for any place offering privacy, to no avail. The eighth fight was ending and in just few minutes Scotty would be in the ring.

The applause settled down and the man in the blue corner wearing yellow knickers took center ring, next the man in red was called forward. Scott was in the zone. He still looked like the kid I pulled off the streets nearly ten years ago, but he’d lost his youth. Before me now was a stone faced man.

The bell signaling round one dinged, Scotty danced around the ring, assessing the skills of the man before him who looked far more experienced. He was rusty but looked well fed and in shape. Hopefully he had endurance as well as youth on his side. The man in knickers closed in on Scotty, nailing him with a series of body shots, Scotty gripped his gut and left his face open, he was punched in the jaw, spit went flying, but he was standing strong. He came at his opponent strong and fierce, landing long straight punches, protecting his kidneys. After two minutes the bell rang and I ran to his corner, “Clean and fast, Scotty, it’s the only way to beat this guy.”

“What the hell?” Scotty was breathing heavily and shocked at the sight of me.

“I’ll explain it all later, now you have to get in there and be quick about it, behind the ears alright? Knock him there and it’ll mess his equilibrium, then you’ll have your chance on the body. You can do it. I massaged his shoulders and gave him a sip of water that he spit on the floor beside the ring before standing up and bouncing on the balls of his feet, renewed. The Gutter Boys in his corner stepped aside and let me coach him.

“Let’s go, Scotty, do this.” I cheered him on.

The man in yellow was called Roger, and he came out with renewed gusto as well, he was on Scotty before he could react, pinning him against the ropes, but Scotty shimmied out from behind and hit him with a series of jabs, then an uppercut that had him staggering backwards, no time to think, he followed with a body shot, knocking Roger off balance. Roger stumbled to the outside of the ring, Scotty pinned him and pummeled him with jabs to the head alternating with body shots, Roger didn’t know where to protect his body, Scott was too fast for him, just as Roger put his gloves up to protect his head, Scotty would lead left and go right on his body. It was a tough round for Roger. The bell rang and Scotty sat in his corner, breathing heavy and bleeding profusely from the punch to his cheek in the first round. I taped it, gave him more water and encouraged him to keep at his body. Roger was tiring out quickly.

The third and fourth rounds were fairly even, Scotty gave as much as he got and both men were exhausted from the battle. Men in the arena were taking notice of Scotty and bets were rapidly placed, the crowd cheered him on giving him renewed vigor. He finished Roger in the fifth round, one strong right hook and the man went down for an eight count; in fact he was still down when we took the winnings and left the arena.

I put my arms tight around Scotty, then pulled back and got a good look at him. He was scraped up pretty bad, bleeding from his eyebrow, cheek and mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up huh?”

“How did you find me?” Scotty mumbled threw swollen lips, adrenaline pulsing through his veins dulling any pain.

“It’s quite a story, first let’s tend to you, then I’ll tell you everything.” They walked towards the doctor’s station and had Scotty looked at and tended too. He had four stitches placed above his eyebrow; the gouge in his right cheek had congealed so stitches weren’t necessary. I gave him ice for his lips and the doctor wrapped his ribs that were not broken but sore. Ointment was applied to his fists that were ripped open and bleeding at the knuckles, and he gulped down the fresh water given to him and looked better already.

Bookies were approaching all at once, asking him if he’d be back, and reminding him of Vlad’s offer of one hundred and fifty just to get in the ring. There were numerous fights he could get in on but right now all he cared about was the man at his side, taking care of him once more.

“I’m proud of you, son. That was a great fight, you look good out there….you been training some, huh?” It was as if no time had elapsed between the two men who settled right into comfortable conversation.

“I’m not sure if you’d call it training, but yes, I have kept myself fit.” Scotty clearly didn’t want to talk about himself right now; he had too many questions for Pauli. “Is Candy here?” He scanned the crowd for her blonde hair, but it was mostly men on the bottom level watching the fights.

“No, she is at home, waiting for you.”

“Did you know I was here? I’ve been looking for you for months, is my brother or sister there too?” He was full of excitement, looking like a child himself.

I shook my head and looked towards the ground, remembering the way Candy carried the child high in her belly before the miscarriage. “We lost the child, and there have not been others. Boy, I have never been so happy in all my life, seeing you today, out there in the ring, you did well.”

We stood up and I directed Scotty down Anthony Street in the direction of home, he counted his winnings as we walked, me telling him about our Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe, before his head cleared and he stopped cold in his tracks.

“Wait, how did you know I was in New York?” It made no sense.

“Well it seems someone else was looking for you, and that someone stumbled into my shop this morning, took one look at me and fainted.”

“What?” Scotty was purely confused.

“Mary, she recognized me from your description, she was dehydrated and a bit tired from all her walking in her condition.”

“What condition? What the hell is she doing here?” Scotty breathed through his teeth, seething at the thought of her alone in the city.

“Is she alone? Tell me straight Pauli, what is going on?”

“Well she is and she isn’t alone, she seems to have a shadow, a little girl around seven years old, and she has been here over a week looking for you.”

Scotty quickened the pace practically jogging, eager to get to Mary.

“She has been here that long, alone, oh my God, how far uptown are you; I’m hailing a carriage.”

Scotty looked around for a trolley or carriage, sure enough a trolley heading uptown stopped at the corner before us and we ran to catch it.

“You said something else, what is the condition she is in, is she hurt, did someone hurt her?”

He had a faraway look in his eyes, “I’ll kill anyone who hurts her.”

“No she is not hurt, Candy is tending to her, and she is resting. I’ll let her tell you the rest, lad; we’ll be home in a few minutes.” Home, the word conjured images of chaos, boisterous little ones, and the word grandpa suddenly etched itself in my mind.

“You look amused.” Scotty said.

“I am, it’s been quite a day.”

Chapter 21 The Proposal

The
Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe
had a bright and airy atmosphere, Pauli led me through the front door and I caught the eye of a child behind the counter at the register. Pauli nodded to her and asked if everything was going okay, then held a curtain aside for me and ushered me through a narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs.

The space was colorful and cozy, but nothing filled my heart with joy as the sight of Candy did.

She was in the den, and hopped up immediately when I entered the room.

“Scotty!” She whispered holding my face, “Look at you!”

I picked her up and spun her around, she hadn’t changed a day.

“Candy, it’s wonderful to see you! Where is Mary, is she okay? I must see her at once.”

“She is resting comfortably, but I know you would be a welcome sight.”

I opened the door to the bedroom and found Mary sleeping on her back, looking as beautiful as always, an avalanche of blankets kicked to her feet; she had a protruding belly, could it be?

She must have felt my stare for she woke with a start, speechless at the sight of me all banged up before her.

“Scotty!” She whispered my name before the tears spilled out.

I kneeled at her bedside, kissing her, and placing my hand on her belly. She was a welcome sight to say the least, and she had moxie coming here on her own.

“Is this what you came to tell me about then, Red?” I kept my hand on her belly in awe.

“It is, are you mad?” she asked, peering directly into my eyes.

“I am only mad you came on your own, it’s even more dangerous now than it was a decade ago, but mad about the baby, never. I am delighted.” I hugged her close and crawled into bed with her, nervous and excited at the same time at the prospect of being a father.