“Just another minute, Miss Mirielle,” Frankie called over, “and I kin whistle fer them.” He handed off a paper and collected a coin from a businessman.
She cupped her hand around perfectly formed lips and called back over the street din. “We can wait.” As the boy sold his last few papers, she turned the conversation back to where they’d left off. “There are a couple of shops that share day old bread and odd items. Our church runs the school. I’m able to collect any leftover food as charity for the needy. These children are the neediest of the needy.”
Another trolley clattered to a stop at the corner. Frankie ran to meet it whistling and singing out his headlines. The disembarking passengers raised the noise level in the darkening streets even as the packed snow muffled their feet.
“I don’t know what we’ll do if more children show up.” She shrugged. “ I suppose we just keep trusting as we keep on doing.”
Evan leaned a little closer and spoke nearer Mirielle’s ear so she could hear him over the din. “He’s so confident. How old is Frankie?” He inhaled the scent of lavender and cedar. The smells of peace, comfort, and womanly softness. He hovered a tad longer. The starvation from loneliness struck him in the gut as harshly as a lack of food.
Mirielle shivered in the wind while her cheeks pinked. “Uh, around twelve or thirteen he thinks.”
“He thinks?” Evan pulled away before she had a chance to consider him a looney. “He doesn’t know?”
She looked up. “He could be younger, but he tells folks as old as they’ll believe so they’ll leave him be.” A huskiness crept into her voice. Had his nearness caused it or was the cold affecting her throat? Evan pushed the thought away trying to concentrate on her words rather than the sound of her voice. “Frankie’s family never had money to celebrate birthdays, and then his father died in a riot for worker’s rights. His mother fell ill while working a factory job and never recovered.”
“He’s shared all that with you?”
“Over a period of time, as I’ve gained his trust.” Mirielle looked toward the end of the street and tipped her head in the direction of the rail yards even as she pushed her hands back into the muff. “Frankie arrived on the orphan train with his little brother last year sometime. He’d been on the city streets in New York before the authorities forced him out.” A shimmer of moisture filled her eyes by the time she turned to face him again. “By the time they rounded up the street urchins to clean up their problem with vagrant children back east, Frankie was too old and streetwise for people to want to adopt him—and not quite big enough to work the farms.”
As a gust of wind blew, Evan moved to block Mirielle from as much of the cold onslaught as he could. “How old do you think his little brother is then?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but possibly six.”
About the same age as Joseph. Evan’s son could be in the same shoes, or lack of shoes, if he didn’t find him. If he was still breathing. Lord, have you sent compassionate people to care for Joseph as you have these youngsters?
“Heya, Miss Mirielle. Who’s ya got with ya?” Frankie hopped up on the sidewalk with them.
“Frankie, this is Mr. Russell. He’s here to help today with our reading lesson.”
Evan hooked a wide-eyed stare over Frankie’s head at Miss Mirielle. When did he say he’d help teach? “I am?”
She peeked up from under the brim of her gray winter bonnet while long pink chin ribbons flapped against her coat buttons. “You do know how to read, correct, Mr. Russell?”
“Yes, yes I can read. I thought…well I thought…” What exactly did he think he’d be doing when Miss Sheehan asked for help?
Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t so sure the guys ‘er gonna want a stranger’s help. We bin hearin’ stuff ‘n such ’bout getting rounded up again.” He gave Evan a slow study.
“Come now, Mr. Russell isn’t going to round you up any more than I am. We’re going to teach you how to read, so you can sell more papers, and one day get a better paying position.” She gave Frankie her best no-nonsense I-expect-your-best-effort teacher face to make her point. Then she added, “However, I do want to ask your assistance with something.”
Frankie’s face lost the icy suspicion. “Me and my guys would do pretty near anything to help you and Miss Calista.”
“After our lesson today, Mr. Russell would like to hire your team to help him find someone. Do you think you boys would be up to that project? I think there’d be some pay in it for all of you, right Mr. Russell?”
Evan latched onto the cue. “Frankie, my son is missing. His name is Joseph and he’s about the same age as Miss Sheehan, here, says your little brother might be.”
That suspicious look crept back over Frankie’s face as stepped backward.
“I’d like to hire you and your crew to scour Helena and help me find him, if he’s still here.”
“How’d ja lose yer boy, Mr. Russell? That’s somethin’, losin’ a kid out here.”
“Frankie!” Miss Mirielle admonished, “He didn’t do it on purpose.”
Frankie looked duly chastened for a moment as he scuffed a toe at the sidewalk. Then squinted his eyes at Evan, waiting him out in silence.
“No, it’s all right.” Evan smiled through his own suspicions. What was it with this kid? The trust factor felt more like a ride in a runaway stagecoach. And about as subtle. “He was staying with family because his ma passed away. They’re house burned down last winter and I lost my brother’s family.” Evan’s voice thickened, “No one knew what happened to my son though. I didn’t know until I could get through the mountain pass from my stake.”
Frankie stared down at the ground. “That’s sure a sad thing ta have happen.” He looked up, but didn’t quite meet Evan’s eyes, and said in a guarded tone, “Yeah, let me talk with my guys and we’ll be lettin’ you know.”
Whistling a high-pitched signal, Frankie took off toward three other boys. He pointed to Mirielle and Evan, then rounded a building out of sight.
“Huh, wonder where he went?” Evan looked into the distance. “That boy sure can whistle.”
“He just went to collect the kids further downtown. They use a series of whistles to communicate.” Her hand moved to the corner of the basket. “I always bring a little sweet enticement on reading days to reward their efforts.” She lifted the dishtowel revealing red McIntosh apples, sandwiches, and cookies inside the basket. “Best students I’ve ever had.”
Evan looked from the basket to her smiling eyes and swallowed hard. She’d be a sweet enticement enough for him to do just about anything. If she wanted him to read to boys this afternoon, that’s exactly what he’d do. This sweet-hearted woman was the closest he’d come to any breakthrough ideas for finding Joseph. It was downright enjoyable to see her mind spin those golden threads like a spider weaving an artistic web sparkling in the sunny dew.
He blinked away the romantic thoughts. His focus needed to be on one target—finding Joseph. Women could wait. Evan slid away to give himself lavender-free air. But Miss Mirielle’s presence kept sending flickering sparks deep into Evan’s gut.
~*~
“Here’s some hard-working newsies, if I’ve ever seen one!” Mirielle laughed as she handed out nine turkey sandwiches. “But where are Joey and Ernst?”
Frankie scrunched up his lips for a moment. “We had some extra papers so I hadta send ‘em back. I’ll take ‘em their stuff, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, Frankie, but they’re going to miss reading and the extra treat, too, then?” She held up a cookie. A round of oohs and ahs came from eager students. But the boys knew they had to do their lesson prior to the last reward, even one as special as a thickly frosted cookie. If only her regular students would be so easily rewarded. Her heart hurt that the newsies could count the number of cookies they’d ever had and stop before hitting all ten fingers while the children in her classes could likely count that in a matter of weeks. What one child took for granted a
nother held as precious treasure.
“If’n you’ll let me, I’ll borrow yer book and show what we done learnt today.”
Mirielle dipped her head thinking. Losing the reading book would put them weeks behind. Frankie already displayed more responsibility than most boys his age. If she showed trust it’d be a better lesson than if she argued for her way. “Well, that sounds like a good compromise. Let’s get situated. Where would you like to go for our lesson boys?”
Jonathan piped up, “Miss Mirielle, we got told we could all sit in the hotel ballroom from now on when it wasn’t bein’ used since we took such good care of it after the last party. The manager even said we could pull out chairs if’n we’s ta put ‘em back when we’re done.”
“My goodness that’s generous. I am so impressed, boys, that you’ve earned such respect after the kitten incident. Only hard work and courteous behavior earns those kind of rewards.”
“We cleaned up and then went back and offered to work off our trouble. We been gittin’ asked to help ever since.” Frankie shrugged. “Don’t think it’s gonna be enough though to keep us together though. People jes don’t like street kids.” He dug into the sandwich.
The businessmen of this city had been offering various meeting spaces as the boys did odd jobs for them. What if those same businessmen were willing to sponsor the cost of these boys education? With the volume of millionaires in this city—there more than she could track from rich mining strikes. If anyone could afford donating, all those men could. Wouldn’t that be an excellent investment, but also a future infusion into the workforce? Young boys would learn gratitude, respect, and loyalty because good men provided opportunity. The ideas pinged around in her mind growing with each new thought. But without discipline, none of it would work. And without trust, discipline would just feel like judgment or angry words from adults then that would feed the boys’ distrust. A vicious cycle Mirielle wanted to halt.
Trust and discipline. Everything hinged on those two elements. What if she built both around the newsie’s already strong team spirit? Something they had to learn together, rather than individually—like an orchestra. Mirielle glanced at the scruffy group. No, that would take years both she and they didn’t have.
Mirielle held open her arms and gathered the boys into a group, Evan behind them. She sent him a quick nod and smile. “Listen and see what you think.”
She lowered her voice to keep their attention on the importance of her words. One teaching concept that worked well in nearly any situation. The quieter she spoke, the more the boys leaned in to hear. “I’ve concocted a plan to keep you all together. I think I can convince everyone to go along with it.” She paused allowing their imaginations to catch onto the adventure while she plunked the food basket onto the sidewalk near her feet.
“A plan?” Frankie pressed to the front of the group.
Would they catch onto her Tom Sawyer tactics? “Oh yes. I might need a little help though. It’ll take some crafty newsies to pull it off. But if we do, yes if we do…” She took a deep breath and whistled through her teeth mimicking the boys’ signal for a grand sale.
One boy puffed his chest and proclaimed, “We can do anything, Miss Mirielle.”
“I believe you can.” Building the mystery and adventure, Mirielle added, “If we pull this off, I think you boys will be the pride of Helena. I mean,” she threw her arms wide and tossed her head back. “You boys will be what our town folks talk about for years to come.” She leaned back into the circle. “Nobody will want you gone. They’ll be begging you to stay like the hotel manager just did. The pride of Helena, they’ll say.” The beauty of her plan included that Mirielle wholeheartedly believed it too.
The boys’ grins spread across faces and they buzzed questions. “What do we gotta do, Miss Mirielle?”
“Yeah, what?”
“He got somethin’ ta do with it?” One boy thumbed a gesture at Evan.
Mirielle wanted to burst out laughing at Evan. He was as tuned into her as each of these young ones. All hung on her words as if she were the Pied Piper. She built to the climax. “That’s the icing on the cake! Yes!” She stood up and fisted her hands on her hips.
“Ya gonna tell us? Huh?” Jonathan tugged at her sleeve.
“You bet I am.” She hunkered down into a huddle, shoulder-to-shoulder with boys crowding in closer. “We’re going to do something amazing. Something extraordinary. Are you listening?”
They nodded in unison, not one of them noticing Evan any longer.
“We’re going to create the Newsies Pipe and Drum Corps. You are all going to get the chance to go to school, eat three meals a day, and sleep in normal beds in a dorm. No more scrounging. No more worrying about getting shipped off to military school or forced into indenture. You boys are the future of Helena and we’re going to make it happen together.”
“Ooh, beds.” Danny said in awe until Jonathan elbowed him. “Hey!”
“How we gonna do that?” Jonathan asked. “That’s some pretty tall ‘spectations.”
“We’re going to have some help from the men of this city.” She’d sell each and every one of them on the idea. And if they told her no, well, she knew their wives and sweethearts. “Tonight, after our lesson, you boys are going to scour the city for Mr. Russell’s son. He’s going to pay you.” She looked up at Evan for confirmation. At his nod she continued, “While you’re doing that, every time you speak to another soul you are going to prove you’re courteous, kind, and hard-working. You hear me?”
A chorus of, “Yes ma’am” rounded the group.
“Every interaction you have with people on the street will be polite. You are now the most important salesmen Helena ever had. You are going to show the people of Helena that you’re trustworthy. If you’ll do your part, you’ll give me the opportunity to do mine.”
Frankie cocked his head, voice dripping with the collective curiosity. “What ‘cha gonna do?”
“I’m going to talk till I’m blue. I’m going to get every one of you sponsors so you can go to that private school I work at, get instruments, and give you all the same opportunities that rich boys get.” She stopped talking and gave each newsie direct eye-to-eye contact. “Can you give me the time to put it all together?”
“I can.”
“Yep.”
“I dunno if it’s gonna work.” Jonathan tossed into the crew. “You gonna get us all taught up ter be like him?” Jonathan thumbed at Evan. “And playin’ some kind of sissy flute instrument?”
The newsies began to shuffle as if the plan unraveled. Mirielle’s stomach twisted. What else could she do if the boys didn’t want her help? They were running out of time.
Evan cleared his throat.
The boys all swung their heads around to see him.
“Pipe and drum sissy? No, sir.” He shook his head. “Those men are the fiercest, bravest men on the battlefield. Without the fife, the drum, and the men brave enough to go forth, we’d have no nation. Who do you suppose kept the rest of the men marching? Who do you suppose gave courage to the battalion. As long as they could hear the music and see the flag, our forefathers refused to give up the fight. And that is why we have our freedom today, my young friends. It’s thanks to the brave men that kept the battle going.”
A collective “Oh,” and wide eyes on each child put the plan back into play.
Jonathan asked, “So yer thinkin’ we kin be like them? Brave and free?”
He pursed his lips and made a show of considering the plan while rubbing his chin. “I believe it can work. I believe enough in Miss Mirielle’s plan that I’ll work with her on figuring out the logistics on one condition.” He lifted a finger to match his words.
“What’s that?” Frankie asked.
“You boys start with me. You work hard helping me find Joseph, I’ll share all I know, and I’ll work hard for you in return. Might even be a sponsor if Miss Mirielle will help me understand what’s all involved.”
Frankie sized
up Evan. “So you’d do that even if’n you gets yer boy?” The rest of the newsies watched Frankie’s body language and waited. His eyes narrowed again as they had earlier. The other boys followed suit. Frankie chewed his bottom lip. The rest of the boys worked their bottom lips.
“I would.”
Then, after a gut-wrenching pause for Mirielle, Frankie nodded slowly. “Deal.”
Evan stuck out a large hand, “Shake on it.” He glanced around the group. “Every one of you. A man’s word matters.”
Frankie grabbed onto Evan’s hand. They pumped twice. Frankie stood back never breaking eye contact. “You good for yers?”
“I am. Are you?”
“I am.”
“What about the rest of you?”
They lined up. Eight more boys pumped Evan’s hand.
Would he really support her in the long haul as he just did here?
Then Evan turned and stuck his hand out to Mirielle. “Do we have an agreement?”
A happy smile spread across her face. She looked at each boy again. The anticipation pouring out of them like the smell of bacon on a Sunday morning, strong and full of rich promise. “We sure do, Mr. Russell. We sure do.” They shook hands to the hoots and hollers of the newsies.
Chapter 3
The lesson ended. Mirielle handed out a large, heavy gingerbread cookie slathered in thick, white frosting to each student as they finished cleaning up the hotel ballroom. “Frankie, here’s the extra cookies for our two missing boys.”
“They’ll be real excited, thanks.”
She put a hand on his forearm and held him with her for a moment. “But do please help them come next time?” Mirielle watched as Frankie’s eyes shuttered. Had the two gotten themselves into trouble and Frankie covered for them? “You can tell me if one of the newsies ever needs my help.”
He looked away and busied himself with carefully wrapping a napkin around the delicacies and then tucking cookies into a coat pocket. “I know, Miss Mirielle.”
Eleven Pipers Piping Page 2