“Luigi, I need to go now, but we’ll meet again, I promise. But you must promise me something too. You must not tell anyone—not even Marco—that you’ve seen me.”
I pressed a dollar into his hand. “Take it.”
Mr. Hallanan paid me each week, just as he had promised. Maybe I could send that money home someday.
But right now that didn’t matter. Because by the time I got to the stable on Barrow Street and the first horse whinnied a greeting, I was well on my way to knowing exactly what I had to do—even if it meant I’d probably never hear Mary read the end of Black Beauty.
CHAPTER 28
A bandit’s plan
A plan! After all this time, I finally had one. Oh, I know you’re probably wanting to remind me that I’ve said this before and that, in fact, I’d already failed spectacularly with wild, foolish schemes full of moll-buzzing and secret stashes. But, I promise you, this one was different—though perhaps just as dangerous.
I mulled over the details while I brushed horses, mucked out stalls, filled pails of water, and dumped fresh hay into troughs.
I whispered it to Sheridan, running my hands gently over his scars. He listened to every word, his ears alert. Sometimes he made a soft nickering sound, as if he approved.
I was so distracted that, over supper, Mary had to jab me in the ribs with her elbow to ask for the salt.
“You’re a million miles away tonight, lad,” said the blacksmith. “How was your afternoon with Mr. Riis?”
“It was…it was fine.”
“Was it a neighborhood you know?” he said casually, reaching for a piece of bread and buttering it.
“A little,” I answered. Once again, I got the feeling Mick Hallanan didn’t buy the story I’d spun for him. I felt sure he was watching me closely. That he allowed me to eat at the table with them was probably only because of what we had been through together during the blizzard.
I felt ashamed of sitting there, with all those lies between us.
And maybe that’s one reason I made the decision I did: I wouldn’t tell Mr. Hallanan about my scheme. I glanced at Mary. I couldn’t share it with her. I had lied to her just as much. I wouldn’t tell Max or Mr. Riis either.
No, I would tell none of my new friends what I planned to do. They had trusted me, given me responsibilities, treated me with respect and kindness.
And what had I done in return? I had lied—lied about everything. I had lied out of shame, but mostly out of fear. I was a coward.
I didn’t have Mary’s strong heart, or the courage to tell the truth. Would Mary even want to be friends with an escapee from the House of Refuge? After what had happened to him in the past, what would Mr. Riis say if he found out I had stolen a locket? And would Max and Mr. Hallanan give a pickpocket a job?
No, I had to make things right in my own way—even if it meant I never saw any of them again. I would do this alone.
—
As promised, I met Tony and Carlo at Bandits’ Roost the next week. I wanted to make them think I would go along with the idea of robbing Mr. Hallanan. That would be my best chance of ensuring that Mr. Hallanan’s money actually got to the bank.
“I’ve been keeping my eyes and ears open,” I announced. “The blacksmith hasn’t gone to the bank since the blizzard because of his injured ankle. Usually it’s the stableboy’s job, and Tim returns tomorrow, but only part-time. So I’ll still be there too.”
I lowered my voice. “I overheard the blacksmith say he’ll send Tim to the bank after his chores are done. Tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock is when we put our scheme into action. He’ll be headed to the East River Savings Institution, a bank at Broadway and West Third.”
“We’ll be keeping Tim in sight, though he won’t see us,” said Tony. “I think Broadway will be the best place to make our move.”
“I agree. Broadway is crowded,” said Carlo, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s a good place to make a touch.”
“What about you, Rocco?” asked Tony.
“I’ll still be at the stable,” I said. “I’m sure Mr. Hallanan won’t trust me to go with Tim. I’ll get away tomorrow night and meet you back here at Bandits’ Roost and we can divide the plunder.”
That’s what I proposed. But I had something else entirely in mind. I intended to sneak out of the stable and take the pouch from Tim before Tony and Carlo did. Then I’d get to the bank and deposit the money safely—without being seen by any of them.
Unfortunately, plans don’t always go the way you expect.
—
The next day, Tim and I were in the courtyard when Mr. Hallanan handed Tim a leather pouch. Right away, I ran into a snag.
“Rocco, I’d like you to go to the bank with Tim,” the blacksmith instructed.
“I don’t need him along, sir,” protested Tim.
“Well, it’s a large deposit. It won’t hurt to have you both on the lookout for pickpockets. All right, Rocco?”
“Uh…um, yes, sir. Also, if you remember, Mr. Riis asked me to help him today, so I’ll go meet him after we’re done,” I said. “I…I might not be back until much later.”
Or not at all.
“That’s fine. He said you’ve been quite helpful.” Mr. Hallanan nodded. “Just be careful after dark.”
I nodded. As I watched, Tim slipped the pouch into his left jacket pocket. We were ready to go.
Now what? My mind raced as we walked under the archway of the courtyard I’d first seen that stormy night a few weeks ago.
I’d had it all figured out so perfectly. I’d have to come up with a new idea—fast.
—
Tim and I set off together from Barrow Street. Or, rather, Tim marched briskly off, leaving me to trot a few steps behind him, trying to keep up.
I didn’t catch sight of Tony or Carlo, but I knew they must be nearby. They’d be following and would be surprised to see me walking with Tim. Would Tony now expect me to act as a stall with Carlo, just as we used to do?
It was less than a half mile to Broadway. I wouldn’t have much time to prevent my old mob from taking the money. I knew if they got their hands on it, my chances of getting it back were pretty slim.
Luckily, even the side streets were busy on a spring afternoon. As the crowds pressed close against us, I continued to walk slightly behind Tim on his left, on the outside of the sidewalk. When I made my move, I didn’t want to be hemmed in.
Tim hadn’t said a word to me. To him, I was as annoying and unwanted as a horsefly. The sooner I was gone from Mr. Hallanan’s, the better. The stable was his domain.
I could feel my heart pounding. My hands were sweating. I reviewed in my head everything Tony, Carlo, and Pug had ever told me about the secrets of a good touch.
We were less than two blocks from Broadway when I spotted Tony in the distance. He was leaning casually against a building that boasted a large window. Tony and Carlo must have figured out our route and circled around to get ahead. Now they were ready to put their operation into action. And I’d clearly been wrong about one thing: They would make their move before we got to Broadway.
Carlo was probably on his way toward us. He would time it just right—bumping into Tim directly in front of where Tony stood. When Tim tripped, Tony would make the touch as swiftly as the flick of a snake’s tongue.
Now. I have to act now.
Just then I got my first piece of luck.
Tony had one bad habit: He couldn’t resist preening in the mirrored surface of any window he passed. He must not have spotted Tim and me yet, for I saw him turn to look at his reflection. He reached up to adjust the jaunty angle of his bowler hat, taking his eyes off the flowing stream of people coming toward him.
I would only have an instant. It would have to be enough. I leapt into action.
—
Moving slightly behind Tim, I stuck out my foot, catching him in midstep. Tim faltered, stumbling slightly forward—just as I’d hoped.
In a flash, I was there to st
eady him—and snatch the pouch from his pocket. Then, before Tim could realize what had happened, I spun around and darted back the way we’d come, crouching low and weaving through the crowd. At the corner, I crossed the street and glanced back once. On my tiptoes, I could just see Carlo at the spot where Tony had been, looking around uncertainly.
I could almost hear Carlo thinking: Now, where did Tony go?
I already knew the answer: Tony was coming after me.
Swerving in and out of carts and horses, I followed a zigzag pattern up and down side streets, trying to lose Tony as best I could. I was glad that just yesterday I’d scouted out the neighborhood by the bank. I’d memorized all the streets and knew exactly where I was headed.
Five minutes. Seven minutes. So far, so good. I was only a block or so from Broadway. Once I got around the next corner, the bank would be in front of me.
I felt someone grab my arm. I whirled, prepared to fight.
“What are you doing, Rocco?” Mary demanded, her eyes blazing. “Where are you going with Da’s money?”
Her cheeks were flushed bright red from running—and from anger too.
My mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw! I was just coming home from school when you and Tim left. I was going to walk with you, but before I could call out, I spotted these two boys watching you. At first, they were following you. Then I saw them put their heads together. Then they took off separately—fast—like they were trying to get ahead and wait for you. They looked so suspicious I decided to follow you. And then I saw what happened—I saw you steal it.”
She held out her hand, still breathing hard. “Give me the deposit bag.”
“I can’t,” I cried, shaking my head, all the while scanning the street for Tony. “I’m not stealing it. I’m trying to keep it from being stolen. You’re right about those boys. And if I give it to you now, they’ll get it for sure.”
“I’m not stupid!” she snorted. “I bet you’re one of them. Da told me he thinks you escaped from the House of Refuge.”
So he had guessed.
“I did. B-b-but,” I stammered, “but it’s not what you think. I’m not like that. Not anymore.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I can’t make you believe me,” I said. I stepped inside a doorway, pulling Mary with me. Still no sign of Tony and Carlo—or Tim either. But it wouldn’t be long.
“I know these pickpockets,” I told her. “They’re good. You need to warn your father to be careful in the future. He can’t send Tim by himself anymore. But now…right now I have to get to the bank before they do.”
I waited. I stuck out my head and spotted a familiar bowler hat turning the corner. “Please, Mary. Please trust me. And, now that you’re here, you can help. It’s a little dangerous, though.”
I figured she wouldn’t be able to resist that. And I really did need her. Mary searched my face with her eyes. At last, she let out an exasperated breath. “All right, I’ll help. What should I do?”
“One of those pickpockets, the one with the brown bowler, is heading this way. Stay here and pretend to tie your shoe. When he gets to you, stick out your foot and trip him.” I thrust out my leg to show her.
“But—and this is important—don’t talk to him. And don’t try to arrest him or anything!” Knowing Mary, she might want to do just that. “Run the opposite way and come to the bank. I’ll leave the deposit receipt for you. You can show your father he was right to trust me.”
Mary nodded. “I’ll do it. Now go.”
She gave me a push.
I took off. As I ran, I wished I’d had time to say how sorry I was.
Something else popped into my head too: I wished I knew how the story ended—and if things turned out all right for Black Beauty.
—
Mary had never flinched at asking annoyed passengers to get down from an omnibus and walk in the slush. She’d stood up to angry cart drivers abusing their horses. Tripping one pickpocket would not be a problem for a girl like Mary Hallanan.
And whatever she did must have worked, because I reached Broadway without seeing any sign of Tony. Suddenly there it was: the East River Savings Institution, a large, imposing bank with four huge columns in front.
I dashed for the door, almost running down a lady with a big black umbrella. She shook it at me. “Watch out, you ruffian!”
I skidded inside with a little screech and almost fell on the polished marble floor. It was so slippery it was like walking on ice. I wouldn’t feel safe until Mr. Hallanan’s money was out of my pocket—and in his bank account.
As I made my way across the gleaming floor, a bulky guard appeared, blocking my way.
“May I help you?” he barked, peering down at me with a stern expression.
I straightened my shoulders and pushed back my cap.
“Yes, sir. I’m…” I stopped to catch my breath. I practiced my best House of Refuge manners, even remembering to smile. “I’m here to make a deposit for my new employer. I’ve not been here before. Could you…could you please help me?”
“Well, you must be an industrious lad. You look as if you ran all the way here,” said the guard, his face softening. “And polite too. I wish I could get my sons to remember to say ‘please’! For a minute there, I thought you might be one of those pickpockets who come in here to scout our customers.”
He pointed. “Just wait there and a clerk will call you.”
“Thank you for your assistance, sir,” I said. Warden Sage, I felt sure, would approve.
When it was my turn, I drew the pouch out from inside my shirt. Whew! Part of me could hardly believe, even now, that I’d made it.
“Everything all right?” asked the clerk.
“Um…yes.” My heart was still pounding. “It’s just that these days you can’t be too careful about pickpockets.”
“Oh, don’t I know it!” The clerk pulled the full pouch toward him. “I hear stories all the time. Lads as young as you think nothing of stealing from hardworking men—women too. Can you imagine that? What kind of coward would steal from a girl?”
My face must have turned as red as one of George’s tomatoes. I waited silently as he counted the bills and coins. Finally, he slipped the money into his drawer and began to write out a receipt.
“Sir, I wonder if I might leave that for someone else to collect,” I mumbled. “I…I have a further errand, and my employer is sending his daughter here to be sure the deposit has been made.”
“Very good. I can put it in an envelope and you can write her name on it. She can ask at any window and we’ll see that she gets it.”
I hesitated a moment. I had seen Mary’s first name on the inside cover of Black Beauty. I had been living under the blacksmith’s sign. I hadn’t done any writing since practicing my letters at the House of Refuge. But now I picked up the pen and wrote, very carefully: Mary Hallanan.
CHAPTER 29
In which the plan continues to unfold in breathtaking fashion
The money was safe. Now I had to keep my appointment with Jacob Riis. He’d told me to meet him at the police reporters’ office across from the Mulberry Street police station. I just needed to melt into the crowds and run there without Tony or Carlo catching me. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be very happy with how things had turned out.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have far to go.
—
“Ah, Rocco,” said Mr. Riis when I stumbled into his office from the street, red-faced and breathing hard. “You didn’t need to run. There’s no rush. Our work will just take us to a tenement on Mulberry Bend.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, still panting.
I didn’t have the money any longer, but that didn’t mean I was out of Tony’s grasp. For now, at least, I was safe with Mr. Riis.
We walked toward Mulberry Bend, where we came to a dim, dreary-looking place called Baxter Street Alley. It was empty except for two girls carrying firewood up and down a wooden
stairway. They reminded me of Luigi, with their little faces pinched with hunger.
“Children should be able to play on green grass,” Mr. Riis murmured as he set up his equipment.
I asked the girls if Mr. Riis might take their photograph. He set up his tripod and readied the camera. The hard part was setting off the flash powder and timing it so that it ignited just as the picture was taken.
I watched carefully, reviewing the steps in my mind. I would be doing this myself in a very short while.
We worked until just after nightfall. Still no sign of Tony. Probably he was searching in Greenwich Village. I figured the last place he’d expect to find me would be his own neighborhood.
So far, so good—again. I was beginning to feel I could actually pull off my entire scheme just as I’d imagined it in Sheridan’s stall.
When we returned to the reporters’ office, Mr. Riis put his equipment down. Then he removed the exposed plates and loaded the camera with new ones.
“I like to have it all ready for next time,” he said. He stretched and took off his glasses to wipe them with his handkerchief. “Rocco, I need to walk over and talk to the sergeant at the station about a story I’m working on. Would you mind watching the equipment until I get back? If you need to leave, just lock the door from the inside.”
I nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
As soon as he closed the door, I pulled open the top drawer of his desk, grabbed the key I knew would be there, and slipped it into my pocket. I would need it later.
Then I swept up all the equipment—the camera, the tripod, the flash gun, and a bag with the flash powder. I also tucked some matches into my pocket. It was awkward carrying everything, but I only had four or five blocks to my destination.
Locking the door from the inside, I slipped out.
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