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Chapter

19

How

I Got Meself in Jail

"Excuse me copper, but how

long do I hafta stay in 'ere?" I whined while grabbing the round metal bars.

All around me, other convicts with deep voices growled and yipped at me comment

while banging the bars of their cells. I sniffed the air with me muzzle, and

curled me tail at the foul stench while I peeked to copper through the jail

bars. "It stinks, I'm hungry, and I want me father's pocket watch back!"

          The wolf in

police uniform growled and turned away from me while he sat down in the chair.

From me cell, I could see the pocket watch poking outta his pocket like a

teasing bordello girl. "Stop yer yapping or I'll give ya a proper blinker," he

snapped like a lion. He laid back and swished his tail while smirking at me.

"And fer yer information ya newsie, yer spending the rest of the day until

tomorrow before a judge'll judge ya fer yer crime 'gainst the fine city."

          I widened me

eyes, and fell back on the metal bed against the wall. Laughter erupted from me

lips, and I clutched me stomach until I could speak properly. "And how does

protesting make me from a lousy street urchin into Jack the Ripper copper?!" I

spoke venom into the last word, and that sent the policewolf's blood boiling as

he faced me cell.

          "Ya think

that's so funny ya little runt?" he sneered, then turned to the cell next to

me. "Hank Jones, what do ya say we move ya two in together in case we got other

newsies to round up?"

          If I was

scared before, then I was blinder than a bat when the copper opened the cell

next to mine and pulled a hulking and older tiger. Along with his growling

teeth, his fur was white, black, and very orange. His arms were very wide, and

it made me wonder how the 'ell a wolf of the copper's size wasn't peeing his

trousers in fear.

          Instead, the

officer grinned at me and locked the door behind the Bengal tiger. "Feel free

to talk together, but behave yourselves while I go to the bathroom," he turned

'round the corner of the long hallway and the sound of other prisoners shouting

continued.

          The Bengal

turned to me with his towering height, and I gulped a whimper while backing

against the brick wall. He was as tall as the cell, and wore a brown jacket and

black pants, his black and orange stripped tail twitching behind him. I

eventually felt me fur scratch against the mortar behind me, and me ears folded

down at his sneering gaze. I also felt every piece of fur on me body stand at

attention like Civil War soldiers.

          So I know

what yer asking: how did a lovely and likeable street wolf like me get put in

jail? Well, it started not long after what happened at the Brooklyn Bridge.

          Although the

riot was very small, word spread around New York so fast that everywhere I went

the words 'newsie' and 'strike' were muttered and shouted all over the tenement

houses, the streets, Broadway, and even Central Park. Believe it or not, I saw

fewer and fewer newsies selling papers. Rumor had it that all were joining

Blink and his cause, or taking advantage of the strike.

          Meanwhile,

while looking for a decent meal around Five Points, I made me way to the flea

market with a pocketful of coins when I bumped into a raccoon and lost me grip

on the coins I was holding.

          "O no!" I

lunged for the money, and grabbed it all before other furson wanted to take

advantage. 'Four cents, two dimes, and...where's me last dime?"

          "Here you go

Peter," the woman I bumped into, a raccoon, handed the dime to me.

          I stood up

and grinned with closed eyes to the raccoon. "Thank you ma'am-" I cut meself

short as I opened me eyes and widened them at who it was. "M-Mrs. Turner!" I

stiffened me tail and folded me ears in surprise. "I-I'm so so sorry for

bumping into you-"

          "Peter don't

you worry," she smiled at me and put down her purse of groceries to straighten

her blue dress out before straightening me vest and shirt off with dirt. "Oh

Lord you look positively filthy!"

          "I ain't

that filthy ma'am," I groan while trying to inch meself away. Meanwhile, I

couldn't believe meself. Why the heck wasn't I running for me life? "So how are

ya today Mrs. Turner? Off to church?"

          Mrs. Turner

stopped herself and looked at me funny. "Peter it's Monday," she remarked with

a flicking tail. "And I'm coming back from the church protesting in response to

the newsies striking."

          A smile

crossed me muzzle and I walked with her wondering, Who kidnapped the real Mrs. Turner and replaced her with this

kindhearted woman?

          Ever since

the first protest at Brooklyn Bridge, I've seen less and less of Mrs. Turner

whenever I was with her son Lance. Me raccoon friend told me that she was very

supportive of the newsies striking and has even been helping the local church

give out food and water to newsies striking at rallies. It warmed me heart so

much and made me tail wag.

          Days went

by, and more rumors and facts swam 'round the City about Randolph Hearst and

Pulitzer's responses to the strike. Instead of giving in to the demands of the

newsie's new union, they were replaced with older men being paid two dollars a

paper. Fortunately, they were failing like a wooden boat flying to France.

          While

everyone went on about their days like the strike wasn't anything. A few

supported the newsies in conversations, but to me surprise, no one cared.

Everyone went to their jobs, ate, and slept without worry. Until...

          Last Saturday,

as me, James, and Lance were playing kick-the-can outside, our lovely game was

interrupted when shouting was heard over the rooftops of the tenements. All

breathing stopped while everyone outside went to see young newsies and a

snowstorm of newspapers blow through the streets like ice.

          Apparently,

I learned from Mrs. Turner later that evening that dozens of newsboys attacked

a couple of wagons selling The New York

World and The New York Journal. Papers

were shredded, the men selling the papers were beaten to a pulp (I didn't admit

it, but I found it hilarious that grown fursons and human men were beaten by a

buncha young cubs), and the police were madder than Mrs. Turner was at me when

I saw her in the bath.

"I cannot believe those brats

would become criminals," one gentlewolf commented to a gentletiger. "I mean,

they're just children."

"They're being selfish.

Because of them troublesome cubs I hafta go pick up the daily paper from other papers," a fancy human lady in

sweatshop attire whispered to her friend as I passed.

"The Lord did not tell Moses

to enact a war with the Pharaoh in Egypt, mind you," that one came from Mrs.

Turner when I went to play with Lance.

          I grinned

and turned to Lance as we played kick-the-can. There's the Mrs. Turner I knew and loved, I thought.

          "I'm sorry

about my mum," Lance kicked the empty peach can to me on the cobblestone road. "She

can be a real handful whenever she reads Scripture."

          I looked up

to me raccoon friend across the street and smile. "It ain't a problem Lancie,"

I called with a kick of the can. Lance stopped it in midflight and played with

it a bit with his footpaws. "At least Blink wasn't arrested in the wagon

attacks."

          "True,"

Lance spoke with a flick of his tail before kicking the can to me, "but I'm a

little worried if this strike will turn into...you know...a war?."

          I stopped

meself with me footpaw over the can and laughed. "Ya been listening to too many

Civil War stories on the new kinetoscopes?" I kicked the metal can to him and

we continued without worry.

On the 24th of

July, Blink invited me and me two friends to a meeting in New Irving Hall near

the center of the city. I been there a few times to catch a glimpse of the vaudeville

vixens that ran the theater, but never got meself the chance to see a

performance. Thinking I'd see some of them, I said yes of course. Sadly though,

James and Lancie weren't allowed to come with me. It ain't 'cause Blink

wouldn't invite them, but their parents didn't want me to bring their sons to a

vaudeville theater.

After spending an hour walking

along the sunset of New York City, the street life slowly falling to sleep, i

spotted the golden theater tucked in a corner of Norfolk and Broome Street. It

wasn't the only building it up like a Christmas candle, but what caught me eyes

and made me tail wag with glee were the colors of the plaza and the group of

newsies by its entrance.

As I stepped closer with a wee

bit of nervous glances, I started hearing shouting coming from inside the

theater. "Ya a newsie kid?" one of the newsies, an older mixed fox of about

seventeen, stopped me by the golden entrance and looked at me funny.

"Me name's Peter Gray. I'm a

friend of Kid Blink," I said to him with a folded ear. That got the other

newsies attentive to me. "I take it ya heard of the hybrid then?"

The older newsie looked down

at me stature and smiled. "What's de password den?" he asked with a wag of his

tail.

"'The World and Journal will

know'?"

By the time I opened the door

to the main auditorium, spending a few minutes to admire the occasional vixens

in colorful vaudeville get-ups walking outta the backstage, I immediately

remembered why me ears hurt last time I were 'round a bunch newsies.

           "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" I covered me ears and

winced at the ruckus all 'round the place. "And I thought Gavin's mother was

loud!"

          Little by

little, I did me best to tolerate the mayhem while trying to find meself a

comfy seat. During that, I couldn't believe me eyes at how beautiful the place

was. Aside from the golden walls and fancy carvings in every inch of the

magnificent walls and booths, the seats were soft and red. So many fursons and

an occasional human boy crawled over the seats, shouting, cheering, and fooling

'round childishly.

          "'ey! Listen

up!" a human with green eyes and olive skin shouted on the stage and whistled. It

was Dave Simmons from the bridge, and he looked meaner than a priest. "Will ya

shaddup fer one minute?!" His voice

carried from the front seats all the way to the several newsies on the upper

seats above me ears. "I says will y shaddup fer

one God-dang minute?!" he clapped his hands together, and I spotted Blink

and a few other newsies onstage bark and yip until the place settled down from

tomfoolery to whispering. "Thank you!"

          After the

ruckus died down, every furson and human newsie in there got to business. It

began with Dave, Boots McAleenan, and other newsies (except Blink for some

reason, talking to everyone in the seats about how the strikes been going.

          "We's cannot

do dese violence 'nymore!" Boots spoke up. "We's cannot keep doing dis witout

angering de coppers!" The raccoon earn plenty of boos for that. "I knows I's

said dat a while back, but it ain't de only's way!"

I lost track as the night

dragged on, yet when I checked me pocket watch to see it was almost an hour to

midnight, me eyes spotted a familiar fox/raccoon muzzle poking outta the

crimson curtains onstage. Curious, I stood up and went backstage 'round the

curtains to see a couple of newsies talking to me hybrid friend. Beside them

were posters about the strike and a couple of newspapers next to stage props.

"Blink?" I spoke up. It was

loud enough for his raccoonish ears to pick up, but quiet enough to not disturb

the speakers on the other side of the curtain. "Why ain't ya doing any speeches

tonight?"

Blink turned to see me and

smiled. "Peter Gray, It's great to see you!" he gave me a quick pawshake and quickly

presented the other two newsies with comfort. "Dis is Racetrack Higgins and Moe

Franks. They newsies frem Brooklyn too."

It was late that night, I

couldn't remember their breeds correctly, but I remembered that Racetrack being

a gray-furred mouse and Moe was either a wolf with blue eyes or a gray fox with

a black fedora.

As I greeted them, Dave

appeared outta the corner of me right eye and whispered something hastily to

the two while pointing his black paw to the stage.

"We's needs ya to talk to 'em

out dere 'bout no violence now," I managed to hear. With a nod, Moe, Dave, and

Racetrack pushed the red curtain aside and went back to convincing the other

newsies to stop attacking distribution centers and news wagons.

I turned to a nervous Kid

Blink in front of me and asked, "Why ain't ya out there Blink? Yer good with

words and giving orders, so why ain't ya?"

I paused when I noticed Blink

had his hybrid tail curled and ears folded down in slight embarrassment. "I...uh...I's

never gotten de chance yet Peter," he was lying with a twitching tail.

"Ya had all night Blink,

didn't ya?" I asked. "And I know yer lying Blink." I looked at me hybrid friend

with concern. "What's wrong Kid?"

He sighed and shook his muzzle

as the speeches on the other side of the curtain continued. "First of all, I's

ain't yer 'Kid', kid," he smirked while nudging me left shoulder, but it

immediately went back to slightly folded ears and a sigh. "Secondly, I's...I's a

bit...I's 'fraid of being out dere...in front of many fursons and udders. It's

normal wit bein' on de street, maken' newscasts, but it...different den bein' on

de stage."

I cocked me head in fast

confusion and perked me ears at the loony furson. "Huh?" I muttered. In all me years of being on the streets of New

York, I never heard of a newsie with a bad case of stage fright?!

"But...but yer perfect for maki ng speeches Blink!" I

gasped in shock, almost loud enough for the entire auditorium to hear over the

other three speakers. "Ya got charisma, the smarts, and helped the strike!"

Suddenly, chaos erupted

everywhere in Irving Hall. Me and Blink were spooked enough to look on the

other side of the curtain, and we saw a thousand police officers in blue

uniform whistling with whistles and scruffy strikebreakers with clubs in their

paws.

"Police, stay where you are!"

"Stay where ya are ya brats!"

Of course, we didn't.

If I thought it were crowded

before, it was pure, unstoppable mayhem.

I remember me and Blink

finding an exit in the back, and got as many out before the coppers and

strikebreakers got through the curtain. Blink was dragged out by a stomping

wave of newsies taunting the coppers with swears, but sadly...me and others

didn't. There was about fifteen other newsies captured, and dragged to the

lovely NYPD jail cells.

They searched me possessions,

a smug copper snatched all me coins in me trousers, and the wolf copper from

before grabbed me father's pocket watch without asking. I was tossed into a

cell for a bail of five dollars and...ya can guess how I was now.

As the Bengal stepped closer, I

nervously smiled. "So...me name's Peter, sir," I said, offering a paw while I was

leaning back on the brick wall behind me. "I guess yer name is Hank, right?"

Hank stared at me with his

large Bengal eyes and I nervously got up. Hank walked over to the bed and sat

down, staring at me nervously standing against the concrete wall. "Whatcha in

fer newsie?" he asked after a moment of intense staring. He spoke very deeply,

like he were from another country. Maybe a different continent.

I gulped and looked at him

tensed. "Um...well I ain't a newsie uh...Hank, can I call ya that?" I asked, and to

me surprise, he nodded with a flick of his orange tail. "Me friend is a newsie,

and I got meself arrested last night from Irving Hall."

The Bengal tiger stared at me

while other criminals in nearby cells taunted on. I recognized one of them as

being Drunk Danny, a strong and stocky, light-skinned human who loved to drink

too much, and loved getting into fights back in Five Points. "We's got

ourselves a newsie ev'rybody! Git 'em a medal fer whining ev'rybody!" the human

laughed and banged his bars to the point of everyone else banging their cells

like an echo.

"Newsies, vhat's today's news?

Huh?!" someone taunted loudly next to our cell. He was Russian, maybe a fox or

mixed breed. "Vhat is it newsie?! Ya fall in yer tails like mutts?!"

I folded me ears and slowly sat

meself down on the dirty floor, intimidated by the loud and ferocious voices

growling all 'round me. I felt me tail curl against me right leg, and me ears

droop anxiously. Me heart pounded against me chest like a hammer against a

nail, and felt me paws shake like it were a Christmas winter. I wasn't in a

street full of dumb fursons and drunk coppers; I was in a jail fulla real

criminals. Honestly, I wasn't scared.

No...I'm

terrified!

I heard the sound of someone

coughing, and looked up to see it was the tiger looked at me weirdly. "Ya

scared newsie?" he asked in a low whisper. I heard the sound of a copper

barking, and it the echoing taunts slowly faded away as Hank asked, "It's okay

to be scared, especially fer a wolf."

I widened me eyes and

immediately stood, up, with me ears still folded in account of me fear. "I

ain't afraid!" I insisted, the fear in me body still lingering. "I just got

cold."

The tiger named Hank raised an

eyebrow and smirked back at me across the small cell. "Aren't ya too young to

be in here newsie?" he asked out of nowhere. "Ya look like a cub compared to

the rest of everyone else here."

I flicked me ears and

unknowingly smirked at the tiger. "I'm thirteen, thank ya very much," I replied

with low annoyance. When the Bengal scoffed, I pouted with, "And I ain't too

young to be a criminal!"

To me surprise, the tiger

chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "Yer in over yer head if ya say so

wolf," he said with a swishing tail. "Ya wanna know what I'm in 'ere fer?" I

perked me ears then and there and replied with a yes. Hank looked left and

right, then whispered, "I stole a woman's purse and punched a copper in the

muzzle. The copper talking to ya before."

I choked with unstoppable

laughter and nearly fell over. "I'm awful for laughing about it aren't I?" I

stopped meself and looked at the grinning tiger. "So that's why he had the

bruise on his right cheek."

The Bengal laid back on the

bed and stared at the low ceiling. Seeing him made me wonder how the heck the

bed could hold a tiger that big. "I was stealing the purse 'cause my family's

been down a bit since I got fired from my job, and them coppers are only

putting me in 'ere fer a month before I can leave," Hank sighed with a curl of

his striped tail along the chains holding the bed up. "Ya got any family

yerself wolf?"

Me thoughts quickly turned to

me friends, but I dismissed it. "Nah, I've lived in the city for a while now,"

I looked to Hank curiously. "How big is yer's Hank? And...can I asked where-"

"I worked at?" Hank finished

for me. The tiger turned his gaze to me and sighed. "I don't matter anymore,

since it's the past." He flicked his feline ears away, and lifted his muzzle

when we both heard footsteps coming our way.

 "Peter Gray?" the familiar voice of the

bruised wolf came into view outside the bars. "Yer bail and fine's been paid,

so yer free to go."

In the two days since I

arrived in jail, I never felt me heart go aflutter so fast. With widened eyes

and a wagging tail, I gasped out, "Really?! B-But how did...someone...pay?"

I stopped when the bars opened

and I stepped out to see me savior beside the officer. To me surprise, it was

an older mouse in blue overalls and a dirty brown shirt. His fur was gray, and

I'd recognize those eyes anywhere.  

I froze in place and felt all

the blood rush outta me muzzle. "H-H-Hansel?" I stuttered for a moment. Hansel

walked over to me and suddenly gave me a hug.

"Thank you officer, we will be

on our way now," he beamed to the wolf, then grabbed my paw. A few inmates

whistled and chatted at us like ninnies, but Hansel largely ignored them "Come on

Peter."

Not knowing what to say, I

obliged and started walking. "Wait, first..." I let go of Hansel's paw and turned

to the wolf copper, "I'd like to have me pocket watch back please." The officer

raised an eyebrow in fake confusion, and I lowly growled. "Now."

He sighed and grimaced before

handing it over to me. I checked the inside and still saw the photo of the gray

wolf in it. With a sight grin, I wagged me tail and turned back to an awaiting

Hansel. I turned to me left to look at Hank behind the jail cell and was

surprised to see the Bengal smiling at me.

"Martha and Rufus," he spoke

up right as I almost turned. "I forgot to tell ya that's the name of my wife

and cub." He waved to me and sighed. "Take care of yerself Peter."

I nodded to the Bengal and

whispered, "Good luck Hank."

As we left the police station,

I kept me ears folded until we stepped outside in the afternoon air. As

carriages and coppers passed by us, me and Hansel were silent for a long time,

until we came across a familiar street and I saw Hansel and Edward's tenement

building up ahead.

"Uh...thank you Hansel...for

paying me bail and fine," I stammered, then sighed in nervous silence under the

cloudy sky. The smell of rotten eggs and soiled sweat still filled the air of

the street, and the average working fursons passing by didn't smell any better.

"I...I..."

"I ain't mad at you Peter, fer

standing up to the newsies," Hansel said after a moment. "In fact, me and

Edward are proud of you," the mouse stopped and looked down at me with a slight

look of disdain. "The fine and bail cost us...it wasn't cheap for us." Ouch.

I clamped me paws and felt me

breathing hasten. "I-If there's anything I can do to help ya two, I-I'll work

for ya and-" I said, soon interrupted when Hansel put a finger to me lips, and

knelt down to give me a hug.

"Edward and I are just so

happy you're not hurt!" he lemme go and smiled at me with a unique mouse's

smile, the kind that made me always wish he were me blood father. "Ever since

we found you sad at the orphanage windows back in Sandy Hook Bay, you've turned

from a strange wolf orphan into almost a son, and me and Edward will be here to

help you, no matter what happens." He clasped me shoulders and lastly said,

"You've missed out on a lot since the rain in Irving Hall."

I perked me ears and wiped

away the tears forming in me eyes, now becoming serious. "How do you know

that?" I asked curiously. "H-How are the newsies doing?"

Hansel stopped himself and

smiled passed me. I turned to see Edward scurrying up to us and wagging his

foxy tail. He hugged me and Hansel tightly, then smiled a foxish smile at me

before kissing me forehead.

"I guess Edward is glad you're

alright too Peter," Hansel chuckled while holding Eddie's paw. He pointed to

the tenement building and whispered something to me that caught me attention.

"If ya wanna have dinner with me and Edward, we'll tell ya what's been

happening with the newsies."

With a shrug, and a deep growl

in me belly, I nodded. "Alright then."