Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (10 page)

Scotty never interrupted my story so I continued. “We went from store to store and introduced ourselves around town and down on the docks to anyone we saw, we told them we would do laundry and we would do it better and cheaper than anyone else in town. We had a few dollars saved in our hidden pouch and could rely on the kindness of folks at the Mission if we became desperate. But mama didn’t want to beg or be in anyone’s debt. We did laundry for strangers, we worked hard at it too because we were to be the best laundresses in town. That’s about all, you know the rest. My mama died from her teeth problems and then fate brought me to you.” We stared hard at each other for a moment each searching the other out.

“Wow, I didn’t know your mama had such big balls! That takes a lot of guts to do what she done, moving with you to the city and working so hard without a man.” Scotty rudely grabbed himself before I punched him square in the arm.

“Don’t need any man to get along. We got along fine though we missed our da.”

“Oh yeah, Red? Don’t need no man, well how you gonna get along without the likes of these two, huh?” And with that he rolled up his sleeves and flexed his muscles at me and we both laughed and felt better.

That’s what I liked best about Scotty. He knew how to lighten the mood and make me feel better and his muscles were pretty impressive.

Scotty and I worked Mondays laying out fresh hay for the cows that stood around us ankles caked in mud browsing for tender shoots. When that chore was complete we spent time white washing the fading fence surrounding the pasture. Edna lent me a pair of Pap’s old grey trousers and I wore suspenders to keep them up. We worked well together, Scotty on one side of the fence and me on the other, painting and chanting our letters and rules such as “I before E, except after C”. After our allotted time, Scotty would walk me the two miles to town and Edna would meet me and exchange niceties with Scotty before we all went towards home. On Sundays Scotty worked directly with Edna on his school work and then he and I had a little time to enjoy playing before he had to get back to the farm for milking. We always included Eddie in our play and it was pure joy and simple fun. We would make bubble potion and see who could blow the most from one wand, or sometimes we would play kick the can or tag, and we always let Eddie win or he would sulk.

One Sunday afternoon after Edna tutored Scotty she took notice how he strained to focus on the written words in front of him and asked if he would be willing to go for an eye exam with her. He agreed and low and behold he was near blind in one eye, which explained some of his reading difficulties. He was fitted for a pair of glasses and suddenly everything was clear and precise to him as it had never been before.

“How can I repay you, Miss Edna?” Scotty asked earnestly, offering up his allowance of twenty five cents per week.

“This is my gift to you; you are very special to Mary so I am happy to help you.” Edna took Scotty’s glasses and placed them carefully in the case. She reached out to hug him then and he selflessly thought how happy he was that Mary had someone so loving to look out for her now. Her story was sad, she never cried in the telling of it, although she choked up a few times when talking about her pony and the table her da made. She was a thick-skinned kid; he admired her and was glad to call her a friend. The kids in town were mostly spoiled so to have someone else who knew what it was like to live in rags among the dregs of society and steal for food was of some comfort.

Chapter 6 Scotty in New York City

Autumn in New York City was putrid. The cold rain pelting my skin, sinking into my bones was bad enough, but the streets were littered with shit and piss and the rain watered it down, making all the crap thin out and run in torrents through the streets. Rabid dogs ran wild and crapped anywhere they pleased, horses were tied to banisters where they stood in inches of sludge. Rats got tangled under your feet and the city smelled of a cesspool. At night we had to huddle close under our stoop on Mulberry Street or else the drunks would splatter us with their vomit. Bars got out late, brawls happened in the streets, there were shoot outs and people lay dead or passed out in ditches. The daytime was better; we each had morning jobs and then hid out in one old factory, brewery or another.

I inhabited the stoop with Karen and Tommy.

Gangs of Five Points were deadly and had taken to fighting for amusement. They would rally chickens and starve them in separate cages before setting them loose in a pit to peck each other to death. They did the same with rats and the half-starved dogs that wandered the streets, enticing them with scraps of food into a caged ring where they had to fight for their life. The animals were kicked, whipped, abused and neglected by members who soon grew bored and looked to have more authentic cage fights. Members soon offered themselves up in fights in order to make a profit.

I watched a few fights while hiding behind crates in the Brewery. I spent my days off the streets hiding to avoid trouble but now it seemed trouble had found me.

“What do we have here?” A scraggly young man with three earrings and long strands of greasy hair grabbed me by the back of my shirt lifting me up off my feet.

“He asked who you were,” a second punk with very few teeth hacked a blood tinged loogie right at my feet.

“I’m Scotty.” I tried to make a run for it, but the second gangster caught me.

“Well Scotty, what are you are doing here? You spying on us for them Dead Rabbits?” The guy pushed me and was egged on by his mate.

“You better hope you ain’t, kid….” The second man spit again.

“Nnno, I just didn’t have anywhere to go.” I stammered as I spoke.

The boys looked me over; witnessing my state of poverty they took me to “Pauli” who would know what to do with me.

Pauli was well dressed and slightly older than the men who found me; he had all his teeth intact and I guessed he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Around his neck lay a thick gold chain and down his forearms were the words Roach Guards tattooed in black ink.

“What’s your story, kid?” Pauli looked at me with amused eyes.

“I got no story,” I told him, looking down at my worn shoes, feeling lucky to have any at all.

“Where do you work, kid, you gotta eat right? So where do you earn your money?”

“I sell the newspaper on Sunday morning and steal the rest.” I was scanning the exits for an easy escape as I spoke.

“So what are you doing here in this old place, huh? This is our territory, you spying on us? Who are you working for?” Pauli spun the pistol that sat on his desk and when it stopped the barrel of the gun was pointing right at me. His tattoo appeared to be getting bigger as he flexed his muscles in anger, spittle ran down his chin but he didn’t notice or care.

“I don’t work for no one, sir. I told you, I sell papers and hide out, that’s all I do.” Besides watch you guys abuse and torture animals all day I thought to myself.

“Well, there, Scotty, you put me in a bad situation. If I believe you and let you go, you could go back to where you came from and report all you seen. On the other hand you could prove useful, how long you been hiding here?”

“I’ve been here a few weeks I suppose, but I haven’t seen anything, I swear.” This wasn’t entirely true.

“So you been here for two weeks and we haven’t noticed you until now?” Pauli rubbed his whiskers, noticing the spittle and wiping it on his pants.

“Here’s my proposition. I am going to believe you; you’re too stupid to lie because you know if you lie to us we have to punish you, right?” Pauli shuffled the papers in front of him and stacked them neatly in the corner of the desk.

I hated being threatened.

“Right,” I said, answering his taunt honestly.

“You’re going to work for me now. You’re gonna spy on the Dead Rabbits and tell us who they got over there training to fight. See I need to know who to put up against them, gotta know who to get ready, who to feed, and who to keep hungry.”

Pauli laid out a plan for me starting with quitting my paper sales job. I was to report to him every afternoon and in return he would give me dinner. If I didn’t show up, they would come after me. I had to find the Dead Rabbits hide out and then weasel my way in.

The first day I didn’t find anything, I checked the paper warehouse, the mill, and the grocer’s warehouse but found nothing and no one of interest. I was terrified to report back to Pauli without any news.

“You may have to go further across town, kid; the Dead Rabbits know we inhabit this turf they wouldn’t be too close to us. Try the shoe factory, and the building on Second
Street that looks like it’s collapsing.”

Pauli gave me half his sandwich and I ate it greedily, scared to death of what I would find in the morning across town.

First, I sauntered around the shoe factory; the back portion was closed off but I noted that for its size it could easily fit a gang of a dozen or so men training to fight. I made my way through a side entrance and snuck through the building; everything was quiet. I sat in a corner behind scraps of materials used for making shoes and waited. There was one round table in the room and cards strewn about the floor, more than likely this place was used for gambling. I waited some more. By mid-day no one had come into the factory and there was no evidence anyone had been in there to train. I decided there was enough time to check out the collapsing building Pauli told me about on Second Street.

In this section of town only the poorest of the poor remained. The building was in ruins, partially collapsed from sewage and farm run off. Tenants of this section were riddled with disease from the unclean quarters they lived in. The smell alone could knock someone off their feet.

I pinched my nose and entered the building, terrified it would collapse or I would catch a disease while I was inside. First, I walked the narrow perimeter hallways and neither heard nor saw anything that led me to believe the Dead Rabbits were here. But as I made my way closer to the interior of the building the smell changed. It went from one of sewage and filth to one of pungent male body odor. I followed my nose and came upon a makeshift gym. There were several squares partitioned off with rope and lying in a corner were rolls of hand tape, jump ropes, free weights, and in the far corner was a punching bag. It was held to the ceiling with a clamp and thick links of chain that I thought looked heavy enough they could bring the entire building down on itself.

My stomach was growling but I had to stay awhile longer to see what happened in this gym.

Several hours later a group of gangly kids were paraded into the gym and taunted by much bigger, fit looking kids. The ruffians were lined up by size and put into rows. They started warm ups with a stretching routine, then they punched into the air above their heads while doing high knees. If they let up and dropped their arms from exhaustion they were met with a swift punch to the gut. Following the initial warm up routine the kids were separated, some went to work on the boxing bag while others grabbed jump ropes, and still others met in the roped off rings with their trainers and worked on impressive combinations. I could hear the trainers yelling, uppercut, jab, right hook, left hook, and jab and began to put the movement with the words. I noted the foot placement for each punch and heard the trainers yelling that ‘proper foot placement gave your punch more power’.

I was terrified of being found in the gym snooping. I settled myself in a corner in the rafters with a good bird’s eye view of the scene below. There were a total of fifteen scrawny kids presumably being taught to fight. They seemed to range in age anywhere from six to sixteen. There were five trainers. Each trainer worked with their own group of kids, some were better at floor work, and others excelled at head and body movement. Still other trainers excelled on the punches themselves. All together they were a formidable opponent for Pauli.

I thought about hiding out here from now on. Pauli would never come here to find me. It would be too dangerous for the Roaches to enter this side of town. My stomach growled again and I began to feel sick with hunger, which reminded me who was feeding me tonight. As the kids finished their training, dried off with towels and left I was intrigued that the five trainers stayed behind. The five trainers got in the ring with each other and sparred. They went for two minute rounds, no head gear, no gloves, just themselves and their opponent. No one held back. They fought hard in two minutes using footwork and combinations to score points. Blood flowed freely from one fighter’s nose down his chest, causing me to gag. When the two minute bell rang the fighters shook hands and the one with the bloody nose shoved cotton up his nostrils and carried on. Two more kids got in the ring and fought and this continued until each kid had fought everyone for two minutes. Blood from smashed faces pooled on the floor, knuckles were split open and bleeding, the men were glistening with sweat but none of the fighters were winded, unlike the kids earlier. These young men were in shape. They knew what they were doing and it made me fearful for my life. I shrunk further into the corner and closed my eyes, hoping if I couldn’t see them that the reverse would be true as well. After another hour or so of jumping ropes and lifting weights the five men finally left the gym area. I was reluctant to get down from this hiding spot and sneak out of the building and had no idea what time it was.