A Subtle Change

A girl hurried through the snow-covered streets of New York City. She’d somehow managed to get the police on her heals after about an hour in town. She wasn’t even sure how it’d come to pass. One minute she’d walked into the city, the next minute she had the cops after her.

“Git back here, boy!” one of the cops yelled and blew his whistle to alert the policeman patrolling on the next corner.

The girl knew she had to find a place to hide as soon as possible. The sun was setting, and she didn’t particularly want to be out on the streets at night, especially not in a city she didn’t know. The temperature was dropping quickly, and she needed shelter. Her thick coat wouldn’t keep her warm forever. She rounded a corner and suddenly saw a green sign with gold lettering hanging above the door of a ramshackle tenement building. The door was wide open, so she ducked inside quickly to warm her hands and hide.

As it was late in the evening, there were several tenants in the lobby. They looked up curiously as she stumbled inside. She dashed into the dark spot under the stairs and waited for the police to clamor past the building. The tenants looked at each other and then looked at her. She hid herself effectively under the stairs. When she heard the policemen's feet scramble past the building and down the street, she emerged from her hiding place. The tenants looked at her questionably.

“Th’ name’s Sam Dawson,” she introduced. She was a thin girl and about five foot seven with a confidant air and a strong will. She had dark brown hair that was cut like a boy’s, short and shaggy. Her eyes were grey with specks of silver and blue. She didn’t look particularly strong, but her clothes and thick coat covered all her muscles. She wore pants, an undershirt with three buttons on the collar, and a dark blue button-down shirt tucked into her pants, which were held up by a leather belt. She also wore a thick blue jacket, unbuttoned.

“Evenin’,” one of the boys greeted, extending his hand to her. They shook. “Da name’s Jack Kelly, Cowboy. What ya hidin’ from, girl?”

She folded her arms across her small chest. “Cops,” she answered.

“What fer?” one of the other asked, a boy with a patch over his eye. Sam looked over at him. “Kid Blink.”

“I dunno really. I came inta this city ‘bout an hour ago. Cops decided ta try and throw me in jail. Damned if I know why,” she answered frankly.

The boys exchanged glances at her language. Girls weren’t usually known for bad language. “Where you from?” Jack inquired.

“Born in Brooklyn, I think; grew up in the Yukon,” she replied, leaning back against the desk and dropping her hands to the edge of it.

“Did I hear someone mention Brooklyn?” another boy asked as he walked through the door. Everyone except Sam looked over at the new visitor. When he saw Sam, he raised an eyebrow. “New boy, Jackey-boy?” he asked, glancing over at Jack.

“Well, first off, Spot, she ain’t a boy,” Jack replied. Spot looked over at Sam. He looked her up and down, sizing her up.

“Name’s Sam Dawson,” she stated and turned to Jack. “I’m no girl, Jack.”

Jack looked at her, confused. “But ya gots da… ‘n’ da…” he stuttered, gesturing to various places on his body.

“Just cuz I look like a girl don’t mean I am one. Ya treat me like one, I’m liable ta break yer arm,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest again.

Several of the boys chuckled. “I like ‘er,” Spot laughed and walked over to her. He spit in his palm and extended it out to her. “Spot Conlon a Brooklyn,” he introduced. She spit in her own palm and shook his hand. He was surprised that she didn’t grimace.

“Conlon? Son a Stephen Conlon?” she asked, dropping her hand to her side.

“Yeah,” Spot mumbled, “why?”

“My ma, her name was Anna Conlon,” she informed.

Spot looked at her, suspicious. “Ya shoah?” he asked.

She nodded and opened the pack she’d been carrying. She dug around inside until she found the small tattered picture of her parents. “That’s her, my ma,” she answered, handing him the photograph.

He took it and looked at it. He vaguely remembered seeing a similar photograph years ago in his family’s apartment. He decided that Sam was telling the truth. “Ya sayin’ we’se cousins?” he asked, handing her back the photograph.

She smirked a smirk similar to Spot’s but one that had its own personality. “Yup,” she answered, stowing her photograph.

The others exchanged glances. “Looks like we got anuddah Conlon on our hands, boys,” Jack announced.

“Not Conlon, Jack. Dawson,” she corrected, tieing her pack shut.

“Well, Sam, if you’se a membah a da Conlon fam’ly, den ya’s a membah a our fam’ly,” Jack decided. The others laughed. She smiled and looked at all the others in the room, not truly in a mood to smile. She wasn’t sure if she could trust the boys, but they seemed friendly enough for now. “Well, I s’pose ya gotta meet da rest a da boys,” he continued and began to rattle off names, gesturing to each boy as he walked around the room.

Sam half-listened, yawning. She set her elbow down on the desk, leaning her head on her hand. She fell asleep shortly. She awoke again several seconds later when something fell to the floor at her feet. She opened her eyes and stood erect, looking down at the floor to see another girl.

This girl also wore pants, but was much shorter and had long white-blond hair. Since she was laughing so much, Sam couldn’t see her blue eyes. She wasn’t used to seeing girls, so she was confused to see such long hair. She watched the girl silently, neither smiling nor frowning, but curious. When the girl finally stopped laughing long enough to open her eyes and look up, she saw Sam standing over her. Not realizing that Sam was a girl, she scrambled to her feet to get a better look.

“Evenin’,” she smiled.

“April, leave ‘er alone,” Spot commanded.

For a moment, April was taken aback. She hadn’t expected this new kid who looked so much like a boy to be a girl. She recovered quickly. “Ya taken a shine to ‘er already, Spot?” she inquired, taunting him.

“She’s me cousin,” he retorted. He didn’t like April very much. This caught April off-guard again. Before she could speak, Sam spoke.

“Look, I don’t mean ta interrupt, but I’ve been trackin’ ‘cross Canada fer the past couple a weeks with very little sleep. Ya got anywhere I can set down fer the night?” she asked, tired and irritable.

Jack nodded and walked over to her. “Shoah. I’ll show ya up,” he replied. She bent to pick up her pack. “Naw, I’ll git it,” he said quickly, reaching for it. She stood back up to watch him fumble with it. He tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy for him. He grunted and tried again.

“Ya need some help, Cowboy?” the Italian named Race joked.

“You wanna try it, Race?!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Move over, Jackey-boy. I got it,” Spot said, sure that he could lift it. He tried but to no avail. He couldn’t lift it either.

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. She shoved Spot out of the way gently and picked her pack up easily with her left hand, her weaker hand. She threw it over her shoulder and started up the stairs. The boys just blinked. They couldn’t believe that she could carry it with a single hand.

“Where’d she say she was from, Jack?” Spot whispered, leaning over to Jack, watching her carry her pack effortlessly up the stairs.

“Da Yukon,” Jack replied, just as shocked as everyone else in the room. He shook his head clear and hurried after her.

Upstairs, Jack pointed to the empty bunk below his own and spoke. “Ya kin ‘ave dat one. No one sleeps dere,” he explained.

She nodded and walked over to it. She set her pack down and pulled her jacket and button-down shirt off. Spot headed out of the room. Jack lingered for a moment as she undid her belt. Spot grabbed Jack’s collar and dragged him out of the room. Sam barely noticed. She just took her pants off and stood next to her bunk in her drawers and undershirt, no different than any boy. She noticed the washroom and went into it. She washed up and headed back to her bunk.

She yawned and scratched herself. She opened her pack and pulled out her bedroll, rolling it out on her bunk. As she was not used to pillows, she tucked the one on the bed underneath it. She took a few more things back out of her pack before stowing what she didn’t need back inside. She tied it up securely and slid it under her bunk. She crawled onto her bedroll and fell asleep quickly. The noise of the boys stumbling in didn’t even rouse her. She was used to far louder sounds.

The next morning, Sam woke before sunrise as she’d done every day for her entire life. She crawled off her bunk quietly and went to take a shower. After her short shower, she dressed quickly. The others still were not awake. She pulled out her pack and began unpacking a few things. She took out a few dishes and set them next to her on the bunk. After a few minutes, Spot sauntered over to her sleepily.

“Whatta ya doin’ up dis eoily?” he mumbled, plopping down next to her and rubbing his eyes.

“Unpackin’ a few things,” she answered, retrieving her pistol.

Spot blinked and looked at her. “What all ya got in dere?!” he exclaimed, forgetting that the others were still asleep.

“I been trackin’ ‘cross Canada fer the past couple a weeks. Everything in this pack’s what I been livin’ on since I left home. Would you wanna be caught out in the wild without any protection. I lost my shotgun though,” she explained, mentally kicking herself for dropping her father’s shotgun off a cliff.

“You been livin’ on what’s in dis bag?” he exclaimed.

She nodded. “When this’s pretty much all ya own, ya kinda take it with ya,” she replied, re-packing several of her things.

A few minutes later, the landlord walked up the stairs noisily. He began waking the boys loudly. “Come on, boys. Wake-up! Carry da bannah!” he yelled, walking from bunk to bunk and hitting it with a broom. When he got to Jack’s bunk, he shook him violently, not noticing Sam. “C’mon; you, uh, dreamin’ ‘bout sellin’ papahs?”

Spot stood and stretched, nearly hitting Jack in the face. “Mornin’, Jackey-boy,” he yawned.

“Spot,” Jack mumbled, nearly falling off his bunk.

Sam yawned and stretched her back, cracking a few times. “Mornin’,” she greeted as she stood.

“Mornin’,” Jack mumbled, stumbling into the washroom.

Kloppman finally noticed her. “Well, g’mornin’ to ye, boy,” he greeted, shuffling over to her.

She turned around. “Mornin’, sir,” she greeted.

He blinked and looked at her. “What’s yer name?” he inquired, trying to figure something out.

“Sam Dawson,” she replied.

“Sam? Dat short fer Samantha?” he replied.

Sam shrugged. “Could be. Dunno. Pa always called me Sam,” she answered.

“You gonna be a newsie like de rest a dese boys?” he wondered.

“Is zat what they are?” she answered, glancing around at the boys as they got dressed. He nodded. “Well, I dunno. The only thing I was ever good at’s minin’ fer gold, but I guess it’s worth a try,” she concluded.

“Ya’s a gold minah?!” Spot exclaimed, stepping up next to her.

“Not too much else ta do on the claim ‘cept maybe cards,” she answered, placing her ratty old hat on her head.

“Did I hear someone tawkin’ ‘bout cawds?” Race asked with a cigar in his mouth and walked over to them.

“Sam’s jist sayin’ dat all she knows how ta do’s mine fer gold ‘n’ play cawds,” Spot summed up.

Race grinned and turned to Sam. “Really? What games?” he said, very interested.

“Any game worth gamblin’,” she replied, taking the cigar out of his mouth and looking to take a drag on it, but noticing that it was not even lit. She stuffed it into his front pocket.

“Ya any good?” he wondered.

Sam shrugged. “Depends on how good my opponent is,” she answered.

“C’mon, fellas. Quit gabbin’. We gots papes ta sell,” Jack yelled as he hurried out the door.

“Dat’s our cue,” Spot announced and pulled Sam out the door.

“Now what?” she asked, letting her cousin drag her along at an arm’s length.

“Time ta carry da bannah. Ya do know how ta do dat. I mean, ya seen newsies up in da Yukon,” he replied.

“Naw, never left the claim,” she answered once they were in the street.

Spot suddenly released her and turned back to her. “Ya nevah left da claim?! How come?” he asked, very surprised.

“Nevah had to. Pa always went out. I was better at minin’ gold than he was, so I usually did. Besides Pa didn’t trust anyone in town. He said I was better off stayin’ on the claim,” she explained.

“How come?” he asked.

“I dunno. Maybe it’s cuz Pa raised me like ‘is son,” she shrugged.

Spot sighed and pulled her along to the circulation center. He bought a tall stack of papers and handed her at least a third of them. He began to explain the intricacies of selling the newspapers as they walked to Brooklyn. Sam stopped at the Brooklyn Bridge, staring at it in awe. She’d never seen anything so grand. Spot found it humorous and pulled her along after a few minutes. He took her to the pier so she could meet his friends. They were a little more than curious when they saw their leader walking down the street holding onto a boy’s hand. They all wanted to find out why, so they kept quiet until he explained.

“Fellas,” Spot called, “dis’s me cousin Sam Dawson. Sam, dese’re da newsies a Brooklyn.”

“Mornin’,” Sam greeted and stuffing her hands in the pocket of her jacket.

“Sam’s gonna be stayin’ wit’ us heh’ in Brooklyn fer a while-“

“Aw, no. I’m stayin’ in Manhattan,” she interrupted.

“Now wait a minute heh’. You’se stayin’ heh’ so’s you kin loiyn how ta sell papes wit’ me!”

“There’s no way in hell I’m stayin’ with you!”

The two cousins bickered between themselves for several minutes further. Neither of them backed down, a trademark temper of anyone related to the Conlons. The Dawsons didn’t have as much of a temper as the Conlons did, but they had more of a fighting spirit.

“He’s definitely a Conlon,” one of the boys remarked. The others laughed.

“I’m NOT a Conlon; I’m a Dawson,” Sam shouted, looking at the boy who’d made that comment.

The boy jumped. “Sawry,” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

Sam smirked and laughed. “What’s yer name?” she asked.

“Rocky,” he said, looking up at her.

“Nice ya meet cha,” she said and offered to shake his hand. He shook her hand and them winced. She released his hand quickly. “Sorry,” she apologized, remembering her strength. He rubbed his hand in pain.

“Sam, whatta ya doin’?” Spot demanded walking over to her and looking at Rocky.

“I just shook ‘is hand. Can I help it if yer boys’re weak little kids?” she replied.

“Careful, Sam,” he warned.

Sam glared at him and stepped into his face. “Ya threatenin’ me… cousin?” she asked. Spot said nothing. “Need I remind ya a what’s in my pack. I can get it fast. I doubt anyone’ll miss ya,” she whispered.

Spot gulped and stepped away from her. “No,” he answered nervously. The boys wondered what Sam had said but weren’t bold enough to ask. Sam seemed even more dangerous than her cousin.

Sam was about to leave but decided to say something before she left. “Tell ya what, Spot; I’ll stay here in Brooklyn, but I find my own job, somethin’ better accustomed ta my skills. I’ll get my pack and be back at yer lodgin’ house by tanight,” she agreed and then walked back to the street, papers still under her arm.

Spot watched her leave for a moment before saying anything. “Ozzie, follow ‘er,” he ordered. Ozzie obeyed instantly before realizing what Spot had really said. The others didn’t pay close enough attention to get it.

Just as Ozzie jogged up to her, it suddenly hit him that Spot had called his cousin a her. He cleared his throat as he stepped up beside her. She looked over at him, seeing a boy about her height, maybe a little taller, with short golden brown hair and brown eyes. “Uh, ‘scuse me, uh, Sam, but kin I ask ye somethin’?” he wondered.

“Sure, ‘s’longs ya tell me who ya are,” she replied.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’se Ozzie,” he introduced.

“Sam,” she said, offering her hand. Ozzie was about to shake her hand but thought better of it when he remembered Rocky’s reaction. Sam understood and pulled her hand back.

“Are you’se a goyl?” he asked. “Cuz Spot called ya one back on da pier, ‘n’ we all thought ya was a boy, so I didn’t know if ya was er not cuz Spot called ya a goyl,” he added quickly.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I’m a girl,” she answered, nodding and glancing over at him.

“Den how come ya gots such short haya?”

“My pa raised me. Long hair gets in the way when yer minin’ fer gold, so he cut it every time it got long. He didn’t really know how ta handle long hair either.”

“Maybe ya should grow it long now. Ya ain’t minin’ now,” he said.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what ta do with it,” she laughed, glancing over at him.

A chill went down his spine as he looked over at her cool disposition. Nothing seemed to bother her anymore. On the pier, she’d virtually forgotten about her argument with Spot only a few minutes afterwards. He wondered what else she was so cool about.

“So, you gonna teach me how ta sell these things?” she asked, shaking the stack of newspapers.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Spot tol’ me ta look aftah ya, so I guess ‘e meant ta teach ya how ta sell.”

Sam laughed. “He told ya ta watch after me,” she repeated, still laughing. Ozzie didn’t understand, but he was too sweet to pry. “Remind me ta thank ‘im when we get back,” she added, sauntering down the street.

After a week, Sam was comfortably moved into the Brooklyn warehouse. Spot had insisted that they share his room. Sam had gotten a little too cozy around his newsies and frequently “forgot” to put all her clothes on before entering the bunk room. Spot made sure to put a stop to it and kept her in his room; though, she usually spent her nights down in the bunk room because Spot had frequent visitors.

During that week, Spot had set up a job for Sam at Dodgesonn’s Ship Loading. Sam was glad to have the job and gave it all her heart. Her co-workers were surprised at how fast she worked, how well she worked, and how strong she was. She worked very hard for her low wages. She earned more in a day than most newsies earned in a week. She very rarely bought anything, so she saved most of her money.

Christmas was approaching, and Sam bought a few gifts for her friends whenever she saw something in a window that seemed right for a particular person. Somehow, she always managed to keep the prices of her gifts low and the quality good. She had even become a good friend of the newsies. Many of the boys tried to ask her advice on girls, but she never knew anything. She tried to help, but her advice was never accurate. Most of them eventually stopped asking, but her best friend Ozzie continually came to her. Sam never thought about it but tried to give him the best advice she could. She had better luck with the girls, though. They would come up to her on the street and ask about any number of the boys. The only reason they asked her was because they knew she was a girl; she’d taken Ozzie’s advice and let her hair grow. It had grown almost down to her chin. She’d gotten it trimmed and evened once or twice, but, for the most part, she let it grow.

Sam and Ozzie were rarely seen apart except when either was working. She trusted him more than anyone else, including her cousin. He still didn’t know why she’d come to New York. She did have a reason, and she aimed to tell him at Christmas. Ozzie didn’t know her reason either. He didn’t ask either. If she wanted to tell, she would. He didn’t pry, but he stuck by her side all the time in case she did tell.

“Hey, Sammy!” Ozzie yelled as he ran up the street toward her. Sam glared at him. He knew she hated being called Sammy. “It’s pretty cold out. It’s gonna stawt snowin’ soon,” he said, breathing hard as he finally got to her. He rubbed his hands for warmth.

“Here, take these,” she said as she handed him her wool gloves.

“Aw, I cain’t take dose, Sam. Deys’re yer gloves. You keep ‘em,” he said, pushing them back to her.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Ozzie, I spent my whole life up north. This isn’t even brisk ta me. My summers’re barely ‘bove this. Take ‘em; ya need ‘em more ‘an me,” she resolved.

Ozzie took them and slid them onto his cold hands. They were lined with a soft, fuzzy material. They warmed his hands quickly. “Why don’t we git inside. Dere ain’t nobody out now. Dey’s all gone in cuz a da weathah. Da tempacha’s goin’ down; we got a blizzard comin’,” he said, trying to get her in from the cold.

Sam laughed. “C’mon, Ozzie. Let’s go back ta th’ warehouse ‘n’ get warm,” she said, dropping the paper she’d been reading. The foreman had given her the day off. Since she had worked so hard, he gave the week between Christmas Eve and New Year’s off.

They started toward the warehouse near the water. Sam walked with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her thick coat, and Ozzie tried to keep himself warm through his thin jacket. Sam was about to offer him her coat, but he spoke first.

“Uh, Sam,” he began, a little more nervous around her than he had ever been before.

“Yeah, Ozzie?” she asked, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket.

He stopped and turned to face her. “Kin I ask ye somethin’?” he asked, trying not to stumble over his words.

“Ozzie, ya know ya can ask me anythin’,” she laughed, sticking the cigarette between her lips and looking for her matches.

He gulped. “D’you- D’ya think ya could evah like any a da fellas?” he managed to get out.

She shrugged. “Sure, don’t see why not,” she answered, still looking for her matches.

“Wha- What ‘bout me?”

She jerked her head up to look at him, the cigarette falling from her lips. Neither said anything as the snow began to fall, slowly at first and then harder. Ozzie wasn’t sure if she was too shocked that her best friend was actually in love with her or if she was shocked that they were in love with each other. After a while, Sam finally found her voice.

“I wasn’t sure if-if ya actually… really liked me,” she breathed.

“I ‘ave since I really got-got ta know ye,” he answered. He stepped closer to her and removed her hat from her head, letting it fall down her back and hang from her neck. He leaned in to kiss her.

“Sam!” someone called from around the corner.

Sam jumped and nearly fell over. She steadied herself and went to see who had called her name. Ozzie grabbed hold of her arm. “Will ya be ma goiyl?” he asked.

Sam just stared at him, deciding. She nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she finally answered, a small smile reaching her lips. Ozzie grinned as the owner of the voice rounded the corner. It was Spot.

“Dere ya awe,” Spot said, walking up to them. “C’mon; we gots Christmas ta git to.” He motioned for them to follow and headed back to the warehouse. Ozzie and Sam followed along behind, Ozzie with an arm around her waist. Sam put an arm around his shoulders to keep him warm and show him that she cared.

They all got to the warehouse shortly and went inside. As they entered, Sam pulled her coat off. Ozzie took the gloves off and handed them to her. She stuffed them into the pocket of her coat. No one noticed how either of them were acting.

“Hey, Sam, ya got da gift undah da tree?” Spot asked, shaking the snow out of his hair.

“Not yet. Ozzie, come help me,” she said as she removed her hat and shook her hair out. She hurried up the stairs with Ozzie close behind.

“Hey, uh, Spot,” one of the boys began, leaning over to Spot and keeping his voice low, “don’t it seem a little strange dat Ozzie’s helpin’ ‘er ta bring down ONE present?”

Spot looked at him, considering it. He scratched his chin and went upstairs after them. He found them in his room. Ozzie stood in the middle while Sam was unlocking the small wooden foot locker she’d bought. She pulled out several wrapped packages and handed a few to Ozzie. Spot stood quietly in the doorway. Neither had noticed his presence. Sam stood back up after locking her foot locker again. She stepped up next to Ozzie.

“How come ya got dis many?” he wondered.

“Well, I had ta get one fer you cuz yer my best friend, up until now at least. I had ta get one fer Spot cuz he’s my cousin. Two a them go ta Spot. Then I had ta get somethin’ fer the one I drew, ‘n’ a course fer our keeper,” she answered, repositioning the few gifts in her arms.

“Ya got somethin’ fer Mike?!” he exclaimed, trying to figure out which one it was.

“He deserves one; he puts up with us,” she quipped, setting the gifts she held down on her bed. She looked for the names she’d written on them and then stacked them into one pile and picked them up into her arms, letting Ozzie carry the biggest one, the one for Mike. She headed for the door. Spot decided to go back downstairs.

“Sam,” Ozzie said quietly. Sam turned back to him. He stepped up to her, took her face in his free hand, and kissed her sweetly. When he let up, he stroked her face with his thumb. “I had ta finish what we stawded,” he explained.

Sam smiled and kissed his cheek, unable to touch him because her arms were full. “C’mon; we can’t keep ‘em waitin’ much longer,” she said, heading back for the door.

Ozzie stood there, almost disappointed, for a moment. He hadn’t expected her to brush him off so quickly, but then he remembered that she was unused to anything like this. He sighed and followed her back downstairs.

In the lobby, Spot and the others waited for Sam patiently. The younger ones were a little impatient, but they knew that it was always ladies first. Since Sam was the only girl, she got to give out and receive her gifts first. When she entered with her things, she set them down on the bottom stair and took the one from Ozzie.

“Well, I guess I go first,” she commented, laughing a little and running her fingers back through her hair.

Spot walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Yup, you’se da lady. Ya git foist pick,” he reminded.

“Thanks, cuz,” she mumbled, walking away from him. “Mike, I didn’t think any a these boys’d get ya anything, so I did. This’s fer you.” She handed him the package wrapped in old newspapers.

Mike opened it and smiled, seeing a shiny new oil lamp. “Thank ye, Sam. I need a new one in ma little room,” he said, picking up the lamp and looking it over gratefully.

Sam continued with her gifts. “Fer the kid I drew, I got this,” she said, picking up a thick rectangular package. “Alex.” The boy stepped forward, and she handed him the package.

Alex opened it up slowly, trying to savor the moment. As he peeled back the layer of newspaper, his expression became more and more cheery. He grinned once all the paper was off. “Thanks, Sam!” he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight and unexpected embrace.

“Yer welcome, Alex,” she replied, pushing him away from her.

“What is it, Alex?” someone asked.

“It’s a book, dummy,” someone else argued.

“I didn’t ask you, Stilts,” the boy argued before turning back to Alex. “What is it?” he asked again.

“Da Count A Monte Cristo!” Alex exclaimed happily. “I been wantin’ ta read dis since da lady at da library tol’ me ‘bout it! Where’d ja find it, Sam?” He ran his hands along the leather binding, smelling it thoroughly.

“Amazin’ what ya can get when yer determined,” she answered, half-smiling at his joyful demeanor.

“Uh, ya gots a couple more dere, Sam,” Spot noticed.

They’re last, and I mean really last,” she answered, sitting down next to her gifts on the stairs. Ozzie sat on the stair above her, brushing her back with his foot. She almost jumped, but reached her hand back and grabbed hold of his foot firmly, holding it in place.

Spot had missed all of this and just looked for the kid who’d drawn her. “Who’s got me cousin?” he asked, looking everyone over.

One of the older boys stood and walked over to her, handing her the small gift. “It ain’t much, but I figured ya’d like it,” he mumbled as she took the gift.

“Thanks, Pen,” she said to the aspiring writer. She unwrapped the gift carefully to reveal a beautiful pen. She smiled and examined the pen. “Thanks,” she said again.

“Well, I figured dat since ya writes in dat journal a yers so much ya’d want a new pen someday,” he reasoned.

Sam smiled and looked back up at him. “I did need a new pen; thanks,” she said, very happy with her present.

Pen smiled, glad that she liked the gift, and returned to his seat around the small tree. The others began exchanging gifts in a type of round. The last person to give a gift would be the next person the get a gift. They did it this way to make it last as long as possible. As always, Spot received his last. He got a new pair of suspenders, bright red ones. He had almost forgotten about Sam’s gifts for him. He started to go off and do something.

“Spot,” Sam called.

Spot turned back around. “Yeah, Sam?” he asked.

“I got two things fer ya,” she stated, standing and picking up the last two packages.

Spot was curious. He walked over to her. “What?” he asked.

She handed him the smaller of the two gifts. “That one’s from me,” she explained.

Spot took the gift and unwrapped it carefully. He opened the little box to see a gold pocket watch inside. His eyes grew wide. “Where’d ja steal dis!?” he exclaimed.

“I didn’t steal it. Ma had it. She wanted ‘er son ta have it, but she never had one. I thought you’d want it; it belonged ta our grandpa,” she explained.

Spot took the watch out and looked at it carefully. It was beautiful. “Wow,” he breathed. Sam smiled. He hooked the watch to his suspenders and dropped it into his pocket. “What’s in da oddah one?”

She hesitated in giving it to him. She held it to her chest. “I think it better alone,” she suggested, glancing around.

He nodded. “Our room,” he said and headed upstairs.

“Ozzie,” Sam said as she followed her cousin up the stairs. Spot looked back at her but said nothing.

Once in their room, Spot sat on his bed. Sam shut the door after Ozzie entered. Sam gestured for Ozzie to sit on her bed. He did. She held the package close to her chest. “It’s time ya both know why I’m here,” she began.

“You’se heh’ cuz we’se cousins, Sam,” Spot said.

“Only part of it,” she added.

“What’s da rest?” Ozzie asked.

Sam walked over to Spot and handed him the gift. “Open it,” she ordered softly. He took it and unwrapped it carefully, looking back up at her every so often. “It’s our family. You ‘n’ me’re the kids,” she elaborated.

Spot just stared at the photograph. He ran his fingers along the faces of his parents, remembering. He looked back at Sam. “Why’d ya give me dis?” he wondered, still clutching it tightly.

She sighed and sat down on his bed. “Ya see, I didn’t just happen ta show up. I knew you were here somewhere. Pa told me all ‘bout it before ‘e died. My mother ‘n’ yer father ‘ad had a fight just before mine left fer th’ Yukon. Stephen never liked my pa. He said ‘e wasn’t good fer anythin’. Anna wouldn’t listen. She ‘n’ Pa left th’ next day. They’d dreamt ‘bout gettin’ a claim ‘n’ minin’ fer gold since before they married. Anna died just after we got up there. Pa sent a telegram, but 'e never got a response. He blamed ‘imself but kept ‘imself busy by raisin’ me.

“When ‘e told me I had a cousin in Brooklyn, I decided ta come back when I had the chance, give ya somethin’, settle old scores,” she explained.

“But, why? Pop nevah mentioned a sistah. He had a pictcha a him ‘n’ some lady dat looks like her,” he pointed to the picture, “but I figured it was ‘is wife. Ma muddah left us when I was a kid. Dis all da only reason ya came?” he said.

“I had nothin’ up there, but I knew I had family here, one cousin at least. I had ta give ya the watch, too. It didn’t belong ta me. Grandpa’d meant it fer ‘is grandson, not granddaughter,” she finished.

Spot took the watch back out and examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. “Dis was ma grandfaddah’s,” he kept mumbling as if he truly admired the man he’d never met.

Sam stood and began pacing the room. She seemed a little preoccupied, so Ozzie decided to ask Spot something. He cleared his throat. Spot looked up; Sam didn’t. “Uh, Spot, I gotta ask ya somethin’,” he began.

“Shoah, Ozzie, anythin’,” he answered, putting the watch back into his pocket. He began fiddling with his cane.

Ozzie got a little nervous when he saw the cane, but decided to continue anyway. “Ya see, well, Sam ‘n’ me’s gotten kinda close,” he began.

“Yeah, I know. You’se two’re best friends,” he commented.

“Uh, no, Spot, we’se gotten… involved,” he corrected.

Spot was taken aback. He’d never expected such news. He looked over at Sam. She'd barely heard the last comment and had turned to face her cousin. She ran her fingers through her short hair and then crossed her arms over her chest. She tried to watch his reaction with indifference. Spot looked back at Ozzie. He was stunned, to say the least. He stood and walked over to Sam.

“You’se ‘n’ Ozzie?” he asked quietly. She shrugged. “I nevah thought ya’d go fer a boy.” She looked at him, dumbfounded. “I mean, ya was brought up like a boy ‘n’ all. I figured ya wasn’t brought up ta like boys,” he explained.

“Spot, I am a girl. I’ve grown up ‘n’ met some really nice fellas. I like Ozzie,” she explained.

Spot smirked and put a hand on her shoulder. “Dat’s great, Sam. I’se glad fer ya,” he smiled. He turned back to Ozzie. “If ya hoit ‘er, ya gotta deal wit’ me.”

“Spot.”

“Don’t worry, Spot. I’ll be good to ‘er.”

“Ozzie.”

“Dat’s great, Ozzie. You do dat. Now, c’mon. We gots festivities ta git to.”

They all laughed and headed back downstairs. Ozzie put his arm around Sam’s shoulders as they went downstairs. The youngsters were playing with their gifts while the elder boys were either playing card games or talking. Alex had begun reading his book. Sam had brought her journal downstairs and began writing in it with her new pen. Ozzie sat next to her with an arm around her and watched her write. Spot went to play in a poker game.

Everyone was happy. Each of them had gotten something that they really wanted. Sam her pen, Mike his lamp, Spot his suspenders and watch, Ozzie his wool gloves and chocolate candies which he shared with Sam. Everyone was having a good time. All in all, it was a good Christmas.

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