PART ONE--Boston, February, 1872
 

          Nat curled up beside his father, wrapping two thin arms around the big man's shoulders, trying in vain to keep him warm. "Hang on, Papa," Nat whispered, "you'll be okay."
          "Nathaniel . . . " William Blake's voice was barely a whisper.
          "I'm here, Papa." Nat rubbed his father's back gently, feeling feverish himself. "Dan said he'd try to find help."
          "Dear boy," Mr. Blake said, "I--" he broke off in a horrible coughing fit. Nat's blue eyes widened with fear, then he looked around the city, searching for his friend. Hurry, Dan, he pleaded silently, Papa's
really sick.
          Dan was doing his best to hurry, racing down the street at his best pace, knocking other people over in his attempt to get to Nat. Don't let him be dead! he prayed, Nat couldn't live without his father! He ran over to the alley where Nat was kneeling by his father. "How's he doing, Nat?" Dan asked.
          "He's awfully sick," Nat answered, "I thought you said you were going to get help."
          "I tried," Dan replied, "but ole' Doc insisted on me paying him . . . and I can't."
          "Don't let him die, Dan." Nat's eyes begged Dan to perform a miracle.  "He's all I got."
          "No." Dan put his arm around his young friend's shoulders. "I'll always be here."
          And Dan held Nat through the night, and was there with him when Nat's father took his last breath.

          "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" Dan shouted at the people passing by.  It was a miserable, rainy day in mid-February, Dan's clothes were soaked and his hands were so cold he could barely move his fingers. Good thing Nat stayed in that cellar, he told himself, he's getting pretty sick.
          "Hello, young man," spoke a friendly-looking man with light brown hair, "how much for a paper?"
          "One penny, sir," Dan answered.
          "That's all?" The man blinked in surprise. "Here's two."
          "Thank you, sir!" Dan smiled slightly and handed the man his paper, then he disappeared into the crowd.
          Laurie left the young boy by the big brick building, wondering whether or not Jo and Fritz would take in a street urchin like him. That isn't what Plumfield is for, he decided. He was passing a cellar when he heard the cries from below, he stopped to listen for a moment, it sounded like a little boy.
          "Laurie!" Amy cried, "come along, it's time to go home." Laurie nodded, and walked away . . .

           . . . Nat wept bitterly, curled up in a ball in a corner of the cellar.  His father had been dead for a week, and the pain hadn't lessened any. Then the door opened and Dan peeked in.
          "Some man gave me two pennies for one paper," he said cheerfully, "c'mon, I'll get you some bread."
          "I'm not hungry," Nat said quietly.
          "Nat, you got to eat." Dan sat beside Nat and patted his shoulder. "You been starvin' yourself ever since . . . ever since your pa died."
          "You don't understand." Nat was close to tears.
          "No, I don't."
          Dan stood and left, Nat watched him go, then buried his face in his hands again. Then the door opened again, and a man looked in. Nat scrambled to his feet, terrified.
          "Shh," Laurie soothed, "it's all right, young man. I heard you crying, I wanted to see what was wrong."
          "Who are y-you?" Nat stammered.
          "Theodore Laurence." Laurie chuckled to himself. "You can call me 'Mr. Laurie' though. What's your name?"
          "N-Nat Blake."
          "Well, Nat Blake, what's wrong?"
          "My father died," Nat answered, "I'm all alone now."
          Laurie cocked his head sympathetically, then walked across the cellar till he stood directly in front of Nat. "You have no other family?" he assumed.
          "I did," Nat said, "Uncle Nicolo. But he beat me, and when Papa died, he left."
          "I have an idea, Nat," Laurie said, "you see, my sister-in-law owns a school for little boys. She and her husband are very kind, and take care of their boys as if they were their own."
          "Y-you want me to go there?" Nat asked timidly.
          "You'd like it."
          "Can they afford another boy?"
          "Oh yes!"
          Nat smiled weakly, maybe--just maybe--he had found a home.
 

PART TWO--Boston, March, 1872
 

          "Up, boys, up!"
          Dan opened his eyes and looked over at the little old man that woke the paperboys of Boston up every morning, Joe. "Is it mornin' already, Joe?" he asked drowsily.
          "Dang right it is!" Joe laughed, "now up, boy, time to sell some papers!"
          "That man's got too much energy," Jasper groaned from the bottom bunk.
          "Any energy's too much for you, Cole!" Mike called.
          Dan laughed as he slid off his bed and looked down at Jasper, who looked ready to fall back asleep. "Don't work, don't eat, Jasper," Dan reminded him.
          "Aw, dang you, Dan," Jasper muttered, "fine. I'm gettin' up."
          "Hardly," Dan said, amused.
          "I'm gettin'!"
          "Hey, fellas," Peter said, "lookee, it's barely light out! Ole' Joe's gonna start gettin' us up earlier!"
          "Great," Dan said sarcastically.
          "Gettin' up don't hurt y'all," Joe said from the doorway, "you're gettin' paid for this, remember?"
          "'Paid'?" Jack laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't call it that, Joe! You get paid more'n us!"
          "Maybe I just do my job better." Joe grinned.
          "Oh yeah," Dan said, "it's a real hard job too."
          "Gettin' us boys up every mornin'!" Mike laughed, "yep, that sure deserves good pay!"
          "It is a hard job!" Joe insisted, "look at yourselves, you're still in bed! Dagnabbit, boys, it's time to get up!"
          Dan yawned and pulled on his pants, still laughing at Jasper as the older boy rolled out of bed.
          "Stay up too late with Miss Lily?" Dan said jokingly.
          "Aw, shut your mouth, Kean," Jasper said.
          "Well," Jim prodded, "did you?"
          "What?" Jasper said, "go see Lily? Yeah!"
          "Spend all night with her?" Dan persisted.
          "I don't see how that's any of your business, Dan."
          All eyes focused on the source of that musical voice. Lily Barrows was standing in the doorway, wearing a light blue dress with a low neck-line and white lace. Her golden hair hung loose over her white shoulders, revealed by her off-the-shoulder gown; her long eyelashes batted seducingly at Jasper.
         "If ya' did spend the night with 'er, Jasper," Jack said, "I'm gonna get mighty jealous."
         "Oh stop, Jack," Lily scolded, going over and putting an around Jasper.
         "Well . . . " Dan continued.
         "Dan--" Jasper began, but he was cut off as Lily pressed her full lips to his. Jasper gasped slightly as her lips parted, the paperboys cheered.
         "Thata' boy, Jasper!" Jim called.
         "Answer your question, boys?" Lily said, raising one thin eyebrow.
         "That's enough!" Joe said, "you get paid for selling papers, not--" he paused "--that's Miss Lily's job."
         Dan smiled, glancing over at Jasper and Lily, she sure was pretty . . .
 

          "C'mon!" he shouted, "let's go get 'em!" He tossed on his hat and led the rest of the paperboys outside.
          The boys--ranging from only eight years of age to eighteen--rushed into the cold air, all energetic and eager to start another day. Dan bought 100 papers, then set off in the direction of the Boston Harbor.
          "Why the heck are we goin' to the harbor, Dan?" Jasper asked, "you know the sailors hate us!"
          "Oh well." Dan shrugged.
          "You want to get us killed?"
          "It's not that bad, Jasper."
          "They killed Bobby."
          Dan froze, remembering the 12-year-old that was killed a month ago. The sailors and paperboys of Boston were always playing pranks on each other, and most of them were harmless, but Bobby wasn't so lucky. He was knocked into the ocean by the sailors; they figured it wouldn't be harmful - Bobby was excellent swimmer. But they waited and Bobby never returned. Dan jumped in, searching frantically for his friend.  The sailors helped him drag Bobby's lifeless body onto the dock. A huge gash was visible on the side of Bobby's head, it was the first time Dan could remember crying.
          "That was an accident," he said, "besides, we're there now so there's no point in turning back." He hurried over and held up a few papers, calling: "Penny a paper! Read all about the latest news!"
          "You again?" the captain said, "dang, boy, when're you gonna give up?"
          "I don't give up," Dan said, "I'm going to keep comin' back till one of you fellas' buys a paper."
          "What'd you say," another sailor said, "a penny?"
          "Yeah." Dan eyed the man suspiciously, he was tall, brown hair and startling blue eyes. "You buyin' one, sir?"
          "Sure am."
          "Nick, you can't even read!" someone shouted.
          "Oh well," Nick said.
          "What's the point?" Jasper questioned.
          "You two look like you could use a penny," Nick answered, "prob'ly a lot more'n I do."
          Dan knew he would never forget the kind sailor that couldn't read, but still bought his paper anyway. He was sure they would never meet again . . .
 

PART THREE--On the road to Concord, November, 1872
 

          Jasper was lying in the middle of the road, his eyes were closed, his body completely limp. Dan crouched in the bushes and watched as the carriage pulled up, the old woman in the front said: "Oh, dear, stop!"
          "What the heck?" The old man climbed down and went over to check on Jasper, Dan rose and cocked his gun in one smooth motion. "Give us your money," he said, "we won't hurt you."
          "Do it, John!" the woman gasped.
          Jasper stood too, pointing a pistol at the man, his eyes squinted and flashing.  "Don't worry," he said, "we're not murderers, just give us your money.  And anythin' else of value too."
          "All right," John said quickly, "Martha, the trunk is in the back--"
          "I'll get it," Dan interrupted.
          "Give me your necklace, lady," Jasper said.
          "Oh, it was my grandmother's!" Martha protested.
          "Give it now!" Jasper shouted.
          Dan watched as the woman broke into tears and removed her necklace, tossing it to Jasper. "Do you have to take that, Jasper?" Dan said, "it's just a necklace!"
          "Shut up, Dan!" Jasper snapped, "it's worth somethin' too . . . look at it!"
          "But--" Dan protested.
          "Shut up!"
          Dan bit his lip as he lifted the extremely heavy trunk and pulled it out of the carriage. I hate doing this, he thought to himself, but I can't abandon Jasper. He walked over and put the trunk on the road; Jasper turned his back for a moment and Dan looked up at the elderly couple. "I'm sorry," he said, low enough so Jasper couldn't hear him.
          "Let's go, Dan," Jasper said, "you folks head on now."
          As the couple rode off, Dan nudged Jasper in the ribs with his elbow.
          "We didn't have to take that," he said, looking at the necklace in Jasper's hand.
          "You turnin' soft on me, Dan?" Jasper asked, "startin' to sound like that old cowardly friend of yours . . . what was his name? Ah, yes, Nat."
          Dan swung and punched Jasper in the jaw, sending him sprawling onto the dirt road. "Don't you ever talk like that about Nat again!" Dan thundered.

          Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he opened his eyes again and snuck into the little barn outside the grande house. He looked around, noting the school desks, and the big blackboard with the word "philanthropy" written on it. Focus, Dan, he told himself, just get this over with.
          He went up to the big desk and opened it, there lie a gold pocket watch, shiny and very expensive. Then he snuck out again.

          "One of your students stole my watch!"
          Jo struggled to control her temper, knowing inside that there wasn't one student on Plumfield that would steal. Still, she turned slowly and asked calmly: "Did anyone take his watch?"
          "No, ma'am," the students answered.
          "It had to be that one!" The teacher pointed at Nat. "He's from the streets, that's how they lived."
          "I don't steal," Nat said.
          "Liar!" Emil sneered, "all street urchins steal!"
          "I don't!" Nat insisted.
          "Boys," Jo interrupted, "calm down. Emil, your words are cruel, don't judge others. Nat, did you take his watch?"
          "No, ma'am," Nat assured her.
          "He's lied before, Mrs. Jo," Tommy said.
          "As have you, Tommy," Jo snapped.
          "Do you believe me?" Nat asked nervously.
          "Yes, Nat," Jo said.
          "Well, if he didn't take it," the teacher said, "then who did?"
          "He took Tommy's dollar, Mrs. Jo," Nan pointed out, remembering the incident that took place a month ago.
          "I did not," Nat said.
          A deceitful child," the teacher said disapprovingly, "is the worst kind of child."
          "I didn't take your watch!" Nat cried.
          The teacher's eyes narrowed and he backhanded Nat, the boy fell and Jo felt her temper boil over.
          "Get off my land!" she shouted.
          "Not until I recover my watch!" the teacher said. Then he was lying on the ground too, and Dan was standing over him, breathing heavily.
          "Dan?" Nat gasped.
          "I took your dang watch," Dan said, throwing the pocket watch onto the teacher's chest, "leave Nat alone."
          Nat stood and went to Dan, looking up at his friend in disbelief and admiration as Mr. and Mrs. Cook emerged from the house.
          "That's him!" Martha Cook gasped, "that's one of the men that robbed us!"
          "What?" Jo said, "are you sure, Mrs. Cook?"
          "Quite sure," Martha replied.
          Dan bolted, running at a high pace toward the woods, but he was stopped by Nick, who punched him and held him down. "Well," Nick said, "hello again."
          "You?" Dan's eyes widened slightly.
          "Where do ya' come off robbin' a nice couple like that, huh?" Nick shook his head and pulled Dan to his feet. "Looks like ya' didn't need those pennies after all."
          "We wouldn't steal if we didn't have to!" Dan fired up.
          "C'mon." Nick yanked Dan roughly and half-dragged him back to the others. "Franz, get the sheriff."
          Dan gritted his teeth, then looked over at Nat, his young friend looked disappointed in him.         "What?" he said, "you know how many times I stole for you?"
          "Dan," Nat said, tears in his eyes.
          "Why," Martha said, "he's just a child!"
          Dan met her eyes, he had never considered himself a child, and neither had anyone else, although he was only fourteen. He yanked away from Nick and dug into his pocket, retrieving a gold necklace.
          "Here," he said quietly, "I didn't want to take it in the first place."
          "Oh . . . " Martha took the necklace and smiled gently. "Don't worry, you're still young, there's still time to--"
          "I've been in jail before," Dan interrupted, "and when I get out I'm still going to keep on stealin' when I have to." He glanced at Nick. "After all, not everyone pays two pennies for just one paper."
          Jo felt something tug at her heart when she saw the way Dan glared at them with a wild look in his dark eyes, he was alone, and he was lonely, she could see that. He probably never had parents, she thought sadly, no one to look after him. Teach him right from wrong.
          A half-hour later, the sheriff came and took Dan away.

 
PART FOUR--Arizona, July, 1878
 

          Dan wiped the sweat from his forehead and wrapped the barbed wire around the post one last time, determined to finish Mr. McGregor's fence that day. His hands were cut and bleeding, he had no gloves, he wasn't wearing a shirt, it was too hot. His tanned chest was now covered with sweat and blood from where he had wiped his hands. It was almost dusk, and Dan knew he had to hurry.
          "You work hard, Dan," Mr. McGregor said, riding up, "I 'preciate that."
          "It's my job," Dan said, feeling extremely light-headed.
          "You don't look so good." Was that concern in Mr. McGregor's voice?
          "I'm fine, sir."
          "Take a break, son." Mr. McGregor dismounted and turned Dan around, they locked gazes for a moment, then Dan collapsed.
          Dr. Wier came by a little while later and said gravely: "Heatstroke. He was working too hard for too long in too much sun."
          "I should've stopped 'im sooner," Mr. McGregor said, "will he be all right?"
          "I don't know," Dr. Wier answered, "he's not doing too good right now.  Keep ice on 'im an' we'll see how he is in the mornin'."
          Dan half-opened his eyes and looked around the room, his stomach was doing flip-flops, and his body was radiating heat. Mr. McGregor looked down at him sympathetically.
          "You'll be okay, Dan," he said.
          "That's not . . . " Dan took another breath. "What the doctor told you . . . is it?" He smiled weakly.
          "No." Mr. McGregor patted Dan's hand. "But you're young an' strong."
          "I got a lot . . . of work left to do." Dan closed his eyes again, falling back asleep. "I can't leave . . . it unfinished."

          Bess hopped out of the carriage and looked around at the ranch, Franz and Isabel hurried out of the house to greet them all.
          "Aunt Jo!" Franz cried, "come in, come in!"
          "Oh, Franz," Jo said, embracing her nephew, "it's so good to see you again."
          "Haven't had those babies yet?" Nan said, looking at Isabel's huge belly.
          "'Fraid not." Isabel rubbed her belly and smiled. "C'mon, I'll introduce y'all to everyone."
          "Any injuries I can take care of?" Nan asked.
          "We have a heatstroke victim," Franz answered.
          "How bad?"
          "Pretty bad."
          "Where is he?"
          "I'll show you."
          Bess, Jo, and Nan followed Franz into the worker's cabin where Dan lie in bed, drenched in sweat.
          "He looks awful!" Bess gasped.
          "How long?" Nan asked.
          "He collapsed two days ago," Franz answered, "he's lived longer than anyone thought possible."
          "Franz," Jo said shakily, "that's the young man that took that replacement teacher's watch . . . remember? Almost six years ago?"
          "He is?" Franz looked confused, but then he gazed at Dan for a long moment, and nodded. "You're right. Well, he's a hard worker an' good with the young ones."
          "That's good to hear," Jo said, "sounds like he got his life back in order."
          "Oh I wouldn't go that far," Franz chuckled, "he's very wild."
          Nat entered then, his eyes focused on Dan and his already-pale face got even whiter. "Is he okay?" he asked.
          "It doesn't look good," Nan answered, "but considering he's held on for this long . . . maybe he'll pull through."
          Dan slowly opened his eyes and squinted against the bright light coming through the window. Then he saw the beautiful woman sitting beside him, gently wiping his face with a cool cloth. She had blonde hair, it was neatly put up in a bun, she wore clothes that indicated she was very well-to-do.
          "Who are you?" Dan asked quietly.
          "You're awake." Bess smiled and dipped the cloth in a bowl of water.
          "My name is Bess Laurence. I'm here visiting my cousin, Franz Hoffman, and his wife, Isabel."
          "Cousin, huh?" Dan grunted and blinked a few times. "I'm Dan Kean."
          "I remember you."
          "From when?"
          "You stole my teacher's watch."
          "I must've made quite an impression on you," Dan said with a smile, "since you remember me so well."
          "I remember," Bess said thoughtfully, "how you gave yourself up so Nat wouldn't get blamed."
          "I couldn't let anythin' happen to 'im," Dan said, "is he here?"
          "I'll get him."
          A few minutes later, Nat came in and sat down, his eyes were sparkling with excitement. "It's so good to see you again, Dan!" he said.
          "What've you been up to?" Dan asked, pleased to see his little friend had grown into a capable-looking man.
          "Well," Nat said, "I went to live on Plumfield, and they're all so nice there, you would've liked it."
          "I doubt that," Dan said, "a school?"
          "It's more like a home," Nat said, "you just go to school. But I met Daisy there."
          "Daisy?" Dan slowly started to smile, now his eyes were sparkling. "A girl,
          "Nat?"
          "We're going to be married."
          "Are you?"
          "Yes. In a year."
          "Must be a nice girl."
          "She is." Nat paused. "What about you, Dan? Do you have a woman in your life?"
          "Are you crazy, Nat?" Dan laughed, "she'd hate my guts!"
          "You can't be that bad!"
          "Oh yes I can!"
          Nat smiled, glad to see his old friend was doing better, Nan had told him Dan would be okay, his fever had broken the night before. "You'll meet her someday, Dan," he said, "I'd better let you rest now."
          "Thanks for stoppin' by, Nat," Dan said. As Nat left, Dan felt a strange sensation run through, he remembered those years ago, when it was his responsibility to care for Nat . . . that was long ago, he reminded himself, Nat doesn't need you anymore.
 

PART FIVE--Arizona, July, 1878
 

          "A girl!" Franz cried as he emerged from the birthing room holding a red-faced infant wrapped in a white blanket.
          "Oh she's precious!" Jo gasped, "what's her name?"
          "Josephine Isabel," Franz said with a smile.
          "'Josephine', huh?" Nick smiled too. "Can't figure out where ya' got that name."
          Dan and Bess entered together, the exact opposites of each other in many ways . . . rough Dan was dark and moody, an orphan from a young age, growing up on the streets; Bess was fair and cheerful, a privileged young woman with a talent for painting. No one ever would have suspected a relationship would form, only Jo . . .
          "Come in," Jo said, "come see Franz's daughter." Bess went first, but Dan stayed behind, a strange look on his face. "Dan?" Franz said, "don't you wanna meet lil' Jo?" Dan looked up quickly, then slowly walked up to the child, gazing down at her. "Hold her, Dan," Bess suggested.
          "'Hold her'?" Dan smiled and shook his head.
          "Why not?" Franz said, "you've held a baby before . . . haven't you?"
          "Once," Dan answered, "two years ago." He took little Jo in his arms. "My daughter."
          "You have a daughter?" Nat said, his eyes widening.
          "Not anymore," Dan replied, "she died soon after birth, so did 'er mother."
          He gently brushed little Jo's fat cheek. "She does look like you, Mrs. Riley."
          "Yes, she does," Jo agreed.
          "Lucky her," Nick said.
          Dan exchanged glances with Bess, and Jo did not miss it . . .

          "He's here!" Nan called up the stairs.
          "Who?" came Bess' voice.
          "Dan!"
          Bess flew out of her room and down the stairs, racing outside just as Dan rode up. "Dan!" Bess gasped.
          "Well," Dan said, dismounting, "look at you." He walked up and took Bess' hands, his hard face softened slightly. "It's good to see ya' again, Bess."
          "I've missed you, Dan," Bess said.
          "Be--" Nan was cut off my Jo, who silenced her by shaking her head.
          "Leave them alone for now," she whispered.
          Dan took Bess in his arms and kissed her, then their eyes locked, Bess' clear blue, and Dan's mysterious black. "Will you be my wife?" Dan asked. Bess paused, too shocked to speak, then she nodded.
          "Yes," she said, "I will."
          "Come in, Dan," Jo said, "come be with your family."
          Dan smiled, for the very first time in his life, he felt he was home.