A/N: Its taken a bit to update. Sorry! I have a life, what can I say. But I love this story. Don't worry, it will be finished! ANd hey, if anyone wants to see a picture of the real Riley I have his pic on my profile.

The early morning pre-dawn was always my favorite time.I sat on the edge of the newsboys lodging house roof, leaning against Mush's strong arm. We had gotten to know each other best here. Talking about almost everything, we focused most of our discussions on where we wanted to be, who we wanted to be.

This time together was special, since we both had to work so much, and Mush was having to spend more time at the docks and the factory than selling papers. Sad as he was to leave that part of his life behind, he knew it was time to move on. He wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man, in almost every way.

His brown arm touched my hair softly. "Here it comes," he whispered, "pointing to the red glow around the horizon. A sudden burst of golden light appeared as the edge of the sun appeared. I smiled. We watched as the big goldren orb slowly made it's appearance in the New York sky, slowly climbing to full visability. I closed my eyes and basked in the newness of day. It made me think of the plains. . .

Mush's boyish chuckle, made me look sharply at him.

"What's so funny, mister," I grumbled playfully, throwing my arms back and stretching.

"Nothin's funny, Marty." Mush's grin sparkled in his beautiful eyes as he leaned over me. "I just love the look you get when you see the sun rise."

His calloused hand brushed my cheek, and he kissed me softly. I kissed back, then giggled, making him break the kiss.

"Go to work, Mr. Meyers. Jack and Race have a party planned tonight. Sooner you go, sooner we can have some fun."

Mush grumbled to himself, ruffled my hair, and got up to leave.

"Don't you understand? My Pa is dead. He's DEAD!" The big man in the grey suit stood at my cabin doorstep, and shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"Neyeli. . .er, Miss Branson, that is irrelevant. You cannot stay here simply because your pa isn't here to pay the money he owed on this ranch. I want you off... by nightfall." He turned to go, and I sank numbly to my knees as I watched him mount my father's horse. He had been pa's friend, dang it. Pa had helped him, I thought bitterly.

Now I needed help. Who could I turn to? I thought of the young ranch hand who has worked for my pa last summer. He didn't live too far...perhaps he'd put me up for a day or so...

Yes, thats what I'll do, I thought. I'll ask Clint for help. Clint was not much older than me, and had been a good friend of mine last summer. He would help. He had to.

" 'Ey, Texas."

I had just closed up the mixing room for the day and was about to leave the factory when I heard Spot's voice. Not knowing quite how I felt about seeing him, since the last few times had either centered around tragedy or major squabbles, I turned and reluctantly faced the sly-faced fellow, leaning against the brick wall.

"Well now, howdy, Conlon," I said, a little awkwardly. "Haven't seen you around much."

Spot's cool expression didn't change at all. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and his hands were pushed into his back pockets. If one didn't know him, they'd think he was bored.

"Well, I's been around, a little, Tex," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I just don't always choose to be sociable. Not that I'm against bein' sociable, you understand."

I waited patiently. But Spot didn't continue. He just kept looking at me.

After a moment I cleared my throat and said, "Well, I best be headed back to the boarding house. Some o' the fellers are waitin' ."

Spot nodded. "Meyers." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, Mush will be there," I said. I nodded a goodbye and started to leave.

"Hey!"

I turned back to Spot. "Can I help you with somethin', partner?" I didn't say it rudely, but I didn't know why he was here. Conlon didn't waste time on chit-chat. Something was up.

Spot walked up to me, his cool expression fading into a look of intense. . .something. He appeared to be formulating a sentence in his thoughts, then mentally tossed it aside. He took a drag on his smoke and blew it out, throwing it away, coming close and l turned and gave him my full attention.

"Marty. . ." he whispered. Something was wrong. He had never called me that, ever. It had always been, Tex, or Texas...

I started to get an eerie feeling, like a premonition almost. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I faced the king of Brooklyn squarely. I held my breathe.

"Marty. . . is your name. . .

My eyes got huge, and goose bumps made my hair stand on end.

". . .Neyeli?"

A/N: I love reviews...Hate it? Love it? Curious? Suggestions? Tell me please.