Wanted

Chapter 2

Jerimiah Johnston was sitting over his breakfast in the little restaurant attached to the hotel across the street from the train station and couldn't help but listen in on the conversation between McManus and the three local officials who acted as the agents for the orphanage back in New York.

With his back facing their table he could hear every word they were saying. They were talking about what should be done with the boy that had bitten the local blacksmith, a Mr Brown, at the previous evening's viewing. No one seemed to think there was a need to talk about what should be done about the oaf who put his thumb into the child's mouth in the first place.

McManus kept asking his companions, who were responsible for organising and overseeing the event as well as the vetting of the potential 'parents', if there wasn't anyone in their records that could be persuaded to take the boy. He went into great detail about what little he knew about the boy's background in an attempt to advocate for him, but while the men heard what he said they interpreted the facts completely differently than how McManus had hoped they would.

He knew there were more couples than children available for placement on this occasion. All the boy needed was a firm hand, McManus insisted. Someone with good morals and Christian values. Despite his demeanour he's a good lad, and a hard worker. He's not lazy, he told them.

They laughed at McManus and reasoned that if McManus feared the boy would run away from the orphanage to live on the streets in New York than surly they could expect him to run away from his placement here too. He was an incorrigible street urchin, a gutter snipe with bad blood, they claimed. They didn't need the likes of him on their streets.

At this stage McManus had achieved the exact opposite of what he had hoped for, as they did not even want the boy participating in this morning's viewing anymore. He was unsuitable, they had decided and could not recommend him, they told him despite McManus assuring them that the boy had been sufficiently punished and there was not going to be a repeat.

The only thing that could save a boy like him is the discipline and rigorous training he would receive back in the orphanage, they told McManus. In principle McManus did not entirely disagree. A few months in the orphanage to get the boy back on track would not go amiss, but he also knew that this particular guttersnipe would do his best to escape those intend on saving his soul and he didn't want that fate for him. There was something about the boy, that made him want to save him, that made him hopeful that he could be saved, that they all could be saved.

He didn't know what possessed him but on listening to McManus advocate for the boy so passionately Jeremiah felt the need to intervene. It's been a long time, but he remembered what it felt like, advocating for another and trying to get others to join you to do the right thing but never quiet managing to get the necessary support. He started to feel the same frustration as McManus even though this did not concern him.

"Forgive the interruption, I couldn't help but overhear. But would it be possible for me to have a look at the boy," Jeremiah asked politely.

McManus wanted to say yes right away. The man's gentle tone of voice, his melodic and well-spoken way of talking communicated confidence and compassion. All he saw was the man's bright and calm eyes, that seemed to softly smile despite his lips remaining serious.

"We only allow children to go to good Christian homes," one of the men on McManus' table replied brashly.

McManus was perplexed by his companion's tone of voice. It was meant as a rejection no doubt, but he could not see any reason for the hostility. He didn't see what the other men saw, a man whose dress hinted at him not being accustomed to work out in a field but in more mountainous and wooded terrain. A gun on his hip and rifle leaning against his chair, the clothes made of leather instead of cloth, he looked more like a hunter or trapper than a farmer and family man. McManus however didn't pick up on those subtle yet important differences, to him everyone out here looked somewhat different.