Whispers in the Wind by Al Lacy Read Free Book Online Page B

wash the windows, clean the sidewalk out front, and … and anything else that needs doing.”
    “I’m sorry, son, but I already have a janitor.” He frowned. “How old are you?”
    “Fifteen.”
    “Why aren’t you in school?”
    “I’m an orphan, sir. My parents and my little sister and little brother were killed by a gang over on Third Avenue a few days ago.
    Milford’s hand went to his cheek. “Oh yes. I read about that in the newspaper. The name is Weston, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m Dane Weston. I wasn’t with them that night, or I’d have been killed, too.”
    Thomas Milford’s features pinched. “Oh, I’m so sorry, son.” His hand went into his pants pocket. He pulled out two silver dollars and handed them to Dane. “I really don’t have any work for you to do, but take this money. It’ll buy you some food.”
    Disappointment showed on Dane’s face, but he managed a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Milford. This will help, for sure.”
    The proprietor looked on with compassion as the boy walked out of the store and headed on down the street.

    By the time the sun was setting, Dane had been into twenty-two stores, and had been told twenty-two times by store owners and managers that they had no work for him. Thomas Milford was the only one who had given him money.
    Dejected, but determined to start job hunting again in the morning, he began looking for a place to call home. Moving along the sidewalks, he glanced into one alley after another as he passed them, looking for what he knew was a colony of orphans and street waifs that he might join.
    Soon he spotted a group of teenage boys in an alley, who were sitting in a circle, eating. He turned into the alley and headed toward them. As he drew close, one of the boys spotted him and said something in a low voice to the others. There were seven of them, and every one of them looked at him in an unfriendly manner.
    The one who looked to be the oldest fixed him with a stony glare. “Whatta you want?”
    “I just became an orphan a few days ago. My parents and little sister and little brother were murdered. I’m looking for a colony here on the streets to live with. Could I join up with you?”
    “No, you can’t. You’re not welcome. We don’t want anyone else in our group.”
    Dane bit down on his lower lip, wheeled, and walked back to the street. Less than a block from where he had just stopped, he came upon an alley where he saw a colony which was made up of boys and girls from their teens down to about eight or nine years of age. They were eating, too. As he made his way toward them, a boy about sixteen rose to his feet. “If you’re lookin’ for a group to join, it ain’t us. We get our food from the garbage cans of that café over there, and there ain’t enough to feed another mouth. That answer the question you were about to ask?”
    Dane couldn’t reply. His tongue was too heavy to form words. A flicker of emotion skittered across his disconcerted face as he turned and walked away.
    The last rays of the setting sun were lighting up the western sky as Dane reached the street and headed toward the next alley. As he drew near it, suddenly he heard a girl screaming. He dashed to the alley, turned in, and saw a group of frightened street waifs looking on as two husky teenage boys had a smaller boy on the ground, beating on him with their fists.
    The one girl was screaming for them to stop.
    Dane was infuriated at seeing the small boy, who was no more than six or seven years old, being pounded by the bigger boys. He ran toward them, shouting, “Hey! Cut that out, you two! Stop hitting him! Get away from him!”
    The children in the group—which included some teenage boys—looked up and saw Dane running toward them. The little boy’s mouth and nose were bleeding.
    The assailants paid him no mind, and this infuriated Dane.
    He grabbed one of them by the shirt collar, yanked him off the boy, and sent him rolling. He then barked at the other