Dan pulled the collar of his black leather jacket more closely around his neck to block the bitter December wind. Unfortunately, it didn’t help much. What he wouldn’t give for a warm room to stay in - just for the night. Unbidden his thoughts turned to the tiny, yet homey, apartment he had shared with his mother until five months ago.

"Mangan, what ya’ up to?"

Dan jerked around to face Luke. "Nothin’," he muttered, hoping that his tears could be attributed to the wind and cold.

Fortunately the older boy’s thoughts were not on his protégé’s appearance, but on his willingness to do a job. "Got something for you to do, Danny Boy. Something real Christmasy."

Dan knew from the tone of Luke’s voice that this would not be something good. Sometimes he wondered why on earth he had gotten mixed up with Luke and the Cowhands. His mother would shoot him if she knew the way he had been living for the last few months. She had raised him so much better. That’s what made gang life even worse, knowing that his mother would be so disappointed in him.

They had never lived in a nice part of New York City, but she had always managed to keep him from straying too far. He had known Luke for years, but not until his mother’s death had he learned that Luke was involved in a gang. Of course, he had suspected it for awhile, but had always hoped that his suspicions were unfounded.

He could still remember the day when Luke had first approached him. It had been a stifling hot August day. He had just finished packing up all his earthly possessions and moved them into a neighbor’s spare room. Little old Mrs. Michaels had promised to keep an eye on his things until he was settled with his uncle. At not quite fifteen he couldn’t afford to pay the rent on his old apartment. Heck, at not quite fifteen he couldn’t afford much. So armed with a change of clothing, two old pictures and a stranger’s name, he set off to find a home. One of the pictures was of his parents and himself when he was just a few of years old. He couldn’t remember his father very well. He had been run down by a drunk driver one afternoon as he walked home from work. His mother had been both mother and father to him, until she too had passed on. The other picture was a faded old picture of his mother, while in her teens, and a young boy - her brother.

She had often told him about her little brother Billy. Unfortunately, they had lost touch over the years. He had been about ten years younger than she, and when she left the orphanage to get married, they hadn’t allowed her to take Billy. Then, with so many kids in the system, young Billy had slipped through the cracks. Dan’s parents had tried to get custody of Billy a year later, once they had a home and employment, but found out that he had been sent to another orphanage. For a time they had tried to track him down, only to find that he had run away from his last placement. As far as Dan knew, Bill Regan was his only living relative. His mother had urged him to try and find the man so that he wouldn’t be alone in the world. She hadn’t wanted her son to end up in foster care or an orphanage like they had been - nor had she wanted him mixed up in a gang.

That last thought brought Dan back to where he was. Luke was just finishing giving him directions of some kind. "Did you get all that, Mangan?"

"Um, it’s kinda’ hard to hear you with this wind and all the traffic, could you run it by me again?" Dan hoped his excuse wouldn’t rile up his friend.

Rolling his eyes, Luke pulled Dan by the arm until the were sheltered a bit by a decrepit building. "Listen close this time, okay. We’re going to go Christmas shopping. Only we won’t need money this year."

Luke grinned as he watched Dan sort this out in his mind. He knew the kid would figure it out, he was a smart one. He’d been wanting Mangan in the gang for years. When he’d heard that the kid was on his own, he could hardly wait to get to him. True, it’d been sad about his mother. She’d been a nice lady. If his own mom had been a little more like her, he might not be running the Cowhands now.

Brushing the thought aside, Luke continued, "That little pawnshop a couple blocks over has some mighty nice things in the windows - and throughout the store. But it’s looking kinda’ cluttered, so I think we should help them out."

Dan knew exactly what Luke meant. He’d helped "unclutter" places before. Oh well, it wasn’t like he had anywhere special to go tonight. He caught Luke’s last sentence.

"The plan is to "visit" right around six tonight."

"What! The pawnshop doesn’t even close until nine - why so early?" Dan spluttered.

"It’s time for you to try something a little riskier, my friend," Luke replied grinning. He’d babied Dan a lot longer than he’d allowed for any other new member. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him. Oh, he knew that Dan would never rat on them, but he didn’t want to tempt fate.

Dan swallowed hard. He’d known that the day would come when they’d make him take part in a hold up, but right before Christmas! This was stupid and risky, he knew, but he also didn’t want to take to the lonely streets again.

‘I’m sorry, Mom, please forgive me,’ his heart pleaded as his mouth said, "Okay, what do I have to do."

Dan dodged down an alley, breathing hard. He thought he had lost the cop who had been following him, but he wasn’t sure. He hated these cowboy boots that were part of the gang dress code. They were such a pain in the behind when you had to run. He’d slipped on a patch of ice, and almost been overtaken, but managed to blend into the crowd quickly after rising.

He hoped that Luke and the others had gotten away, too. When the cops had burst out of the back room of the pawnshop, Dan had seen the blood drain from Luke’s face and all the bravado was gone. He looked like the scared kid he really was. Dan had been next to him, and closest to the door. Luke had thrust a bag into his arms and hissed, "Run!" and shoved him through the door. Obediently, Dan had begun to run. Where he was headed, he didn’t know. Then the cop had spotted him. Dan didn’t know if the officer knew what he had done, or if he just looked guilty, but he didn’t want to hang around and find out.

After leaning against the cold concrete building wall for several minutes, Dan decided to venture out into the street again, and hope the police officer was gone. Cautiously, he peered around the corner and saw only chilled, busy New Yorkers hustling by on their way home from work. With a sigh of relief, he came out and joined them and head in the direction of the main flow of pedestrian traffic.

Looking at the nearest street sign, Dan realized that he was back near his old neighborhood. The thought made him sad and strangely embarrassed. He didn’t want his old neighbors to see him wearing the black jacket of the Cowhands. He didn’t want to reflect badly on their memory of his mother. ‘If you didn’t want to make your mom’s memory look bad, stupid, you’d never have put on the jacket,’ a voice whispered in his head. He mumbled back to himself, "If I’d never put on this jacket, I’d be starving or worse by now."

He wandered through the streets a bit more, remembering back to the late summer days when his life had changed so drastically. On the day that he had left his home, Luke had come up to him. He’d muttered something about being sorry to hear that his mom and died, and all the usual things kids say to each other at awkward moments. Dan had mumbled some sort of response. Then Luke had invited him to come hang out with some of his friends for the afternoon. Dan agreed, knowing that the neighbors all thought he was going to live with his uncle - he’d stretched the truth a bit when asked. He figured that eventually he’d find the guy. By that night he knew that Luke’s "friends" were actually his gang. Dan had promised his mom that he’d never get involved in a gang. The pain of losing her was still so fresh, that he had declined the offer to stay with them and had walked through the streets.

That’s what he had done for the rest of August and most of September - walked the streets of New York City. He’d never been so alone before. At first it was kind of neat - sleeping in parks and getting his own food whenever he felt like eating. But after a week or so, he was out of money. Occasionally, he would earn some change by helping someone carry their groceries, or something like that, but it wasn’t much. He managed to avoid both the police and Luke’s gang as he moved from neighborhood to neighborhood.

Then the cold spell had hit in late September. He had no coat, no blankets, nothing to keep him warm. The little food that he was able to get each day, wasn’t enough to keep him going through the cold fall and winter. He’d had no luck searching for his uncle. There were Regans listed in the phone books, but none of them knew of a Bill Regan who had been raised in orphanages and would now be around twenty-two years old. None of them had known Alison Regan who had married Tim Mangan either. Dan didn’t know where else to turn, so he began to try and find Luke.

When he wanted to find Luke, of course he couldn’t. In the end, it had been Luke who had stumbled upon him, shivering on the doorstep of an out-of-business deli during a late night rain storm. Luke had offered to get him something to eat, and Dan had eagerly accepted the offer. Then, when Luke had offered him a place to stay, Dan had shoved the memory of his mother to the back of his mind and followed him. He had tried being homeless, and now it was time for a home. Sadly he came to realize that a gang hideout wasn’t exactly a home. He came to learn that the Cowhands didn’t have a real place to stay. They moved from one condemned building to the next, always trying to stay one step ahead of the police and rival gangs. The shaky walls and cracked roofs kept some of the elements out, but they were never warm. Luke had acquired a black leather jacket and cowboy boots for Dan somehow, so he was at least better equipped for the winter, but he still couldn’t remember the last time he had truly felt warm.

The sound of rushing footsteps brought Dan back to the present quickly. He couldn’t see anyone behind him in the dark, but decided that he needed to get off the streets. He noticed a lit building up ahead. He thought he could hear music coming from there also. He picked up his pace so that he could escape the footsteps. As he entered the building he caught sight of the words "Visitor’s Welcome" on the outside wall.

Oh, the warmth! He hadn’t felt this much warm air in ages. He noticed that he was in some kind of lobby. A poster on an easel announced that the musical The Forgotten Carols would be performed on the 23^rd of December. With a shock, Dan realized that today was the 23^rd of December. Not only was it two days before Christmas, but it was also his fifteenth birthday.

Shaking that thought from his mind, he followed the sounds of music and laughter down a hallway. Along the hall were many beautiful paintings. He noted that they were all of a religious nature. ‘I must be in some kind of a church,’ he thought ‘but I didn’t see any cross out front. Are there churches without crosses?’ The inane thought remained in his mind as he reached an open double door. Inside were rows of chairs set up facing the stage. On the stage were an old man and a woman dressed in a nurses uniform. Seeing that the people’s attention was focused on the stage, Dan leaned against the doorjamb and let himself relax for a minute. He saw a table covered with punch bowls and plates upon plates of Christmas cookies to his left. He stomach rumbled. He’d forgotten how hungry he was. The last thing he’d had to eat had been some roasted chestnuts he’d bought from a vendor around noon time. He and his mom had always eaten roasted chestnuts at Christmas time, it was a tradition. That’s probably what had triggered all these nostalgic memories for him today.

So intent on eyeing the food on the table, Dan wasn’t aware of the scene change on stage until he suddenly heard humming. Turning his head, he saw that the stage was now set as a dark street. A cardboard cut-out of an ambulance was leaning against the back wall. There was a glowing barrel with a group of shabbily dressed people huddled around it to the right. The nurse person was speaking to another actor, but Dan didn’t hear her. He was intently watching the actors portraying homeless people. As nurse began to walk around the stage, seemingly to watch the people at the barrel, they began to sing.

Dan’s mouth hung open, he’d never thought about that before. The baby Jesus had been homeless too, at one time. Probably at several times in his life he’d not had the warmest and most comfortable of homes. Dan and his mother hadn’t attended church regularly, but she had tried to instill in her only child some faith and belief. All that he had pushed to the back of his mind with the memories of his mother, trying to avoid even more guilt than he already felt.

Now, he hung his head in sorrow. He knew that his mother, though she would never have wanted him to live on the streets, would’ve been happier to see him do that, and be honest, rather than join a gang and be in trouble with the police. ‘Mom, what do I do now?’ he cried silently.

 

As the song concluded and the lights dimmed for another scene change, Dan felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Dan turned and saw who he had expected to see.

The police officer spoke quietly, not wanting to disrupt the program, "Young man, you need to come with me. You’ve led me on quite a chase."

Nodding, Dan meekly followed him down the hall.

Outside a squad car was waiting. As they drove to the police station, the officer asked him some questions. He quickly learned that Dan was an orphan who had been with the Cowhands for just a few short months.

Easily, Dan told him about himself. When the questions turned to the others involved in the hold up, he had clammed up. He couldn’t bring himself to get the others in trouble, not just yet. And from what he had learned from the cop, Luke and the others had gotten away anyway.

At the police station Dan had repeated what he had said in the car. He would say nothing about the rest of the gang. The sergeant in charge was getting frustrated. However, being as no one had been injured in the botched hold up, and the only thing stolen was a silver vase that Dan had been carrying around in a bag all night, and it was now recovered, he finally decided to send Dan to juvenile hall until a court date could be set.

The same officer who had brought him in, was given the duty of taking Dan to juvenile hall. Along the way, he had tried to get more information out of Dan about himself and the gang. Indifferently, Dan had told him about his weeks on the street. The officer shook his head, "You don’t have any family to take care of you?"

Dan shrugged, "An uncle somewhere. I couldn’t find him."

"Where did you look?"

"The phone book. I only used the local ones, I couldn’t afford any long distance calls."

The officer nodded, that made sense, in a way. He didn’t know why, but there was something about this kid that made him different from the other gang trash that he picked up daily. "What’s his name?"

"Bill Regan. From what my mom said he should be around twenty two. He has red hair." Dan laughed a little, "My mom seemed to think that he’d end up with a job that involved horses ‘cause he was always crazy about them."

As he finished this explanation, the car pulled up in front of the hall. After getting Dan registered and speaking the people in charge for a few moments while Dan sat in a locked room, the officer said good-bye. "Hey kid, I’ll see what I can do to find your uncle. Would you like that?"

The excitement in his eyes betrayed his nonchalant, "Sure, guess it’d be okay."

"If I find anything I’ll let you know. If we find you a relative, things will be better for you when you go to court. Otherwise they’ll put you back in here or reform school."

The excitement died in Dan’s eyes as he heard those words. "Okay," he replied and then followed another officer down the hall. Maybe they’d really find his uncle. Family, that would be the best gift he would ever get - birthday or Christmas. But for now he’d settle for a warm place to sleep.

An hour later, as he lay in a bunk bed surrounded by other troubled boys, he thought of his mother. ‘I’m so sorry, Mom, really I am. I didn’t want to do any of this, but I didn’t think I had a choice.’

The tears streamed silently down his face as he thought about all that had gone wrong in the last few months. Drowsily he hoped that his fifteenth year would be better than his fourteenth had been. Maybe he’d find a home again.

The End