Victor & Hugo, Part Nine

Start from the beginning! go to Victor & Hugo


September 1878

The boy standing with Mr. Anderson in the entrance to the saloon was thin and bony as a starved horse. His skin was as pale as death and his eyes were sunken pools of an unmistakable blackness. The only recognizable features on him Alice could make out was her long nose, coal-black hair and Victor’s height.

“We’re sorry, Mizz Garrett, we cain’t take care of your boy no more,” Mr. Anderson flatly stated.  “I appreciate you letting us have ‘im whens we thought we ain’t  gonna have no kids ‘our own, but we gots a passel of ‘em now. ‘Sides,” Mr. Anderson continued, “boy’s old enough now t’start making his own way. Me and the missus reckoned he be a help to you here, now he’s grown.”

And with that, Mr. Anderson bid Alice a good day, and walked out of the saloon. The boy did not acknowledge Mr. Anderson, nor seem to realize the man who he’d called father his whole life was leaving him with a woman he did not know, saying she was his mother.

Alice and Finnian stared at each other for a long time before Alice finally broke their silence. “So, you found out the Anderson’s weren’t your Ma and Pa.”

“Yeah. They says you’re my Ma and that my last name’s Garrett now, not Anderson.”

“I like your first name. They give you that?”

“ ‘Spose so.”

“Finnian.”

“I goes by ‘Fin’.”

“Well, Fin, I never thought in a million years I’d see your like again, but here you are. Follow me. I’ll take you upstairs and, well, I guess, get you settled in.”


 

 

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