For the Roses

Prologue

New York City, 1860

They found her in the trash. Luck was on the boys' side; the rats hadn't gotten to her yet. Two of the vermin had already climbed onto the top of the covered picnic basket and were frantically clawing at the wicker, while three others were tearing at the sides with their razor-sharp teeth. The rats were in a frenzy, for they smelled milk and tender, sweet-scented flesh.

The alley was the gang's home. Three of the four boys were sound asleep in their make-do beds of converted wooden crates lined with old straw. They'd put in a full night's work of thieving and conning and fighting. They were simply too exhausted to hear the cries of the infant.

Douglas was to be her savior. The fourth member of the gang was taking his turn doing sentry duty at the narrow mouth of the alley. He'd been watching a dark-cloaked woman for quite some time now. When she came hurrying toward the opening with the basket in her arms, he warned the other gang members of possible trouble with a soft, low-pitched whistle, then retreated into his hiding place behind a stack of old warped whiskey barrels. The woman paused in the archway, gave a furtive glance back over her shoulder toward the street, then ran into the very center of the alley. She stopped so suddenly her skirts flew out around her ankles. Grabbing the basket by the handle, she swung her arm back as far as it would go to gain momentum and threw the basket into a pyramid of garbage piled high against the opposite wall. It landed on its side, near the top. The woman was muttering under her breath all the while. Douglas couldn't make out any of the words because the sound she made was muffled by another noise coming from inside the basket. It sounded like the mewing of a cat to him. He spared the basket only a glance, his attention firmly on the intruder.

The woman was obviously afraid. He noticed her hands shook when she pulled the hood of her cloak further down on her forehead. He thought she might be feeling guilty because she was getting rid of a family pet. The animal was probably old and ailing, and no one wanted it around any longer. People were like that, Douglas figured. They never wanted to be bothered by the old or the young. Too much trouble, he guessed. He found himself shaking his head and almost scoffed out loud over the sorry state of affairs in general, and this woman's cowardice in particular. If she didn't want the pet, why didn't she just give it away? He wasn't given time to mull over a possible answer, for the woman suddenly turned around and went running back to the street. She never looked back. When she was almost to the corner, Douglas gave another whistle. This one was loud, shrill. The oldest of the gang members, a runaway slave named Adam, leapt to his feet with the agility and speed of a predator. Douglas pointed to the basket, then took off in pursuit of the woman. He'd noticed the thick envelope sticking out of her coat pocket and thought it was time he took care of a little business. He was, after all, the best eleven-year-old pickpocket on Market Street.

Adam watched Douglas leave, then turned to get the basket. It wasn't an easy task.

The rats didn't want to give up their bounty. Adam hit one squarely on the head with a jagged-edged stone. The vile creature let out a squeal before scurrying back to the street. Adam lit his torch next and waved it back and forth above the basket to frighten the other vermin away. When he was certain they were all gone, he lifted the basket out of the garbage and carried it back to the bed of crates where the other gang members still slept.

He almost dropped the thing when he heard the faint sounds coming from inside.

"Travis, Cole, wake up. Douglas found something."

Adam continued on past the beds and went to the dead end of the alley. He sat down, folded his long, skinny legs in front of him, and put the basket on the ground. He leaned back against the brick wall and waited for the other two boys to join him.

Cole sat down on Adam's right side, and Travis, yawning loudly, hunkered down on his other side.

"What'd you find, boss?" Travis asked, his voice thick with sleep.

He'd asked Adam the question. The other three gang members had elevated the runaway slave to the position of leader one month ago. They'd used both reason and emotion to come to their decision. Adam was the oldest of the boys, almost fourteen now, and logic suggested he, therefore, lead the others. Also, he was the most intelligent of the four. While those were two sound reasons, there was yet another more compelling one. Adam had risked his own life to save each one of them from certain death. In the back alleys of New York City, where survival of the fittest was the only commandment anyone ever paid any attention to, there simply wasn't room for prejudice. Hunger and violence were masters of the night, and they were both color-blind..

"Boss?" Travis whispered, prodding him to answer.

"I don't know what it is," Adam answered.

He was about to add that he hadn't looked inside yet, but Cole interrupted him. "It's a basket, that's what it is," he muttered. "The latch holding the top closed looks like it could be real gold. Think it is?"

Adam shrugged. Travis, the youngest of the boys, imitated the action. He accepted the torch Adam handed him and held it high enough for all of them to see.

"Shouldn't we wait for Douglas before we open the thing?" Travis asked. He glanced over his shoulder toward the entrance of the alley. "Where'd he go?"

Adam reached for the latch. "He'll be along."

"Wait, boss," Cole cautioned. "There's a noise coming from inside." He reached for his knife. "You hear it, Travis?"

"I hear it," Travis answered. "Could be something inside's gonna bite us. Think it could be a snake?"

"Of course it couldn't be a snake," Cole answered, his exasperation evident in his tone of voice. "You got piss for brains, boy. Snakes don't whimper like… like maybe kittens."

Stung by the retort, Travis lowered his gaze. "We ain't never gonna find out lessun we open the thing," he muttered.

Adam nodded agreement. He flipped the latch to the side and lifted the lid an inch. Nothing jumped out at them. He let out the breath he'd been holding, then pushed the lid all the way up. The hinge squeaked, and the lid swung down to rest against the back side of the basket.

All three boys had pressed their shoulders tight against the wall. They leaned forward now to look inside.

And then they let out a collective gasp. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. A baby, as perfect and as beautiful as an angel from above, was sleeping soundly. Eyes closed, one tiny fist in mouth, the infant occasionally suckled and whimpered, and that was the noise the boys had heard.

Adam was the first to recover from the surprise. "Dear Lord in heaven," he whispered. "How could anyone deliberately throw away anything this precious?"

Cole had dropped his knife when he spotted the baby. He reached for it now, noticed his hand was trembling in reaction to his worry over what might be hiding inside the basket, and shook his head over what he considered cowardly behavior. He made his voice sound mean to cover his embarrassment. "Course they could throw the baby away. People do it all the time. Rich ones and poor ones. Makes no difference. They get tired of something and just toss it out like dirty water. Ain't that right, Travis?"

"That's right," Travis agreed.

"Boss, didn't you listen to any of the stories about the orphanages Douglas and Travis were telling?"

"I seen lots of babies there," Travis announced before Adam could answer Cole's question. "Well, maybe not lots, but some," he qualified in an attempt to be completely accurate. "They kept them up on the third floor. None of the little buggers ever made it that I recollect. They put them in that ward, and sometimes they just plumb forgot they were there. Least, I think that's what happened." His voice shivered over the memories of the time he spent in one of the city's refuge centers for displaced children. "This little mite wouldn't never make it living there," he added. "He's too small."

"I seen smaller down on Main Street. The whore, Nellie, had one. How come you think it's a boy baby?"

"He's bald, ain't he? Only boys come bald." Travis's argument made perfectly good sense to Cole. He nodded agreement. Then he turned to their leader. "What are we gonna do with him?"

"We ain't throwing him away."

Douglas made the announcement. The other three boys jerked back in reaction to the harshness in his tone of voice. Douglas nodded to let them know he meant what he'd just said, and added, "I seen the whole thing. A fancy-dressed man in coat and tails climbs out of this expensive-looking carriage. He's got this here basket looped over his arm. He's standing under the streetlamp, so of course I see his face real clear. I seen the woman's face too. She'd been waiting on the corner for him, I figured out, when he gets out of the carriage and goes right to her. She keeps trying to hide her face by pulling the hood down over the top of her head, and the way she's acting makes me think she's good and scared. The man starts getting angry, and it don't take me long to figure out why."

"So? Why was he getting angry?" Cole demanded to know when Douglas didn't immediately continue.

"She didn't want to take the basket, that's why," Douglas explained. He squatted down next to Travis before going on. "She keeps shaking her head, see, over and over. The man's talking up a storm and pointing his finger in her face. Then he pulls out a fat envelope and holds it up in front of her. She comes around then. She snatches it out of his hand as quick as lightning, which makes me think that whatever is inside the envelope is important, and then she finally takes the basket. He climbs back inside the carriage while she's tucking the goods in her pocket."

"Then what happened?" Travis asked.

"She waits until the carriage rounds the corner," Douglas told him. "Then she sneaks into our alley and throws the basket away. I didn't pay the basket much attention at all. I thought there was maybe an old cat inside. Never guessed it could be a baby. Don't think I would have left if I'd known…"

"Where'd you go?" Cole interrupted to ask.

"I'd gotten mighty curious about the envelope in her pocket, so I followed her."

"Did you get it?" Travis wanted to know.

Douglas snickered. "Of course I got it. I don't have the reputation of being the best pickpocket on Market Street for nothing, do I? The woman was in a hurry, but I got into her pocket in the thick of the crowd pushing their way onto the midnight train. She never knew I touched her. Stupid woman. Bet she's just about now figuring out what happened."

"What's inside the envelope?" Cole asked.

"You ain't gonna believe it."

Cole rolled his eyes heavenward. Douglas liked to draw things out. It drove the others crazy. "Honest to God, Douglas, if you don't…"

Travis interrupted his threat. "I got me something important to say," he blurted out. He wasn't the least bit interested in the contents of the envelope. His thoughts were on the baby. "We're all agreed we ain't throwing the little fella away. So now I'm wondering who we're gonna give him to."

"I don't know anyone who'd want a baby," Cole admitted. He rubbed his smooth-skinned jaw the way he'd seen the older, more sophisticated thugs do. He thought the action made him look older and wiser. "What's he good for?"

"Probably nothing," Travis replied. "Least ways, not yet. Maybe though, when he gets bigger…"

"Yeah?" Douglas asked, curious over the sudden excitement that came into Travis's voice.

"I'm thinking we could all teach him a thing or two."

"Like what?" Douglas asked. He reached out and gently touched the baby's forehead with his index finger. "His skin feels like satin."

Travis was warming to the possibility of educating the baby. It made him feel important… and needed. " Douglas, you could teach him all about picking pockets. You're real good at it. And you, Cole, you could teach him how to be mean. I seen the look that comes into your eyes when you think someone's wronged you. You could teach the little fella to look like that too. It's real scary."

Cole smiled. He appreciated hearing the compliment. "I stole me a gun," he whispered.

"When?" Douglas asked.

"Yesterday," Cole answered.

"I seen it already," Travis boasted.

"I'm going to get good shooting it as soon as I steal me some bullets. I'm gonna be the fastest gun on Market Street. I might be persuaded to make the little fella second best."

"I could teach him how to get things," Travis announced. "I'm good at finding what we need, ain't I, boss?"

"Yes," Adam agreed. "You're very good."

"We could be the best gang in New York City. We could make everyone afraid of us," Travis whispered. He was so enthralled over the possibility, his eyes shone bright. His voice took on a dreamy quality. "Even Lowell and his bastard friends," he added, referring to the rival gang members they all secretly feared.

The boys all took a moment to look at the pretty picture Travis had just painted for them. Cole rubbed his jaw again. He liked what he was imagining. He had to force the eagerness out of his voice when he spoke again. "Boss, you could teach him all about them books your mama taught you about. You could maybe make him as smart as you are."

"You could teach him how to read, and he wouldn't get whiplashes across his back for learning the way you did," Travis interjected.

"If we keep him, the first thing we got to do is take that sissy dress off him," Douglas announced. He glared at the long white gown and shook his head. "No one's ever gonna laugh at him. We'll see to it."

"I'll kill anyone who even snickers," Cole promised.

"All babies wear those things," Travis said. "I seen them before. It's what they sleep in."

"How come?" Douglas asked.

"They don't need walking clothes because they don't know how to walk yet."

"How we gonna feed him?" Cole asked.

"You can see the bottle of milk someone put in the basket. When it's empty, I'll get him more," Travis promised. "He probably don't have teeth yet, so he can't eat real food. Milk will do for now. And there are also some dry nappies-I'll get him some more."

"How come you know so much about babies?" Cole asked.

"Just do," Travis answered with a shrug.

"Who changes him when he piddles?" Douglas asked.

"I say we all gotta take turns," Cole suggested.

"I seen them nappies hanging on the lines behind McQueeny's house. There were little clothes hanging out to dry too. I could get the little fella some. Say, what are we going to call him?" Travis asked. "Anyone got any ideas?"

"What about Little Cole?" Cole suggested. "It's got a nice ring to it."

"What about Little Douglas?" Douglas asked. "It's got a nicer ring to it."

"We can't name him after one of us," Travis said. "We'd fight about it if we did."

Douglas and Cole finally agreed with Travis. "All right," Cole said. "The name's got to be something real important sounding."

"My pa's name was Andrew," Douglas interjected.

"So?" Cole asked. "He dumped you at the orphanage after your ma died, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Douglas admitted, his head downcast.

"We ain't gonna name the little fella after anyone who would throw a kid away. It ain't right. We got standards, don't we? This one already got himself tossed in the trash. No use reminding him with your pa's name hanging over his head. I say we call him Sidney, after that fancy fella who used to run the numbers over on Summit Street. He was a real mean one, Sidney was. You remember him, don't you, Douglas?" Cole asked.

"I remember him all right," Douglas replied. "He was mighty respected."

"You got that right," Cole said. "And he died of regular causes. That's important, isn't it? No one snuck up on him and did him in."

"I like the sound of the name," Travis interjected. "Let's take a vote on it."

Douglas raised his right hand. It was coated with dirt and grime.

"In favor?"

Cole and Travis both raised their hands. Adam didn't move. Cole seemed to be the only one to realize their boss hadn't offered much to the conversation in the past several minutes. He turned to look at their leader. "What's wrong, boss?"

"You know what's wrong," Adam answered. He sounded old, weary. "I have to leave. I don't stand a chance of surviving in the city. I've stayed far too long as it is. If I'm ever going to be free and not have to worry about my owner's sons finding me and taking me back, I have to go West. I can't live any kind of life hiding in alleys until the dark of night. A man can disappear out in the wilderness. You can understand, can't you? I shouldn't have a vote about the baby. I won't be here to help raise him."

"We can't make it without you, Adam," Travis cried out. "You can't leave us." He sounded like a frightened little boy. His voice cracked, then broke on a loud sob. His fear of being abandoned by his protector terrified him. "Please stay," he begged in a near shout.

The noise jarred the baby. The infant flinched in reaction and let out a whimper.

Adam reached into the basket and awkwardly patted the baby's stomach. One touch and he immediately pulled back. "This baby's soaked through."

"Soaked through with what?" Cole asked. He started to reach for the bottle to see if there was a crack in the glass.

"Piddle," Travis answered. "Best get the nappy off him, boss. Otherwise his backside's gonna get sore."

The infant was struggling to wake up. The boys all stared in fascination. None could remember ever being this close to anything this tiny.

"He looks like he's full of wrinkles when he squiggles up his face like that," Douglas whispered with a snort. "He's a cute little bugger, ain't he?"

Cole nodded, then turned back to Adam. "You're the boss for now, Adam. You got to take that nappy off."

The oldest didn't shrug off the responsibility. He took a deep breath, grimaced, and then slid his hands under the baby's arms and slowly lifted him up out of the basket.

The baby's eyes opened. In the light from the torch Travis held up, they could all see how blue the color was. "He could be your little brother, Cole. You both got the exact color of eyes."

Adam's arms were rigidly extended in front of him. He had a pained expression on his face. Sweat beaded his forehead. He was obviously terrified holding the infant. He didn't know how hard to squeeze, and heaven help him if the little lad started to cry. He didn't know what in God's name he would do then.

In a hoarse whisper he asked Cole to please lift the gown and undo the nappy.

"Why me?" Cole complained.

"Travis is holding the torch and Douglas is too far away to get around my arms," Adam answered. "Hurry now. He might start squirming again. I'm afraid I'm going to drop him. He's so light, it's like holding air."

"The little fella's a curious one, ain't he?" Travis remarked to Douglas. "Look how he's studying each one of us. So serious for such a tiny bit of a thing."

" Douglas, reach around me and wipe my brow," Adam requested. "I can't see for all the sweat pouring down into my eyes."

Douglas snatched up a rag and did as he was requested. Adam was acting as though he were holding a piece of delicate dynamite. His concentration was intense and almost painful to watch.

Travis was the only one to see the humor in the boss's reaction. He let out a hoot of laughter. "He ain't gonna explode, boss. He's just like you, only smaller."

Cole wasn't paying any attention to the chatter going on around him. He held his breath while he worked on the nappy. Touching the soggy cotton made him want to gag. When the thing was finally released, it fell in a heap on the ground next to the basket. The boys all paused to look down and frown at the offending garment. Cole wiped his hands on his pant legs, then reached up to pull the gown back down over the baby's chubby thighs. He completed the task before the truth dawned on him.

And then he looked again, just to make certain.

Sidney was a baby girl. A bald baby girl, he qualified. He immediately got good and angry. Just what in thunder were they going to do with a useless, no account, never-amount-to-anything girl? He started to shake his head. His mind was made up all right. He wasn't going to have anything to do with her. No, sir, not him, not ever. Why, they ought to toss her right back into the trash.

She changed his mind in less than a minute's time. He was in the process of working up a real scowl when he happened to glance up at her face. She was staring right at him. He leaned to his left, out of her immediate line of vision. She followed him with her wide-eyed, trusting gaze. Cole tried to look away. He couldn't. He didn't want to keep staring at her, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

Then she went in for the kill. She smiled at him.

He was lost. The bond was formed in that instant.

The others fell like dominoes.

"We got to do it right." Cole's voice was a bare whisper. The other boys turned to look at him.

"Do what right?" Travis asked the question the others were thinking.

"There can't be any more talk of us being the best gang in New York City. We can't keep the baby here. It wouldn't be right. She needs a family, not a bunch of street thugs bossing her around."

"She?" Adam almost dropped the baby then and there. "Are you telling me you think Sidney 's a baby girl?"

"I don't just think it, I know it," Cole announced with a nod. "She don't have the necessary parts to be a boy baby."

"God help us," Adam whispered.

Cole didn't know what he found more amusing, the look of horror on Adam's face when he implored his Maker's assistance, or the strange sound he made in the back of his throat when he croaked out his plea. He sounded as if he were choking on something big, like a chicken leg.

"I don't want no girls around," Travis muttered. "They ain't good for nothing. I hate every last one of them. They're just a bunch of complainers and crybabies."

The other boys ignored Travis. Douglas and Cole were both watching Adam. Their boss was looking ill.

"What's the matter, boss?" Cole asked.

"A black shouldn't be holding a lily white baby girl," Adam said.

Cole snorted. "I watched you save her from getting eaten up by the rats. If she was older and understood, she'd be mighty appreciative."

"Mighty appreciative," Douglas agreed with a nod.

"Besides," Cole said. "She don't know if you're black or white."

"You saying she's blind?" Travis asked, stunned by the very possibility.

"She ain't blind," Cole muttered. He let the youngest member of the gang see his exasperation. "She's just too little to understand about hating yet. Babies aren't borned hating anything. They have to be taught. When she looks at Adam, all she's seeing is a… a brother. Yeah, that's what she's seeing, all right. And big brothers protect their little sisters, don't they? Ain't that a sacred rule or something? Maybe this little one already knows that."

"I made a promise to my mama," Adam told the other boys once again. "I gave her my word I would run as far west as I could until I found a place where I'd be safe. Mama told me there was a war coming, and when it was all over and everything was decided, there's a good chance she'll be free. She promised to come after me then. I just have to keep myself alive until that day comes. I promised her I'd survive, and a son doesn't break a promise to his mama. I have to run for her."

'Take the baby with you," Cole told him.

"They'd hang me for sure," Adam scoffed.

"Hell, they're gonna hang you anyway for killing the bastard who owned you, remember?" Cole said.

"If they catch you, Adam," Douglas interjected. "And you're too smart to let that happen."

"I'm feeling a might brotherly toward the baby too," Cole announced.

The other boys immediately turned to look at him. He became embarrassed over the way they were staring at him. "There ain't no cowardice in admitting it," he quickly added. "I'm strong, and she's just a puny little thing who needs brothers like Adam and me to see she grows up proper."

"Proper? What do you know about proper?" Douglas asked. There was a snicker of disbelief in his voice.

"Nothing," Cole admitted. "I don't know nothing about being proper," he added. "But Adam knows all about it, don't you, Adam? You talk good, and you read and write like a gentleman. Your mama taught you, and now you can teach me. I don't want to be ignorant in front of my little sister. It ain't right."

"He could teach all of us," Douglas said. He wasn't about to be left out.

"I don't guess I'd hate her if I was her big brother," Travis grumbled. "I'm gonna get real strong when I'm all growed up. Isn't that true, Douglas?"

"Yeah, it's true all right," Douglas confirmed. "You know what I think?"

"What's that?" Adam asked. He smiled in spite of his worries, for the little one had just given him the silliest grin. She was sure pleased with herself. She seemed to like being the center of attention. For such a tiny thing, she held considerable power over all of them. Her smile alone made him feel all warm and comforted inside. Her easy acceptance of him was melting away the painful knot he'd been carrying around in his belly ever since the day he'd had to leave his mama. The baby was a gift magically given into his care, and it was his duty to see that she was nurtured and protected and cherished.

"I sometimes wonder if God always knows what He's doing," Adam whispered.

"Of course He does," Douglas replied. "And I think He would want us to come up with another name for our baby. Sidney don't seem right now. I sure hope she grows some hair. I don't cotton to the notion of having a bald little sister."

"Mary," Cole blurted out.

"Rose," Adam said at the very same time.

"Mary was my mama's name," Cole explained. "She died having me. I heard tell from neighbors she was a right good woman."

"My mama's name is Rose," Adam said. "She is a right good woman too."

"The baby's falling asleep," Travis whispered. "Put her back down in the basket, and I'll try to slip another nappy on her. Then you two can argue about her name."

Adam did as he was instructed. They all watched as Travis awkwardly put a dry nappy on. The baby was sound asleep before he finished messing with her.

"I don't think there's anything to argue about," Douglas said. He reached over to cover the baby while Adam and Cole both muttered their reasons again for wanting the baby named after their mothers. Douglas knew a full-blown argument was developing, and he wanted to stop it before it went any further. "I say it's all settled. Her name is Mary Rose. Mary is for your mama, Cole, and Rose is for your Mama Rose, Adam."

Cole was the first to see the rightness in the name and the first to smile, Adam quickly agreed. Travis started to laugh, and Douglas hushed him by shoving his elbow in his side, so he wouldn't wake the baby.

"We have to make plans," Douglas whispered. "I think we should leave as soon as possible, maybe even tomorrow night, on the midnight train. Travis, you got until then to get the things we'll need for Mary Rose. I'll buy the tickets for us. Adam, you'll have to hide in the baggage car with the baby. Is that all right with you?"

Adam nodded. "You figure it all out, and I'll do it," he promised.

"How are you going to buy the tickets?" Cole asked.

"The envelope I took from the woman who threw Mary Rose away was stuffed with money. There were some old-looking papers with fancy writing and seals on the paper, but I can't make out any of it because I can't read. I know money when I see it though. We got us enough to get as far as Adam needs to go and stake us some land."

"Let me see those papers," Adam asked.

Douglas pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to their boss. Adam let out a whistle when he saw all the money tucked inside. He found two papers and pulled them out. One was filled with numbers and scratches he couldn't make out, and the other sheet looked like a blank page torn from a book. There was only a little bit of handwriting on the top, giving the baby's date of birth and her weight. He read the words out loud so the others would know what he'd found.

"It weren't enough they threw her away. They even thrown out her papers," Douglas whispered.

"I didn't have papers when I was dumped at the orphanage," Travis said. "It's a good thing I already knew my name, isn't it, Cole?"

"I suppose so," Cole answered.

Travis shrugged off the matter as unimportant. "I got a suggestion to make now, so don't interrupt me until you hear me out. All right?"

He waited until everyone nodded before he continued. "I'm the only one of us who knows for certain I'm not wanted by the law, and nobody's looking to find me, so I say Mary Rose should carry my last name. Fact is, if we're gonna do it right, like Cole says we should, then everyone should take my last name. Brothers and sisters are all part of the same family, after all, and they all got to have the same last name. So I'm saying, from this minute on, we're all Claybornes. Agreed?"

"No one's going to believe I'm a Clayborne," Adam argued.

"Who cares what anyone else believes?" Cole asked. "We ain't asking for approval, just to be left alone. If you say you're a Clayborne, and we say you're a Clayborne, whose to say you ain't? Anyone who challenges you has to get through the rest of us first if he wants to make trouble. And remember," he added, "I got me a gun now. Soon enough I'll be able to handle any trouble that comes our way."

Douglas and Travis nodded. Adam let out a sigh. Douglas put his hand out over the basket, his palm down. He looked at each of the other gang members.

"I say we run for Mama Rose and we become a family for our little Mary Rose. We're brothers," he whispered.

Travis put his hand on top of Douglas 's. "Brothers," he vowed.

Cole was next. "We run for Mary Rose and Mama Rose," he pledged. "We're brothers until we die."

Adam hesitated for what seemed an eternity to the other boys. And then his mind was finally made up. His hand covered Cole's. "Brothers," he vowed in a voice shaking with emotion. "For the Roses."

July 3, 1860

Dear Mama Rose,

I'm writing to you in care of Mistress Livonia, and I pray this letter finds the two of you in good health. I'm going to share with you all the wonderful adventures I've had heading West, but first I have something very important to tell you. It's about your new family. You have a namesake now, Mama. Her name is Mary Rose…

Love,

John Quincy Adam Clayborne