Nick lay with his eyes closed. He was listening. Smiling.

Something had awakened him. A familiar sound. Fun.

Waves brushed the shoreline gravel a little way from his feet. Not that, he thought. The foghorn from the South Haven pier? Nope. Gulls were making noise over a new meal somewhere down the beach. Not that either.

Ever since his Aunt Josie and Uncle Frank had invited him to spend two weeks at Lake Michigan, Nick had come to love the sounds and smells of the Great Lake. He swam. Learned to windsurf. Roasted in the sand. Slept on the beach alone with the stars and the surf. It felt so good to be away from his crowded house and noisy brothers and sisters.

He remembered his parents' late-night discussion in the kitchen. Nick was on the couch in the next room, listening in.

"C'mon, Nina," his father had said. "Nick needs to earn all he can for school, to help out around here."

"Ah, Tony," his mother said, "give him a break. The kid works so hard all the time. If my sister wants to spoil him a little, where's the harm?"

"They treat him like the kid they never had," Nick's father moaned.

"He'll survive a little extra attention from his godmother," his mother said.

At first, Nick couldn't believe his good luck. His aunt and uncle had rented a small cottage in Pine Hollow Resort. There was a pool and a tennis court and a beach on Lake Michigan. At night, they could walk to downtown South Haven for an ice cream or a movie.

After three days, Nick was getting bored. His uncle teased him every chance he got. He missed his friends. He missed riding Trace and the other horses at Shamrock Stables, where he worked as a stable hand.

Horses! That was the sound that had awakened him. A horse cantering.

Nick popped into a sitting position, shaking the heavy dew from his sleeping bag. Off to his left, he could barely make out a dark shape in the morning mist.

A horse at the beach. How cool was that?

He rolled onto his knees like he was praying for the horse to appear. He rubbed his eyes. Before long, he could see a chestnut Quarter Horse. Stocking white feet kicked up explosions of sand and water. A jagged blaze, like a lightning bolt, flashed from its forehead to its muzzle. The deep chest muscles were shining wet from sweat and splashed water. They worked in a powerful rhythm. Beautiful!

Then he saw her. The rider.

An oversized t-shirt clung to her chest and billowed out behind her like a sail in a strong breeze. Bare legs hugged the horse's ribs. A backward baseball cap covered her reddish-brown hair. It was chestnut, like her horse's.

As they came even with Nick, the girl waved a shy "hi."

Surprised and embarrassed, Nick pulled the sleeping bag around his waist to cover his boxer shorts. He barely managed a small nod.

He stared after the horse and rider as they disappeared into the morning mist. Then, to be sure he wasn't dreaming, he ran into the surf. He shocked himself awake in the cool, silky water.

The water was waist deep at the sandbar, a kind of ledge along the shoreline. Nick ran his fingers through morning-tangled hair. The sun had just come over the ridge behind the beach. It was burning off the fog.

He looked for the mysterious horse and rider along the beach to the north. They weren't on the beach. Where had they gone? Had he imagined the whole thing?

His eyes scanned the water, spotting the horse's head. Then the girl's. They were swimming for the sandbar. The girl was hanging onto the gelding's tail.

When they got there, the horse stopped. The water was just under his belly. Waiting patiently, he drank from the calm lake while the girl patted him on the neck. Then, after a one-two-three buildup, she jumped onto the horse's back and wiggled into riding position.

Nick watched them come closer and closer. The trotting gelding made a bow crest like a motorboat as he chugged along in the chest-deep water. This time Nick was wide awake and ready as they came near.

"Hi!" he called out.

The girl pulled up.

Nick waded over to pat the horse and stroke his muzzle. Noticing the wide-set eyes and short, dishy face, he asked, "Is he Arabian?"

The girl nodded. "Yep. Well, part Arabian, anyhow," she said.

"What's his name?" Nick asked.

"Salim. Sal for short," she answered.

"Wow! He's really awesome," Nick said.

The girl nodded. She looked proud.

"Do you get to ride him here often?" Nick asked.

"As often as I want," the girl said. "We only live a couple of miles away, at Jensen's Orchard."

"I don't know where it is," Nick said, apologizing. "I'm just visiting for a while. But anyway, Sal sure looks like he enjoys it."

"He does. And it's good for him, too. Keeps him in shape," she said.

"For?" Nick asked.

"The events we compete in," she said.

"You take him to Gymkhanas and things like that?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. And tomorrow, we're going to the county fair rodeo," she said. "He used to be a working cowpony."

"I bet life on the ranch was never like this," Nick said.

The girl smiled. Her first.

Nick smiled back.

The girl added, "We do dressage, too."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked. He was impressed.

"Yeah, he's really great," the girl said.

So are you, Nick thought.

The horse sidestepped, anxious to go.

"Maybe I can get my aunt and uncle to take me to the fair tomorrow," Nick said. "Give me a chance to see how this seahorse works on dry land."

The girl smiled again. She pulled her wet t-shirt away from the tank swimsuit underneath. She shivered.

"I've got to get going. See you," she called as she started Sal into his powerboat trot.

"What's your name?" Nick called.

Turning partway around, she said, "Cass. Cassidy, really. What's yours?"

"Nick," he answered.

He watched as she rode for another quarter of a mile along the sandbar. Suddenly, he didn't feel bored anymore.

"So what do you think? Can we go to the county fair tomorrow?" Nick asked his aunt and uncle over scrambled eggs and toast.

They barely fit around three sides of the table wedged into the corner of the tiny kitchen. The whole cottage reminded Nick of a museum exhibit that shows how people lived long ago, in tiny rooms filled with old-fashioned furniture.

Aunt Josie took a gulp of coffee. She gave Nick a long stare and made a sucking sound between her teeth. Nick's mother did that. He wondered if he shared any annoying habits with his brothers.

"For someone who was acting pretty bored last night, you sure seem excited today. What's going on?" Aunt Josie asked.

"Nothing," Nick mumbled, bending over his eggs.

He caught his aunt winking at her husband.

"What do you think, Josie?" Uncle Frank teased. "Think he wants to see a bunch of pigs? See where this morning's bacon came from?"

Nick shook his head. His uncle sure could be annoying. He thought he was so clever.

Nick stuffed the last of his toast in his mouth, grabbed a towel, and hurried to the door.

"I'm out of here," he said. "The wind's up and I want to get on the sailboard."

The wind was up. So were the waves. Nick stopped at the water's edge. He held the tail of the sailboard in one hand and the mast in the other.

He had not seen waves this big before. It made him pause. Then he remembered what his instructor had told him: the sailboard is your best life preserver. Stay with it and you'll be all right.

Besides, what if Cassidy were sitting on the beach, watching? He couldn't wimp out now.

The ride out was a rush. Nick remembered to hunch his hips upward and to bend deeply at the knees as he pulled the sail into the breeze. The nose of the board rose out of the water. It slapped the tops of the four-foot waves that broke even higher over the shallow sandbar. A rooster tail shot out from behind.

"Boo-yah!" Nick shouted.

About half a mile out, his arms ached from the strain of holding the sail. Nick lost his balance. He fell into a washing machine of wind and waves. He took his time underwater, looking up at the belly of the windsurfer. It was like a giant white shark.

He breathed out tiny bubbles as he rose to the surface. The blue, pink, and yellow sail floated above him. He took a huge gulp of air and rested his arms on the board. He watched the waves rising all around him.

Sometimes, caught in the valley between the waves, he lost sight of shore. He fought down a feeling of panic. You got here, you can get back, he told himself. Besides, what if Cass came riding by about now?

How cool would it be if she could see him sailing through the waves, running up on the beach all pumped up from a wild run?

He aimed for the spot on the beach where he had started. Nick found the return trip much slower and harder than the ride out. The waves kept hitting the back end of the board at an angle, shoving it out from under him. He fell four or five times before he was halfway back.

As he grew tired, it became harder to hold the sail against the strong wind. He went another twenty yards and fell again. Then another twenty and another fall. At least he was getting closer. The huge waves breaking on the shallow sandbar were just ahead.

A really tall wave slammed down on the board. It tingled the soles of his feet and whipped the board out from under him. When Nick came to the surface, he could see the sailboard tumbling end over end three waves away. Suddenly, he felt very tired. Like someone had let all the air out of him.

He knew that he didn't have the strength to swim the rest of the way in. The tip of the sailboard's mast floated about ten yards ahead.

If I can reach that with one more burst of energy, Nick thought, I can work my way back to the board and float the rest of the way. It's my only chance.

He took a deep breath. He used all the strength he had left to swim hard for the end of the mast. It had just disappeared under a huge wave. When he came up for air, the mast floated just six feet away.

One more push. Then he had it. He pulled himself along to the board. He pushed the tail of the board toward the waves so they pushed him along. And he slowly washed ashore.

Nick lay on the beach. He threw up his breakfast. He was exhausted.

So much for impressing Cassidy, he thought. Good thing she wasn't here after all.

Nick eventually sat up. He stared at the pounding surf, replaying the last few minutes.

What I did at the end, pointing my tail to the waves, was good, he thought. I should have done it sooner, before I got exhausted. I could have rode right in instead of getting knocked off all the time. So what if I didn't get back to the exact spot where I started? I'm going to have to learn to work with Mother Nature instead of fighting her.

"Find the flow," he said out loud.

"You're so quiet," Aunt Josie said on the way to the county fair. "What's going on?"

Nick stared out the back window of the silver Camry. No one ever asked him what he was feeling. Not in his crowded, noisy house.

"It's no big deal," he finally answered. "This person I met on the beach is going to be in a horse event."

"Ah," Aunt Josie said. "A person." She exchanged a grown-up look with Uncle Frank.

Thank God we're there, Nick thought. He jumped out of the car and made his way to the horse barns.

The smells of manure and leather, straw and sweat flooded him with memories. Camp Wa-Tonka and his favorite horse, Prince. Cutter, and Bob Petzer holding her lifeless head in his lap. Corky and Jasmine. Carlos's cows and Mandy from down south. What an exciting combination of smells!

Nick found Salim's stall right away. Cass wasn't around.

"Hi, fella," Nick said to the chestnut gelding. "Don't you look nice? Your coat is all clean and shiny. Your hooves are polished. Your tail and mane are brushed and neat. You dress up good."

"Hey! Hi!" a voice called from behind him.

Cassidy was wearing jeans, boots, and a blue plaid shirt that made her auburn hair glow.

Leaning closer to the horse, Nick whispered loudly, "She dresses up good, too. Don't you think?"

Cass gave him a long look with her dark brown eyes. They were so dark you couldn't see the pupils. Nick wished he could sink his fingers into the thick waves of her hair. They looked as tough as pads of steel wool but bounced softly.

Too bad you can't just pat people the way you pat horses, he thought. Instead, he finger-combed Salim's mane.

"I see you made it," Cass said, then scrunched her mouth and eyes. She looked embarrassed by saying something so obvious. "I guess I mean I'm glad you made it."

Nick nodded. "When's your next event?" he asked.

"Barrel racing, in about an hour. I was just about to take Sal through his warmup," she said.

"Can I watch?" Nick asked. "Out there in the practice corral, right?"

Cass nodded, then leaned against the stall door. She looked pale.

"You okay?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," she said. She slid down to sit on a bale of hay. "Tell you what," she said, slurring slightly, "reach me a bottle of orange juice from the cooler next to you, would you?"

Nick watched, concerned, while Cassidy sipped the juice and ate a granola bar she pulled from her shirt pocket. In a couple of minutes she perked back up.

"I'm all set now. C'mon, big guy," she called to her horse. She grabbed a bridle and saddle blanket.

Ten minutes later, Nick leaned against the corral, propping his chin on his arms. He watched Salim's warmup.

Cass moved so gracefully with her horse. It reminded him of Bob Petzer and Cutter. Timing and touch. Cassidy had it, too.

"There you are," his aunt's voice broke in. "We thought we had lost you. We were worried."

"Not me," Uncle Frank teased.

Aunt Josie ignored her husband. She checked out the horse and rider moving as one in the ring.

"So, this is the person you met on the beach," she said. She added that loud sucking sound between her teeth.

"Can I stay to watch the riding events?" Nick asked before his aunt could ask anything more.

"Take all the time you need," Uncle Frank said. "Hey, we haven't even been to the poultry barn, not to mention the quilt exhibition."

Aunt Josie gave her husband a dirty look. "Nick, why don't we meet here in about an hour? Do you need any money for food?"

"Naw, I'm all right. See you later," Nick called. He didn't take his eyes off of Cass and Sal.

Seated in the bleachers, Nick watched Salim dance and prance at the back end of the arena. It was like the excitement from the crowd was tingling up through Sal's hooves.

Cass's cheeks were pink but she sat tall in the saddle. The only sign of nervousness was her right hand tapping on her thigh. She took a long pause to focus on the three barrels at the other end of the arena.

A man with auburn hair that was white at the temples called from the stands. "Can do, now, Cassie. Can do," he said.

Probably her father, Nick thought.

"Yeah, Cass. Go, girl," another man's voice called out from the crowd.

Cassidy lowered the reins and leaned forward in one motion. Salim was more than ready as he ran by the timing light, heading for the barrels. At the exact right moment, Cass reined to the right and Salim practically sat on his butt. He swooped around the barrel, digging out of the turn for the far left. This time, he turned to the left, almost touching the barrel.

Cass seemed to be pulling her horse up out of the turn. He gathered himself for another burst to the center barrel. A quick left turn and he knew the way home, pumping his powerful hindquarters up and under and out.

Cass leaned forward, shouting, "Yah! Yah!"

"Time," the announcer called. "15.32! Nice ride, young lady. That's good enough for second place. Congratulations!"

Nick watched a couple more events, then walked back to the stable. Rounding the last corner, he stopped. He stepped back.

A guy, maybe a head taller than Nick, propped his pumped-up arm against Salim's stall. He was trapping Cass between some hay bales and the aisleway. Tight, mud-colored curls tumbled down the back of his neck like vines on a riverbank. He wasn't so much big as muscle-hard, full of well-used muscle that couldn't be hurt.

His face was close. Too close to Cassidy's. Was he her boyfriend? Was he bothering her? Nick studied the young woman. She shifted from foot to foot. She kept looking over the guy's shoulder, acting like she wanted to get away.

Nick suddenly remembered an episode from a TV show where the hero came across a bunch of guys bothering a young woman. The hero pretended to be the woman's lover.

"Marsha, dear, I've been looking all over for you," he'd shouted as he crashed through the ring of guys.

The woman said, "John, I've missed you, darling," as she threw herself into the hero's arms.

They walked away in a tight embrace. As soon as they turned the corner, the woman said, "Thanks, buddy, see you around." And the hero walked away having done his good deed for the day.

Cass obviously didn't want to be around that muscle-bound creep. Nick didn't want to take on a guy whose t-shirt had a picture of a bucking bull and rider with the words Road to Glory printed on it. But something had to be done.

"Hey, cousin," he shouted, arms outstretched. "Aunt Josie said to look you up."

Cass looked at him, confused. "Huh?"

C'mon, Cass, Nick thought, making a twirling motion in front of his chest. Play along with me.

Nick winked at her. He ducked under the big guy's arm and leaned in to give her a hug.

"Niiick!" Cass whined, pushing him away.

Oh, man, this is terrible, Nick thought. She doesn't get it.

Muscles pushed his finger against Nick's chest like he was pinning a bug to a display board.

"Beat it!" he growled. "She isn't buying your act."

Nick saw Cassidy scooting around the corner toward the barn door. He sure messed that up. Or, maybe not. Cass got away, after all.

On the ride home, Uncle Frank ate an elephant ear pastry. He gave a detailed review of the county fair. A blizzard of powdered sugar covered his well-rounded gut.

"I never saw so many pigs in my life. You know, Josie, I think Nick should have seen those porkers," he said. "He probably thinks bacon comes in plastic packages from the grocery store instead of on the hoof. Speaking of hooves..."

I've got to pay for this vacation one way or another, Nick reminded himself. Get a free ride to the fair and you have to listen to the colorful announcer all the way home.

"How was your girlfriend's event?" Uncle Frank asked.

Before Nick could begin to answer, his aunt cut in. "For crying out loud, Frank. He barely knows her. Don't jump to conclusions," she said.

"Thanks," Nick whispered under his breath.

"Geez-o-pete," Uncle Frank said. "All this politically correct business is getting on my nerves. I gotta watch what I say at work. Now I can't even talk in my own car. What's so wrong with calling her his girlfriend? Huh? Should I maybe call her his beach person? And anyhow, I'm more interested in her horse. What's his name?"

"Sal," Nick said.

"Sal," Uncle Frank repeated. "I like that. That's a good name. Reminds me of one of my buddies from the old neighborhood. Sal Miniacci. Did I ever tell you about him?"