Aunt Josie was filling her beach jug with iced tea in the little kitchen of their cabin in Pine Hollow Resort.

"Hey, stranger, where've you been?" she called to Nick.

"Around," Nick said.

"We've only got a couple of days left on this vacation and it seems like I've hardly seen you," Aunt Josie said. "After all, that's why I asked you along, so I could have a little quality time with my favorite nephew."

Oh, man, here it comes, Nick thought. She wants to talk about everything I'm thinking and doing.

"Tell you what, why don't you grab a pop and a towel and just hang out with me down on the beach? We've got a couple of hours before supper," Aunt Josie said.

On the beach with my aunt? What if Cass comes by? Or Julianna? Or worse yet, Roy? But I can hardly say no, Nick thought.

Nick took a long swim. Then he sat and watched a sailboat slowly tack back and forth on its way north toward Saugatuck.

Pablo. Charlie and fudgies. Sheriff's car. Spinning bubble lights. Sara smelling warm, like ripe fruit. Jericho.

Little by little, he felt the sun melting him down. It relaxed him into a mellow doze as he rolled onto his belly.

A fat dog in a lady's lap, squeezed so hard his tongue popped out. Cassidy's shiny thigh along Salim's withers.

He barely noticed when his aunt laid a towel across his shoulders. That's all she did. No questions. No pumping for information. Aunt Josie was cool.

Just as supper was ending, a horn honked outside. Uncle Frank said something over his shoulder as the screen door slammed behind him. All Nick could make out was, "Charlie... beer... VFW."

"So much for my evening," Aunt Josie complained, sucking her teeth loudly. "Any ideas?"

"I was thinking I might go to Tidrow's to watch team penning," Nick said.

"Is that some kind of rodeo event?" Aunt Josie asked.

"Uh-huh. But I don't know much about it. I've never seen it before," Nick said.

"Let's check it out," Aunt Josie said.

Nick looked up. He was surprised. She must be pretty bored, he thought, to want to hang out with me. But which is worse, riding a bike to a horse barn or getting a ride from your aunt?

Aunt Josie saw the hesitation on his face. She looked at her hands around her coffee mug.

She's waiting for me to say it's okay, to invite her along, Nick realized. Like when captains are choosing teams for a football game and I want to shout, "Pick me. Pick me. Don't make me be last."

"Okay," he said. "Why not?"

Nick made sure his aunt parked in back of the huge bull-riding barn. She had barely come to a stop before he was out of the car.

Maybe it was the familiar smell of animals and hay and leather. Or the excitement of finding a new riding event. Or the possibility of seeing Cassidy again. Or the embarrassment of being driven somewhere by an aunt. That had to be almost as bad as being kissed by a mother in front of friends. In any case, he was on his way to the arena before his aunt had her seatbelt off.

A fence of rough-sawn oak boards went around a bare dirt area half a football field long and half again as wide. Toward one end there was an iron fence, the same one used for bull riding. It made a temporary corral.

The pen was close to the railing on the far side, with maybe room enough for a horse and a cow. Just outside the arena, a smaller corral held a herd of longhorn cows and steers. Each had a blue band printed with large white numbers, one through five, looped around its neck. Nick counted three ones, three twos, three threes, three fours, and three fives.

Trailer after trailer pulled into the parking area. Nick watched one horse after another being backed out, brushed down, and tacked up. Pintos. Appaloosas. A beautiful bay Arabian.

Hey! That's Salim, he thought.

Cass walked around the back end of her horse. She saw Nick and smiled.

Maybe things were all right between them, after all.

"How're you doing?" Nick asked. He added quickly, "Um, that's not a medical question. You know, just..."

"Hi," Cass said. She smiled again, pulling fluff from the curry comb. "I'm okay. Nice to see you."

Nick nodded. "Same here," he said.

"Julianna said she ran into you today. Said you were getting a Petoskey stone polished," Cass said.

"Uh-huh," Nick said.

Cass smiled shyly. She looked down at her boots.

Aunt Josie appeared on Nick's left. "Hi, you're Cassidy, right? I saw you ride at the county fair. Nice going," she said.

"Thanks," Cass said. "Yeah, it was fun."

"Hey! Mick!" Nort called from a nearby field. He was putting Galaxy through her paces. "What you doing here? Come to ride?"

"Daddy," Cass yelled, "put in your hearing aids."

As Galaxy trotted closer, Aunt Josie said, "Oh, my. How lovely!"

"I got them in, girlie girl," Nort said to Cass. "I just feel like being loud tonight, if that's all right with you. This ain't a church, you know. Besides, I heard that sweet lady's comment clear enough."

"She's my Aunt Josie," Nick said. "Josephine DiMarco."

Nort gracefully swung off his horse. He took off his hat and held out his hand. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Aunt Josie. Nort Jensen. We like your Mick," he said.

"His name is Nick," Aunt Josie said, emphasizing the N. "And I think he's all right, most of the time."

Nick felt his face turn red.

"That's a great-looking horse you got there," Aunt Josie said. "What's his name?"

"He's a she, ma'am," Nort said.

"I guess I've got a lot to learn about horses. Where to look and all that," Aunt Josie said. She waved her arm toward the penning arena. "I don't even know what this is all about."

"Let me explain," Cass said. "Cattle are put in groups of three by number and bunched at the far end of the arena. Then, as a team of three riders crosses the starting line, the announcer calls out a number. It's the team's job to sort out the three cows with that number and get them all into that pen out there. There can't be any other numbers in the pen and no other cows can be on this side of the starting line. We take three rides and average out the times. The fastest wins."

"Sounds like fun," Nick said.

"Sure is. Maybe when they have the drawpot, you can try it. Daddy, can Nick ride Galaxy in the drawpot?" Cass asked.

"Yeah, sure. Ol' Mick's a good rider," Nort teased, looking at Nick's aunt for a reaction.

Instead, Aunt Josie asked, "What's the drawpot?"

"It's when all the riders put their names in a pot and draw for random teams," Nort explained.

"Isn't that the Mexican girl?" Aunt Josie interrupted. She pointed to a trailer behind a purple pickup. "The one who stopped by our place a couple of nights ago? What's her name again?"

"Sara," Nick answered. "And that's Ramón's truck."

"Yeah, it is," Nort said. "He works for us. How do you come to know him?"

Remembering Roy's reaction, Nick didn't want to talk about drowning and CPR.

"I ran into him and Sara at the beach up at West Side County Park. We went to dinner in Fennville at this great Mexican restaurant," he said.

Cass and her father gave each other a look. Nick could tell they didn't share his good feelings about the place. Or maybe about the people. Or both.

Hoofbeats drummed a fast-trot rhythm on the hard-pack road.

"Hey, cuz, come to watch some good riding?" a voice asked.

Roy. Of course he would be here. He was wearing purple batwing chaps and riding a dun mare.

Nick nodded.

Aunt Josie reached her hand toward the horse. The horse jerked her head up and backed up. Her eyes showed lots of white.

"She's a little head-shy," Roy explained. "Cut it out," he said to the horse. He leaned forward to slap his horse high on the neck.

"Of course she's gonna be head-shy if you keep popping her upside the ears," Nort scolded.

"She's a mare, I see," Aunt Josie added, straightening from a quick look under the horse's flank. "What's her name?"

"Tanya," Roy answered.

A half-snort, half-laugh exploded before Nick could control it.

"What's so funny, cuz?" Roy asked.

"Oh, nothing," Nick said.

Roy gave Nick his double-barreled stare.

"I know someone back home named Tanya, is all," Nick said, trying not to smile. "She probably wouldn't appreciate—"

"How's your leg doing, Roy?" Aunt Josie cut in before Nick could get himself in deeper.

"Oh, it's healing fine, thanks," Roy said.

"What's that all about?" Cass asked.

"Nick's aunt, here, patched up my shin after I skinned it on Nick's sailboard," Roy explained.

Cass looked to Nick. Then she looked back to Roy. "And?" she asked.

"Look, I'll catch up with you guys later," Nick said. "I want to check out Ramón's horse. C'mon, Aunt Jo."

Ramón's sorrel gelding had the look of a working horse. Smallish. Patient. No extra prancing about. He seemed to be saving his energy while Ramón brushed him down. The horse looked like a professional athlete putting on his game face before the action begins.

"Qué tal?" Nick said, trying his Spanish.

Ramón looked up. His head barely looked over his horse's back. "Hey, Nick," he said.

"This is my Aunt Josie," Nick said.

"Hi," Ramón said. He rubbed his hand on the seat of his jeans before offering to shake. "I never said hi the other night."

"Where's your friend?" Aunt Josie asked. "The girl?"

"Sara? She's around here somewhere. Sarita!" Ramón called.

"Sí, ya vengo," a light voice answered from behind the trailer.

She looked so different. Nick couldn't put his finger on it.

Maybe it was the simple, bright pink dress that made her skin glow. Or maybe it was her hair, pulled back and held in place with a silver barrette. Or maybe it was the sadness around her eyes when she smiled at him and then politely nodded and smiled at his aunt. She was so gracious.

"Come stai?" Aunt Josie asked in Italian.

"She doesn't understand Italian," Nick reminded his aunt.

"Estoy muy bien, gracias," Sara answered. "Y usted?"

Aunt Josie raised an eyebrow at Nick. "We'll get along just fine, thank you," she said.

Aunt Josie turned to Sara. She made the motion with her hand for drinking and pointed to the concession stand. Sara agreed and the two women were off, waving hands and talking.

"How's she doing?" Nick asked.

"Sara?" Ramón asked. He lifted his saddle onto his horse's back. "She's okay. I just thought she might enjoy it here. Pablo used to ride with us, before."

Nick rubbed the horse's nose. "Nice horse," he said.

"He ain't pretty but he does the job, like me," Ramón said.

"What's his name?" Nick asked.

"What do you think I would call a red horse?" Ramón asked him.

Nick thought of the word for red in Spanish. "Rojo?" he guessed.

"You got it," Ramón said.

"Where do you keep him?" Nick asked. He handed the bridle to Ramón.

"At my buddy's place, just down the road from Jensen's. Him and his brother are riding with me tonight," Ramón said.

"Good luck," Nick said.

"Do you ride?" Ramón asked.

"A little," Nick answered. "If I can snag a horse, maybe I'll give it a try."

Ramón swung into the saddle. For the split second before he moved, Nick knew what he was going to see next. The Mexican was a horseman, a vaquero. Like Nick's friend Bob Petzer, Ramón was a natural.

When he sat on that horse, it was like a ski boot snapping into a binding. One second you have two separate pieces and the next you have a single unit working as one.

That was Ramón on Rojo. His wide shoulders seemed wider. His slightly bowed legs curved around his horse's flanks. Man and horse slid into a slow trot onto the warmup field.

Nick followed at a distance. Across the road, Sara and his Aunt Josie had paused. Sara looked inside her purse for something. She finally brought out the Petoskey stone Nick had given her. Then she pointed to Nick with her right hand and lifted the stone to her heart with her left.

A horse snorted behind Nick. Salim.

Cassie's face twisted in disgust. "You put your lips on a guy's mouth? Probably not such a smart idea," she said. "A fruit picker?"

"What does that have to do with it? Besides, someone had to help," Nick said.

Aunt Josie and Sara joined Nick and Cassidy.

"Would you look at this?" Aunt Josie asked. She held the Petoskey stone in her hand. "Look at the neat gift Nick found for Sara. The brat. He never gives me anything nice."

"Tell me about it," Cassie snapped over her shoulder. She left Nick with a view of Salim's backside.

"What was that all about?" Josie asked.

Nick stared past her to Ramón and Rojo loping gently, linking figure eights.

"I don't know," he groaned.

He just wanted to be riding a horse. Something fun and simple. How did he get stuck in the middle of all this girl stuff?

"Team One is up," the announcer called over the public address system. "Team Two on deck. Team Three in the hole."

While riders gathered in the open area by the arena gate, Nick signed up for the drawpot. He hurried back in time to watch the first go.

A heavy man with a white beard filled his saddle. A young man who was probably his son entered the arena. A woman who could be the wife and mother was with him.

At the far end, the cattle huddled nervously with their wide blue ribbons around their necks. They reminded Nick of his first dance in the seventh grade. He and his buddies were all dressed up, shifting from one foot to the other and wondering what happened next.

"Ready!" the announcer called. The three riders pushed their horses into a full gallop. "Four! Four! Four!" the speakers blared.

The father, in the lead, rode toward the cattle like a cue ball heading for racked-up billiard balls. Cows ran and bounced off each other just before the father slammed into them.

The son picked out one number four and began herding it toward the pen. Dad picked out another and drove it toward Mom. Then he cut the third from a small group in the corner.

He herded all three down the arena. Mom moved them into the pen. As soon as the last one was in the gate, Dad raised his hand.

"20 flat! Team Two up. Three on deck. Four in the hole," the announcer said.

Cass, Nort, and Roy rode out. Salim pranced in place, eager to open up. Cass wore a white cowboy hat and a wine-colored shirt. She kept her horse in place.

Nort turned Galaxy to face the rear of the arena. Roy swatted at Tanya's head with his baseball cap in a failed effort to calm her down.

"Ready!" the announcer called.

Salim shot across the arena. Galaxy spun and followed close behind with Tanya on her flank.

"Two! Two! Two!" the announcer sang out.

Cass and Salim waded into the herd. They quickly separated one number two. Another two ran from the bunch right in front of Roy and Tanya. The cow headed toward the pen.

Roy tried to turn his horse to run next to the cow. But Tanya knew better. She sensed that the cow was going to run back to the main herd. Roy was leaning hard to the right at the start of the turn. Tanya suddenly whipped back to cut off the cow.

For a long moment, Roy hung in place. He looked almost like a photo of a football player in mid-air catching the ball. Work-hardened muscles bulged across his shoulders. Tendons stood out along his hairy arm. His callused hand squeezed the saddle horn. Then Roy was back over center.

Meanwhile, Tanya had cut off the cow and had her pointed toward the pen. Roy reached out and smacked his horse on the upper neck.

Nort picked up Roy's cow and chased her into the pen. She was the last one.

"22.20," the announcer called out.

A light hand touched Nick's arm. Sara and Aunt Josie had joined him along the rail.

"Mira. Ramón y sus amigos," Sara said. She pointed to the Mexican riders trotting toward the start line.

Nick nodded, but his mind was on something else: strategy. What was each rider supposed to be doing? He wished he had a coach to draw a diagram of the Xs and Os.

He didn't want to make a fool of himself when he got out there. But so far, it reminded him of the first time he saw the Red Wings play. Hockey players were randomly racing, stopping, banging, and checking. It took a while to spot the patterns behind the action, the strategies. If he watched Ramón's team riders carefully, he was sure he would see how it was supposed to be done.

Rojo stood quietly with his head low, like he was sleeping. But Nick knew better. Rojo was very cool. He was like Nick's favorite horse, Trace. Rojo was a sleeper. He looked dazed and out of it, but give him a little bit of action and he was all about getting the job done.

"Ready," the announcer called.

The horses raced toward the herd. Ramón took the middle and his buddies covered the sides.

"Five! Five! Five!" the announcer called.

Ramón drove into the scattering herd. He chased a five toward the right-side rail and his waiting partner. He found another five and herded her toward the right as well.

Meanwhile, the left-flank rider focused on the third number five. All three vaqueros moved their small herd toward the pen.

Ramón drove the three cows. His right-flank man raced over to block off the alley to keep any cows from escaping back to the herd.

The third rider blocked the other side while Ramón pushed the cows through the gate. As soon as all three were in the pen, Ramón raised his hand.

"18.50," the announcer called.

Nice, Nick thought. Now, at least I know how it's supposed to work.

He watched team after team perform through two rounds. Each event was different since the cows' behavior was so unpredictable.

Sometimes, the wrong-numbered cows would get into the pen. The riders would have to take them back across the start line. Sometimes, cows would escape through the alley.

One rider fell off his horse. His team was disqualified because he tried to herd a cow on foot.

Nick looked forward to his chance to compete. It was a chance to show Cass that he could ride and show his aunt what he could do. But mostly he just wanted the fun of doing it.

By the end of the first round, the cattle got used to the routine. They started heading for the pen as soon as they were cut from the herd. A fresh herd was brought in for the second round.

It quickly became obvious to Nick that the better horses could read cows.

I know I could ride Trace, Nick thought, if he were here. But he's not. The secret seems to be letting the horse follow his cow sense. The best riders let their horses take over once they have spotted the cow. It's like they're riding the back of a star football player as he jukes and cuts in the open field. Find the flow.

Not like Roy, who at the moment was doing just the opposite. He yanked and tugged Tanya this way and that, until she didn't know what her rider wanted.

After their last round, Nick joined the people gathered near their trailers.

Roy cursed Tanya, tugging her along through cooldown. "Dumb horse," he said. "Never get anything right. Don't know squat."

"I think she knows a lot," Nick said, defending the mare.

"Who asked you, sailor-boy?" Roy growled.

"She's got good instincts around cattle," Nick went on.

"Hey, you want to ride her, Cowboy Cuz? You think you got it all figured out? Here, you ride her in the drawpot," Roy snapped. He shoved the reins at Nick. "See how good you can do with this piece of—"

"Now, there's no need to get riled up," Nort said. "I already told Nick he could ride Galaxy."

Nick looked at Cass. She pretended to be checking Salim's cinch.

Roy glared. The thick hair curling out of his t-shirt shook with barely-contained rage.

Tanya's eyes were wide with fright. Her ears twitched.

Nick knew he could ride Galaxy. But the nervous horse in front of him needed help. Someone had to show this bully what his mare could do. She was better than he realized if he just had a little more timing and touch.

"Thanks, Nort, but I think I'd like to ride Tanya," Nick said.

"Suit yourself, son," Nort said.

Roy shoved the reins into Nick's hands. He hunched his shoulders and stomped toward the concession stand. Cassidy followed.

Nick asked himself what his riding buddy, Bob Petzer, would do. Bob was a natural horseman.

Images flashed through his mind. Bob at the Camp Wa-Tonka stable, talking softly to Cutter. Being trapped against the Jordan River below Deadman's Hill with Bob talking to Cutter softly and gently.

Nick stood in front of the mare and deepened his voice. He spoke slowly and evenly.

"Hey, girl, how you doing?" he asked.

Tanya shied away.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hit you," Nick said. "We're just going to talk for a while. Okay? Get to know each other in the next half-hour. All right?"

Nick remembered something his friend Carlos had once said about breeding. That certain instincts came with the breed.

He thought of the dog, Wuss. She slid around the edge of the flock and got in position. She crouched with her tongue out and her ears listening for the command to drive them this way or that. No one had to teach her what she was born to do. She just needed clear, consistent commands to put the skills she was born with to work.

Nick led the horse across the road to the practice field. He walked her slowly, talking softly.

"Guess what? I know this girl. She has the same name you do. Tanya. Tanya's cool," Nick said. "She knows lots of things. Sometimes I have the good sense to just shut up and let her tell me stuff. That's you and me. I'm going to listen. I learned to do that with my favorite horse, Trace. You'd like him. He's kind of quiet until there's something important to do. Then he has more moves than I could ever keep up with. He's always teaching me."

Nick walked and talked for another five minutes. Then, with no fast moves to frighten the mare, he slowly got into the saddle. He went on chatting, even if it didn't make sense.

"Now, take this Tanya that I know. You both have the same black hair. But yours is straighter and longer and your ponytail is way better than hers. Her nose is smaller. Cuter than yours. But she has a good head on her shoulders," Nick said. "Tanya always gives me good advice. Do you have any advice for me? Should I hurry up and find a whole bushel of Petoskey stones for all the women in my life? Is that what I need to do? Or should I just keep my head down and ride it out? What do you think?"

By this time, Nick could feel the mare relaxing. She was walking easily.

He noticed a big chunk missing from the edge of Tanya's left ear. An accident in the past? Maybe she tangled in a lead rope. Maybe she panicked and tore up her ear.

Maybe that's why she's so head-shy, he thought.

Nick clucked his tongue and hunched forward a bit. The mare eased into a slow trot. At the far end of the field Nick gently reined to the left. Coming out of the turn, he clucked again. Tanya picked up the pace.

She had a hard trot. Nick's legs strained to keep him tight in the saddle. He wanted to slide into a more comfortable lope, but he didn't want to rush the mare. Instead, he spoke gently, pretending to barrel race.

"C'mon now, swing to the right. Now to the left. Right. Left. That's the stuff," he said.

Before long, Nick was taking Tanya through wide figure eights at a controlled canter.

"That's the stuff," he said again. "Nice and easy. Switch those leads. Sweet. That's it."

He reined her back to a walk.

"And now that we know each other a little better, I think you're ready to show me some of your cutting moves. Ha!" Nick yelled, launching Tanya into a run.

He wanted to see if she responded to the same cowpony cues as Trace did. Nick squeezed lightly with his right knee. He raised the reins high on the mare's neck before pulling them to the right. She ran into a galloping turn.

Ten yards later, Nick dropped the reins to the base of her neck and leaned to the left. Tanya checked, all four hooves digging into the turf till her butt was almost on the ground. She dug out of the turn and went into a full gallop.

"Sweet!" Nick shouted. "You're gorgeous. You know that?"

"Drawpot's about to start," the announcer called.

Nick trotted Tanya to the staging area where horses and riders gathered to find out who their new partners would be. Nick studied the other riders in the staging area. He wondered who he was going to draw.

One rider hooked his leg around the saddle horn on his sleek bay. It had three stocking feet and a classic Quarter Horse build. Nick remembered him from an earlier round. He had ridden well. Now, a worn, dove-white Stetson hat lay back on his brow. It showed a high hairline and deep wrinkles framing a relaxed smile.

I would sure hate to be on his team. What if I messed up? This is my first time on a strange horse and all, Nick thought.

Ramón chatted with his friends. Rojo stood behind him. His hind leg was flexed, his eyes half closed. It was a cowpony's version of getting pumped for the big game.

The wife and mother from the first round tucked a few strands of blonde-gray hair under her hat. She leaned back against her brown-and-white Paint. Her eyes met Nick's for a moment. It was funny how a woman could smile without moving her lips. Her eyes said, Hi, son. Have a good time out there.

"Team One!" the announcer called.

Nick held his breath. Let it be me and her, he thought. She would be fun and safe to ride with.

"Taylor, Johnson, and Sims, you're up!" the announcer called.

The woman mounted up and headed for the arena.

"Team Two! Rios, McMurtry, and Sloan on deck!" the announcer called.

One of Ramón's buddies raised his hand. He joined two other riders with their hands in the air.

"Team Three!" the announcer called.

Tanya shuffled and sidestepped.

"Whoa, now. Easy, girl," Nick said. He patted her shoulder, trying to act more confident than he felt.

"Lara, Chavez, and Finazzo in the hole!" the announcer finished.

Nick mounted, looking for his teammates.

Ramón and his friend rode up. "You ready, compadre?" Ramón asked.

Nick nodded.

"I'll take center, the driver," Ramón said. "You take left wing, Nick. Pedro, right."

Nick handled himself well. He gave Tanya enough room to use her best instincts and she did beautifully. After three rounds, the Lara-Chavez-Finazzo team ended up in a second place with a decent average time of 22 seconds.

Afterward, Nick walked Tanya through the parked trailers looking for Roy. He found Roy in a familiar pose. His arm was like a gate across the narrow space between two vans, with Cassidy trapped inside.

Cass looked up at Nick. Her face was blank.

Roy turned around. "Hey, its Cowboy Cuz the vaquero. How you doing, Pancho? Did you spoil my mare riding with those pickers?" he asked.

Roy tried to sound tough but Nick saw something in his eyes, in the way he stood. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. It reminded him of his brothers when they were about to cry.

Nick knew the feeling when someone stood over him, about to make him feel small and useless, like a baby. He felt that way at camp when Mack scolded him for a loose-cinch accident.

Now, Nick was the one standing tall. He felt the power he had over Roy.

Roy lived in this small town. He would probably live here all his life. Roy had a truck with his name on the door and rode bulls and probably hoped to settle down with Cassidy.

Nick saw himself through Roy's eyes. A fudgie who comes to town for a couple of weeks, cuts in on his girlfriend, rides a bull, and shows him up at sailboarding. And now, Nick gets his horse to do things that Roy didn't even know she could do.

Cassidy stood close to Roy. Nick stared at both of them while he listened to himself breathe. Once. Twice. Three times.

"You're really lucky," he finally said, handing the reins to Roy. "I envy you."

Nick turned and started to walk away. He stopped and turned back.

"We're leaving day after tomorrow, Cass," he said. "I'll drop your bike off. Thanks for letting me use it."