Nick Finazzo studied the dark brown mare lying on her side in the foaling stall. Her swollen belly squeezed tight. A small hoof stuck out under the mare's tail. Then the tip of a muzzle. Then nothing.

"It's stuck, poor thing," Corky groaned. She watched the foal's nostrils twitch, breathing air for the first time. "One leg is turned back and it can't get out," she explained. "I don't want to lose Josephine and her baby, too."

The mare rested between pushes. Corky squatted beside her rump and patted her gently.

"If I could reach in and get that hoof pointed straight out, everything would be fine. But my arms and hands are too big," Corky said. She looked up toward Nick.

He nodded. "If you think I can, I'll give it a try," he said.

But Corky looked right past him to Zan.

The boy stared back. His lower lip stuck out, the way it stuck out an hour ago when they first arrived.

"It stinks in here," Zan had complained. It was loud enough for Corky to hear.

Nick had held his breath. He knew about Corky's Irish temper. Nobody badmouthed Shamrock Stables or the horses that lived there.

Corky's neck had turned red. Her lips stretched thin and white. She had stared down at Zan for a long moment.

He stared back, lip out.

She said in her deadly quiet voice, "There's nothing so sweet as the smell of a barn full of God's fine horses. And if you don't like it, you're welcome to find some other place that suits your delicate nostrils."

Now, Corky's voice was more gentle. "You've got skinny arms and small hands. I need you to help," she pleaded.

Zan looked away.

"Do you think it's safe?" Nick asked.

"We don't have a lot of choices," Corky said. "She's a gentle mare. It should be all right."

The mare grunted as her sides tightened up again. The tiny hoof came out, then the nose.

Corky looked to Zan. Her face was softer. Her voice was lower. "The foal is going to die if you don't help," she said.

Zan stared back, not blinking. Then he looked at the foal.

Its nostrils were quivering, trying to breathe the air outside of its mother. It was straining to get out, to be free.

He looked back at the powerful Irish woman.

"It stinks in here," he said.

Corky cracked the smallest grin. "If that's what it takes, aye, a barn does smell. Now, take off your shirt," she ordered the boy. "Nick, scrub his arm and chest with soap and water. Then cover his arm with disinfectant. Hurry." She pointed to two pails and a squeeze bottle of Betadine.

Two minutes later, Zan pressed his chest against the mare's rump. His chocolate-colored torso blended with her dark brown coat.

"Now what?" he asked. He sounded more annoyed than frightened.

"First, I want Nick to sit on the mare's neck to keep her down," Corky said. "She probably won't try to get up. But if she does and Nick can't keep her down, Zan, I want you to get your arm out of her as quickly and gently as you can. Got it?"

Both boys nodded.

"I'm going to push the foal back a bit. That will give you room to reach in," Corky said. "Follow the leg 'til you get to the hoof. Then cup the hoof with your hand. It's sharp and it could tear Josephine. Try to ease it forward gently, so it points straight ahead like the other one. Got it?"

"Can do," Zan hissed to himself through clenched teeth.

Zan caught Nick's eye. For just a moment the boy looked small and frightened.

Nick nodded. "You can do it," he said.

"Now!" Corky grunted, pushing the foal back into the mare.

Zan wiggled his hand in beside the foal.

"It's tight in here. All nasty, like grandpa spit. And I don't feel anything like a hoof," Zan said.

"Follow the leg," Corky said. "Can you feel the knee, then the lower leg?"

"Uh-huh," Zan said. "There's the knee." He wiggled forward until his whole arm had disappeared inside the mare. "And that's the rest of the leg, but I still can't feel the hoof," he groaned.

Zan looked up at Nick. "Forget you, man," the boy grunted. "You said, 'Come see the horses.' Now you got me seeing the horses all right, from the wrong end."

The mare started another contraction.

"Owww!" Zan cried. "She's squeezing my arm. It hurts!"

"You're a brave lad," Corky said. "Just stay with it. Don't let her push you out, too. When the foal comes forward, try to grab the hoof. Hold on to it 'til the contraction stops. Then work it forward."

"Arrgh!" Zan groaned through clenched teeth. "Yeah, sure, grab it as it slides by. Right."

The one hoof appeared. Then the muzzle. Just like before.

The skinny boy scrambled like a wrestler. He dug in with his feet to force his arm back in against the powerful contractions.

"There's the hoof!" he shouted.

"Do you have your hand around it?" Corky asked.

"Yeah," Zan said.

"Hang on," Corky said. "The pushing will stop in a moment."

"That's better," Zan sighed, as the pressure eased.

Corky was next to his shoulder. She pushed against the foal's chest.

"Now," she said, grunting with effort, "ease the hoof and leg forward."

Zan strained as he pulled the trapped hoof toward the foal's nose. His arm came out of the horse, slowly, slowly, until his hand appeared. It was holding a soft, wet hoof.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"We'll find out with the next push," Corky said.

Nick handed him a towel and helped him wash up. "Nice job," he said.

"Man, that hurt!" Zan moaned. He shook his arm to get the feeling back in it.

"You did good, lad," Corky called. She knelt behind the mare.

Nick moved back to join his guests. Aunt Josie and Sara were lined up along the stall.

"Here we go," Corky said.

Ten eyes stared at the mare, waiting and hoping.

"C'mon, Josephine," Nick's aunt whispered. "Us Josies are tough. You can do it. One more time, now."

The mare's flanks tightened. Two small hooves pushed forward, followed by the nose. Then, in a whoosh, the rest of the foal slid out to the clean straw bedding.

The foal lay still for a moment.

Was she alive?

Her eyes blinked.

Josephine stood up, turned, and examined her newborn filly. Corky pulled the afterbirth off and rubbed the foal with towels. The mare breathed in her baby's nostrils, then began to lick her all over.

"Aww, man," Zan said. He gagged, watching the mare clean off her newborn foal. "I had my hands in that stuff. I know how it smells. How can she lick it? Yuck!"

Nick's aunt spoke up. "Corky, how could you call a horse Josephine?" She sucked her teeth loudly. "That's my name."

"Would you keep your voice down?" Corky said, giving Nick a quick wink. "We wouldn't want the poor creature to find out she has a human name. Not at a time like this. Right, Nick?"

Nick grinned at his boss.

"Qué dicen?" Sara asked.

Nick sighed. Once again, he had to translate what people were saying.

Sometimes he wished his aunt hadn't invited the migrant worker to live with her. He was sure his freshman Spanish made him sound like a baby.

"Aunt name, horse name, same," he told her.

Looking into Sara's deep brown eyes, he could tell she wasn't happy with his answer. She was tired of missing things that she wanted to know. It wouldn't be long before she learned more English. Probably sooner than he learned more Spanish.

Nick suddenly remembered Zan's diabetes. He asked, "How are you doing for food and your insulin and—"

"Hey, I got it covered. Okay? It's not your problem," Zan said. He stared at Nick for a long moment. "Where you coming from, all at once playing big brother with me? Where were you when I had my arm up a horse's behind and almost got it squeezed off?" He shook his head. "How did I get stuck coming here, anyhow?"

Good question, Nick thought. It's the same thing I've been asking myself lately. Sometimes it seems like I'm the guy in front of a parade with a tall, white hat. I wave my silver baton and all kinds of folks follow me wherever I go.

Can't I just go somewhere by myself sometime? I only wanted to see my friend Corky and watch one of her mares foal. But no. I have to bring my aunt and a Mexican girl and an inner-city kid with an attitude.

Down the aisle that ran between the stalls, Nick could see Zan scratching the ears of a gray-black dog. The dog looked familiar.

Hey, that's Mojo, Nick realized. Mojo was his friend Carlos's dog, from the farm next door.

Zan grabbed a rawhide chew. He threw it out the stable doors. Mojo ran so fast she blurred in the sun. She ran into the barnyard, racing to fetch.

Zan.

It all started with an email from Tanya, Zan's sister.

Hey, Nick. How's it going? You back from Lake Michigan yet?

I keep thinking of that Mexican girl you met, the fruit picker. Did she end up coming to live with your aunt? Lucky girl. How is she going to go to school if she doesn't speak any English?

And what about that bareback rider, Cassidy? Got to watch out for a girl who goes riding her horse all in the lake like that. How's her diabetes?

My brother Zan is OK with his. He's just a pain in everything else. He got to running with the wrong kids. My momma's afraid he's going to really mess himself up. So she sent him to live with her brother, in Detroit. It's near where you stay, I think. Seven Mile and Mack. That's near you, right?

Anyhow, sure would be nice if you could look him up and do something with him. He needs some kind of straightening out, but I don't know what. My uncle is Clarence Edgerton, 346-2265.

Keep in touch, Cowboy Nick.

A week later, Nick stood in Mr. Edgerton's living room trying to talk to a twelve-year-old boy.

"Hi," Nick said. "I'm a friend of your sister. She asked me to stop by."

The boy said nothing.

"I met your sister when she was up north at your grandpa's cabin, near Gaylord," Nick said.

"Did you know my father?"  Zan's Uncle Clarence asked.

Nick studied the man for a moment. He could see the family resemblance between him and Tanya and Zan. They had the same caramel-colored skin and light hazel eyes under a wide, rounded forehead.

Uncle Clarence looked intelligent, like he didn't miss much. Nick knew Tanya was sharp and wise. Her brother had to be smart, too.

"No," Nick said to the uncle. "Actually, I never met your father. I never even saw him. Just Tanya."

"That's her, all right," Zan said. "People always got to know her. Her and her big mouth. Telling you about me. Sending you to check up on me. I can't get away from that girl."

"Watch your mouth, Alexander Joseph," Uncle Clarence warned him.

No wonder he calls himself Zan, Nick thought. I'd try to hide that name too.

Something about the way the boy stuck out his lower lip touched Nick. He wanted to help him out. Do a favor for Tanya, if he could.

"Looking forward to starting school next week?" Nick asked.

Zan turned to look out the window.

"New school. New year. No friends. It's gotta be hard," Nick said.

"Man, what are you, some kind of junior social worker or something? Get off my case," Zan snapped.

A black-and-white sheltie trotted up to Zan, nuzzling his leg. The boy reached down and petted it.

"That's my dog, Carrie," Uncle Clarence said. He had a worried look on his face. "Zan gets along fine with her."

Animals. He likes animals. That's a place to start, Nick thought.

"I've got a favorite horse I like to ride. Trace," Nick said. "Sometimes he acts like a big dog. I just don't let him jump in my lap, is all."

Zan half looked at Nick.

"Wanna come with me sometime, to this stable where I work? I can show you Trace. Maybe I can set up a ride. On a gentle horse," Nick said.

Zan didn't answer.

"Why don't you give us a call," Zan's uncle said. "I'm sure Alexander would love to go with you. I can drive if you need me to."

On the front porch, Uncle Clarence said, "I appreciate you coming by. Alexander really is very intelligent. He's just having a hard time adjusting and making new friends in a new city. I'm sure he'd enjoy a trip to a horse barn."

A week later, leaning against the barn door, Nick wondered if getting involved with Zan was a mistake.

At least Uncle Clarence gives me a ride to work every Saturday, he thought. Otherwise, how would I get to the stables? I just don't want to start playing big brother. I've got all the brothers and sisters I need at home.

A short way from the barn, Carlos held a cell phone to his ear. A wall of hay bales leaned above his head, threatening to fall. His stake truck had a flat tire.

"Bad news, huh?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Carlos groaned. "I thought I could borrow a jack from my buddy. But he wasn't home. Now it looks like I'm going to have to unload and haul each bale to the barn. All I needed was fifty more yards to make it to the barn. But no. It had to happen here."

"You don't need to raise the truck. You just need to lower the ground."

Nick and Carlos turned around.

Who said that?

The only person in sight was Zan. He was wrestling with Mojo for the rawhide chew.

"What did you say?" Carlos asked. "Who is this kid?"

Nick answered, "He's with me."

Zan held the slobber-covered toy above his head. Mojo jumped, trying to get it back.

"Just put some logs under the... whatchamacallit," Zan said.

"Axle?" Nick said.

"Yeah, the axle," Zan went on. He threw the toy as far as he could and paused to watch Mojo run after it.

"And then?" Carlos asked.

Zan looked at Carlos like the rest was obvious.

Carlos shrugged. "I don't know. What?" he asked.

Zan answered like a teacher explaining something for the third time. "You dig a hole under the tire. Put on the spare. Fill up the hole. Then you drive the truck away. Here, Mojo!" he called, chasing after the dog.

Back in the barn, Corky knelt next to her foal. Its coat, dry now, was a dusty brown like bittersweet chocolate.

"There, there, now," Corky said, petting the newborn's coat. "Since you were born so late in the summer, we'll have to keep you extra warm come winter."

Nick watched Corky wiggle a finger in the newborn's right ear. The filly tried to jerk away. Corky held on tight while wiggling her finger again. Finally, the newborn stopped resisting.

"Could you get Zan in here?" Corky asked. "I want the lad to see this."

Why him and not me? Nick wondered.

Zan stared while Corky stuck a finger in the foal's left ear. She did it fifteen, twenty, twenty-five times, until the filly accepted it. When Corky put a finger into the newborn's right nostril, Zan got upset.

"What are you doing to that baby horse? Quit messing with her. She had a hard enough time getting here," he yelled.

Corky smiled to herself. "Would you tell him what I'm doing, Nick?" she asked.

"Corky's imprinting the new foal," Nick said. "She's trying to get her used to all the things she'll face later on."

"Like having a finger in her nose? Who goes around picking a horse's nose?" Zan asked.

"Vets," Corky said. "Horse doctors have to examine horses all the time. It helps if the horse is used to being touched there."

"Teach her later," Zan said. "She's just a baby."

Corky said, "This is the best time. When they are first born, horses are programmed to learn all kinds of things. Who their mother is, who the rest of the herd is. They have to learn real fast to survive in the wild. We just want her to know that we are part of her herd, and what she can expect from us."

Zan watched Corky run an electric clipper around the foal's head. Then he watched her rub a plastic bag all over her.

"Man, why don't you just leave her alone? Besides, what's a plastic bag got to do with horses?" Zan asked.

"Well, actually," Nick explained, "horses can be very frightened and sometimes panic when plastic bags fly around. This is just a way to get her used to them."

"I don't care what you say. You're messing with her head," Zan said. "You should just let her do what she wants. She's just a kid."

At that point the filly tried to stand. Corky held her down.

"Come here, lad," she called to Zan. "I need your help. I'll hold her down while you tap her hooves."

Zan didn't answer or move.

Somehow, Nick knew this was an important moment for the young boy. Depending on how Zan reacted, he and Nick might be seeing a lot more of the stables and each other. Or this might be their last visit.

"If you want this horse to know you and work with you, this is your chance," Corky said.

Zan still waited. Nick remembered the boy playing with his uncle's dog and with Mojo.

He likes animals, Nick thought. I bet he'll like horses too, once he gets to know one.

"She already knows the feel of your hand," Nick said. "It was the first human hand she ever felt."

"What would I want to slap her feet for?" Zan asked.

Got him, Nick thought, smiling to himself. He's hooked.

"Oh, I know," Zan said, answering his own question. "So she gets used to getting horseshoes pounded on her feet. Right?"

The filly struggled to get up. Corky wrestled to keep her on the ground.

"Why don't you let her stand up?" Zan asked as he settled in next to the foal.

"I'm trying to teach her that she has to listen to me and other humans. She can't just do what she wants to do," Corky said.

"I'm glad you're not my teacher," Zan said. He lifted up a tiny hoof and slapped it several times in a row.

He studied the hoof in his hand. He noticed the thin band of white around the foal's foot.

"Looks like those low socks that runners wear," he said. "She's going to be a runner for sure."

"What do you think, Zan? Do you have a name for her?" Corky asked.

Boy, this kid sure moves fast, Nick thought. He hasn't even been here two hours and Corky's inviting him to name a new filly. She's never asked me to do that.

Zan tapped the filly's hoof, thinking. "Tika," he finally said.

"Tika," Corky repeated. "Any special reason for the name?"

Zan shrugged. "There was this girl. She ran track back in Flint. Reminds me of her. She took her time getting out of the blocks, too."

Corky laughed.

Nick had never seen her laugh that way before. Certainly not for anything he had ever said or done.

Aunt Josie honked at Nick's younger brothers, Pauly and Joey. She interrupted their basketball game before pulling into the driveway.

"I want to shoot some hoops," Zan called. He jumped out of the car.

It didn't take him long to run circles around the Finazzo brothers. Zan flashed the ball between his legs. He danced right and faked left. He drove to the basket and lightly finger-rolled the ball through the net.

"C'mon, Nick," Zan said, bouncing from side to side. "How about a little one-on-one. This is my game."

Nick shook his head. He wasn't good at basketball.

"Tell you what. Me against all three of you," Zan said. "These are your brothers, right? Zan against the world."

"Where is everybody?" Nick asked, ignoring Zan's challenge.

"In the backyard," Pauly answered. "Daddy's making hamburgers." Stepping closer to Nick, he whispered, "Who is this guy?"

"He's my friend's brother. Let him play with you. Aunt Josie will take him home after supper," Nick said.

"He's good," Pauly said.

What's new? Nick thought. Is there anything this guy can't do?

In the backyard, Nick's dad squinted against the stinging cloud of smoke from the barbecue grill.

"So, where is this Zan kid?" he asked.

"He took off down the block," Joey mumbled around a mouthful of potato salad.

"Did you guys say something to make him mad?" Nick asked.

"No," Pauly said. "He just saw a dog and ran after it."

"Well, he knows where you live and where the food is," Aunt Josie said. "He'll be back."

Watching Sara nibble her food, Nick's mother smiled. "Have you ever had a hamburger before?" she asked.

"Sí," Sara said, nodding. "Yes. Good."

"Thursdays is burgers and fries in the cafeteria," Anne Marie reminded her mother.

"Fries," Sara said. "I like, too."

"She's catching on fast," Nick's father said.

"They put her in a special class to learn English as a second language," Aunt Josie explained.

"How you like school?" Nick's father asked, a bit too loudly.

"Geez, Dad," Anne Marie said. "Talk normal to her. How else is she going to learn?"

Sara looked at Nick, questioning.

"Escuela. Cómo es?" Nick translated. School. How is it?

"Good. But no friends," Sara answered.

"Thanks a lot," Anne Marie said, pretending to be annoyed. "What am I, chopped liver? Only taking you to class every day. Eating lunch with you."

Sara squeezed Anne Marie's arm. "You. Friend. My friend," she said.

"Hey, Nick," Zan shouted from the backyard gate. "Look what followed me home."

Everyone stared at the long-legged dog. It was black on top, reddish-brown underneath. It hid behind Zan.

Nick introduced everyone.

"Zan, this is my Mom. My Pa," he said. He pointed at his brothers, busy eating at the picnic table. "You already know Pauly and Joey from out front. And that's my sister Anne Marie and my little sister Risa. Now you know everybody."

"So, you're this great kid Josie's been telling us about," Nick's dad said. "How's your arm? I heard you were up to your elbows in work today." He laughed.

Zan looked at Nick like, What do I say?

Nick shrugged, rolling his eyes. That's my dad.

"Who's this girl?" Nick's father asked. He bent down to scratch the dog between the ears.

"She was running loose on the street. Then I saw those marks on her leg," Zan said.

Nick's father looked at the black smudges. "Looks like she got hit by a car. But she seems okay," he said.

"I think she's hungry," Zan said.

Nick's dad reached into a trash pail. "Here's a burger that fell on the ground," he said.

The dog swallowed it in one gulp. She licked her lips and smacked her jaws.

Zan looked up, hopeful. "Got any more?" he asked.

"Go look," Nick's father said.

Zan looked in the trash pail. He pulled out half-eaten buns and a burnt hot dog. The dog ate up the scraps like a shop vac on legs. Then she whined at the boy, with begging eyes.

Zan looked at Mr. Finazzo.

"I only have one hamburger left. We saved it for you," Nick's father said.

Zan took two bites and gave the rest to the dog.

What now? Nick thought. How many more people and animals are going to join my parade?

"What are we going to do with her?" Zan asked.

"We?" Nick's father asked. He smiled, checking the dog's collar. "No tag. Obviously, she belonged to someone. We'll have to put an ad in the paper, won't we?"

He looked the dog over. "She's a beautiful young Redbone Coonhound. I wonder if she hunts? Maybe tomorrow we can take her out to some open fields and see how she runs rabbits. Whadda you say, Nick?"

"Yeah. Let's do it," Zan said.

Nick and his father shared a look like, Who invited him?