Undone

by bundysbaby

A challenge was posted - how would everything be changed if some lived -or died? I explored that with this story of how Dan's life might have been changed had his mother lived.

1. Chapter 1

Bill Regan picked up the phone in his office. The contraption's noisy ring bothered Jupiter, but then everything bothered Jupe. "Stable," he answered, irritation evident in his voice.

"Liam?" a trembling, breathy voice traversed the wires and the years, bringing him right back to St. Cecelia's Orphanage. "Liam, it's Mary Pat. I'm in trouble."

"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice tight.

"Brooklyn. There's a little coffee shop on the corner of Kings Highway and Avenue N. Caffeinated Bliss. Can you meet me there?"

"When?"

"As soon… as soon as you can, Liam."

Regan looked at the wall clock. "I'll be there within 90 minutes or so."

"Thank you, Liam." Her voice was a bit stronger now.

But, he had already disconnected.

His big, freckled hands grasped the steering wheel of the station wagon as he headed down the Saw Mill River Parkway. He hated the contraptions, much preferred a fine piece of horseflesh. There was no problem at all borrowing one of the family's many cars, even though Ms. Trask gave him one of those schoolmarm looks.

Or maybe it was a nun look. Yeah, he could see Margery Trask in a habit, ruler in hand, rapping the knuckles of a daydreaming student. Or maybe not. She would be the kind Sister, the one you went to for a little bit of loving up.

What did Mary Pat want after all these years? How did she even know where to contact him?

And even more puzzling, what kind of trouble was his sister in?

xxxxxxxxxxx

He was lucky enough to find a parking spot near the shop. Regan remained in the car, watching the woman pacing in front of it. Mary Patricia Regan…Mangan. At least, he thought it might be Mangan. She met Timothy Mangan at St. Cecelia's. He was a wiry Black Irish guy, with big dreams and a winning charm.

Mary Pat fell hard for him and was inconsolable when he aged out of the orphanage. She was positive she would never see him again. Bill Regan, a few years younger, was delighted. All he had in this miserable world was Mary Pat; now the rival for her affections was no longer around.

Regan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. I should have known better. A tightness burned in his gut. She promised him they would be together once she aged out. She'd find a job and come get him. They had time to figure out the rest of their lives.

He remembered the letter, the one slipped under his pillow while he slept. She was sorry, she said. Sorry to run away, leaving him there. Mary Pat had been seeing Tim on the sly, and she was going with him. They'd be married. When they were settled, they'd send for him.

Months passed as he waited. Every single day he expected a letter or telephone call, telling him that his sister and her husband were coming for him. And every day, every single day for 365 days after that, there was nothing.

She and Tim weren't coming back for him.

It was almost as bad as when their parents had died. But they had been killed in a house fire, one that he and Mary Pat escaped. They didn't leave their children voluntarily. They were taken.

All this roiled in his gut as he watched her.

She was thin, thinner than he remembered. Mary Pat had on an old coat, gray with age and many washings. Her hair, that crowning glory that burned with the same embers as his, appeared dull.

Oh, Mary Pat. What happened to you?

xxxxxxx

Mary Patricia Regan Mangan wondered if Liam would show as she paced in front of the little neighborhood coffee place. It would serve her right if he didn't. She made promises to him so many years ago, promises she did not keep. She left a broken-hearted boy alone in the world. What kind of a monster am I?

You did it because you loved him. It was hard for her and Tim. Everything was so expensive! There were times they slept in a park or at a shelter. There were times when they were hungry. There were times when she thought maybe standing on a street corner for just a few nights would put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

But she was a good Catholic girl, at least most of the time. She married Tim when they scraped together some money. Tim was able to get work in Brooklyn, first as a security guard. She worked as a waitress and little by little, they bettered themselves. They both obtained their GED.

Tim became a fireman. Oh, she was so proud of him! Scared, too, when she knew he was running into burning buildings instead of out of them. She was attending CCNY part-time at night, hoping to become an educator.

It wasn't like I didn't try, she told herself. I called St. Cecelia's. They told me Liam ran away; they had no idea where he was and click!

Even now, the only reason she found him was the use of a free computer in the library and an internet search. He was employed as a groom by some really rich people upstate. Even as she stared at the grainy reproduction of the newspaper photo on the monitor, she couldn't help but be proud. Her brother, so tall and handsome, with a bunch of kids. He had helped apprehend a thief and possible kidnapper.

William Regan.

Liam.

It wasn't difficult to find out how to contact him. The difficult part was making the call. What right had she to ask his help when she abandoned him? Would he understand the years she and Tim spent trying to build a life? At least in the orphanage, Liam had three meals a day and a roof over his head.

In the end, she swallowed her trepidation and pride, made the call. He sounded older, an adult now and not the fourteen-year-old boy on the cusp of manhood.

And then he was there, standing in front of her in Brooklyn, of all places.

xxxxx

Daniel William Mangan chafed at the restrictions the lousy system that passed for justice in this country placed upon him. The judge in juvenile court allowed him to go home with his mother… with restrictions. No contact with the Cowhands, house arrest with one of those uncomfortable tracking devices on his ankle.

First offense, the judge provided some leniency, but he might as well have sentenced Dan to juvie for a couple of weeks. His mother kept the tiny apartment clean, but there was nothin' to do. No cable, no food, nothin' at all. He spied the schoolbooks on the table… there was always homework he could catch up on.

Naw. Nothin' to do.

He could barely recall the face of his father without looking at a photo. His mom and dad, impossibly young, in threadbare clothes being married by some old guy in a suit. Later, a small family in St. Finbar's in Bensonhurst, his mother and father being married by a priest, legally, in the eyes of the Church.

They were happy back then. Not rich, not poor, just comfortable. Ma was finishing up her teaching degree, and Da was a fireman. A hero, in young Daniel's eyes.

And then it all went to bloody hell.

An uninsured drunk driver, a firetruck racing to the scene; his father and several others critically, even mortally injured. His Da hadn't been working long enough for the fire department to be fully vested. There was a tiny widow's benefit and a small insurance policy that did not go far.

Home was now a walk-up over one of those places that were forever going out of business. Ma worked two jobs, three when she could, cleaning other people's messes up or waitressing at any greasy spoon that would hire her.

Dan found another family in the mean streets to fill up those long, lonely days and nights. A group of other throwaway kids, some with junkies as parents, others in the same situation as Dan. Why not take what they needed, take what they were owed? None of them asked to be born into this. It was their right, like, like Robin Hood. Only the poor they were giving to was themselves.

It all made sense when Luke was explaining it, even though Danny knew that his Da would be disappointed in him, his Ma even more so. But Da didn't have to go and die, and Ma didn't have to work so many jobs and leave him alone.

Even when he faced her sad eyes in court, he could still feel that burning anger. And could still feel guilty about it. That was the damnable part.

He still had enough of his parents in him to have a conscience.

xxxxx

"Liam." His name escaped in a long, hushed whisper. So tall now, strong and handsome, his green eyes shadowed.

"Mary Pat." The last time she heard his voice, it was not yet a man's. Once glance at her pretty, careworn face told him all he needed to know. Her eyes were always more hazel-green, more changeable than his, but there were lines in the corners that hadn't been there before. Her skin had a grayish cast, and he could see the slight tremors.

"Let's go inside." Drugs? Was she on drugs? His sister?

He made her sit while he bought a good Irish breakfast tea, strong, sweet, and full of cream. Blueberry scone – they were her favorite. For himself, coffee, black and strong, although he might just choke on it.

"Here you go." He placed the items in front of her, noted the thin gold band as she grasped the paper container and took an appreciative sniff of the contents.

"You remembered."

"I remember everything." He reached out a long, calloused finger and touched the gold band. "You married him." It was a statement, not a question as Regan wondered why Mangan wasn't here with his bride.

"Yes, Liam. I married him." Her eyes filled with tears. "And now, I am his widow."

His mouth bowed into an O. Whatever he thought she might reveal… they were divorced, Mangan was abusive and she was on the run, she needed money because he was gonna get his legs broken… it was not that Timothy Mangan was dead.

"What happened?" Regan wanted her to say it was a bar fight. Or he was killed robbing a bank. After all, he robbed his sister from him, right?

"He was… he became a fireman, Liam. He was on duty, on the firetruck, racing to a fire. I never could understand that, going to a fire. Not after what happened to our parents. A drunk driver ignored the sirens. There was a crash, and Tim was killed. Thrown from the truck."

"I'm sorry, Mary Pat. I didn't know. You should… you should have contacted me." Now he knew the reason for the grief in her eyes.

"I didn't know where you were! Liam, I did go back for you. I did. Tim and I… we had a hard time of it at first. Sleeping in parks, crashing with friends. Sometimes not having enough to eat. You were in a place where you had a roof over your head and three squares a day. By the time we were able to take you, Mother Superior told me you had run away."

"There was nothing there for me after you left. I would have gladly slept in parks or begged for food if I could have been with you."

Mary Pat didn't reply. What was the use of starting an argument? Liam would have hated being out on the streets.

"Where did you go?"

"I ended up working with horses, here and there, mainly Saratoga. Got my high-school diploma and I'm finishing up a degree in Equestrian Studies and Business Management." Someday, he'd be in business with Matt Wheeler, and they'd breed the best quarter horses and Friesians in the country. Not even the kids knew about his college career. It had been a long, arduous slog.

"I was about twelve credits shy of getting my teaching degree when… when Tim was killed. The drunk driver was uninsured, and Tim was not vested yet. The insurance money from his employment didn't last very long. I'm working several jobs now, cleaning and waitressing." Mary Pat looked away. It's not that those weren't honorable professions. They just didn't pay very much.

"Why the call now, Mary Pat? What do you need?" Regan needed to know. A loan? A lawyer? What?

She looked away, looked at all the people getting their drinks, reading the paper, having conversations. She inhaled deeply, blew it out to calm her nerves. "I didn't tell you everything, Liam. I have a son. Tim and I had a little boy. Daniel William Mangan."

Regan's eyes widened, and a shaft of pride bloomed within. She named her son after him. "Where is he now?" Regan demanded. "He's… home. And he's why I called you."

"Is the boy ill or something?" His mind was filled with images of a sick little boy needing a kidney or bone marrow transplant from a near relative. Just like in books or the movies. "Who takes care of him when you're working?"

"He's not so little anymore, Liam. Fifteen going on fifty. He… I thought he was responsible. Danny idolized his father. Tim was a hero to him. That's why I can't understand it."

"Understand what, Mary Pat?""He was arrested. My Danny. For… for shoplifting. The cops told me he's part of a gang that calls themselves the Cowhands. That they'd been using weed, underage drinking, terrorizing other kids, stealing purses, and shoplifting. He's been sneaking out at night, not going to school every day."

"And the school didn't notify you?" Regan thought of the kids back home. Jim and Honey; the Beldens, Brian Mart, Trixie and even little Bobby; Diana Lynch and all her brothers and sisters. The Sleepyside schools would be contacting the parents in a heartbeat if their kids didn't show up for class and a parent didn't contact the schools.

Mary Pat gave a short, bitter laugh. "You're joking, right? We don't live in a great area. The schools there have enough problems trying to keep the kids from killing each other or the teachers. I thought I could trust Danny."

"Where is he now?"

"Home, with an ankle bracelet on. The judge was a little more lenient because it's his first offense. They want me to come up with a plan, Liam. Or else Danny's going to end up in juvie or jail." The courts weren't treating gang members lightly these days.

"You need money for an attorney?"

Mary Pat reached into a pocket and removed a creased photo, placing it on the table face up and sliding it over to Regan. "That's Danny. No, we have a legal aid guy. I need something else from you." Her brother couldn't see it, but her hands were shaking as she knit her fingers together under the table.

Regan picked up the photograph, studying it. My nephew, how strange to say that word. He looked more like Tim with that black hair and those dark eyes, but he could see his sister's impish grin. His troubled eyes flicked up to his sister, waiting.

"I need to get him out of the City, Liam. Away from all those bad influences. I know, deep inside, he's a good kid. I saw that picture of you in the paper, the one with all those kids when you helped catch a thief. They all look… nice. Wholesome. I want you to take Danny in if you can."

"Mary Pat, I'm not married. I live in an apartment over the stables. I don't know anything about raising a kid, especially a rebellious one."

"Please, Liam. You're my only hope. Danny will end up in jail or dead. I just can't lose him, too."

Regan stared into the tear-filled eyes of his older sister. Was it his job to take care of her and her son now? In his head, he could hear his Da. It wasn't politically correct, but it was just what Da would say. "She's a girl, son. The weaker sex. Men always look after their women. Always."

No, he thought. She's not weak. She's strong, stronger than I could have been. She tried to make a life for herself and the boy.

"Let me talk to my employer, MP," he said, falling into the old nickname without thinking. "I can't promise anything right now, but I can try. When are you due back in court?"

"Two weeks from today. Thank you, thank you, Liam." Her shoulders straightened now that the weight was falling off them. Her eyes took on a bit more sparkle.

"Do you have a phone?"

"No. I called you from one of the LinkNYC hubs." The free Wi-Fi kiosks were dotted around the five boroughs to replace payphones.

"We'll need a way to contact each other." It was easily rectified. Any block in City had retail stores selling cell phones. "Come with me."

Forty-five minutes later, she was the owner of an amazing smartphone. Oh, Mary Pat protested at first, but Regan overruled her. "I'll never learn how to use this," she giggled.

"You will, and then you'll never want to be without one. I must get back, Mary Pat. Can I drop you somewhere?"

She didn't want him to see where she lived, so she made up a tiny, ever so small fib. "I have a cleaning job to get to a block or two from here, so no, thank you, Liam." She paused, looking up into her brother's eyes, those eyes she never thought she'd see again. "I love you, Liam. I always have, and I always will. My one regret is not coming back for you sooner. For not making you a part of our lives."

"We need to let go of the past, MP. I love you, too." Those words never came easy for him, and his lack of uttering them torpedoed quite a few relationships.

Regan watched her walk down the block, repressing the urge to just run after her. When she turned the corner, he crossed the street and slid into the car. A few moments later, he heard the voice of Margery Trask, Honey's sort-of governess, but, in reality, the estate manager.

"Hi, Marge."

"Regan. Everything all right?"

"I need to set up an appointment to speak with Mr. Wheeler as soon as possible."

"Seven-thirty tonight sound good?"

"I'll be there."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Matt Wheeler, businessman, and gazillionaire extraordinaire, was quizzing Margery Trask at the dinner table. "He didn't say what his errand was or what he wants to speak to me about?"

"No, not at all. When Regan came home, he did look unusually grim, though."

"I hope he is not planning to quit," Madeleine Wheeler fretted. It was hard enough trying to remember the chef's name since there seemed to be a revolving door in the kitchen. They finally resorted to calling everyone Cook.

"The kids would be devastated," Matt agreed. Their daughter was spending the night at her best friend's house; Jim was eating dinner there, and they weren't privy to this conversation, but he knew Honey and Trixie would be terribly hurt.

"I don't think he wants to leave Manor House. I think, and I don't know why, it was something personal." Margery couldn't shake the feeling. They all knew Regan was an orphan and that he once had a sister.

"I guess we'll soon find out," Matt murmured. Privately, he wondered if it had to do with the horse-doping scandal from ten or so years back. Regan had been a suspect up in Saratoga, but Matt knew it wasn't true. Not with the way his groom felt about horses, indeed, about all animals. There was no way Bill Regan would inject chemicals into a thoroughbred. The private investigator Matt hired to check into Regan's background was hot about confronting the parties involved, but Matt declined. It was Regan's fight, and there would come a time when he had to fight it.

And then, and only then, would Matt offer his considerable resources.

In the meantime, Jed Tomlinson was going to be selling up. The man had a sweet horse farm not too far from Glen Road. Tomlinson approached Matt first, six months before he planned to put the farm on the market. A deal had been struck a few minutes later. It would be a wonderful place to raise quarter horses and Friesians, and Regan would be just the man to run it. They had talked about it some, and things were falling into place.

xxxxxx

At precisely seven-thirty, Regan knocked on the study door in the big house, as he thought of it. When the family first moved in, the décor was quite fussy. Now that they settled in, little by little there were subtle changes in the place. Showplace was becoming comfortable and relaxed. Honey had been a frilly little dress type of girl, rather prissy in Regan's view. After a few months with Trixie Belden, Honey was an active, athletic girl who was most at home in jeans and a t-shirt.

Little Miss Nonsense was having quite the effect on the Wheelers.

"Come in, Regan." His employer's voice floated, muffled, through the door. Regan opened the heavy oak door and stepped into Matt Wheeler's private world. It was a man's room, a successful man, at that. Oriental carpet on the floor that probably cost more than the thoroughbreds he once worked with. A heavy mahogany desk with a state-of-the-art computer system and matching bookshelves built into the wall behind it.

There was a seating area directly to the right, with two burgundy leather Queen-Anne style chairs and a matching sofa. A coffee table was placed directly in the middle, and a decorative box with hand-carved game animals was its only adornment. Regan knew that box was filled with the Cuban cigars Matt Wheeler snuck every so often.

He smelled them more than once outside the stables.

Regan appreciated that Matt Wheeler was not sitting in the power position behind that intimidating desk. Rather, he was in the conversation area and gestured for the other man to take a seat. "Good evening, Regan. I'd offer you a cigar, but you know how Maddie feels about them."

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Wheeler. I really appreciate it."

"So how can I help you?" Matt leaned back in his chair and observed the other man. Regan was distinctly uncomfortable; there was a slight flush that highlighted his freckles. A proud man, it must be something serious for him to ask for assistance.

"Mr. Wheeler, I received a phone call on the business line in the stables this morning. I almost couldn't believe my ears. It was my sister. I hadn't heard from her in years, even before I ran away from the orphanage."

"Ah. Yes, I can see that must've been a shock. How did she track you down?"

"Courtesy of Ms. Trixie Belden." Regan rolled his eyes. "She was searching for any information about me on the Internet, and of course, I popped up as one of the peripheral characters in Trixie's ongoing adventures."

Matt barked out a laugh. "All of our lives have never been the same since that little girl entered them." Especially his son, Jim. They may only be teenagers now, but Matt fully expected his son to marry the girl. It was as plain as the adoring expressions on their faces whenever they looked at each other.

"That is absolutely for sure. Anyway, my sister, Mary Patricia, asked me to meet her at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. She said she was in trouble and needed my help. I kind of went down there expecting that she was going to ask me for a loan or some other monetary reason. It wasn't that at all." Regan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with revealing his private family business to his employer.

"What did she want, Regan?" Matt was familiar with relatives and friends who came out of the woodwork expecting a handout.

Regan leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped between his knees. "She was in a pretty bad way. No drugs or anything like that. You can tell she didn't have much money for the clothes she wore, and she looked very tired. I don't know if you know, but she ran away from the orphanage with a man named Tim Mangan."

"Leaving you there alone. And she never got back in touch?"

"She said she tried to get in touch with me once she and Tim were settled. She said they had a hard time of it for a while, sleeping on park benches or shelters. She told me that she was comforted by the fact that I was still at St. Cecelia's and she knew that I would have food and shelter. By the time… By the time she and he were able to take me, I had already run away."

"Was her husband with her?"

"No. Mary Pat told me that Tim had become a fireman. He was killed in an accident on the way to a fire. A drunk driver hit the fire truck. Since his employment was fairly recent, and the driver was uninsured, there was only a small insurance policy. She was studying at CCNY to become a teacher. She had to leave her studies, and she's been working several jobs ever since. Mostly cleaning and waitressing."

"I'm sorry, Regan. That's very sad. What exactly did she want from you, after all these years?"

Regan closed his eyes, trying to summon up the words to explain. "She and Tim had a child, a boy. Daniel William Mangan. She's been working several jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, but it appears that Dan got involved with a gang. Not the Crips or Bloods, but a neighborhood gang called the Cowhands. Mary Pat had no idea that her son was involved until he got picked up by the police for shoplifting. He's on house arrest right now, one of those ankle bracelets. She wants… She wants me to take the boy and raise him here. She figures that he'll be away from the city and all his lousy friends. She saw the picture of me with the Bob-Whites and thought they would be a wonderful influence on Dan."

"How old is the boy?"

"15."

"When does he have to appear in court?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"What do you want to do, Regan?" Matt stroked his chin. His mind was already busy with the ramifications of bringing what could be a hardened city kid into a country world.

Regan rubbed the back of his neck, where all the tension that had been present since Mary Pat called was currently residing. "I want to help my sister, Mr. Wheeler. But, I'm a bachelor. All I have is my apartment above the stables. I've been with the BWGs, but I really have no experience raising a child, especially one with issues."

"All right, Regan. Let me think about this for a while. If we do allow Dan to come and live here, I need to speak to Peter and Helen Belden and Ed and Sharon Lynch. They may not want their children hanging around a gang member. I need to get their input and acceptance."

"Understood, Mr. Wheeler. Thanks." Both men stood and shook hands.

"I'll get back to you in a couple of days."

As soon as Regan closed the door behind him, Matt picked up his phone. He was going to find out everything there was to know about Mary Patricia Regan Mangan and her son, Daniel. Then, and only then, would he speak to the other parents.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mary Pat was exhausted when she returned home. Not only from being on her feet the rest of the day at Nunzio's but from the storm of emotion that swept through her at reuniting with Liam. How well he looked, tall, strong, and handsome. It was hard to believe it was the same gangly boy she left behind.

"Danny? I have Chinese." It was an expense they couldn't afford, but in a small way, it was a celebration. Even if Liam couldn't help, at least she connected with him once more. That had to count for something.

"Danny? Daniel?" When he didn't respond, she knocked on his bedroom door, pushed it open. He was lying on his bed, a sour expression on his face. "I called you. I brought home Chinese."

"About time. I'm starving and bored." His nasty words brought a stricken look to his mother's face, making him feel even more miserable and guilty. He brushed past her and took the few steps from his tiny bedroom to the even tinier kitchen.

Mary Pat followed him, her steps slow and heart heavy. What happened to that laughing little boy, the one who kissed her face and called her Mama? All that remained was this surly teenager with the perpetual pout and challenging attitude.

They ate in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Dan chafed at the court's restrictions n his freedom He was sure Luke and the rest of the gang were having a great time without him, weren't they? At least they were so nimble-fingered as not to get caught. Next time, he wouldn't either.

Mary Pat was alternately angry with Tim and wishing he was there. He had nerve, getting killed. Why couldn't he have pursued a safer job, like sanitation worker or something? Was she doing that bad of a job raising their son alone? Was she the lousiest mother in the world?

Mary Pat glanced at the unopened schoolbooks and bit back a sigh. Nothing was going to be solved right now. Maybe not in the future, either. Their lives were in stasis for the next two long weeks.

Xxxxxxxxx

A day later, Matt Wheeler opened the e-file that had everything you ever wanted to know about Timothy, Mary Patricia, and Daniel Mangan. It was almost as Regan had described: in the first stages of becoming upwardly mobile, hard working. If Tim hadn't been killed, no doubt the family would have been living in their own house and Mary Patricia would be teaching.

Matt studied the picture of Regan's sister and her son. She was pretty, although life had beaten her down. Daniel, a typical teen with a promise of future handsomeness, looked James-Dean surly. The attitude did not reach his eyes, though. The gang he was involved with was more of a neighborhood thing, interested in boosting items to sell for cash. It wouldn't be long before one of the older, more established gangs took notice.

Then there would be real trouble.

The scared, defiant, miserable look in the boy's eyes is what finally decided Matt. This was a kid who needed a firm hand and something to do besides hanging out on street corners. He clicked off the folder and grinned, thinking of his daughter Honey and her best friend, Trixie. They talked about opening a detective agency, and he wondered if they knew their jobs would be mainly doing stuff like this. Not quite the glamorous apprehension of criminals they envisaged.

If the motley crew assembled in the private dining room at the Glen Road Inn wondered why Matt Wheeler summoned them there for an important meeting after dinner, it wasn't apparent by the smiles and laughter issuing from within. Helen Belden picked up on the strain in Regan's usually clear green eyes almost immediately and wondered if they were there because of the well-liked groom. She hoped not; the kids loved him to death.

After dinner, Matt closed the door to the room and took a deep breath before turning to the others. Everything he planned hinged on the agreement of the Lynches, the Beldens, and Regan himself. He already spoke with Thomas Maypenny and received a blessing on his quite outrageous plan.

"I know you're all wondering why I asked you to meet Maddie and me here. Regan has recently received some upsetting news. I want to share it with you, with his permission, and outline some steps I hope we all can agree about."

Everyone's eyes flew to the other red-headed man in the room, who colored lightly and nodded. Their curiosity piqued, they looked back at Matt. Matt explained Regan's background and ended with the contact made by Mary Patricia.

"And that contact is why you are all here. Mary Patricia, as I just explained, was widowed early on. To make ends meet, she is working several low-paying jobs. She has a son, fifteen. Daniel William Mangan. The son is in trouble. He's a latchkey kid and has fallen in with a pseudo-gang called the Cowhands. I had some research done, and they are mainly just a group of neighborhood punks who think they are badass. The Cowhands are involved in some petty theft-type crimes, truancy, underage drinking, purse snatching, and smoking weed. They haven't yet graduated to boosting cars or murder. Either the gang will be absorbed by another, older more established gang like the Crips or Bloods, or there will be a turf war, and they will come out on the losing end. Dead." Matt paused to let all this information sink in.

Regan was surprised his employer was able to gather all the information in a matter of hours. Regan glanced at the faces of the parents – and Mr. Maypenny, although he couldn't figure out why the older man was there. There was concern on their faces and maybe just a tiny bit of smugness, too.

They weren't the ones with a wild child.

"Mary Patricia has asked Regan to take the boy, get him out of the City and away from bad influences. Regan came to me to discuss this matter. After a lot of thought, I am inclined to let the boy come to Sleepyside. However, I understand that you all may have valid concerns about a nascent gang member among your children. Therefore, I think this should be a group discussion."

Peter Belden was the first to ask. "What kind of trouble is Daniel in?"

Regan spoke then. "He was arrested for shoplifting in a bodega in Brooklyn. It's his first offense, according to my sister." He pressed his fingers against his eyes. "Right now, the juvenile judge has him under house arrest, you know, one of those monitoring devices on his leg because of the gang affiliation."

"But he isn't violent, is he? No guns or anything like that?" Sharon Lynch tapped her fingernails on the table.

"No, from what my source has been able to discover, the Cowhands are small-time. They wear black leather jackets and think they are James Dean." Matt referred to the old fifties version of a juvenile delinquent. "I feel for them and their parents. Most of them are latchkey kids or the parent has a drug problem."

"What about drugs?" That was Helen Belden's main concern. "Is Daniel involved in drugs?"

"They did drug test him when he was arrested. I can tell you that it was negative," Matt informed the group. "That's one good thing in his favor."

"I'm not sure why Mr. Maypenny is here," Ed Lynch stated. What would the old man have to do with Regan's miscreant nephew coming to stay?

"He is part of my proposition." Matt took a deep breath. "I don't know if all of you know this, but Jed Tomlinson is retiring to Florida. I had first dibs on his place, and I exercised my right to purchase it. Sadly, the place needs extensive renovation and updating. After it is completed, Regan and I will be breeding quarter horses and Friesians there. I will need someone on the site to ensure the construction is going as planned. It is going to take several years to get the place in shape. I would like Mary Patricia Mangan to be that person. She'll get out of the City, room and board, and a salary. She can also pursue finishing her credits for a teaching degree."

Regan was stunned by Matt Wheeler's announcement. His green eyes flew to Matt's face, trying to read if he was serious.

He was.

"Daniel will go to live with Mr. Maypenny, The stables are not suitable for a boy his age, nor could Regan give him the attention and discipline Daniel needs, and Mary Patricia needs to concentrate on getting herself well and established. A portion of her paycheck will be deducted monthly to reimburse Mr. Maypenny for any additional expenses. He'll live with Mr. Maypenny for the duration of the construction."

"Brilliant idea," Peter remarked to the room. "Daniel doesn't sound as if he is carrying a gun or switchblade. The fact that he failed shoplifting 101 is in his favor."

"I'm gettin' on in years," Thomas Maypenny admitted. "I could use the help. A surly teenager is no match for me. I had a whole troop of 'em when I was in the war."

"Mr. Maypenny will provide the structure and discipline Daniel needs. Being out in the middle of nowhere with no outside distractions will be good for the boy. I think being around the Bob-Whites will be wonderful, too. He'll see that there are gangs and there are families, and they are not interchangeable. Jim and Brian will be a good influence. They're great, honorable kids. I have no worries about Dan being able to influence them. Six is greater than one."

"I am not so sure my sister will agree, Mr. Wheeler. Dan is all she has left." Even though the Tomlinson place and Mr. Maypenny's weren't so far apart, it would still be gut-wrenching for a mother to give her child to a total stranger.

"Of course, that is her choice, Regan. However, it is the only choice I am offering. The apartment above the stable is not suitable for more than one person. You won't be able to provide the attention the boy requires to turn him around. Tomlinson's farm needs renovations, as I said, and I think there needs to be some distance between the boy and his mother, Of course, you and your sister are free to come to another arrangement. Are we all in agreement?"

Sharon Lynch frowned. She was hesitant to speak up, especially to Matthew Wheeler. Ed idolized the magnate. "What guarantee do we have regarding the safety of the kids?" she asked in her no-nonsense Mother of Five voice.

Maddie gave her an easy smile, one mother to another. "Sharon, if Matt and his sources say Daniel is not the violent type of kid, you can be comfortable in knowing the information is impeccable."

"What happens if it doesn't work out?" Helen fretted. "It's not good for a child to be shipped from place to place. And Sharon… based on all the adventures the kids have been involved in, I would say Daniel Mangan is the least of our worries."

Regan spoke up then. "My sister is terrified of losing the boy. The impression I received from her is that he is a good kid, just lost since his father died. I think being around real families and some honest, hard work will be good for him. Sometimes all we need is a lantern in the darkness." For him, horses had been that lantern. For Jim Frayne and Honey Wheeler, it had been Trixie Belden. Regan suspected that all the BWGs would be the beacon that drew him away from the path on which he was heading. He wondered if Dan would form a special bond with Jim Frayne. Both had suffered the loss of parents, and the consequences were brutal.

"Mr. Maypenny, do you need any help getting ready for the boy?" Peter wondered if Maypenny's cabin in the woods was large enough to house the older man and his soon-to-be-charge. Maypenny was a notorious loner, and Peter had only glimpsed the cabin once or twice.

"No, I have more than enough space." He built the place when he was younger, always expecting to someday bring a wife back and maybe have a couple children. It didn't pan out that way, but he had no regrets. "I don't have television or the internet though." Nope, a radio was good enough for him, and the daily New York Times and Sleepyside Sun that old fussbucket Frank Lytell saved for him every day. A well-stocked library rounded out his love of the written word.

Thomas Maypenny was eccentric. There was no doubt of that. He was a survivalist before the word was coined, a man who lived off the grid and on the land. What the others didn't know was that he invested his money wisely and was nicely well-off. Certainly, not in the league of the Wheelers or Lynches, but well enough off to have had that cabin razed and a new, modern McMansion built if he had the desire to do so.

He did not.

He ached for family, though. He had a nephew who was too busy to see him, thought he was a crazy old recluse. Since the Bob-Whites discovered him, one or more of them were always dropping by to say hi and perhaps join him for a meal.

They were his family now.

And you'd do anything for family.

xxxxx

Regan called his sister a half-hour after everyone agreed to give Daniel a chance. He just hoped they wouldn't regret opening their stretchy hearts yet again. "MP?"

"Liam. Hold up, let me get to a less noisy area." Her heart began thundering in her chest, its movements so hard a person could see her blouse ticking with each accelerated beat. "Okay."

"I need to see you. When is a good time to meet?"

There was no good time. She'd either have to take time off work or leave Danny alone. "You name the time, and I'll be there."

"Tomorrow, around eleven. Can you get to Manhattan? Wheeler Building on Wall Street." He rattled off the fancy address. "When you get to reception, just give them your name."

"Oh-okay, Liam. Why there?" She knew the building. It was in the business news often enough. It would mean subway fare and a walk, but she'd be there among all the financial glitterati in their fine, tailored clothes and stratospheric salaries.

Out of place, but there.

"It's okay, MP. Just be there."

She heard the distinctive whinny of a horse in the background. "I gotta go, Jupe's acting up."

After Liam disconnected, Mary Pat looked up at the blue sky. A horse! Fresh air and good food! She spoke aloud, hoping her voice carried up to Heaven. "Tim, please let me be doing the right thing. Please. It's for our boy."

The loud voice of her boss broke her prayer. "I ain't paying you to stand around, Mangan, or take phone breaks. You have tables that need clearing."

She slipped the cell phone back into her uniform pocket and went back to cleaning up other people's messes.

xxxxxxx

The next day, dressed in her Sunday best, Mary Pat tried to make an escape before Dan caught a glimpse of her. It was to no avail; he was sitting in what passed for a kitchen, staring at his schoolbooks as if the knowledge within was about to devour him.

Dan looked up as he heard the slight footsteps of his Ma. "Somebody die?" he inquired, noting her attire.

He wasn't so far gone as to not notice the quick pain that leaped into her eyes. That ball of guilt and anger permanently lodged in his gut expanded just that bit more.

"I have an appointment in Manhattan, honey."

In the self-centric way of most teenagers, Dan immediately assumed it was about him. "We already have a legal aid lawyer, Ma." Even though he suspected the guy graduated at the bottom of his class, it was Dan's first offense.

And even an inexperienced attorney would be able to argue that. They didn't put first offenders in juvie or jail, although the state recently passed the Get Tough on Gangs Bill, referred to as G-Tog. Right? That's what Luke said.

"We're not getting another attorney, Danny. In any case, we can't afford it. It's Manhattan."

"I guess so, Ma." He wanted to ask his mother more, but he didn't. He had his suspicions, though. Ma would do anything for me. Anything. He saw the smartphone on her nightstand before she snatched it up and put it away. They couldn't afford anything like that. Now she was going to Manhattan, all dressed nice and with some makeup on.

It gnawed at him, this sudden suspicion. Was his mother, um, was she employed by an escort agency? Or maybe she had snagged a sugar daddy and was making a booty call? There was only one reason a strict Catholic woman like his mother would stoop to breaking a whole slew of commandments and Church teachings.

For him. To save him.

Dan pressed down on his belly, shot with pain. Between the arrest, jail, appearing in court, and worry about his mother and his future, his gut tightened as he tasted the sour acid in his mouth.

Great. Just what I need.

An ulcer at age 15.

xxxxxx

Mary Patricia Mangan stood in front of 1 Wall Street, an Art Deco masterpiece soaring 50 floors into the NYC sky. She was here, in the financial hub of the world and couldn't have felt more out-of-place if she was led to a barn to milk a cow.

All around her, men and women were scurrying in that peculiar Manhattan I've-got-somewhere-important-to-be-and-you-don't power walk. Most were talking on cell phones, the men carrying leather briefcases and the women expensive designer totes.

She felt completely shabby compared to the women wearing thousand-dollar Jimmy Choos or Louboutins. She glanced up at the imposing building, beautiful and distinctive compared to the steel and glass behemoths that dwarfed it. The canopy over the door was a deep blue with discreet gold lettering that read, simply, One Wall Street.

Matt Wheeler bought the building for a song after 9/11 briefly impacted the City real estate market. Besides, the Landmark Commission did not approve of the prior developer's idea to turn the venerable old lady into ridiculously priced condos. Almost entire building was occupied by the powerhouse Wheeler/Hart Corporation, LLC.

Mary Pat pushed through the revolving doors. The lobby was beautiful, the Art-Deco murals simply breathtaking. She approached the reception area in the huge room. Several people were working behind the black granite desk, either answering incoming landline calls, internal calls and directing visitors to the appropriate area. A pretty girl, makeup perfect and with blindingly white teeth smiled at Mary Pat. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"Oh. I'm supposed to meet my brother. William Regan? He… He told me to ask for him at the desk." God, she hoped she was in the right building. This seemed quite out of their league.

"Oh, yes." If anything, the receptionist's smile became even wider. This rather nondescript woman was meeting with no less than Matthew Wheeler himself. She must be awfully special to warrant a meeting with the Big Man. "Tyrone, please escort Mrs. Mangan to Mr. Wheeler's office."

"No need to go to any trouble! If you can point me in the right direction, I can find it myself." Mary Pat could tell that it was busy at the reception desk and she didn't want to take anyone away from their job.

"Nonsense," the man called Tyrone smiled at her. "It's my job to escort very important guests. And you, Mrs. Mangan, are one of them."

Every bit of the lobby, including the elevators, was stunningly beautiful. "I envy you, working in such surroundings," Mary Pat said to the young man with the café au lait skin and long dreads.

"It is lovely, isn't it? I thank the Lord every day that Mr. Wheeler was able to save the building from developers, as well as giving thanks for this job."

"It would have been awful to have this turned into a generic building," Mary Pat agreed. They stepped into a private elevator which began the quick ascent to the penthouse. Unfortunately, Mary Pat's stomach didn't follow quite as swiftly. She pressed her hand to her abdomen. "Oh, my!"

Tyrone laughed. "You get used to it after a while." In short order, the elevator doors whooshed open to reveal the spacious penthouse offices. There was a separate but matching reception desk. "Janelle, this is Mrs. Mangan. I believe she has an appointment with Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Regan."

"Of course. Good morning, Mrs. Mangan. You can take her right to Mr. Wheeler's office, Tyrone."

Mary Pat stared at the elegant, rather opulent surroundings as she followed Tyrone down the hall. Granite floors, original artwork on the walls, people scurrying about with sheaves of paper in their hands. Everyone had a smile, though, or a nod.

Tyrone paused before the oak double doors. On the right was a name plaque, similar to others they had passed. MATTHEW WHEELER, in the same size letters, etched into bronze. Nothing fancier than the rest of the staff, nothing to infer this was Matthew Wheeler. The only concession was the double doors. When Tyrone knocked and was bade to enter, Mary Pat felt as if she were in a movie set.

"Go right in, Tyrone. Welcome, Mrs. Mangan." The ice-blonde at the desk clacking away a mile a minute was Gloria Beck, Personal Assistant, and Gatekeeper for the Boss. The woman's smile was warm and welcoming but did little to quell Mary Pat's nervous stomach. The P.A.'s outer office was nearly as large as the apartment Mary Pat, and Daniel rented.

Tyrone ushered her through one side of another set of double doors, gave her a saucy wink, and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Two tall men were standing by a gas fireplace. Liam and Mr. Matthew Wheeler.

It's funny the things that cross your mind when you are scared out of it. Her brother and his employer both had red hair and green eyes – could've been related! She was familiar with Matt Wheeler. He was in the papers and on television in the business sections of both often enough.

Plus, there were those pictures of Mr. Wheeler and his beautiful wife attending various social functions, although they hadn't been as much in the news for that sort of thing lately.

"Mary Pat. You look nice." Her brother's voice washed over her. She wanted to protest. She wanted to say her clothes were worn and out-of-date. She wanted to meet Matt Wheeler at some glitzy party where she was dressed in a ball gown by some designer whose name she couldn't pronounce.

"Thank you."

Matt Wheeler stepped forward, his cool green eyes taking her in at once as Regan performed the introduction. "Mary Patricia Regan Mangan, this is Matthew Wheeler, my employer."

"Happy to meet you, Mrs. Mangan." His voice was gentle, not at all like a bombastic Wall Street Genius.

"As I am to meet you, sir." Why did she feel like curtseying instead of placing her cool hand in his?

"Let's sit down and get comfortable," Matt invited. Mary Pat and Regan sat on the long leather couch as Matt took the chair opposite. There was a brief rap at the door; Gloria entered pushing a tea cart set with a sterling silver tea service. The only anomaly was the sturdy mugs with the Wheeler/Hart logo. Dainty little crudités were set out in an appetizing array.

Matt, playing Mother, poured mugs of tea to the Regan-Mangan family before settling back in his chair, his big hands cradling the warmth seeping through the porcelain.

"Regan has told me about your husband and son. I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Mangan."

"Thank you, Mr. Wheeler. We miss him every day, Danny and I."

"Regan explained the situation to me. Your wish is that your son is brought to Sleepyside to live, away from bad influences." Matt stated the whole situation in a couple of concise, gentle sentences.

"Danny is a good boy," Mary Pat jumped in, her voice fierce. Her tell was the way her hands shook around the mug of simple, sweet, hot tea. "It's my fault. If I didn't have to work so much…" her voice trailed away, and her shoulders slumped.

"Mrs. Mangan, Regan's apartment over the stables is not suitable for raising a child, even a teenager. He would not be able to provide the discipline and guidance Dan requires." Matt noted the quick look of defeat in her eyes, and hastened to add, "But, we have another alternative."

"Not a military school or anything like that!"

"No, not that." Matt laid out the entire plan. The stables, a job and home for her, a quite generous salary, the ability to get her teaching degree. Dan would live with a man in the preserve, as Matt called it, a trustworthy old soul who would teach him, guide him, and usher him into manhood.

Mary Pat's eyes widened at the proposal, round saucers as she glanced at her brother. "But, what if this Mr. Maypenny is… is a child molester or something?"

Regan barked out a laugh. "MP, Mr. Maypenny is a crusty old soul with a heart of gold. The Beldens, Lynches, and Wheelers trust him implicitly with their kids. One or more of them is always dropping by to say hi and for some of his delicious stew. You couldn't find a better man." Regan paused, still seeing the doubt in Mary Pat's eyes.

"Dan would be living right in the preserve, a heavily forested area that Mr. Wheeler bought and is keeping natural. Not so far away that he couldn't walk or ride one of the horses to where you are staying. He'd be near the Bob-Whites of the Glen, those kids I was pictured with. It's a club, MP, not a gang. They are constantly doing charity work and fund-raisers. They are good kids. He'll get to do things with them you and I couldn't do for him."

"Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School is a wonderful school, too. The kids are bused in as we are several miles from town proper. You would be able to finish your teaching degree, Mrs. Mangan. The town is charming and believe me, I am more than happy Maddie, and I decided to relocate here. I don't miss New York City living at all. My daughter was sickly and timid when we moved here. You'd never guess she was the same child now. Strong, healthy, adventurous."

"I'd… I'd like to meet this Mr. Maypenny before I decide," Mary Pat asserted. This was her child, after all. The move Mr. Wheeler was offering was fantastic, wonderful. She'd be able to do things she never thought she could do again.

However, the cost was handing her son over to a complete stranger.

And she wasn't sure she was willing to do that. Having Liam ride herd over him was one thing. He was family.

But, that little voice inserted, Liam's a stranger now, too. What's the difference?

"Your brother thought that you might ask to meet Mr. Maypenny." Matt rose and crossed over to his desk, pressing the intercom button. "Gloria, please escort Mr. Maypenny into the office."

A moment later, the connecting door to the outer office opened, and Thomas Maypenny stepped inside. "I haven't been to the city in some time, Matt. This is quite some place you have here."

Mary Pat sized up the man in a few seconds. Being in a customer service industry where you were face-to-face with people from all walks of life on a daily basis, she developed a finely-honed sixth sense. She could tell the ones that were going to stiff her; the ones that would leave or try to leave, without paying; the men who would get grabby with her; and the ones that would leave her a good tip.

The man, this Thomas Maypenny who apparently assented to taking Daniel to live with him, may have looked like something out of Survivalist Magazine. But, his brown eyes were kind and had crinkles at the side from smiling. There were no frown lines etched into his face; even a few steps away from her, he smelled like the great outdoors.

The tightness in her chest eased as Matthew Wheeler made the introductions.

"I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am. And don't you fret about your boy. I've worked with a lot harder cases than he appears to be. Used to be that judges sent up the hardest case juvenile delinquents to the Army to straighten them up."

Mary Pat took his calloused hand in hers and smiled. "And somehow I think that most of them came out better from knowing you."

"I'd like to think so. Now, if you're sure that you want your boy to come and live with me, we best settle down and work out all the details. I'm wanting to get back to my land. The City ain't for the likes of me."

The quartet spent the next hour finalizing Project Dan. Matt Wheeler insisted that his attorney replace the Legal Aid attorney that was handling the case. "I have a wonderful woman, very compassionate. She handled my son's adoption. I'll also handle moving you out to the old Tomlinson place, Mrs. Mangan. Old Jed had a main house, several barns, paddocks and a lovely guest house. I think for the time being you will move into the guest house. It needs very little repair. It's the main house and the rest of the outbuildings that are going to take time to bring up to standards. We all will have to appear at Daniel's hearing with you."

"Oh, Mr. Wheeler, I'm sure that you are much too busy to take time for that."

"I think it would be a good thing, Mary Patricia. When you have someone the stature of Mr. Wheeler appearing on behalf of Daniel, what judge in the world would go against him? The Family Court will also want to meet Mr. Maypenny to assure themselves that he is an upright citizen." Regan was amazed at the support his employer was providing.

"We will also have to contact his Case Worker. We have a lot to do in less than two weeks. Mrs. Mangan, you will need to advise your son that you both will be moving. I'm sure that he's going to give you a whole lot of grief over it. You need to stand strong."

"I will. Mr. Maypenny, I can't thank you both enough for what you are doing for me and my boy. When I called my brother for help, I never imagined all of this. It's more than I deserve."

"That is utter nonsense, Mary Patricia Regan Mangan. You deserve everything. Life handed you a bunch of lemons, and like the old saying, you made lemonade. We're just sweetening it, a little bit. Now, I don't want to hear any argument from you. I'm going to accompany you home and meet the boy, and we are both going to tell him about the impending move to Sleepyside."

"Regan, I'll have the limo service run you both out there. Mr. Maypenny and I will go home with my chauffeur, Tom Delanoy. Let me know what happens."

"Sure will, Mr. Wheeler. I can't thank you enough for all that you're doing for my sister and her boy."

"It's benefiting me also, Regan. And in the end, will have a great-looking place to start our horse breeding operation and Daniel will go off to college. I'm sure he and the rest of the BWGs will become great friends."

xxxxxxxx

The Lincoln Town Car looked very out of place in the run-down section of Brooklyn. It was one of those areas where the renaissance and gentrification of the borough had not yet touched. Regan was appalled that his sister was reduced to living in what was little more than a tenement. Vito, the limo driver, ushered them out of the car and whispered to Regan that he would be there, waiting. And woe betides anyone who tried anything. The man looked like a mountain.

"I'm sorry, Liam, the elevator has been out of order for the past six months. We'll have to hoof it up to the fourth floor." Quick color stained Mary Pat's cheeks. Most of the mailboxes were dented or scratched; the whole building stank of cooked onions, curry, and body odor.

"Danny? Honey? I'm home, and I brought a visitor!" My God. Her brother seemed to dwarf the already small apartment.

Dan wanted to play it cool, he really did. But if Ma brought home her sugar daddy, there was going to be a go-round. He may be just a kid, but there were some things that you just had to fight for. Dan stepped out of his room, a belligerent look marring his face. He took two swaggering steps up to his mother and some redheaded guy who seemed familiar.

"Dan, this is my brother, William Patrick Regan. Uncle Bill. Liam, this is mine and Tim's son, Daniel William Regan."

The tall man stuck out a calloused hand. Dan was so flabbergasted by his Ma's introduction, he automatically placed his hand on the one proffered. There was strength in those fingers that touched his briefly, and he flashed back to his Da teaching how to shake hands like a man.

Uncle Bill had the same kind of hands.

"I'm happy to meet you, Dan." The low voice rumbled out, enough to break the spell.

Dan dropped his hand and turned to his Ma. "I thought your brother was missing or dead."

"I ran away from St. Cecelia's," Regan explained. "Your mother and I couldn't find each other. And now, we have."

"Why?" Dan demanded. "Why now?" A look of comprehension dawned on his face. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

Regan gave the boy a measuring look. The kid was angry, hurt, and scared. "Yes. It absolutely has to do with you. Now, let's sit down, and Mary Pat and I will explain the next steps."

"Next steps? Next steps?" Dan exploded. "What right do you have to come into my home and talk about next steps?"

Regan opened his mouth, but Mary Patricia jumped right in. In her voice of steel and a look to match, she grew several inches in height, or so it seemed. "Your home? My home, Daniel. My home. I've had just about enough of your cocky attitude. You're in real trouble, in case the fact has escaped you, first offense or no first offense. You're fifteen, and instead of helping me, getting a part-time job, you steal from people. Now, sit down, shut up and listen."

Dan was stunned. His gentle mother was giving rein to that Irish temper, the one she almost never allowed to escape. He was so shocked he meekly turned and plopped down on the worn couch as Regan hid a smile. Now there was his sister, not that tired, timid woman he met outside the coffee shop.

Oh, and she wasn't yet finished. "I am not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in, Daniel. They are going to want to make an example of you under G-Tog. The Legal Aid attorney told me that the prosecutor is going to be grandstanding and demanding a harsh punishment to deter others. Several other shopkeepers have lined up to give testimony how the Cowhands have robbed their stores. It's not looking good. And you dare to sit here on your lazy ass and do nothing but complain? You will listen to what your uncle and I have to say, and if you don't like it, well, you can take your chances in court."

"Take a breath, MP," Regan said sotto voce. "You have an exciting opportunity before you, Dan. I work for Matthew Wheeler. Yes, that Matthew Wheeler," Regan smiled as he saw Dan's startled reaction. "I take care of the horses in his stable in Westchester County. A lovely little town called Sleepyside. Your mother originally contacted me to ask if you could come to live with me. She was willing to give you up for you to have a better life. Just think about that, Daniel."

"I don't want to smell like no stinkin' horses."

"Well, that's good because you won't be coming to live with me," Regan snapped. Nobody insulted his horses, not even this belligerent teenager. "Your mother was offered a wonderful opportunity by Mr. Wheeler, one she has decided to accept."

Mary Pat jumped in. "Mr. Wheeler offered me a job. He bought a rather run-down horse farm in Sleepyside and is going to be renovating it for the next couple of years. Getting it ready so that he and Uncle Bill can go into the horse breeding business together. While the renovations are taking place, he wants me to oversee them and live there, first in the guest house and then in the main house. I'll get a generous salary and be able to finish my teaching certificate!" A delicate bloom of rose touched Mary Pat's cheeks, the first hint of color there in a long while.

Dan noticed right away that he wasn't included in his mother's explanation. "What about me?"

"You'll be living in Sleepyside, too. Just not with your mother or me. You'll be living in the preserve, a heavily-forested tract of land that Matt Wheeler is conserving as rural, natural land. A wonderful man, Thomas Maypenny, has agreed to allow you to live with him in his cabin. He has a horse, Spartan, and I expect to teach you how to ride. Mr. Maypenny is the gamekeeper of the preserve, and you'll be expected to assist him with his chores. You'll attend Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School and be bused in with the rest of the kids in the area. Jim Frayne and Honey Wheeler; Brian, Mart and Trixie Belden; and Diana Lynch with a couple of others. It's a great opportunity, Dan, to turn your life around. Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Lynch are generous men, and the kids travel all over the country on exciting vacations. Sometimes too exciting," Regan muttered under his breath.

"You're pawning me off on some old perverted geezer? What the hell, Ma!"

This time, it was Regan's Irish temper that ignited. "Listen here, you little bastard. You will take this opportunity to help your mother as well as help yourself or expect to spend the next three years in jail. Not juvie, jail. Or didn't your attorney explain that G-Tog doesn't care if you're a first offender or a fiftieth. You're a gang member, Dan. The end. Unless you don't ever want to drop your soap in the shower, I'd take this opportunity. I don't give a damn what you do with your life after you're eighteen. But you damn well will listen now."

"My attorney…"

"Your attorney is overloaded with cases, overworked, fresh out of law school, and even now trying to cut a deal where you only do three years instead of ten. Riker's Island is no place for you. Now, you either shut up and accept, or hope that there is a miracle in court."

"That's not true. That's not true, is it, Ma?" For the first time, the boy paled and wasn't quite as brash.

"It is, Danny. Why do you think I reached out to Liam for help?" Saints alive, she knew the teenage years might be rocky. But not like this. Never like this.

Dan didn't want to admit their words hit him like blows.

He didn't want to admit he was scared. Scared of juvie, but Riker's? The troubled correctional facility had guys that went in and never came out. Or they came out so changed, they were unrecognizable. People got lost in the system there, too. In for a petty crime like parking tickets for years because they couldn't pay their fines.

Luke told him everything would be okay. He told me I'd get a slap on the wrist. He hasn't even been by to see me. None of the Cowhands have.

The first tiny seeds of awareness had been planted.

He shrugged his shoulders, affecting an unconcerned demeanor. "Yeah, whatever. Is that all?"

"That's all for now," Regan replied. Dan stared at the man who was his only other blood relative. He was sure that his Uncle Bill was a tough mutha. Yet, he jumped in defense of his sister, was tender towards her. What the hell is going on in my life?

The answer would come in less than two weeks now.

xxxxxxxx

The days leading up to the court appearance flew by. Mary Pat was sorting through their meager belongings in preparation for the move to Sleepyside and stopped working. Mr. Wheeler was advancing her salary, and there was sufficient food on the table, and all the bills were met.

There was even enough left over for her to buy a nice dress for court, and to get Danny an off the rack suit that fit him.

They met with Alexandra Navarro, the attorney Matt Wheeler engaged to replace the Legal Aid one they had originally. Ms. Navarro was petite and slender, with jet black hair, matching eyes, and a beautiful café au lait skin.

And man, she was one tough cookie.

Dan was not very cooperative as usual. It was just a few days before his court appearance, and none of the gang had gotten in touch with him. Not one word, no pebbles being thrown at his window, or even someone climbing up the rickety fire escape.

So much for family.

Ms. Navarro asked Mary Pat if she could have some alone time with Daniel. Embarrassed by her son's attitude, she agreed and went to sit in the reception room.

"What's your problem, man?" Her voice wasn't nice and sweet. It was street tough and nasty. She even looked different. The concern in her eyes had given way to a hard stare. Her relaxed body posture morphed into a fighting stance.

"What do you know about the type of life I've led?" Dan sneered. "Working for a man like Matt Wheeler. Cushy office. I bet your handbag cost more than my suit, my mother's dress, and the monthly rent on our apartment. Yet you sit there and judge me."

"You think you have a corner on suffering, cabrón? You think you're the only one that ever had a hard life? You have a mother who loves you. You have no less than Matthew Wheeler on your side. Yet, you're going to sit there and tell me about the hard life that you have? Let me tell you about a hard life. My Papi could have been any one of a dozen men. All of them spending time in jail. My mother was a crackhead puta who wanted to put me out on the streets when I was 11 so she could have me earn drug money for her. I've slept in places you'd never dream of. Places where men tried molesting me. Places at night where cockroaches swarmed over my body. But you know what the difference between you and me is? I wanted out. So I got out. Do you know what it's like to be really out on the street? From the time I was 11 until the time I graduated high school, I slept at friends' houses, abandoned cars, abandoned buildings… Anywhere I could. Because it was burning in me, in my gut. I could've chosen the easier way. I could've joined a gang. I could've gone out on the street like my mom. I graduated high school, maybe not the valedictorian, but close enough so that I could get a full ride. And when I left for school, I never looked back. You just want someone to feel sorry for you. Every single one of us can lift themselves up, no matter what the circumstances. You always have the choice, Daniel." Ms. Navarro slammed her palm down on the desk startling him. "Remember that. You have a choice here. This sympathy ploy is not going to work with me. Man up, Daniel. Or else you'll be somebody's bitch in Rikers Island."

Dan scrubbed his face, surprised at her words. "Luke told me it's a first offense. He told me I'd just get a slap on the wrist."

"Maybe last year. Or the year before that. But not now. You're close enough to an adult age to be treated like one. The prosecutor wants to move your case out of juvenile court and into adult court. If he does, if you don't take what's being offered, you're going to be taking your chances with the jury. Twelve people, some of whom might have been mugged, raped, or just not like the color of your eyes. And G-Tog has mandatory sentencing. Let me ask you something, Dan. Has this Luke come to see you at all?"

"If he did, you'd tell my probation officer."

"He didn't come. I can tell by your posture and the tone of your voice. Don't you see? You're a weak link. Oh, it's all well and good when you're out there having fun boosting stuff. But don't get caught. Don't ever get caught. Because if you do, you're left back for the lions to devour you. It's natural selection, don't you see? You're going to be held up as an example in the Cowhands. Don't be like Danny boy, get caught, end up in Rikers."

It was true; Dan knew it. There have been other members of the Cowhands that had been arrested. Nobody went to make bail. In fact, they were held up as laughing stocks. They were deemed untrustworthy and unfit to return."But why do we have to leave the city? Why do we have to go to some Podunk town that probably has more horses than people? Why do I have to go with some guy who I don't even know?"

The attorney bit back a sigh. "Your mother wants to finish her teaching degree. She doesn't want to continue to work two and three jobs just to keep a roof over your heads. Most of all, she wants you to get a fresh start, away from temptation, Dan. It's so easy to slide back. I've seen it a million times. You have great intentions but slide back into the more comfortable way. The unknown is scary. I know that. How do you think I felt, leaving New York for college? Me, a girl from the streets. Everything I owned in a backpack and a small suitcase. Yeah, I got a full ride, but that didn't pay for clothes. It didn't pay for the pitying looks I got from other students or the snobbery. What I wanted was more important than anything else. Mr. Maypenny is a wonderful man. Do you think I would accept anyone's word for that? I even went to inspect his home. It's lovely; someplace I'd enjoy myself if I could ever get out of the City."

The walls were closing in on him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Dan affected a scowl. "All right. Whatever. I'll tell you one thing, though. As soon as I am eighteen, I am out of there."

It was Alexandra Navarro's turn to shrug her shoulders. She wasn't going to beg, and she wasn't going to lecture him any longer. Her experienced eyes noted the beneath the defiance in his, scared little boy. This one just might make it out unscathed.

xxxxxxxxx

Mrs. Mangan was asked to return to the conference room, and additional planning for Project Dan commenced.

The proceedings were closed to the public because of Dan's age. He sat next to Ms. Navarro in his suit, feeling like the shirt and tie were choking him. His mother sat directly behind him, and Matt Wheeler, Uncle Bill, and Mr. Maypenny were on her right side.

Across the aisle, the prosecutor, Dale Roof, was fuming. This was the perfect case. A perfect case to get remanded to the criminal courts to treat the perp as the criminal he was. He would have made headlines, and it would've helped his newly announced run for city council. Instead, the little bastard had no less than Matt Wheeler on his side.

What the hell was Matthew Wheeler doing in a courtroom in Brooklyn? And how the hell did he know the perp?

The Honorable Louis Weingarten strode into the room as everyone stood. He glanced around the courtroom, immediately recognizing Wheeler. As the bailiff instructed everyone to be seated, he noted the uncomfortable-looking man next to Wheeler.

"Thomas Maypenny? Lt. Maypenny?" Judge Weingarten looked delighted.

"Your honor," Maypenny replied, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I'll see you in my chambers after the proceedings." Weingarten was happy to see his old commander, even as he wondered just what the heck the man was doing in his courtroom and the prosecutor gave up.

Sometimes, it was just better to go with the flow.

Alexandra Navarro outlined the plan for Dan's immediate future for the judge. Relocating the boy and his mother to bucolic Sleepyside in Westchester County; the sponsorship of his uncle and Matthew Wheeler; the exciting prospect of the mom obtaining a well-paying job and being able to finish her degree. And then the most important part: Dan would be going to live with Mr. Maypenny who would, to put it bluntly, oversee his rehabilitation.

And that part was the part that most interested Judge Weingarten. It was an unusual situation, to be sure. He would trust the lieutenant with his own life and well-being. Should he also trust Dan's?

Hell, yeah.

Judge Weingarten addressed Mary Patricia Mangan. He could see the signs of suffering still apparent in the woman's eyes. A young widow with a child to raise, doing her best. Orphaned, unable to find her only living relative.

Man, you couldn't write Hallmark Channel dramas that were more gut-wrenching.

"Mrs. Mangan, you understand that if I grant this rather unusual request, Mr. Maypenny will have the final say about Daniel's activities? You won't be giving up your parental rights per se, but you will be giving temporary guardianship of Daniel's person to Thomas Maypenny. That means you cannot interfere in any way unless there are visible signs of abuse. If Dan comes to visit you and complains about living conditions or the fact he has too many chores, you need to step back and realize he is living with Mr. Maypenny and he has the final say."

"I understand, Your Honor." Her voice wasn't meek or hesitant. She understood what was at stake. Although the decision was agonizing, it was for Dan's own good.

And she got something out of it, too. No use in denying that. It wasn't completely altruistic.

Judge Weingarten turned towards Dale Roof. "What has the State to say?"

Roof waited for a beat before speaking. What he really wanted to say was to throw the book at the kid. Make him a shining example. Try him as an adult. He knew what he was up against. Navarro would tie his arguments up in a nanosecond. Wheeler would probably guarantee his entire fortune.

Most of all, the judge was an armed services buddy of the guy who looked like a modern-day version of Grizzly Adams.

"The State is amenable to the program that has been outlined. However, if Daniel returns to the City, to the gang, then at that point, the State will consider him as breaking probation. He will be remanded back to jail and will be tried as an adult."

"Agreed." The judge eyed Dan. "Stand up, young man."

Dan obeyed the order, glancing at the ground.

"Look up, Dan. I don't bite."

Dan lifted his eyes to the judge's stern visage. "You are getting an extraordinary chance at a new life. There are hundreds, probably thousands of kids right now in the five boroughs that would give their left arm to be where you are. I'm sure that your attorney advised you that there were some witnesses willing to testify about not only your criminal activity but that of the Cowhands. That would not have played well in front of a jury. Now Dan, let me advise you that Mr. Maypenny will be acting in in loco parentis. That means in place of your parent. For all intents and purposes, this Court will consider Thomas Maypenny as your official guardian. Now, that does not mean you can't have any contact with your mother. You and your mom can have unlimited visitation. However, there will not be any overnight stays, nor will you be allowed to visit without the consent of Mr. Maypenny. You will be enrolled in school in Sleepyside, and you will remain in school until graduation. You will consider yourself under probation until you reach the age of 18. If there are no black marks against you, you will be released from probation, and I hope to see you go to college."

"As Prosecutor Roof has stated, if you violate your probation by skipping school, running away, or getting into criminal activity in Sleepyside, you may be remanded back to custody here. If you rejoin the Cowhands, that will be cause for your immediate arrest, and you will be charged as an adult under G-Tog. Do you understand these terms?"

"Yes, sir." He wanted to scream and rail. They were taking him away from everyone and everything he knew. Even his mother was bailing on him. But what good would it do? He'd be marked incorrigible and sent to Rikers.

"Mr. Maypenny, do you understand the seriousness of the agreement made? You will be responsible for this young man, to ensure that he is following the strictures of his probation. You will need to treat him with kindness tempered by discipline. Are you willing to abide by the Court's decision?"

"Yes, Your Honor." As ever, Maypenny was a man of few words.

"Then this Court considers this matter adjudicated as outlined. Daniel, you will immediately leave with Mr. Maypenny once he meets with me in my chambers for a brief period of time." Judge Weingarten slammed his gavel just like on Judge Judy.

"But I have stuff to get at home!"

"Danny, there's nothing in our apartment right now. Mr. Wheeler was so kind as to have the movers pick up everything while we were here at court. Even now, our things are on their way to Sleepyside. I'll wait with you here while Mr. Maypenny speaks with the judge." The truth was it was hard to say goodbye to her only child and any stolen moments until their final parting was bittersweet.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Maypenny returned from his reunion with Judge Weingarten. Matt Wheeler, Regan, and Mary Pat were going back with Mr. Wheeler's chauffeur. Dan was going back with Mr. Maypenny in his rather ancient pickup truck.

The little group stood in front of the courthouse. Matt, Regan, Mr. Maypenny, and Alexandra Navarro were off to one side as Mary Pat and Daniel faced off. It was goodbye, maybe just for a little while, but goodbye nonetheless.

Mary Pat went to embrace her son, but he stepped back. His rage was boiling in him. Da would not have done this! Da would never hand him over to a stranger, send him out somewhere in the woods.

He ignored that little voice that reminded him his father would have insisted he do jail or juvie time. Tim Mangan, for all the adventures he and Mary Pat had when they were younger, knew the dangers of the street. It's not something he would have wished for his son.

Mary Pat was stung. Her mother's heart broke, shattered into ever tinier pieces. It cracked when she had to leave her brother behind in the orphanage. More splintery lines appeared when they couldn't find Liam. It fell to pieces when Tim died, and when Dan got in trouble. And now, he was repudiating her.

Could a person survive like that? Maybe it wasn't the heart beating in her chest, although it felt like it. Could one survive without the focal point that kept the soul alive?

"I know you hate me now, Daniel. I hope someday we can look back at this and not laugh, but so that you'll understand." She wouldn't cry in front of him.

"What. Ever."

xxxxxx

Across the street from the steps leading to the courthouse, people kept far away from the guy leaning against the lamppost. He may have just been a kid, but the black leather jacket, scruffy jeans, and low-heeled cowboy boots telegraphed his affiliation with a gang. His eyes were trained on the little group standing on the stairs, observing them with an intentness that was almost scary. Luke smoked his cigarette right down to the nub and tossed it carelessly in the street.

He watched as Dan's mother got into a stretch limousine with a couple of guys. Dan, however, gotten to an old beater with a geezer who looked like he was as old as dirt. Still, the limo? Dan and his mother must've stepped into shit.

And Luke figured Dan owed him. Things were hot on their turf because of Dan's arrest and the attention it brought to the Cowhands. Yeah, maybe he'd make a little foray to Dan's neighborhood. See if anyone knew what his old friend Dan was up to, and maybe get some of money for himself.

xxxxxxxxx

It did not appear to perturb Thomas Maypenny one whit that the other side of the sagging bench seat in Ol' Lizzy was occupied by a sulky teenage boy. Dan Mangan was pressed up against the door, bottom lip out, a sneer distorting his good-looking face.

Mr. Maypenny did not speak until they were out of the city traffic. It suited Dan just fine. He didn't have anything to say, anyway. However, as soon as they broke away into a less congested area, Maypenny startled him by initiating a conversation.

"While we are driving back to Sleepyside, I thought I'd lay out a few ground rules for you, Dan." He didn't wait for Dan to respond. He knew he wouldn't.

"My house is surrounded by Mr. Wheeler's nature preserve. There are acres and acres of land in its natural state. Wheeler wanted me to sell him my property, but I ain't about to give it up. Now, I want you to realize that while it is beautiful, calming, and mostly peaceful, it can be a very dangerous place. There are bear, catamounts, coyotes, and deer. These creatures are normally nocturnal; however, if there is food available, they may scavenge in the daytime. It's most important that you do not leave any kind of foodstuffs lying around outside.

"Also, the preserve itself is enormous and very easy to get lost in. Part of it is called the labyrinth, and there's a good reason for it being named that. I'm the gamekeeper there, I been living there all my life, yet, there are parts that I'm not even sure of. Stick to the trails. I haven't been able to mark all of them yet.

"Regan will probably give you riding lessons. You can use my horse, Spartan. He's a good old boy, gentle mouth. It's easier to get around in the preserve when you become more familiar if you're on horseback. I will expect that you will help me maintain the trails in the feeding stations. Mr. Wheeler does hunt and allows some of his neighbors to do the same.

"You will have your own bedroom and bathroom. I expect that you will keep everything neat and clean. We'll divide the chores up. Much as I hate to admit it, I am getting older, and I need help chopping wood and clearing the trails.

"You'll be taking a bus to school with the other kids. All you have to do is follow the driveway to Glen Road. The bus will pick you up. Occasionally, Brian Belden drives everyone to school. If you become friends with them, I'm sure he'll give you a ride, too.

"The Wheelers live in a big house upon the Hill called Manor House. It's a local showplace. They have a large lake on the property with a dock and a boathouse. A few hundred feet out is a float. The kids all swim there during the summer and ice skate during the winter. Matt and Madeline Wheeler have a daughter, Honey, who is as sweet as her name implies. They also have an older son, Jim Frayne, who they adopted not too long ago.

"Our next nearest neighbors are the Beldens. Helen and Peter. They have four children, Brian, Mart, Trixie, and the young rapscallion, Bobby. Apart from Bobby, the kids are all around your age. They have a club in the old gatehouse called the Bobwhites of the Glen. They're really good kids who do a lot of charity work and have a lot of adventures. I hope you get to know them better.

"Your mom will be living several miles away. Jed Tomlinson is a good man; just let his house and stables go to pot. I'm glad Mr. Wheeler purchased his place and will restore it to one of the premier horse breeding operations in the area. We will make arrangements when you can go and see your mom. I'm sure that Mr. Wheeler will provide a car for her, too. Now, do you have any questions that you want to ask me?"

Dan did. He had a million of them, all roiling around in his brain. What about ticks? He heard they carried some nasty diseases. Was there a phone at this place? Was the bathroom inside? What was the difference between these hick kids having a gang called the BWGs and the Cowhands? Dan wasn't about to give this old man the pleasure of giving him more instructions, more rules.

"None."

Mr. Maypenny grinned. The kid thought himself such a hard case. Well, we'll see about that! The first time he hears a catamount or coyote howl, he'll come runnin' with those questions.

xxxxxx

In the limo, silence reigned for a while until Mary Pat was able to control her emotions. It wouldn't do to cry like an idiot in front of her new boss. When she felt her voice wouldn't shake, she turned to Matt Wheeler and her brother.

"I can't thank you both enough for what you are doing for Dan and me."

Mr. Wheeler waved a freckled hand. "Nonsense. You're helping me, too." He picked up a folder lying next to him, passed it to Mary Pat. "The photos inside are of the old Tomlinson place. I wanted you to see it before we got there. Of course," he mused. "We can't keep calling it the old Tomlinson place. We'll have to come up with a new name."

"Wheegan Stables?" Mary Pat suggested.

"No, it sounds like someone can't say Regan. I already have enough of the Ray-gun, Ree-gun thing," Regan muttered.

Mary Pat was leafing through the folder of pictures Mr. Wheeler had handed her. It was true; the place was in sad condition. Most of the paddocks would need to be re-fenced. The stables would probably have to be rebuilt from the ground up.

The house itself was a sprawling American farmhouse style, with a wraparound, deep porch. It had cedar shakes, weathered to a deep, dirty gray. Parts of the gutter were hanging down. The windows were filthy; the old-style grills peeling and cracking.

In the back of the main house was a guest house in much better shape than the main place. Mary Pat guessed correctly that the former owner decamped to the guest house when the main house began to deteriorate. "It's got good bones, though," she murmured, looking at the wreck of a house. It was set back on from the intersection of Glen Road and Old Albany Post Road. "How about Glen Hollow Farm?"

"I like it!" Matt Wheeler exclaimed, delighted. "What about you, Regan?"

"It's good. Not too cutesy. Thanks, MP."

Mr. Wheeler and Regan then began to point out all the changes to be made to the place. The construction would be extensive and take the better part of two years. Once the stable and paddocks were completed, the workmen would then move on to the main house and finally the guest house. "The architect has designed a lovely space, not only for people but for the horses."

Matt turned to Mary Pat. "Do you know how to drive?"

"Yes, I do. I haven't driven much since Tim passed. We had a little VW bug he taught me how to drive in. Darn thing leaked!" Oh, the fun of those days, with her lurching the old car through school parking lots, trying to understand gears. It died just around the same time Tim did.

"We'll be providing you with a car, Mrs. Mangan. You'll need to get around. The guest house has been fully refreshed, new furniture, an office, and a computer. You'll be hooked up to cable television there, too. In return, you'll be my eyes and ears for the construction project, a sort-of on-site supervisor. Oh, and I've also arranged for you to finish up your degree via online college." Matt's voice became gentle. "Regan will show you around town. Of course, Dan may visit you there, or you may visit Dan. His school records have already been transferred to the high school. All he has to do is report tomorrow."

And just like that, seriously, just like that, Mary Pat stepped into a world where one man could change everything.

xxxxxxx

Regan and Mary Pat were dropped off at Glen Hollow Farm by the Wheelers' chauffeur. Before she exited the limo, Mr. Wheeler pressed a set of keys into her hand, explaining that Celia, Tom's wife, had been there to meet the movers. "I know it seems overwhelming and maybe even scary, out here in the sticks," Matt Wheeler empathized. "Sleepyside is a friendly community with a low crime rate. Most folks don't even lock their doors, but I wouldn't suggest going that far. The Jeep is parked near the guesthouse, and the keys are inside the house, Mrs. Mangan."

"Mary Pat. Please, call me Mary Pat." How could she thank this man, this stranger, who was giving her and Danny a chance at a better life?

"Mary Pat." When Matt smiled, his whole face lit up.

As they walked around back to the guest house, Mary Pat took stock of her surroundings. The place was run down. It still wasn't as bad as some of the places she and Tim had lived in. It was just… big. Open. Intimidating.

"I'll be spending the next couple of nights with you here, MP," Regan said. "Just until you get used to everything and get settled in. I need to use the car to check on the horses before we turn in tonight, and tomorrow I'll tell the kids to care for them."

"Oh, Liam, you don't have to," she demurred, but he steamrolled right over her.

"I know that. But you're my sister. And the only one in the world who calls me Liam."

"And you're the only one who calls me MP."

"It's all we had at St. Cecelia's that was really only ours, wasn't it?"

Mary Pat nodded. So far away, those days seemed so far away. Her eyes filled with tears, and her brother noticed immediately. Panicking at the thought of a woman's tears, he jumped right into the pregnant pause.

"C'mon, I'll show you the house, and we can get some of your things put away." Although that wouldn't take long. A few boxes of her meager belongings were stacked in a corner.

xxxxxxxxxx

Spider Webster was on night patrol. It was a duty that had a double-edge. The night was peaceful, the roads quiet, and it gave a man time to reflect. On the other hand, it meant leaving his brother, Tad, alone. Well, not really alone any longer since they were staying with Mrs. Vanderpoel.

Still, however wonderful their landlady was, he felt guilty that Tad was there, and they were imposing on her good nature. Tad was his charge now, and he was making a mull of it. He was sure their parents were rolling over in their graves so hard, it was registering on the Richter Scale.

Tad. The sibling he never thought he would have. He was fifteen when his parents were surprised by a late in life pregnancy. He was eighteen and in the Police Academy when their parents were mowed down in New York City by a driver who suffered a stroke and drove into a crowd of shoppers. Tad escaped with barely a scratch, but Spider had to bury their parents and take charge of a three-year-old.

It hadn't been easy.

He had to sell the family home to get enough money together for a small apartment in town and to pay for daycare for Tad. His days were spent learning to become a policeman, and his nights were spent with a bewildered toddler who just wanted Mama and Papa.

They muddled through, however, as their brotherly bond grew stronger. When Mrs. Vanderpoel stepped in to offer a home, Spider was relieved. For as much as Molinson muttered about Trixie Belden and the rest of the Bob-Whites, he respected them.

Even if he wouldn't admit it.

Having Tad near the group meant that their good influence may rub off on him. Maybe he'd even become the seventh Bob-White!

Spider's head was full of these thoughts and more as he cruised the dark streets of the outer fringes of Sleepyside. He kept a wary eye out for deer and other nocturnal creatures, including bears. He was just about to turn onto Glen Road when he noticed it.

Now that's odd. I thought the old Tomlinson place was vacant. He caught the glimmer of light in the guesthouse. Matt Wheeler had asked the force to keep an eye on the place once he purchased it from the old man. Spider knew that Wheeler filed plans with the zoning board to practically raze the place and rebuild it.

There were no secrets in a small town.

He cut his lights on the cruiser and coasted into the driveway, his adrenalin beginning to pump. Yeah, there is a light.

"Dispatch? Webster here. I'm stepping away from the car to investigate some suspicious activity at the old Tomlinson place."

"10-4, Webster."

Spider crept around the side of the decrepit main house. He was right. The guest house did have a light on. There were some boxes and other items stacked by the side of the porch as if someone was taking their time and gutting the place.A figure exited the place with a few boxes and added them to the untidy pile. Spider unsnapped his holster, flicked off the safety on his gun and flashed his light right into the perp's face.

"Halt right there! Police! Hands up!"

Mary Pat shrieked loud enough to echo through the little hollow. She threw her hands up in the air, dropping the box she was holding. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

A woman. Spider never expected a woman. But hell, they were just as many female criminals as they were male he supposed. "Turn around slowly to face me and don't make any sudden moves."

She turned around to face him, and he nearly dropped his gun. She was a pretty little thing, all big, scared eyes. "Yes sir," she said meekly as she stared down the barrel of the gun held by the handsome young officer.

"What are you doing here, in that house? This is private property you know. Who are you?"

"My name is Mary Patricia Mangan. I know Mr. Matt Wheeler owns this house. My brother works for him. Mr. Wheeler has asked me to live here and take charge of the construction that's about to begin shortly."

"Who's your brother?" Spider asked, suspicious. He knew Tom Delanoy very well, he was from town, and he had three strapping brothers. Not a girl in the bunch.

"William Regan. He takes care of Mr. Wheeler's horses."

Spider was astonished. "Regan? I thought he was an orphan." Yeah, there was a family resemblance there.

"We were both orphans," Mary Pat interjected gently. "Liam and I, well, we were estranged for years." She shivered in the cold. "Officer, if you have any more questions to ask me, please, can we go indoors? I'm freezing out here."

Just then, Regan drove up, hopping out of the car when he saw Spider holstering his weapon. "Spider? What's going on here? I saw your cruiser in the driveway? Is my sister okay?"

"Everything's okay, Liam. The officer here saw a light on and decided to investigate. He scared the life out of me though!" She shivered again. "Please, can we take this inside?"

"Come in for a cup of coffee, Spider," Regan offered. "I know you have a long night ahead of you."

"Be right there, just let me call in to dispatch and let them know I'm going on break."

A short while later, the trio was sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen in the guesthouse wasn't large, but to Mary Pat, it seemed like a mansion. She had to laugh a little when her brother had to show her how to use the Keurig.

"Spider?" She raised her fine eyebrows at the officer sitting directly across from her. Her long fingers were wrapped around the hot cup of coffee, warming them.

"Spider Webster. I don't think anybody knows his real name," Regan laughed.

Spider relaxed back against the chair, glancing at Mary Pat's hands. No wedding ring there. Maybe she was divorced. "Believe it or not, Spider is my real name. My father actually wanted to name me Spider-Man Webster. They compromised with Spider."

Regan broke out into a hearty laugh. "Well, at least Tad has a semi-normal name."

"Is Tad your son?" Mary Pat asked. If Spider was checking her out, she was doing the same. It had been many years, too many to remember since she had been physically interested in a man. He wasn't wearing a ring, either. But she knew that many policemen and firemen didn't wear wedding rings as they were afraid the objects may get caught on something."

"My little brother. Our parents died in an accident, and I've been raising Tad." Just then Spider's chest radio went off.

"Dispatch to Unit 6,"

"Unit 6 here. Go."

"See the girl at Crabapple Farm." No need for names. Everyone in town knew who the girl was.

Trixie Belden.

Spider wanted to get to know Mary Pat a little better. But, as usual, duty called. "I gotta go, guys, sorry." He knew what this was about. Trixie and Honey had busted the Thompson gang, and she had her signed statement ready. "I'll see myself out." He paused, and then went for it. "Sorry I frightened you before, Mary Pat."

"Just doing your job."

"See you around."

Regan looked at the glances the two were sharing and grinned. They had no idea they were telegraphing their interest in each other to the world.