I decided after a while that it was too much of a risk to keep trying to work at the fire stations' stable. After finding Mr. Graff and explaining things to him, I thanked him profusely for his kindness.

Shaking his head, he had chuckled, "If you ain't the darnest gal…good luck, little lady! Keep yer chin up! Don't you let them boys get to ya."

Racetrack had been talking to me the other day about the races at Sheepshead. I had asked about it, and he had told me that boys sometimes were hired for grooms, depending on their level of experience.

Mush was in favor of checking out the idea, but had added, "You better let 'em know you's a goil this time, Marty. Might avoid some hassles." Or set me up for more of them, I thought.

Although I figured my chances of getting hired were slim if I followed his advice, I had a plan that I figured might work. Race and I were planning to check it out the next weekend…six days away. Well…If it doesn't work out, there is always the factories.

It had been almost a week since the fiasco in Brooklyn. My bruises were almost unnoticeable now and my nose didn't hurt at all. Although the ruckus had caused a small stir, no one but had mentioned it to me again. Since I had almost a week with nothing to do, I found myself enjoying the company of Mush and the others more frequently.

On hearing several of the boys say that Spot was coming to Manhattan in a day or so, I decided to be careful to avoid him if he did come…

Monday morning I decided to put on some different clothes. I wasn't trying to hide anything now, so I figured there was no need to look frumpy.

I put on my underclothes and then an old white shirt with the sleeves rolled half way up. I considered the buckskin britches, but decided on the trousers because they fit better. Checking my reflection in a store window, I knew I would look odd, but, doggone it, I was comfortable!

I wandered around the East Side for a while, and finally sat down on an open-ended wooden box close to the spot where I knew Chance ended up for his last hour of selling. The place was busy and always bustling with people on the go. Several huge factories loomed behind the stands of sellers, and I knew Mush would be off work soon.

Hearing a man shouted down the street, and I looked and saw a large, black dog barreling down the cobblestone sidewalk in my direction, a string of sausages held firmly in his teeth. He dodged passersby and I saw the comical gleam in his eye, reminding me of a mischievous child.

Just as the man almost had him, the dog made a flying leap, and clearing the box I was sitting on, and me, by inches, and scrambled into the open end, out of sight.

My mouth dropped open, and I looked at the man's face, which had the dang funniest look on it you ever saw. I tried to stifle the guffaw that came out, but it was no use. It tickled me to see an animal think on his feet like that. I was near doubled over laughing by the time I realized that the man had no kind intentions for the dog. He had a butcher knife in his hand, and the gleam in his eye told me he intended take get his money's worth out of the big dog's hide.

I chuckled as I stepped in front of him, still trying to wipe the grin off my face.

"Hold on, mister. I'll buy the meat. Let the dog be an' I'll take care of it, alright?"

The man paused, his fat face sweaty and red. "That dirty thief wrecked almost half my cart! It ain't the first time, either. This time I'm takin' care of the problem for good!"

He took a step toward me and the box, and I didn't move. "Come on, now, let me help ya get your stand back together, and I'll take the dog out of here." I was still grinning, but froze as I heard the voice behind me.

"Sure, mister, we'll take care of it. I'll pay your damages, for your trouble."

I wanted to whirl and face the familiar voice behind me, but I stopped myself. Not now. Not yet.

The newcomer on the scene walked casually up to stand beside me, his icy gaze resting coolly on the dog's tail, which was hanging halfway out of the box, wagging comically back and forth. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth, and I thought I saw a flicker of humor dance across his eyes.

Spot then turned to face the still angry hawker, who was by now starting to consider the offer, a greedy light on his face. "Well… there was all that damage…"

"I think twenty-five cents should cover it fine," Spot said with an air of disinterest. "I saw all your damage, mister, and it won't take five minutes to put everything back."

I watched suspiciously, eyeing the young man in suspenders next to me as if he might turn on me at any moment. But the deal was squared, and the hawker left us with the monstrous dog, who was still merrily eating his sausages.

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I folded my arms and turned to face my unwelcome companion, who was eyeing me with slight interest. Wishing that I had worn my normal clothes today, I clenched my teeth and met his gaze squarely, determined to keep my face as unreadable as his. I could barely make out the dark outlines of bruises on his face from our previous encounter; one around his eye, the other on his cheek, just above the curved jawline.

"Been lookin' for ya, Texas." Spot sat down beside where I stood and took out a cigarette and took a draw.

My jaw tightened, and I had to fight back a sharp retort. "Oh?"

"Wanted to talk to you." He blew the smoke out his nose and looked at me. He seemed to search for words for a second, his face serious. He wasn't smiling now. He motioned for me to sit next to him. I considered for a moment, then stubbornly shook my head and folded my arms casually. Spot shrugged, as if telling me to suit myself.

"Listen, I just wanted to say that I…" he paused and sighed. "I had a feelin' you was a girl before we got to Brooklyn. I wanted to talk to you, that's all. When you…"

"I know." I cut him off, drawling my words. "Mush gave me ya story." In my heart I knew that what Mush had told me was probably true--that the whole thing was a big mistake-- but I couldn't help being a might peevish with this young pup. After all, he came done near beatin' my face in for no reason the other night.

Spot's eyes flashed angrily, furious at being interrupted in the middle of his explanation. He turned on me, venom in his voice.

"Better not push it, girl."

I bent down to pat the dog, which had come out if the box and was sitting next to us, cocking his head in a quizzical manner.

"Well, partner, what're ya gonna do? Whop me?" I grinned amiably. "Any time, Brooklyn. Bring it on."

I suddenly felt a steely grip on my arm and before I could react I was being forced to look directly into those searching, ice blue orbs. I was again held prisoner, though not in the same manner as before.

His face inches from mine, Spot's lips lifted into a cocky smirk.

"No one gets the best of Spot Conlon."

I thought of struggling, but thought better of it, simply glaring cooly back at him. "Yeah? Well, I'm sure no one ever does, cause you don't seem to have a best, son."

He paused raised an eyebrow, the most his expression had changed in our entire meeting.

"Son? Did you call me son?" His voice was husky, and he leaned in closer. I turned my head, leaning as far away as I could get.

He let go of me. I could barely hide my sigh of relief, and I cursed inwardly as I tried to read that damned cool expression of his. Then I could see an unmistakable twinkle in his eye as he turned and patted the big dog, who was looking quite unimpressed by the whole issue at hand.

"Texas, he's all yours. Can't imagine why you'd want 'im." Spot scratched his ears, and I couldn't help but grin as the dog growled playfully and leaned into Spot's patting. I glanced at Spot's face again, wondering how he could be such a puzzle..

Across the street, I happened at that moment to see Mush's hulking figure jaunting towards us. He must have just gotten off work. I glanced back at Spot, who had also caught sight of Mush. Speaking very deliberately, he said, "So that's how we stands, is it?"

Although he hadn't elaborated on what exactly "that" was, I knew. We weren't exactly enemies, but neither of us, it seemed, were ready to trust each other as friends.

"I reckon. That's how it stands."

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After Mush had come, Spot coolly left, without saying much of anything. As I explained briefly what had happened, we studied my new charge with interest. After giving the big dog a once over, I decided to try to keep him.

Mush helped me take him to the lodging house, where I was staying for the rest of the week with the housekeeper. The dog was downright wriggly with glee as he met all the newsboys, whining and wagging his tail all over the place. He even knocked Race's cigar box off its stand, eliciting a haughty cry, then snickers.

"What'cha gonna call him?" Mush asked as the boys crowded around to see the massive scoundrel, who was clearly enjoying the attention.

"Call him trouble," Race grumbled good-naturedly. Blink and Jack laughed and heckled him.

Several suggestions rang out, but none that seemed to fit. Chance knelt beside the dog, obviously taken with him. He buried his hands in the dog's thick, black coat, and giggled as he received a wet kiss on his cheek, and his blue eyes sparkled happily.

"Well, hmm. What do ya think, Chance? Know any good names for a pup, partner?"

Chance looked up eagerly, his eyes dancing. "Call him Riley, Marty! I had one one time named Riley. He was nice. 'Cept for that he wasn't black."

I couldn't help but smile at his serious baby talk. I nodded encouragingly.

"Riley it is!"

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The week passed quickly for me, and soon I had landed the job at the racetrack. My plan had been well thought out, and with Race's help, it had come through beautifully. Race had told people about some kid who really knew horses, and convinced several of the owners to watch me work with them. So we had set out, Racetrack, Crutchy, Riley and I, (that dang dog went everywhere with me now), to show 'em what we could do.

I had arrived at the stable area at Sheepshead, and looked with wonder at the huge track. About twenty people stood waiting at the breezing area, and three or four grooms were working the horses.

Taking a deep breath, I followed Race over to the knot of people. Race talked for a moment with a man in a suit, who pointed to a large, well-muscled bay stallion who stood tied to the railing. I understood that this was to be the one that I would ride today. Our plan was for Race to tell them that I was a girl after I was already on the horse.

After some brief instructions, basically just a short jog around the track, I began to check the saddle and tack to make sure in was ready. Then, untying the bay, I led him to the track and proceeded to mount.

But just as my rear end hit the saddle, the big stallion let out a snort and began violently pitching and bucking, snaking his body in every direction as he tried to rid himself of the weight on his back.

I jammed my feet firmly into the stirrups and leaned back, centering myself to ensure my balance, despite the stallion's frantic efforts. He bellowed and worked himself into a frenzy, rearing so high that I had to grab his thick mane to hold on.

When he came down again I began to pull upward on one rein firmly, bending his head in one direction. This prevented him from getting his head down to buck, but he still rolled his eyes at me in fear and rage.

I spoke softly in my own native language to the horse. One hand still on the reins, I gently rubbed his neck soothingly. He sidestepped nervously, chomping at the bit, the whites of his eyes still showing. I continued this until he slowed and stopped, and then kept touching him til he relaxed. As soon as I felt him relax, I took all the pressure from my hands and the reins away, rewarding him.

After letting him rest for a moment, I clicked to him and touched him gently with my heels. Squealing and letting out a little crowhop, he began trotting stiffly, head high in the air. I kept up my talking, and soon he slowed to a walk. Again, as soon a he relaxed, I took the pressure away. I continued this for several more minutes, then patted his neck.

Stopping, I slid to the ground. Landing next to the big horse, I glanced back at the group. They stared at me open mouthed, and suddenly I understood. It had been a test. Or a trick.

Feeling suddenly very dizzy, I grabbed for the thick mane to support myself. Missing, I hit the ground hard, and was violently sick. After emptying my insides at least down to my boots, I finally felt Crutchy's hand on my shoulder.

"Any blood in it, Race?"

Ractrack looked at me in amazement. "Not a bit."

I struggled to my feet with their help, eying the horse who now stood very docile beside us.

The man in the suit explained to me that he tested all the boys on this horse, and if they stayed on, they were hired.

"But I've never seen one of them ride him to a standstill! You even had him calm! Why, I'll bet you could have him race ready in a few months!" He shook his head. "You are hired, girl or not!"

I looked at Race and Crutchy, and then down at Riley, who was wagging his tail and grinning up at me.

I grinned at them all, a little weakly.

"That's how we do, in Texas."