Mark ran down the steps of the schoolhouse, vaulted onto Blue Boy, and kicked the horse to a brisk trot. It wasn't often he got the opportunity to stay in town after school, but Luke was coming in for supplies and had promised his son dinner at the hotel. Mark had almost two hours before he was supposed to meet his father and he meant to make the most of it. He rode down the street to Hattie's store and the wonderful selection of candy she offered, tied up his horse just as the stagecoach pulled in, then forgot all about going inside as the passengers disembarked.

Not since Italian nobleman Count Alfredo Di Marcosini Montova had Mark seen such clothes. A dapper man stepped down into the street and looked about him, then smiled at the boy by his side. The boy was Mark's age but that seemed to be all they had in common. Like the man, he wore a frilled white shirt and a velvet coat, and their shoes were shiny enough to show a reflection. The boy caught Mark staring and grinned. "Well, hello."

Mark smiled back. "Hello, yourself."

"I'm Richard Van Allen. This is my father, Alfred."

"I'm Mark. Mark McCain." The boy shook hands with the two visitors. "Are you staying in North Fork?"

Van Allen shook his head. "Passing through to San Francisco. I own a steamship line in New York and I'm branching out to the west coast." He waved a hand. "I hadn't thought of making the trip myself but Rick was keen to see the country, so here we are."

"We've had a good time, haven't we, Father?"

Van Allen smiled. "We have indeed. Now, Mr McCain, can you recommend a hotel?"

"My pa's Mr McCain," the boy chuckled. "You can call me Mark." He pointed. "The Madera House is our only hotel but they sure do have good cherry pie."

"Then that is where we shall stay," said Van Allen. "Rick, I'm going over to the bank to draw on my letter of credit. Have someone bring in the bags."

"Oh, I can help with that," said Mark quickly.

"Thank you, Mark." Van Allen looked around, spotted the bank, and left the two boys.

"We don't have much luggage," said Rick. "Father prefers to travel light and buy what we need. Driver, pass down those two valises."

Cole frowned. "Two what?"

"Suitcases, my good man." Rick pointed. "Those two leather cases."

The driver handed the cases over. Rick took one and Mark carried the other into the Madera. The young lady behind the counter regarded them with interest.

"Hello, Mark. Is there something I can help your friend with?"

"There is indeed." Rick took out a gold coin. "My father and I require a room." He signed the ledger, then went upstairs with Mark to deposit the luggage.

Mark watched admiringly as Rick unpacked. "You sure do have some nice clothes."

"Just traveling gear." Rick shook out a shirt. "I think it's too fancy myself for riding in a stagecoach. I'd rather wear something like your outfit."

"This ain't a outfit." Mark gestured to his clothes. "This is just what I wear every day. That way soon as I get home I can get started on my chores."

"What sort of chores do you do?" asked Rick.

"Oh, I chop wood and herd cows and clean tack."

"Tack? What is...tack?"

Mark looked surprised. "Tack! You know, saddles and bridles and harnesses and such. It's got to be kept clean or the leather rots." He sighed. "And Pa and me got an arrangement. One of us cooks and the other one washes the dishes. I sure don't like washing dishes."

"I don't think I'd like that either. I take it you ride horses a great deal?"

"Well, sure! I ride Blue Boy into town to go to school and then I ride him home. I have to ride him working the stock."

"It sounds wonderful," said Rick wistfully. "I've been taking riding lessons since I could walk but I never had a horse of my own. Father says perhaps when I get older he'll let me choose one from our stables."

"My pa says when I get older he'll let me have a rifle of my own."

"I have my own guns. Father enjoys shooting. He's better, of course, but I hope one day to beat him."

Mark said proudly, "My pa is just about the best shot there is."

The two boys fell silent, contemplating each other, then Rick laughed. "Mark, what would you say to letting me try on your clothes? We look to be about the same size. I'd like to see how I would look if I were dressed like one of the locals."

"Well…"

"You should try on my clothes too," said Rick. "You said they were nice."

The temptation was irresistible. Five minutes later the two boys were staring in the mirror.

Mark swallowed hard. "Rick, do you see what I see?"

"If you see that it doesn't look like there's been a change, I do." Rick pondered the reflection. "How odd that we didn't notice the resemblance immediately. We're as like as two peas in a pod."

"Well, we better change back. My pa is going to be in soon to meet me for supper."

Rick's face lit up. "I say, let's not change back! Let's go down as we are, and Father and I will dine with you and your pa."

Mark frowned. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on. It'll be a bit of a lark. What could possibly go wrong?"