His mother tried to smile at him. Her voice barely audible, she said, "Let me ... hear ... the leprechaun ..."

Knowing what she wanted, he began to softly recite a poem, one she had told him time and again when he was little. Half way through, his throat threatened to close with the unshed tears and he had to take a deep breath in order to continue.

"Goodbye, Mom," he whispered. "I love you."

The moment passed as several people in white hurried into the room. Dan walked away, moving in a pocket of quiet solitude removed from the world, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket. Emerging into the bright autumn air, Dan put a peaked black cap with a patent-leather band on his head and continued down the street, never noticing the other pedestrians around him. It seemed to take no time at all before he found himself in the rundown area known as Hell's Kitchen.

A year ago, he and his mother had moved to a tiny apartment in this area. The pension his mother had received from the police department was tiny, and not enough to feed and house the two of them. With her sickness, Mom had been unable to keep her job. He knew that even the rent on this run down, one room apartment they'd shared was behind. Still, finding himself standing on the sidewalk outside their apartment building, Dan realized that he'd lost any semblance of home he'd ever had - or likely ever would. He went upstairs and put his few belongings - mostly a change of clothes and a couple of books - into a brown paper bag. His most prized possession, a photo of his parents, was already in his wallet. Then he left for the last time. He knew if he stayed the social workers would soon come, and he wanted to avoid them. He didn't want to go to an orphanage, or be put in foster care.

Stepping out onto the street again, Dan was reminded of his first introduction to this neighborhood.

Dan hesitated in the door of the apartment building, blinking in the summer sunshine, unsure where to go. His mother had told him to "run and play" as if he was a baby. He hadn't said anything though, knowing that she needed some time to rest after the stress of moving. He just left. But now, he was looking around, wondering if their might be a park or something close by.

"Hey, kid," a gruff voice said, "lookin' for some fun?"

Dan looked up to see a boy just a couple of years older than him leaning against the wall of the building a few feet away. Even in the warm summer air the boy was wearing a black leather jacket. Hesitantly, Dan nodded.

"I'm not sure what's around here," he said walking over to the new boy. "I just moved in."

The other boy nodded. "Yeah, I guessed that." He looked Dan up and down intently. Apparently decided he was ok, the boy stuck out his hand. "Shake. Name's Luke."

Dan shook Luke's hand. "I'm Dan," he replied.

"C'mon with me, I'll show you some fun," Luke said as he turned to walk up the street.

When Luke turned around, Dan saw the back of his jacket, which had "The Cowhands" lettered in white across the shoulders.

"What's 'The Cowhands?'" Dan asked.

Luke smiled. "My club. If you fit, mebbe we'll make you a member too."

Dan smiled back and followed Luke on his way.

That first meeting had led to an education for Dan. Life on the streets, living on your own rules, took time to figure out. At first, Luke had just introduced Dan to other members of the Cowhands, and showed Dan the proper expression to put on your face for hanging around the street corner or wandering through the stores. The proper expression was very important, in order to elicit the right amount of suspicion and fear in the eyes of the innocent passer-by. Especially the little blue-haired old ladies!

A month or two later, Dan had learned how to 'case a joint.' This was similar to wandering through stores or hanging out, but in addition to wearing the right expression, he had to keep his eyes open for details like security. He learned to notice when those blue-haired old ladies didn't keep a tight enough grip on their handbags. He learned the schedules of several store owners, so he'd know when they were about ready to go to the bank with a deposit. He also learned that there were neighborhoods where rich people neglected to keep their doors locked during the day. It was fun imagining what was inside.

Just before Christmas, Luke had elevated Dan's training. It was time for him to be a lookout. Several members of Luke's club got together and walked into a wealthy neighborhood. They found a particular house, one that looked like the wealthy of several generations had lived there. Luke told Dan to hang around on the porch by the front door and keep an eye out for cops, as the others went inside. Dan still remembered that first 'job.'

Dan waited on the porch, trying to keep his hands warm in the pockets of his worn cloth coat. The coat was really a bit too small, but his mother couldn't afford to buy him a new one. Wondering what the others were doing, Dan tried to look in through the front windows, but the curtains were all pulled shut. Looking up and down the street again, Dan relaxed against the wall as Luke had taught him. No police in sight.

Five minutes later, Dan was pacing up and down the porch. He just couldn't stand still. He knew the others were having a good time inside, and he wanted to join them. Finally, the door opened and they came out, carrying well stuffed pillowcases.

Dan stared at them. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the make-shift bags.

Luke laughed. "That, Danny Boy, is loot."

"Don't call me that," Dan glared at Luke. His father had called him Danny Boy, and sometimes his mother had too. No one else could. "What kind of loot? You mean you really robbed the place?"

"Of course we did! What d'you think we were casing the joint fer?"

Dan shrugged, uncomfortable. "I thought that was all for imagination."

The others all laughed at him. Luke companionably put his arm around Dan's thin shoulders. "Ah, me innocent boy-o. No, Dan. This is how we get money. This is how we support ourselves."

Dan hadn't liked robbing people. But when Luke gave him his share of the money from the job, he was able to buy his mother a nice Christmas present, and he told his conscience to be quiet - those people could afford to lose that money. Throughout the winter, Dan acted as lookout on various jobs. Every time, he could hear his father's voice, telling him it was wrong. Each time that he shut it up, the voice became smaller and harder to hear.

When spring came, The Cowhands took Dan on other jobs. Walking through stores, shoplifting whatever they wanted, was the least of them. Luke taught him a new expression to use - innocence.

"Look, kid," Luke had said. "You're small and you wear old, worn clothes. People will believe you're just a poor, innocent child. Learn to work it."

So Dan had learned to beg. It was humiliating, but it had been a way to put a few more coins into the coffers at home. Sometimes, it made the difference in whether or not his mom could afford the medicine she needed.

That summer, Dan grew several inches, and could no longer pass as a poor, innocent child. Then, just a couple of months ago, Luke and the others had given Dan his very own jacket, telling him that he was now a full member of The Cowhands. Tonight they'd planned a big robbery - the first that he was to be more than just a lookout.

Shifting his grip on his brown paper sack, Dan slowly walked to the Cowhands hideout. The Cowhand headquarters was located in an old abandoned building. Many of the rooms had bits of the ceiling fallen down into them, and the walls leaned at strange angles. But the roof was mostly intact, and the police almost never went into the building. Old, worn furniture had been scavenged from the trash and moved into various rooms. Dan figured that this would now be his - no NOT home, for home was gone with his parents - this would be his residence. He found a corner in an out-of-the way room and made himself a small cupboard using fallen bricks. There he put his meager belongings.

That night, just after midnight, Dan set out with Luke and the others, heading for richer areas of town. They finally reached a mansion, surrounded by trees and a stone wall.

"The owners are in Europe," Luke said, "and most of the servants have taken the night off. We have to be careful, and be quiet, because some of them might still be around, though."

Joe, a lanky, blonde boy, lead the way to a place in the wall that was a little weather worn. The stones in the wall provided easy foothold to climb over. "Careful at the top," he whispered, "there's broken glass in the concrete up there."

Everyone climbed up the wall, carefully avoiding being cut by the glass at the top, then climbed down a tree on the inside of the wall. Crouching low, they all ran across the grass and through the trees up to the side of the mansion. A small window was just above their heads.

"OK, Danny," Luke said. "You've gotten taller, but you're still the skinniest among us. That window is almost always left unlocked. You just climb through, then go open the back door for the rest of us."

Luke bent over next to the wall, to give Dan a step up to the window. Standing on Luke's back, Dan pushed the window up and pulled himself inside.

Dropping lightly to the floor, Dan surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to be in a small, guest bathroom. Small soaps, shaped like seashells, were in a dish on the counter. Matching hand towels and washcloths were neatly folded on shelves over the toilet. Everything gleamed. His mother would've loved to have had a bathroom like this! Pain struck through his heart at the thought of his mother, lying in that hospital bed, an empty shell. Misery threatened to overcome him, until he resolutely pushed the thoughts of his mother away.

Tiptoeing across the floor, Dan paused to peer out the door. All was quiet. No one seemed to be around and there were no lights showing. Moving carefully and as quietly as possible, he went down the hall and into the kitchen. The back door easily found, and opened to allow Luke, Joe and the others to come in.

Quickly, but quietly and thoroughly, the gang went through the house. They started upstairs in the bedrooms, taking pillowcases from the beds and filling them with jewelry, furs, watches, clocks, tape players and anything else small enough to carry. Then they made their way downstairs where they cleaned out the silver. Finally, they made their way back to the kitchen and out the door.

The next day, Luke invited Dan to go shopping.

"Come on, kid," he said. "We've got money to spend - and I know just what to get you."

Dan followed Luke downtown to the department stores. There, Luke led him into an upscale shoe store, and straight to display of cowboy boots.

"The Cowhands all wear boots, as soon as we can afford to buy them," Luke said, holding up the leg of his jeans to show his brown boots. "Now you can get yours."

Dan looked them over carefully, hiding the thrill that filled him. These were the most expensive shoes he'd ever had, and he wanted the best. He finally settled on a pair that were black, shiny and elaborated tooled. He couldn't wait to show them to his mother - but that was impossible now. Sorrow choked Dan and tears filled his eyes. Once again, Dan resolutely pushed away thoughts of his mother. Throwing away his old, ratty looking sneakers, Dan wore the boots out of the shop.

Two weeks later, Dan was killing time, walking around the city, when he found himself near the cemetery where his father had been buried. He'd visited on Memorial Day every year since then. He decided to stop again, maybe try to explain to his dad that he was doing what he had to, to survive.

Dan found his father's grave easily. As he approached, he was surprised to see another grave next to it. He was deeply shocked to read the tombstone:

He hadn't thought about burying his mother. In his mind, she was still lying in that hospital bed. He had wanted to forget that she was dead at all. But here she was. Somebody, possibly the Police Widows League, had buried her, and given her a nice tombstone.

Dan sank to his knees on the ground before their graves. Seeing the two of them together hammered home the reality that he was all alone. Once, he had been safe and loved. Now, he had nothing. The pain seized his heart. He felt that he couldn't breathe. Tears ran, unchecked, down his face.

"Oh, Mom," he sobbed. "Why did you have to get sick? Why did you leave me? How am I supposed to go on, without either of you?"

He remained on his knees, sobbing out all the pain, fear and loneliness in his heart. He tried to explain to both his parents that he wasn't a bad person, that he was stealing only because he needed to live. Even as he said it, deep down, he didn't believe it. Deep down, he knew they didn't believe it either.

Over an hour later, the tears had long since run dry. Dan got to his feet stiffly. A hollow numbness had settled in his heart. One last glance lingered on the matched headstones, then he turned away for the last time. He left the cemetery, and went back to the gang.

It was a new life for Dan. He'd been around the gang for a year, but he'd always gone home to his mother, as most of the gang members normally went home. He'd spent week days in school, only skipping out once in a while. Now, the gang was his family. He didn't dare go back to the school, because the social workers would find him there. He slept on a ratty old sofa and ate only what he could steal. Winter came, and he was cold all the time. Except when the girls of the gang decided to 'educate' him.

That was something he'd managed to avoid before. He knew that the gang members were sexually active. He had felt some desire to experience sex himself, but somehow, it also felt dirty and somehow demeaning. It wouldn't be as if he loved the girl, or she loved him. It would be a purely physical act, and he'd wanted it to be more. Remembering the love his parents had felt for each other, Dan thought that was what he wanted for himself. They had told him that love between a man and a woman could be a wonderful, sacred thing. He felt that lying with any girl that he didn't love would be wrong. But now, when he no longer had a home to go to, it was harder to refuse, harder to get away. Finally, he stopped trying.

Donna and Laurie hung out with the gang. When they weren't pulling jobs, they would sit around drinking, smoking and smoking marijuana. They'd laugh and talk, and after a while they would get frisky. Luke and some of the older boys would be just as horny. Dan usually left about that time, if he hadn't walked out already.

Dan remembered the old man and woman that had lived next to Dan and his mother in Hell's Kitchen - both drank and smoked constantly. The way that they acted when they were drunk had disgusted his mother. Dan didn't like the thought of losing that much of his self-control, so he stayed away from the booze. The smoking just made him cough and feel sick, so he stayed away from that as well. The others would give him a hard time, teasing him about being 'pure' and stuck up. So he'd go for a walk, or find another room in the abandoned building to hole up in.

One night, he stayed, sipping a coke and talking with the others. Donna and Laurie were whispering with Luke. Dan was about ready to leave, before anything else happened, when they left Luke to come over and sit beside Dan, flanking him.

"It's time for Danny to play," Donna crooned, running her hands over Dan's chest.

"I wanna play with Danny," Laurie echoed, running her hand up the inside of Dan's leg.

Dan tried to push their hands away. "No ... I don't want to play. Please, girls," he pleaded.

Donna and Laurie exchanged sly looks and laughed. They returned their attention to Dan and snuggled closer, pressing their breasts into his arms, rubbing their hands over his crotch.

"No, Danny," Laurie giggled. "Not this time."

"We wanna see what you've got," Donna agreed. "Hey, Luke, you might as well go home now. We've got our fun for tonight."

Dan considered just getting up and leaving, but he knew they wouldn't stop. Sooner or later, someday, they'd have their way. He decided that today was as good as any. He stayed where he was and let them continue.

It didn't take long for the girls to get Dan's clothes off, and then to take off their own clothing. Donna and Laurie took turns 'playing' with Dan. If Dan were honest with himself, he had to admit that the physical sensations were enjoyable. But that voice in his head was louder than ever in proclaiming that this was wrong. It was hours later before Donna and Laurie left him to go home.

Dan didn't want to remember that night. The next day, he did everything he could to scrub himself clean, but he still felt tainted. He forcibly resisted any further attempts by Donna and Laurie to 'play.' He never actually hit either of them, but he learned to avoid their hands and run away if he had to.

Wanda, on the other hand, was different.

Wanda was a pretty little brunette, not more than 5'1", who had joined the gang after her father had raped and beaten her nearly to death. Once she got out of the hospital, she'd run away and never looked back. She frequently had nightmares, afraid that he would find her.

One night, Dan woke up on his sofa to hear Wanda crying. He got up and went over to her sofa, on the other side of the room. Wanda was still sleeping, but was thrashing about and crying. Dan gently shook her shoulder.

"Wake up, Wanda," he said. "Wake up!"

With a stifled scream, Wanda sat bolt upright. Her eyes were wide and staring, but Dan realized she didn't see him at all. She saw her father.

"Wanda," he said softly. "Wanda, wake up. It's me - it's Dan."

Slowly, Wanda blinked. Then she turned to look at Dan, and finally focused on him.

"Dan?" Her voice caught.

She seemed to crumple and before Dan knew what was happening, Wanda was lying in his arms, crying. Awkwardly, he tried to pat her back, all the while whispering to her.

"It's ok, Wanda. Everything's going to be fine."

"Hold me?" Wanda hiccupped through her tears.

So Dan sat with her, and held her as she cried herself out. They ended up falling asleep, with her still in his arms. After that, it became a habit for the two of them to sleep together. Neither of them was interested in a physical relationship - Wanda because of what her father had done to her and Dan because of the morals his father had tried to teach him, and his desire for a love like his parents had.

Christmas came. Dan was very good at hiding his feelings beneath a rough, tough exterior by then. Robbery during the holiday season was very lucrative, and the gang members did well. Christmas went, and everything remained the same.

Just after the first of the year, another gang showed up. They had a hideout a couple miles away that was being demolished for new construction, so they were looking for new digs. They found the building The Cowhands used, and decided they wanted to take over.

Dan had heard of this new gang - The Aztecs - and he wanted nothing to do with them. He knew that several of the members got their money by selling drugs. Some of The Cowhands used drugs, but none of them wanted to sell it - too risky. Dan didn't want to say anything, or make a big deal about it around the Cowhands, but he just didn't feel that selling drugs - or using them for that matter - was right. He knew he'd slipped a lot from the kind of person his parents would have wanted him to be, but he was trying not to slip too far. It was hard to do, and a very narrow tightrope to walk.

The Aztecs were strong, but so were The Cowhands. After several scuffles between some of the members, the gangs each gathered all their members and met at an empty lot one day just after sunset.

Wanda grabbed Dan's arm as he walked out with the others.

"You won't get hurt, will you, Dan?" she asked fearfully.

"Nah, kid, I'm tough," Dan told her as he shook her hand away. Inside, he was trembling, but he couldn't afford to let the Aztecs - or the other Cowhands - know that. He rejoined the rest of the gang.

They all stood in a restless group on one side of the empty lot, constantly shifting and making threatening sounds like a large dog. Soon, The Aztecs filed into the other side of the lot. They too made threatening sounds and added rude gestures towards The Cowhands.

When they were all there, Luke and another of the older boys stepped forward to meet with two boys from the other group.

"We're taking over your building," the leader of The Aztecs stated.

Luke gave a short and ugly laugh. "You and what army?"

Their seconds stood behind the leaders, making tough faces at each other.

The Aztec's leader got a nasty smile on his face. "You really think you can stop us?"

"I know we can," Luke stated firmly.

"You'll have to prove that," the Aztec leader said, getting into Luke's face. "Right here, right now - we challenge you to a rumble."

Luke didn't even flinch - he'd been expecting that. "We accept. We choose weapons - skin only."

The other boy sneered. "What's that matter? You boys too much a bunch of pansies to use real weapons?"

Luke shook his head, cool as a cucumber. "Nope. We're men enough to know we don't need anything else."

With a jerk of their heads, the leaders summoned the rest of their gangs. They all moved forward to face each other in two ragged lines.

"Looks like there's going to be a rumble, boys," Luke told The Cowhands with forced cheer.

"Yeah," said The Aztec leader with a sneer. "Fighting with just skin."

The Aztecs all started to laugh and jeer at The Cowhands. Deciding he'd had enough, Luke suddenly threw a fist into his opposite's face. The laughter came to an abrupt halt and the lines dissolved into chaos. Fists met flesh and blood spurted.

It seemed the fight had only just begun, but it had really been going on for several minutes when, out of nowhere, the sound of sirens shattered the night air. It took a moment for the noise to penetrate the haze of the fight, but then, one by one, the boys looked up, pushed away from his opponent, and took off running. Dan heard the sirens, and started to run, only to be stopped by another member of The Aztecs. The Aztec kid hit Dan on the side of his head with all his strength, then took off running himself.

Dan lay on the ground, stunned. He knew he needed to be elsewhere, and he needed to get there now. But he just couldn't make his muscles obey him. He finally managed to roll over and push himself into a sitting position when a bright spotlight glared on him. He heard a commanding voice yelling at him.

"Stop right where you! Don't move!" the policeman called.

Dan slumped where he sat. He was caught, and he knew it. All these months of evading the police, the social workers, and anyone in authority, and now this. He was going to jail.

The police quickly moved to restrain Dan, and put handcuffs on him. A couple other gang members, both Aztecs and Cowhands, were also lying on the ground and were quickly rounded up.

Booking into the jail was just as humiliating as Dan had feared it would be. The officers stripped him, and searched him to make sure he didn't have any weapons. Then they gave him an ugly orange jumpsuit to put on. After taking his fingerprints and his photo, they locked him into a cell with five others. The night passed much too slowly as Dan lay on his bunk, too scared to sleep.

Late the next morning, the police came to take him to an interrogation room. A woman wearing a severe suit, with her hair tightly restrained into a bun, entered shortly afterward.

"My name is Miss Calton," she told him, not offering to shake hands. "I am a social worker. I've been assigned your case."

Dan sat and stared at her, giving her his best tough, insolent gang face. Nothing she had said seemed to require a response, so he kept his mouth shut.

Miss Calton sat in the chair across from him and put a file folder on the table in front of her. She opened it to review some forms, then took out a pen.

"So far, all anyone's gotten from you is your name - Daniel Mangan," she said. "Is that right?"

Dan glared at her. "Yeah."

Miss Calton leaned toward Dan. "Look, Dan, I just want to help you. But before I can do that, I need more information - I need to know who you are and where you come from."

Dan couldn't meet her eyes. He looked down at his hands. "I'm nobody," he snarled. "I come from nowhere."

"Please, Dan, talk to me," Miss Calton said.

Dan continue to stare at his hands. Miss Calton shook her head with a sigh.

"At least answer my questions," she told him. "Where are your parents? What are their names?"

Dan gave a short, ugly laugh. "Timothy and Colleen Mangan. They're in The Beachwoods."

Miss Calton nodded and made notes. "Good. That's good, Dan. The Beachwoods - is that an apartment complex?"

Again, that ugly laugh sounded. "No."

"No?" Miss Calton asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

Dan shook his head. "No," he said, his voice surly. "It's a cemetery."

"Oh." Miss Calton paused for just a moment. "I'm sorry, Dan. When did they die?"

Dan shrugged, trying to act like it didn't really matter. "My dad died almost seven years ago. Mom died a few months ago."

Miss Calton made more notes on her pad. "Where have you been living since then?"

Dan shrugged again. "Nowhere. Anywhere." Suddenly, he pushed away from the table and began to pace the length of the small room. "What does it matter anyway?"

Miss Calton watched him calmly. "I guess it really doesn't - just wondering how you managed to avoid the social workers who've been looking for you."

Dan stopped pacing and smirked. "Easy. I wasn't where they were."

Miss Calton just shook her head as she returned to her notes. "Do you have any other relatives, Dan?" She glanced up at him quickly. "Living relatives, that is."

Dan resumed his pacing, his shoulders hunched, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of the jumpsuit. "My mom mentioned something about a brother once," he said slowly. He shrugged. "She didn't like to talk about him - she hadn't seen him since she left the orphanage. I think she felt guilty." He shrugged again. "I don't remember his name."

"Ok," Miss Calton said. "Can you tell me your mother's maiden name at least?"

Dan stopped pacing, facing the back wall of the room, trying to remember. "Regan," he finally said. "I think it was Regan."

Miss Calton made more notes in her file before closing it. "Ok. Dan, I'm not going to lie to you. You're in a lot of trouble. Gangs, and gang fights, are taken very seriously. You have obviously been living on the streets, with the gang, since your mother's death. I don't know - and I don't want to know - what else you've been doing in that time. Luckily, you weren't caught, and you don't have a record." She stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to do my best to help you, Dan. I don't want to see you sent to a boy's home any more than you want to go to one." She knocked on the door. A policeman opened the door to let her out. "Just behave yourself, Dan. I'm going to talk to your lawyer, and we'll see what we can do to find you a home."

Dan spun to face her, sorrow and anger flaring, making his voice harsh. "Home? No. There's no such thing. I have no home."

"Easy, Dan," Miss Calton told him. "It'll be ok."

She left and another police guard came into the room to escort Dan back to his cell.

A week later, Dan spent his 15th birthday in that cell.

Miss Calton came to visit him several times. So did a Mr. Hughes, a state appointed attorney. One day, they came together.

"We've got good news for you, Dan," Miss Calton began. "We've located your uncle."

Mr. Hughes nodded. "That's right. Even better, the judge has agreed to make him your guardian, on a trial basis."

Dan sneered. "My uncle? What is he - some kind of do-gooder?"

"No," Miss Calton laughed. "He's a groom."

"A groom? He's getting married?" Dan was genuinely puzzled.

Mr. Hughes roared with laughter. Dan turned red, a deep scowl settling on his face.

Miss Calton tried to shush him. "No, Dan. A groom is someone who takes care of horses."

Dan's scowl just got deeper, if that was possible. "Horses? Where is he, Central Park or something?"

Mr. Hughes was still wiping tears from his eyes, so Miss Calton answered after shooting a disgusted look at Mr. Hughes. "He takes care of the horses belonging to Mr. Matthew Wheeler, one of the wealthiest men in the country. He lives on the Wheeler estate in a town a little way north of here called Sleepyside-On-Hudson."

"Oh, man." Dan groaned. "A little hick town. You want me to go to a little hick town."

Mr. Hughes was suddenly very serious. Grimly serious. "Yes. You will go with your uncle to that little hick town, and you will keep your nose clean. If you don't, your only other option is to go to a boy's school until you're 18."

Dan slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "So, when do I get to meet this square from nowheresville?"

Mr. Hughes frowned at him. "Watch your attitude, or I'll tell the judge this isn't a good idea."

Dan shrugged. "Yeah, ok, fine. I'll try to behave."

"Your uncle will be coming to pick you up the day after tomorrow, Dan," Miss Calton told him. "You'll meet him then."

"Why isn't he coming today? Why wait two days?"

"He's a bachelor, living in quarters over the stables," Miss Calton explained. "He needs to make arrangements for you."

While waiting for this unknown uncle, Dan managed to get paper to write a note to Luke, telling him what was happening and where he was going. He bragged that his uncle worked for a wealthy family, and that he'd be living on this family's estate. Something made him want to show Luke that he would be doing very well. He put it in an envelope, ready to be mailed - all he needed was a stamp.

Two days later, the guards that brought him to the interview room handed him his clothing and told him to get dressed. He did so quickly, then sat in the chair, slouching and trying to look nonchalant. In reality, he felt like he wanted to jump out of his skin. What would this uncle be like? Would he like Dan? What about this hick town - what would it be like? What about the other kids there? The knots in Dan's stomach pulled themselves tighter with each passing minute.

Finally, the guards returned and escorted him to the court. Miss Calton and Mr. Hughes sat at a table in front of the judge's bench. Beside them sat a broad shouldered, pleasant faced red-head. That face was currently creased in a worried frown. As soon as he caught sight of Dan, he made an effort to smile.

Mr. Hughes looked up as Dan approached the table. He and the red-head both stood.

"Dan, I want you to meet your uncle," Mr. Hughes said, gesturing to the red-head. "This is Bill Regan. Mr. Regan, your nephew, Dan Mangan."

The red-head, Regan, stuck out his hand to Dan. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Dan," he said. His voice was low, but Dan could tell that it would boom when not held down.

Dan slowly looked Regan over, from the red hair and green eyes so like his mother's, to the neat jacket that didn't show much signs of wear, to the polished dress shoes on his feet. Then he looked back up and met Regan's eyes.

Something in those eyes gave him pause. A longing was there, along with a desperate need. Dan thought that this Regan was as afraid of what Dan thought of him as Dan was of what Regan thought. After a long, tense moment, Dan reached out and shook his uncle's hand.

"Hello," was all he could bring himself to say over the knots which had climbed from his belly to his throat.

Dan had only just seated himself between Mr. Hughes and Regan when the judge entered. Most of the hearing was a formality, all of the plans and arrangements had been made in advance. Dan was surprised, however, when the judge spoke directly to him.

"Mr. Mangan. I know all of these plans have been made for you. I also know that today is the first time you've ever even seen your uncle. I have to ask you, do you want to go live with him? If you're not in agreement with this plan, tell me now and you can save us all a lot of paperwork and heartache."

Dan thought hard, looking straight at the judge with the blankest face he could manage. He felt Regan stir next to him, as if he longed to say something, but held himself quiet. Dan turned his head to look at Regan, and once again saw the longing in his eyes. At long last, he nodded.

"I'm in agreement, judge," he said.

He heard a soft sigh as Regan let out the breath he'd been holding. The judge just nodded, and the official proceedings and paperwork continued. When it was finally over, Miss Calton walked out of the courthouse beside Regan and Dan. At the bottom of the stairs, she offered her hand to Dan.

"Good luck to you, Dan," she told him as they shook. Then she offered him a business card. "My number is on here. If you need anything, even just someone to talk to, give me a call."

Dan mumbled his thanks and tucked the card away in his pocket. As Miss Calton turned away, Dan remembered the letter in his pocket.

"Uh, Miss Calton?" he dug the envelope out of his pocket. "Could you mail this for me, please?"

Miss Calton smiled. "Sure, Dan."

She left, leaving Dan with this stranger who happened to be his uncle.

Regan hesitated and Dan turned to face him. Regan was several inches taller, so Dan had to look up to meet his eyes. When he did, he realized that Regan was studying him. Dan suddenly realized just how large this new uncle was, and he fidgeted nervously. If Regan decided to use him as a punching bag there wouldn't be much Dan could do to stop him - except run away.

Dan was surprised by the softness of Regan's tone when he spoke. "I never met your father, Dan," he said, "but I imagine you look a lot like him. I see a little of Colleen in the shape of your face - your chin especially - but your eyes, and your coloring, must be Tim Mangan's."

Dan was unsure how to reply, or even that a response was required, so he just shrugged. "I guess."

Regan looked down at his feet. "I'm really sorry I never got a chance to know him, or to know you before all this," he gestured helplessly toward the court house. "When I had a chance, I tried to look for Colleen, but I never had any luck. Of course, I didn't even know she'd gotten married, so I was still looking for Colleen Regan." He sighed, a sound deep with sorrow, before looking back at Dan. "Well, I guess we'll just have to do the best to make our own family, just the two of us."

Dan shrugged again, uncomfortably. "So, are we just going to stand here all day?"

Regan gave a short laugh and waved toward the parking structure. "No, of course not. The car's in the parking garage - come on, let's go home."

Dan had turned to walk in the direction of the car, but stopped suddenly. "Don't say that," he growled. "I lost my home. Your hick town isn't home."

Regan looked at him in surprise. "Ok, Dan, if that's what you want."

Silently, Regan led the way to the Wheeler's car. Another man was waiting behind the wheel, reading a magazine. He looked up as they approached and got out.

"Dan, I want you to meet Tom Delanoy," Regan said. "He's the Wheelers chauffeur. He offered to drive me today, because he knows how much I hate driving. Tom, this is Dan Mangan."

Tom held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Dan," he said.

Reluctantly, Dan shook his hand, mumbling, "Hello."

They began their drive to Sleepyside in silence. After half an hour, Regan finally spoke again.

"I noticed that you don't have anything with you. Why don't we stop in White Plains to get you at least a couple of changes of clothing? You can let me know what else you need while we're at it."

Dan shrugged. He was uncomfortable accepting things from this stranger, but he had a point - he'd need clean clothes eventually.

In White Plains, Tom dropped them off by a series of shops, saying that he'd meet up with them in a couple of hours. Regan purchased an second hand suitcase, and they proceeded to fill it. Jeans, t-shirts, underwear, and, on Regan's insistence, a dress shirt as well. When it came to shoes, though, Dan adamantly refused.

"I earned these boots," he said. "I'm not giving them up."

Regan looked at him curiously, but refrained from asking how Dan had 'earned' the boots.

After shopping, they went into a burger joint for lunch. The meal passed quietly, with half-hearted attempts at conversation. Dan dug into his meal with relish. After the food in juvenile detention it was delicious. The fact that he hadn't had to steal anything to pay for this meal made it even better.

Regan put his empty shake glass on the table and took a deep breath. Suddenly, Dan stopped eating, afraid of what was to come next.

"Listen, Dan, when we get to Sleepyside, you're going to be staying with a friend of mine, Mr. Maypenny," he began.

Dan tried to hide his surprise behind a facade of uncaring, but his meal had turned to ashes in his mouth. "Fine."

"I wanted to have you with me," Regan continued, "but I just don't have the room. My apartment is above the stables, and it just isn't big enough for two."

Dan shrugged, trying to hide the unexpected pain he felt. This was his uncle, his only family, but Regan didn't want him.

Regan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sorry, lad, I really would rather have you with me, but it just isn't possible." He took another deep breath, obviously struggling with something. "There's another thing," he said. He paused, then forced himself to continue. "I've only told a couple of people about you." He looked down at his hands, afraid to meet Dan's eyes. "My employers, the Wheelers, have a couple of kids about your age. I'm hoping you can be friends with them, and with the other kids around, but ..." he paused again, finally raising his eyes to look at Dan. "Mr. Wheeler is a very wealthy man, and I'm afraid he might not like the idea of a kid with a record being too close by his home, and his kids."

Dan's face was set in a sullen frown. I thought they were giving me a chance, he thought to himself. Maybe it's just a chance to show them how bad I am, and how bad an influence I can be.

To his uncle, Dan tried to seem tough and uncaring. "Whatever." He pushed himself away from the table. "Look, why don't we just get going and you can get rid of me that much sooner." He turned and walked to the door.

"Dan! It's not like that at all!" Regan called after him. Dan just continued walking.

Any errors are my own, as I can't just leave things alone, even after my editors have read it.

I know that in the books, Regan's apartment is above the garage, not above the stables, but that never made much sense to me. I always thought that the groom belonged over the stables, so I've moved his apartment. My apologies to Julie Campbell!

btw, just to clarify - I believe the name is Ree-gan, not Ray-gan!!