Ike pulled Barfoot’s snout out of the daisy patch at the boardinghouse on Water Street. He leaned his forehead into his horse’s neck and took a deep breath, then another. He wished he could unsee what he’d seen. A carriage clattered by and Ike ducked under Barfoot’s belly and stood out of sight of the street. “You there!” Ike jumped. Mrs. Kraft burst out of the boardinghouse door and waved a rolling pin at him. Did she know? Was she going to turn him in? “Your nag is blocking my view of the street, young man. Skedaddle!” A bee buzzed up out of the flowers just then and landed on Barfoot’s nose. Barfoot snorted in alarm, shook his head back and forth, then took off at a near trot. Ike ran after him, shouting over his shoulder, “He’s a he!” Barfoot slowed back to his usual walk after a block and a half and stopped to drink out of the birdbath at the McGoverns’. “We need to find Milton and Morris, Barfoot. Come on, boy, come on.” They trudged up Morgan and into the alley, then circled the Hinman house.
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