My hard work was paying off. Out of 245 horses, my big outlaw had laid down the fastest run of the day. He won the 1D among some fierce competition. We won some cash, and to my surprise, a shiny new belt buckle. It was all a blur...certain moments stood out more than others, but from the time that we pulled into the rodeo grounds to the moment I walked into the office to pick up the check and the buckle, it was all just like a movie stuck on fast forward. Colors, images, sounds--they all just spun through my mind.

The afternoon was hazy, humid even. Thick gray clouds skimmed across the sky as they threatened to pour down an onslaught of rain, but the wind kept them rolling and scuttling back on themselves. My horses were all resting under shade trees, the truck and trailer parked a stones throw from them. Hay nets and water buckets were full, they all stood with a hind foot cocked. Like the seasoned travelers they were, they knew to rest when the opportunity presented itself. My ratty lawn chair made a scraping protest as I drug it from the back of the pickup, as I tugged it free I managed to drag half of the contents of the pickup bed out at my feet. Ropes, snuff cans, water bottles, an extra flag or two- they all laid in an unceremonious heap on top of my toes. I sorted through it all, flung the garbage into an empty bucket and heaved the rest back where it came from. The bucket was emptied into a big orange dumpster, then rinsed out at they hydrant nearby. I could my hair creeping from the grip of the rubber band I'd tried to secure it in early in the day, the humidity brought out what little curl my hair possessed.
The trailer was thoroughly occupied, Dad had been asleep since shortly after he'd watched my run that morning. He'd been happy with how my horse had worked, and since he didn't have to work any performances until that evening, he'd gone and turned the AC all the way down and locked the door. I had a key in my pocket, I could get in if I wanted to but had no desire to sleep at the moment. My mind was a jumble of the past days events, like so many strands of silk thread twisted and knotted into place. I knew I needed some time to work it all out, and was intent to do so as I pulled my chair into the shade of the trees. The horses didn't seem to mind sharing. I used the trash bucket to prop my feet up on as I shaded my eyes with my arms. A breeze jostled the leaves over head, gently lifting manes and blowing tails sideways as it blew. It was like a whirlwind had finally decided to subside; the manic turning of the wheels of my mind started to slow as I exhaled.

It was sprinkling when I woke; the sun was still shining as brightly as before. The wind had picked up a little, the horses had turned themselves to it but were still as relaxed as before my nap. It had to be getting close to 3 or 4 o'clock by now, I was fuzzy from my nap. My back complained a little as I rose from my chair, reminding me that it probably wasn't the most orthopedic sound item for sleeping in.
My phone was blinking in the front seat of the truck, missed calls from mom. A smile found it's way to my face as I scrolled through the missed call list, she'd tried to catch me every hour for the last 3 hours. I knew my dads phone would show as many if not more calls than mine did. She was more forgiving of my missing her calls; she assumed I was being obnoxious and avoiding her. Part of the time she was right, the only reason she called was to be sure we were safe though. I tried not to worry her for no reason, so I dialed the number for her cell phone.

The phone buzzed in my hand as I heard her answer, someone had sent a text message just as my call to my mother connected. She launched into her usual spiel, "Where are you, how are you, is your Daddy OK, are you OK, when you coming home?" I answered each question in turn, smiling at the concern in her voice. She remembered the barrel race at the last moment, and cried when I told her how well it had gone.

Momma was my biggest critic, but she was my biggest fan, too. First to tear into me, she reserved the right to be that biggest critic, but heaven help anyone who tried to take her place. She had been to bat for me countless times since my brother died, mainly at school. I coped just fine in the everyday world, around adults that were mature for the most part. Being thrust into the high school scene just broke me to pieces; kids were just mean. Picking, poking, prodding....all to get a reaction, not caring how much devastation they caused to get said reaction. She had offered home schooling as a way out, but I had declined. If I couldn't handle a little more drama while I finished high school, I didn't see the point of attempting college. The same type of people would always be around, just like dirt on the ground. You could brush them off, but eventually they just end up right back where they were.

My horse felt good this morning, even after the long haul last night. He was the type that was always a little on edge, head up, nostrils flared, looking for an excuse to blow sideways. He was athletic enough that it was a commitment to throw a leg over him, there was no relaxing on him unless he was running as fast as he could through the barrel pattern. That was the only time he truly focused. If I didn't ride him everyday, he'd get to be such a mess that he wouldn't even walk in a straight line. Today though-he was perfect. The long ride had taken a little of his razor's edge away, but he was still sharp. Warming him up was like a dream...he was soft in the bridle, responsive to my feet, but ready to throw his tail up and scatter if I gave him half a chance. I had countless hours of sweat and tears poured into him, and thankfully my hard work was paying off. He had yet to dissapoint me, for all that he was known as an outlaw, he gave me all he had to give any time I asked him for it.

I knew how tough the competition would be, alot of the pro girls had their futurity colts with them, along with their backup horses. A big barrel race like this one was perfect for getting a colt out and getting them exposed to the sights and sounds, and was equally as good to get a feel for how a back up horse was working, whether they were on the top of their game or whether they needed a little tuning. Dad had entered me as soon as he'd heard about it, so I was one of the luck ones to be entered in the first 60 runners. They had limited their entries, they didn't want the jackpot to run long and cause the rodeo to start late that afternoon. The cut it off at 150, but it was still going to be a long day. The rodeo started at 4, which gave me plenty of time to get some sleep as soon as I got done with the barrel race and had Coolie put up and taken care of. It was cool that morning, the breeze lifted my horse's forelock as it blew between his ears. A deep, rolling breath echoed out of his nostrils as he stretched his frame into a long, sweeping trot, his strides reaching a little farther with each step. We only had about five more runners before us, so as we finished a short circle, I eased back into my saddle, dropping my weight and asking for a stop. The big chesnut horse slowed his stride, dropping his head as he rounded his back and brought his hind feet up beneath him. He heaved a big sigh as I stepped off, shaking his head and licking his lips. I cleaned all four feet, checked my polo wraps on all of his legs, cinched him up just a tad tighter, stretched his front and hind legs. He knew the drill...as soon as his feet touched the ground and I was back aboard, he began to dance. Not uncontrollable, not wild, just excited. His pace was just between that of a prance and a short trot, I could feel his heart thumping with each breath he took. As his heart started to speed up, mine did as well.
There was a long alley through the bucking chutes that led to the arena, I gave it a wide berth. My big gelding was explosive after he heard my name called...he knew when it was his time to shine. An unbroken string of words came from my mouth, my voice kept him just distracted enough that he didn't turn and bolt for the alley way. They called the name of the girl ahead of me as I slipped rubber bands around my feet, my horse stepping sideways as he adjusted to my weight. I found a quiet spot along the fence and walked him right up to it, pressing his nose against the vibrant blue pipe rails. Banners flapped against the fence, making a slapping sound when the wind blew just right.
I could hear the other horse's hooves pounding back from the last barrel as he and his jockey made their dash to stop the clock, her voice sounded above the din as she stopped at the gate.
"WHOAH, easy babe, WHOAH now, whoah."
The big black mare threw dirt in ever direction as she slid to the gate, making the gate man wince and shut his eyes against the down pour. The mare sashayed her way out of the alley, looking no worse for the wear. My heart was beating almost as hard as Coolie's now, hammering a staccato beat against my rib cage. I could feel his lungs drawing deeper and deeper breaths, he knew it was time. The announcer called my name, said the arena was clear and the timer was ready. I eased my hands down the reins, knowing every movement, every thought would carry down the leather lines to his mouth. He was a coiled spring beneath me, one move was all it took. I turned my head and he spun under me like a reiner, flat and fluid--we were headed for the alley. He dropped his head lower as I crouched over his withers, trying to balance my self against the jolt of his quest for flight. I managed to hold him to a ragged, bouncing trot half way down the alley, the echo of the speakers ringing off the metal bucking chutes filled my ears as we went.
"GO baby, turn him loose!"
My dads words were a catalyst, like putting a match to a flame-we flew. Down the alley way, his strides getting longer and longer, I pushed my hands forward, giving him as much rein as I could. He felt solid and smooth beneath me, running as hard as he could. The first barrel was less than five strides away, I rocked my weight back and dropped my left hand as my right clutched the saddle horn. He rated at just the right moment, wrapping the barrel so tight I felt the rim burning my knee as we went. A giant stride later we launced for the second barrel, slipping a little as we went into it. I threw my weight forward, trying to keep myself ahead of his momentum, hoping that he could keep going and not go down. His head shot up as he reached to gather himself, never slowing down, lever losing focus on the task at hand. An extra stride was all it took to set himself right, and off for the third barrel we went, closing the distance rapidly. I couldn't feel any difference in his way of going, no hesitation at all, I was afraid the slip may have pulled or strained something, but it didn't seem like it at the moment. The third barrel was gorgeous, almost a text book turn. He gathered himself and pushed off in one smooth motion, leaving the barrel far behind. I asked him for all he had, and he gave it, reaching, digging deeper into the ground, flying past the timer line. I was out of breath when I got him pulled up, he danced and tossed his head as I pulled my hat loose from my head. I could hear clapping and shouting, but had no clue what was going on. I rode over to a quiet spot in the warm up arena, and swung off. Cinches loosened, saddle re adjusted, I began to unwrap his legs. He was quiet again, still breathing a little more rapidly than normal, but his neck was dry to the touch and he showed no signs of the effort he'd just spent. As I took the wraps off his left side and hung them around my saddle horn, I came face to face with my knight and his big gray horse. Coolie felt the same way I did, and let a big hearty nicker out as he pranced in place.
"Fastest time of the day, good job girl!"
"Huh? Are you talking to me?!"
"Yes ma'am, did you not hear them announce it?!"

I felt my cheeks turning red, it was dawning on me that maybe the clapping and hollering had been for me and the big chesnut after all!

I was nervous.

Dad had managed to work me into the stock contractor's string of girls that night, I would be running sponsor flags around the arena in between events and taking them out with the round winners. On top of that, he'd also entered me in the big open barrel jackpot that was supposed to take place just after the slack that morning. Between those two things and my dinner date that I still knew very little about, I didn't know if I was afoot or horseback! I knew carrying flags that night was no issue, if I couldn't ride one of my dad's horses I knew the stock contractor would have one or two good solid horses I could use. On the upside, the flag gig would pay something, and who knew? Maybe I'd be able to pick up some cash from the jackpot as well.

I was glad to be getting a run in the Hawthorne arena, one of the regular season high school rodeos was held there every year. I was anxious to run my horse in the same type of rodeo set up to see how he'd handle the pressure. He'd done well so far, a handful of jackpots around home and some little open rodeos had been good for getting his feet wet to the rodeo world. He hauled great along with my calf roping horse when I took them both, so I wasn't too worried about how he'd feel when we unloaded him. We had four horses with us, Dad's two flag horses, my young barrel horse and my veteran roping horse. We had arrived with just a few hours to spare, enough time to get the horses taken care of then catch a little bit of sleep before starting all over again.

"I been thinkin about you."

His voice was like a warm blanket to my wet, ragged soul that day. I sank into the seat of the truck, listening more to the sound of his voice than his actual words. To say it was a one sided conversation was an understatement, but at the moment I didn't care. He was the bright spot in a dismal day, the light breaking through the clouds. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks as he told me about his day, that he'd spent the day in the rain doctoring sick steers, trying to get his young horses rode and not get his head stuck in the mud. The tears didn't come from anything in particular, I suppose they came from relief at not being asked about my own day. I knew I'd break down if he did ask how things had gone for me that day, and he was the last person that I wanted to let in on the gloom and doom cloud that hovered around me when he wasn't around. His words were still warming me from head to toe, telling me how much he was looking forward to the next time he saw me, how he was excited for this weekend. That snapped me out of my temporary lull, I couldn't remember what this weekend was! I heard him chuckle as he asked if I forgot our first date already, which sent me into a panic.
"No I didn't forget, uhm, I was just testing you," I tried to cover the mental slip as best I could, but it was a wasted effort. His laugh rolled through my ears, it was infectious. I caught myself giggling right along with him, smiling for the first time in what seemed like days. Well, since the last time I'd seen him anyway.

"I'm up in the slack at Hawthorne, your dad said he'd bring you along with him so we could have supper that night," his words were precise, he'd had it planned out for awhile it seemed. It annoyed me slightly that my father had so much of a hand in planning our first date, but on the other hand I was glad for his approval. I knew how hard life would become if Dad decided he didn't like this guy, and I couldn't admit to myself that I didn't want to stop talking to him or seeing, and that scared me a little.

Within the scope of a sentence, my entire week changed. The next morning was an amazing, beautiful experience. I didn't sleep well most nights, but for some reason I'd been able to rest enough that I wasn't so exhausted I couldn't function that morning. The rain had given everything a refresher-the grass was a dazzling emerald, the air had a tangible tang of freshness to it. The sky was touched with tinges of red shot through with a brilliant orange that stretched from on endlessly, erasing any memory of yesterday and the monotonous downpour. A brisk breeze gently rocked my mother's baskets of purple and white petunias on along their perches on our porch, swaying them this way and that with the wind. There were more birds out this morning than I could remember there being in the last few weeks, it was just one of those mornings that was almost surreal. The breeze was so brisk it almost put a chill in the air, and that added to the miraculous freshness of it all. On top of it all, I had something to look forward to. A guy that openly told me how excited he was to spend time with me, that told me how much he liked spending time with me...that my dad approved of. My day was night and day different from the one before.

Where time had rolled as fast as molasses from a cold mason jar the day before, today they flowed as easily as the warm rays of sun that lit my day. My horses caught my mood that day, they were an extension of my excitement. Responsive to the slightest touch, they reacted to my slightest cue before I could finish asking them. Life just seemed right that day, like everything was falling into a place that was more natural than not. Things had been so dark lately with all of the mess over losing Jace and fighting over Juice that I had let myself fall into a rhythm of disappointment and darkness. My knight on the gray horse had truly turned my life around in a span of less than a week, with no more than his sweet words and promises of better days.

It started to rain as I walked to my truck. Not a light rain, not a shower or a sprinkle. It was as though someone had stabbed a hole in the sky, and let all the raindrops in heaven flood out at once. My sweatshirt was soaked before I had my door unlocked; it saturated my already dampened spirit. Our place wasn't far from the high school, so I was home within less than five minutes. I drove past the house and pulled up next to the barn. All four of our horses were standing in one stall, turned against the wind and rain in a huddled mass of horseflesh. The gate to the pen was still open, so I threw hay in each stall and refilled their water buckets. Cleaning stalls could wait, I didn't feel like wrestling with the wheel barrow right at the moment. The sounds of the horses munching hay and shuffling into their stalls went a long way to unwind my nerves, and soon the pressures of the day were an afterthought. I took a clean rag from our big cardboard box and started wiping down bridles. Anything to avoid going to the house and getting the lecture that would be waiting...no doubt the school had called home, they were bad about that it seemed. The slightest thing sent them scurrying to the phone to inform a parent, rarely did I get a chance to deal with things on my own before my mother was alerted to the situation. Realizing I was attempting to clean headstalls that were immaculate to begin with, I put my rag back into the box and walked back out into the rain. The smart thing to do would have been to get back into my pickup, but it seemed too easy. The mud and water pooled around my feet as I stood under the edge of the overhang, making my feet cooler in my boots. It was the first time that entire day that I'd been able to take a deep breath, to exhale without tears spilling from my eyes. My control over my emotions was iron clad most of the time, and I was thankful for that. Standing in the cool air, watching the clouds roll over the hills was almost cathartic. I wasn't sure how long I'd stood there. A trilling noise from my truck brought me out of a daydream, it was that loud. It was a habit, get to school, turn the ringer off. Walk out of school, turn the ringer back up. My day had been such a dramatic episode that I wasn't excited at the prospect of talking to another human being, no matter what the reason, but I dug through my bag until I found it anyway.
I smiled in spite of myself when I read the number that was flashing across the screen; a visit with my knight on the big gray horse was just what I wanted. The sound of the rain pounding the roof of the barn and the sound of his voice in my other ear took me back to that day we'd spent so much time together. I decided the rain might not be so bad after all.

I ducked my head as I felt the hot tears touch my cheeks. Some girls looked cute, even pretty when they cried; I was not one of them. I knew Coach Kyle would want to walk me back to class, he was still waiting on me at the bottom of the concrete steps. How could I explain that I didn't want to smash Kelsi's face in, that there wasn't going to be any trouble from me? Made it hard to believe as the tears slid freely down my face.
"Waylon, I don't know the circumstances. Don't want to get involved to be honest, but I can't avoid it when something happens in front of me."

"Thanks, but I can manage affairs just fine," I tried to brush past him and step back onto the glossy linoleum floor, but he moved to block my path. I sighed and readied myself for one of the pat lectures the other teachers and faculty had given me at different times, a few were of a "self-help" sort, others took the "time heals all wounds" approach. Coach Kyle was different. He'd been here for less than a year, he was fresh out of college working his very first teaching gig.
"This wasn't my business before, but it is now. She has no right to treat you that way, I've heard all the stories that float around about what happened between your families," he still blocked my escape route, and I began shifting around nervously, hoping he wouldn't make me late for my next class. "I'll keep this short. If she comes into my gym and acts like that again, one of two things need to happen. Either you put a stop to her crap, or I will," he said it almost as an offer, like he could right the wrongs of my world with his words. I could feel myself shaking my head before the words came to my lips, the last thing I wanted was anymore animosity between the two of us. Short of packing her and her family up and moving them to the next county, the only thing that could rectify "our" situation was taking Juice back to them. That was not going to happen.
Thoughts swam in my head, which was still shaking from side to side, and then I realized he was talking to me again. His hand on my arm snapped me from my stupor.
"Nikki, don't let her do this to you. You did nothing wrong. Her coach will be making a few stops into the locker room about this time next week, so don't hesitate to come back to study if you need to."
Words escaped me. I made no effort to reply, just stood there and waited for my chance. The second he shifted his weight to make the slightest gap, I hurried through and didn't look back. Things just continued to implode today, and with half a day of classes still to go, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The longer the day went the more tangible it became, until I was physically sick. My head was pounding, I could feel the beads of sweat dampening the back of my neck. In one of my last classes of the day, the intercom squawked to life, drawing the attention of everyone but our teacher.
"Please send Nikki to the office," was all the metallic voice said. All eyes were on me as I gathered my books and slipped through the door. Most of them had heard Kelsi's heated rants by the lockers, she was not happy with me.

Today was one of those days that I wanted to hit the "pause" button on. It didn't seem like anything was going right, and that nothing I did was going to make it better. My dad's roan gelding had almost knocked my front teeth out that morning. All 4 horses got turned out at once, and he had decided to cut up and kick as the gate swung by him. He connected to it with both hind feet, and sent me sprawling backwards after it hit me. I suppose I deserved it, hadn't been paying attention and it cost me. The back of my head was the first thing to hit the ground, heat filled my mouth as my busted lips started to bleed. I grabbed an ice pack out of the mini fridge before heading back to the house, threw a rock at Roany for good measure, then walked back to the house. School hadn't turned out any better, my first hour class proved problematic as well. A quiz that I should have studied for caught me off guard, and left me cranky for the rest of the morning. Lunch was spent in the gym, studying everything I managed to not study over the weekend. 10 minutes after I walked in, I regretted the decision. I was a junior, and precious few of the senior girls cared much for me. After quitting the basketball team my sophomore year, many of them had made it clear they didn't appreciate my choice. One of those girls happened to come in after I'd already taken a seat in the bleachers. Her name was Kelsi, she happened to be Dalton's sister as well. She'd never liked me, and was never bashful to let me know how she felt. She had never been into rodeo like her brother had, but she wanted everyone we went to school with to think she had. She wore her cute jeans and her clean boots to school a few days a week. She never missed a chance to run her mouth either it seemed, and as of late she'd been particularly venomous. When there was a crowd it was worse; this time with just the two of us I wondered if she'd even notice me. Her eyes ran across the bleachers as I tried to absorb myself deeper into my history notes. I braced myself for what I knew was coming, and sure as anything, she didn't disappoint. "Stolen any horses lately?" I ignored her. She threw a basketball at my face. "Didn't your mama teach you to speak to your betters? You're just like the trashy brother of yours, no manners what so ever." I threw the ball back down on the court and continued to ignore her as I gathered my books. A million words flew through my head, just as hateful and black as what was coming out of her mouth. I bit my bottom lip out of habit, which brought a fresh wash of tears to my eyes as well as the taste of blood back to my mouth. I knew things were either going to fizzle out or completely explode, so I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. She stood between me and the only way down from the bleachers. I shrugged my bag onto my shoulder and made my way down the steps. "Go away Kelsi. I don't have the ability to ignore you anymore, please just leave me be," I tried to make myself clear, but my swollen mouth made it hard to sound forceful and concise. My words were met with a wicked giggle, followed by her french manicured hand splaying across my chest. "My brother wants that horse back, and until he's standing in our barn, I'm not going to leave you alone, ever!" She was pushing me backwards, my feet shuffled under me to keep from tripping on the steps behind me. My day was quickly growing worse, almost as quickly as my temper was flaring. She'd used the horse stealing comment before, but calling Jace trashy was more than I could stomach. My bag dropped off my shoulder as I started forward, only to hear the sound of an ear piercing whistle. The wrestling coach stood at the door to the boys locker room, watching us intently. I hadn't been aware of our audience, and apparently Kelsi hadn't been either. She stepped backwards quickly, nervously looking from me to Coach Kyle. How long had he been there? Had he heard the whole thing, seen it all? It was embarrassing enough that she singled me out, but to have the head wrestling coach witness my humiliation was almost more than I could take. "Waylon, looks like you dropped something. Gather it up and head back to class. Bell's about to ring. Kelsi, I believe Mr. Bates is expecting you shortly, don't dissapoint him." As I pushed past her, she managed to snarl under her breath, "If you think this changes things, you're sadly mistaken," and with that last subtle threat she turned and stalked out of the gym. Walking down the remaining steps, I realized Coach Kyle was waiting for me at the door.

Hate was a complex emotion. It buried itself deep in my heart, almost to the depths of my very being. Feelings had never been something that I was real open about, I wasn't afraid to let folks know how I felt about things, but when it really came down to it, I kept my true feelings to myself. My heart and head had been run through the gauntlet of emotions since the day of the wreck; fear, despair, loss, and hate were my mainstays through it all. Fear swam in my brain daily that someone else that I loved would be taken from me without any notice or explanation, which was always followed by the thick blanket of despair that engulfed me as I dwelt on the fact that I'd never hear my brother's voice again. I hated Dalton. Not for who he was, he was a direct product of his upbringing, and that wasn't his fault. I placed the blame for my brother's death partly on his shoulders. I forced myself to be realistic though, and part of the blame fell on Jace as well. It's hard to be angry at someone that's died, but I managed it quite well. "How do you love someone that broke your heart? How can you wish with every fiber of your being that you'll see someone again, if only to tell them how much they hurt you? I don't know the answers, and that's part of the reason that this is so hard--so frustrating. Jace was my brother, and in many ways, my best friend. 10 years is a big difference, but it never seemed to bother either of us. Jace taught me so many things. The biggest thing, was how to be a true friend. He always tried to do the best he could for the ones he considered his friends, even if it cost him everything. He always told me that your family had to be there, they had no choice...but a good friend chose to stand by you, no matter what. If one thing can be said about him that the absolute truth, it was that he was the best friend a person could have." I didn't know how to forgive Jace for something that wasn't directly his fault. As much as I missed him, as broken as my heart was over it all, I was furious. He made the choice to get in that truck that night, knowing that Dalton had been drinking. Looking back, I hated myself for letting him go that night, for not begging him to stay home. He loved Dalton like a brother, and most oftentimes overlooked his faults that were so apparent to everyone else. It was easy to be mad at Dalton for it all, but I tried not to blame it all on him. My family hadn't pressed charges against him, even though several in the community had wanted Dalton charged with vehicular manslaughter. We just wanted it done with, something to forget.

I could feel the blood draining from my face, just as my grip on reality started to slip too. My family held no malice for Dalton after the accident, but the things he said after he found out Juice didn't belong solely to him were reprehensible. He accused my brother of stealing the horse out from under him, and that Jace never gave him a chance to do anything with him. The truth was that Jace bought the horse outright, then let Dalton buy a quarter interest in him when he was 2. Their agreement had been that Jace would keep him, start him, and generally get him going. Dalton was in college still, and didn't have room to keep more than 2 horses at his place.

It seemed like yesterday, they'd both come back for Christmas. They'd been inseparable for a week, going to a few team ropings and an open rodeo over the weekend. It was New Year's Eve, and my mother was a nervous wreck when she heard they were going out. My mother's first husband, Jace's father, had been killed by a drunk driver on New Year's Eve when Jace was six.
Jace had hugged her, told her, "Mama, don't worry. We're gonna go drive out around the lake and be back in time to watch the ball drop with you and baby sister." A massive lump had lodged in my throat as Jace kissed the top of our mother's head, doing his best to salve her nerves. He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, pinching the skin over my ribs before he left, laughing as he did so. I wanted to grab the back of his jacket and beg him to stay home, but I told myself it was just nerves, that I'd caught a case of the willies from my mom.

We'd watched the ball drop in silence, craning our necks every other breath, looking at the clock and the front window. Headlights never did appear, and when it got close to one in the morning, I was pulling my hooded sweatshirt over my head, walking out the door. Mom was on my heels, begging me to stay with her, saying she couldn't bear the thought of something happening to me too. I shrugged her off and jumped in my dad's old feed truck. It grumbled and belched black smoke, then I tore out of our driveway, knowing exactly, eerily where I needed to go. The whole thing played out in my mind again, like it always did. Like a scene from one of those overly dramatic, made for TV movies, it came back to me in flashes. Driving past our aunt's boat dock we swam off of when we were younger, rounding the curve then dropping down to cross the low water bridge.

The lump in my throat went from the size of a golf ball to the size of a boulder in a half a breath. I could see the guard rail on the right side of the bridge was askew, the water on that side of the bridge was glowing. The back end of Dalton's white truck was all I could see above the water, and I didn't realize that I'd dialed 911 before I'd even got around the curve. My ears were ringing, and looking back I realize it was from my own screams. My mother's best friend worked for the dispatcher's office, and luckily enough she answered my call. How I managed to articulate what was going on, I'm still not sure of. It seemed like seconds before the bridge was covered with the rescue workers. A tow truck, a rural fire truck, EMTs, county police officers...and me. I sat at the top of the hill, feeling like it was all just a bad dream. Watched them pull Dalton out of the truck, strap him to a bright orange board, then shuffle him away into an ambulance that screamed away into the night.

Extracting Jace wasn't so simple. His side of the truck had been submerged under 3 feet of water. I knew in my heart they weren't going to save him, he hadn't had a chance. The details of the wreck flooded my mind; Dalton had been wearing his seat belt, suffered a few broken ribs and a broken nose. Jace had been wearing his seat belt as well, but had died on impact. They said the truck had hit broadside, on the passenger side before it rocked back up to the way I found it. They couldn't figure out what had happened, and Dalton had no recollection of the wreck. It came back to him in bits and pieces, but none of us were ever sure what to believe. I was oddly comforted when they told me he'd died on impact, the thought of him trapped in that truck, strapped in and drowning was more than I could handle.

The phone was still ringing. I stood and stared at it, willing it to stop. On the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. Frowning, I waited to hear the message.



"Ya, Nikki, it's Dalton. Need to talk to you about that horse, figured I'd call your mom and dad's since you don't answer your cell anymore. In case you forgot, my number is 555-4565."



Click.

Then the line was dead.

I hit the play button, let the machine start the message then hit the delete button. Hearing from him was the last thing I wanted today. Dalton had been a friend of my older brother's, a good friend before their wreck. A rainy night on a back road, Dalton had been driving. Simply put, Dalton lived and Jace didn't.

Dalton was calling about a horse that he and my brother had bought together, it was the last thing I wanted to think about today.

My brother was old enough and odd enough that he'd had a will drawn up before he passed. Being a saddle bronc rider, he was always uber cautious about the "red tape side of things" as he told me repeatedly. He'd left everything he had to me, and being 10 years my senior, it was a surmountable thing to happen when you weren't even out of high school left. I'd been left with his truck and trailer, a small house and land in southern Texas, a handful of corriente cattle, a registered bucking bull, and all 6 of my brother's horses. My dad helped me to sell his step son's truck and trailer, I couldn't even look at them without breaking down. The house and land had sold quickly, and provided more than enough to take care of a wonderful memorial for my big brother. My uncle had let me turn the cattle out at his place, I knew the plans Jace had for them and wanted to continue them if I could.

The bull I kept as well, knowing the potential Jace had seen in him. He'd had him in several bucking bull futurities, and had done very well with him. The bull, named NB 459, had been my pet. A big hot shot stock contractor had given the calf to Jace when his mama had died, and he'd brought him back home to me, asking me to take care of him for him. NB stood for Nikki's Boy, and the 459 represented the time he'd looked at the clock when he was filling out the forms to have the calf registered. He'd never been one for flash and pizzazz, so it was a simple and straight forward name for the little guy. I'd leased him back to the contractor who'd bred him, I didn't have the money to haul him like he deserved. I'd been more than appreciative of the fat checks that the big red bull had earned for me, they went along way to pay a girl's entry fees!

I'd done the best I could with the horses he'd left to me, most sold quickly, and for good amounts. Two open caliber calf roping horses had been sold before we even had Jace's funeral. A heeling horse went to a cousin of mine to use for the college rodeos, a broodmare went to a stud farm to be bred to have my next barrel horse. A 2 year old that wasn't broke yet went back to his breeder, I just didn't have the time or patience for a baby they way Jace had. The sixth horse was the reason Dalton had just called. Jace and Dalton had been partners on the horse, bought him from a big breeder in North Dakota. He was Jace's ideal horse. Juice was leggy, athletic, and pretty as a picture. Jace had started him as a 4 year old, then turned him out again. He'd just started roping on him in the arena two weeks before the accident. My dad and my uncle had gone to Texas to be sure the real estate deal with Jace's house had gone smoothly, and to bring all the livestock back north after the sale. Dalton's dad had shown up a day or so after they did, to pick Juice up and take him back to their place. None of his family knew that my brother had left me everything he had, so when the news was passed along to Dalton that the horse wasn't his outright, he'd been furious. Hard feelings came to the surface with a vengance, and needless to say, Juice came back to our place for a time. I loved the horse as much as I'd loved my brother, he was what I'd dwelt on in my grief. When I got the sideways glances in town, and heard the hushed rumors circulate, along with the pats on the back, I'd go to Juice and bury my face in his shoulder and cry.

My mind traced back over the weekend... I felt like I'd known this guy for a lifetime, even though I'd only spent a few hours with him. It seemed like the world had spun slower that afternoon, and that it was trying to catch up at an alarming rate.

I made my way back along the little dirt road between the barn and the house, smiling as my dogs barked at the traffic on the county road.My school bag was slung over the back of a kitchen chair, it hadn't moved since I'd hung it there Friday afternoon. That research paper that lay nestled in my bag wasn't going to finish itself, so I turned on the ancient computer in my room, then went back for my bag. I sat and went through all the stuff I'd already collected for the paper, still not content with what I had. Leaning back in my chair as I waited for the computer to finish it's start up, my mind began to wander, then was lost to the previous day completely. Research papers, computers--they were long gone and far away.

I was back in the cab of my truck, listening to the rain hammer away at the world....My cell phone had been buzzing, no doubt my mother calling for the 47th time. The message indicator light was blinking, I pushed the end button as I frowned at the screen. Along with the voice mails she'd left, I could see that the battery was dwindling. "Lemme see that thing," he'd said, as he reached and took the phone from my hands. He tapped away at it for a few seconds, then handed it back. He had that smile on his face again, the one that made me slightly dizzy when he looked at me. "My number's in there now, I just improved the value of that phone immensely!"He smiled again as he reached for my hand---I was convinced he could probably feel my pulse pounding through my finger tips. The rain had slacked to a slow drizzle, making it tolerable enough to be out in it at this point. We both stepped out of the truck, making our way around to stand next to my horses. I could feel it coming, knowing that this day had to end sometime. "Put your phone on the charger when you get home, I wanna be able to talk to you." He reached for my other hand and pulled me closer. I could feel the heat rush to my face, it was like the full force of his gaze was the sun itself. He was just a head taller than me, just enough that he had to bend down as he brushed a kiss against my cheek. I couldn't even breathe--I was too afraid it wasn't really happening... My very own knight on his big white horse! I put my arms around his neck as he held me, the damp smells of the earth mingled up to mix with the scent of sweaty horses and his cologne. He kissed my forehead as he took a step back, "I'm gonna call you tomorrow." That statement rendered me momentarily useless, until my dad's voice snapped me out of it. Dad met him on his way to the truck, smiled at him as he shook hands and clapped him on the back."That was a good loop son, that ol horse sure is working good.""Thank you sir!" He shot me one last smile over his shoulder.

I climbed in the truck, still reeling from the day. "Horses all loaded?" dad asked, getting settled in the drivers seat."Yep, they're loaded, watered them and hayed em too."
"You're a good hand, I think I'll keep you around!" he laughed as he pulled me over and hugged me around the shoulders. If he had anything to say about who I'd spent the last hour with, he sure kept it to himself. It was on the tip of my tongue all the way home, wondering if he really had asked my dad about taking me out on a date.

A rude beeping noise cut the silence of my room, and brought me back to the matter at hand. Procrastination. I was good at it. Most of the time. With a sigh, I flipped through my battered notebook to find the notes I had taken at school 2 days ago. A slew of facts about Marilyn Monroe stared back at me from the page, scrawled across the paper with my favorite bright orange pen. Several of my teachers found my choice of writing utensils comical...the one that hated it happened to be color blind, so it was hard for him to read. I tried to remember what I had saved in my giant paper weight that also served as a home computer, scrolling through the paragraphs I'd already typed. A few more paragraphs and I'd be well on my way to finishing it, not nearly as impossible as I'd imagined. No sooner than I started typing away on the references page, my phone began to buzz. Not bothering to look at the caller ID, I assumed it was my dad checking in to let me know where he'd made it to that morning. "Hey daddy, how's your trip so far?" He'd been on his way up north, a string of mid summer rodeos to judge had popped up sooner than he'd expected. Laughter on the other end of the line was my only reply, then I realized that it wasn't my dad's voice I heard on the other end of the line! My cheeks burned bright crimson when I realized who it might be, and I almost hung up. I could hear it in his voice, that smile he saved just for me had to be on his face.We talked for almost an hour, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. He invited me to dinner again, and this time I didn't turn him down. When we tried to figure out a good night for us both, we realized it was going to be problematic. Living over 2 hours away from each other didn't make it any easier, and the fact that we were both keeping the road hot rodeoing didn't help either. We decided to try and just grab a bite at the next rodeo we were both entered at, which turned out to be the next weekend. I knew right then that the rest of my week would drag by as a result, only because I had something to look forward to other than the rodeo itself. We hung up, and I started working on my paper in earnest. I knew if I tanked this class that dad would be less than thrilled, which was hard on my rodeo career.

The paper ended up being easily finished that day, I worked on it on and off for the most part. That evening as I pulled the last page from the printer, my phone began to announce another call, and I hustled to try and answer it. Making sure to check the caller ID before I answered, a frown crossed my face. It wasn't who I was expecting.