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.