Daniel gripped the steering wheel fighting down anger. It had been a long and horrible day and the drive home wasn't proving to be any better. It had seemed as if every force in the universe were joined together in conspiracy to block his every move. It didn't help that Adam hadn't wanted him to go in the first place. He hated when his older brother was right. He gripped the wheel tighter imagining Adam's smug look. He wouldn't say, "I told you so!" Adam had learned over time, and Hannah kept him in check, but the look on his face would communicate volumes. Way to go, little brother. That's what he would see printed on his brother's rugged features - with a heavy emphasis on the "little brother."

He had left just before dawn with such high hopes. He knew that he could out perform anyone at the competition. He had practiced for weeks and even written a song specifically for the competition. But he hadn't counted on getting lost on the way there. And he had counted on the stupid jeep breaking down twice! He missed his time slot but had hopes that they would let him perform anyway.

"I'm sorry. I had car trouble." He'd grinned cheerfully at the Important Man with the Clipboard.

"Missed your time." He said without looking up.

"I know. I'm real sorry about that, but I just explained that I . . ."

"Better luck, next time." The Important Man said dismissively.

His charm had no effect on anyone. His pleas had no effect. He doubted that if he had offered money - not that he had any - that it would have made a dent. And so, he was returning home having not even strummed his guitar once.

It was his dark mood and thoughts that made him miss the turn off on the way home, too. But unlike his drive to the competition, he was so lost in thought that he didn't notice he was headed the wrong direction until forty-five minutes later. He was never going to make it home - not that he looked forward to explaining to any of them that no he didn't win. He didn't even sing.

And of course, he hadn't paid close attention and run out of gas.

All in all, it was nearly one of the worst days of his life - only paling in comparison to that one day that hovered over them all. It was close to midnight when he finally rolled in the driveway. The house was dark, except for a low light coming from the kitchen. At least he'd been smart enough to call home and let them know he'd be late; Adam did not like anyone on the road late at night. Daniel had overheard his oldest brother tell Brian once, "I hate going to bed with one of us out on the road somewhere! I keep expecting to get a wake up call and . . ." He hadn't been able to hear Brian's response as he interrupted Adam, but Daniel had been stunned by the huskiness of Adam's voice, and the sound of fear. He'd never known Adam to be afraid. So he had made sure to call, but thankfully had spoken to Evan who hadn't asked too many questions.

He tiptoed in the back door, feeling the warmth of home. He supposed he ought to feel relieved to finally be home after the horrific trip he'd been on, but he just felt the familiar oppressive weight of being trapped; forever. He crossed the floor quietly, but paused to see a plate covered with a napkin. Leave it to Hannah to set out some food for him. He smiled in spite of his dark mood. He glanced around afraid to wake Brian and Guthrie who slept just outside the kitchen. He picked up the plate and the note that sat on top of it, and went back outside, settling on the back porch. There was just enough light to read the note.

Daniel,

Sorry you missed dinner. We were all excited to hear how it went.

He sighed wearily. He didn't want to face her bright eyes or expectant smile.

I figure you coming home late means either that you've signed a record deal and will just

be coming home to pack up your belongings - or the jeep broke down. I sure hope it is

that they adored your music. How could they not? That new song you wrote is

beautiful! Either way, we are happy to have you home again. Hope you aren't too

famous for a turkey sandwich.

Love,

Hannah

Daniel had to smile, in spite of how badly things had gone. At least Hannah wouldn't gloat over it. Adam had his faults, but bringing Hannah home to them made up for nearly all of them. He loved the quiet calm she brought to his cantankerous brother. He took a bite of the sandwich finding that it tasted so much better than the hotdog he'd bought six hours ago. Nothing quite like the food of home to comfort you.

He felt something push against his leg, and looked down into the familiar face of the dog. They still hadn't named him. He'd been with them nearly six months now, but all of them pretended that he wasn't really there's - although Hannah bought two bowls just for him, and Brian put a collar around his neck. But it was Daniel he followed around everywhere. Crane had teased him saying, "When you become famous, you better take that mutt with you. He pines something awful whenever you are gone."

He looked down into the sad, brown eyes of the dog. Reaching out he scratched behind his ears, and the dog rested his chin on Daniel's knee, sighing contentedly.

"You won't make fun of me, will ya boy?" He said softly.

It was the strangest thing, but the old mutt always seemed to understand his moods and thoughts. Times like now, when he felt depressed and lost, he would come padding up and sit beside him; the most faithful of friends.

Daniel felt his whole body relax, the dog beside him keeping him warm. He broke off a piece of turkey, feeding it to the dog. Patting him on the the head, he felt a small smile settle over his features. At least he knew that whatever came his way - fame or a life stranded on a ranch in what felt like the smallest town in California - he would have one true friend at his side. He knew his brothers were solidly in his corner - even Adam, who seemed set against Daniel's dreams, but they teased and mocked him from time to time - as brothers often did. Even Hannah sometimes doubted his path - fearful that he would be harmed, but one person seemed to think the world of him; that his every decision was right and wise and was always glad to see him. He patted the dog on his head again.

"I suppose I better give you a name." He told the dog. "A good friend like you deserves at least that!" He studied the dog, thoughtfully. "I'll name you True." The dog's ears pricked up at the sound of the name. "You like that?" He asked scratching the dog on his back. "Good boy, True. Good boy."

He must have dozed off because when the light of dawn stretched across the wide, rugged sky, he was still on the back porch with True faithfully at his side.