Alec

I open my eyes slowly, vaguely aware of activity all around me. The sounds and smells are familiar. Definitely a hospital.

Voices start to penetrate the fog. Someone's trying to ask me questions, but I can't answer them. The words don't come.

"Do you know your name?"

Of course I know my own name. But when I try to tell the person asking me, it doesn't come out right. I try again but can't seem to get it out.

"Do you know where you are?"

I shake my head. All I know is that it's cold and snowy. That doesn't narrow things down much.

"Have you been drinking tonight?"

Definitely not. It's not my thing, never has been. I shake my head no.

"Drugs?"

Seriously?! I shake my head no, again.

I feel movement, and again people are moving all around me. I want to ask about the girl, the one that I'm sure was in the truck with me, but no one can hear me, and I can't muster the energy. I close my eyes, the activity fading away.

"Alec." That voice again.

I turn towards the voice, and she's standing next to me, a concerned expression on her face. "Tell them. Tell them who you are. Tell them who I am."

"Relax." She tells me in a soothing tone. "They're trying to help you. You have to stop fighting them."

My eyes fly open, and she's gone. I've been moved again, somewhere quieter. I feel as if I'm stuck underwater. I'm alone, trying to piece together what the hell happened. I was driving and…

And what? Where was I going? And where the hell am I?

"Good morning." A cheerful voice catches my attention. "Looks like you've had quite a night."

"Where am I?" I manage to rasp out.

"Don't worry about that right now." The voice assures me. "You just rest."

I don't want to rest. I need to figure out where I am and what the hell I'm doing here.

I hear voices around me, one vaguely familiar, though I can't place her. Then the scent hits me. It's the girl from the accident, the one who put her coat over me. There's someone else with her, another female voice. She sounds a little like Mom.

Do my parents know where I am? Surely I told them where I was going. I wouldn't just leave without saying anything, would I?

"We're still trying to ID him." A male voice is explaining. "He didn't have anything on him when they brought him in."

I try to think, closing my eyes to try to envision where I would have put my wallet. Suddenly it occurs to me. "Glove…glove…" I can't find the other word. Damn it.

"I think he's trying to say something." The girl pipes up.

I try again, a little louder this time. "In the truck. The glove…"

"The glove box?"

I nod, relieved that someone's listening. I can see it clearly now, me tossing my wallet into the glove box and closing it. "Yeah, the glove box."

As my eyes become less blurry, I can make out someone in uniform talking to the two women. He waves them away and sits down in the chair next to my bed. "I need to ask you a few questions if you're up for it."

"Sure." I shift a little, trying to sit up and failing.

He asks where I was going, where I came from, what business I might have in Billings.

"Billings?" I'm confused. "Montana?"

"Yes." The officer looks curious. "Billings, Montana."

I'm stunned. I can't imagine what I'm doing here. "I…I have no idea what I'm doing here."

He asks again where I came from, where I was going, and I can't answer him. I just don't know.

"Someone said you thought there was someone else with you?"

"Yeah, a girl. Blonde, green eyes."

He scribbles down something in his notebook before flipping it closed. "We'll see about getting your wallet. Anything else we should expect to find in there?"

I have a flash of a memory, of packing a bag. "Big duffel bag."

"Okay." He nods, pulling out his wallet, opening it and handing me a card. "If you think of anything else that might be helpful, call me."

I accept the card and stare at it. Deputy Michael Thomas, Yellowstone County, Montana. I wrack my brain, still trying to imagine what would bring me here.

I hear him talking quietly to the two women, and I can just make out the one whose voice I recognize. She's tiny, delicate, with long brown hair in a ponytail at the base of her neck. Her arms are folded over her chest as she listens intently.

The other woman lightly touches the deputy on the arm before he leaves, and both women enter my room. The older woman is taller, with gray hair pulled into a bun, a kindly expression on her weathered face. She takes a seat at my bedside as the younger woman stands next to her.

"It took quite a bit of doing to track you down." The older woman starts. "I'm Jill, and this is Miranda. She was part of the group that found you last night."

I nod, glancing over at Miranda. She nods back, her expression unreadable as she holds out the object in her hand. I recognize it almost immediately, a piece of wood with "HOPE" in black letters.

I take it and stare down at it, my heart pounding, my breath coming short and fast as the memory comes rushing back, of loading a horse into a trailer. I'm almost afraid to ask, dreading the answer.

"Where's my horse?" I blurt out.

The two women look at each other before Jill asks, "Can you describe it?"

"Big and black." I answer in a rush. "Stallion."

"That's the one." Miranda tells Jill. "That's the one that showed up at the ranch."

"Is he okay?" God help me if he isn't.

"He's okay." Jill reaches down and touches my hand, and I start to relax a little. "The boys managed to get him in the barn last night, and the vet checked him over this morning. He's nearly as lucky as you are."

I don't know who the boys are, but I'm grateful that they were able to handle the Black. He can be difficult on his best days and doesn't usually like strangers. "He's…he's tough to handle."

Miranda lets out a short laugh, and Jill gives her a sharp look before turning back to me. "Jason and Brice have him well in hand. Your horse will be in good hands while you're in here. And considering your condition, it could be a while."

I nod and close my eyes, and I hear a chair scraping. As I open my eyes again, Jill is rising from the chair, lightly touching my shoulder. "Don't worry about anything but getting better. We'll keep your horse until you can come for him."

"Thank you." I manage to get out, my emotions threatening to get the better of me. It's only after they leave that I allow myself to let go, relief and fear and pain driving those emotions in equal measure.

I know where I am, and I know the Black is okay. It's a start. I guess I'll figure out the rest in time.