Alec

I let Jill chase me away from the stove, and I catch Miranda's little smile before I return to the table with my cup of coffee. It's the first time I've seen a real smile from her, and it makes her seem a little softer, a little less serious.

I check the thought before it goes any further, reminding myself that I should focus on healing up and going home, not letting my imagination run wild about some girl I just met. Miranda doesn't seem that interested in me anyway, and who could blame her? I must have seemed crazy last night, trying to pick apart all the reasons I left and ended up here.

The sound of voices puts any end to my rumination, and soon Brice and Jason come into the kitchen. Brice is already talking a mile a minute, Jason nodding along, and I sense this is a normal routine for them. Jason finds a couple of coffee cups and fills them, handing one to Brice, who takes it with a nod as he continues talking.

He flashes a quick grin at me as he sits down. "That damn horse of yours is full of it today." He tells me. "He just bolted right out that door soon as Jason opened it. Just about ran him over."

"He's exaggerating a little." Jason counters quietly, joining us at the table. "I was well out of the way before he really got going."

Brice continues making cracks at Jason, who merely shakes his head, until Earl puts a stop to it. Jill and Miranda put food on the table and we fall into silence as we start eating. In the silence, the sudden knock at the door seems extraordinarily loud, and Jill jumps up to answer it.

I can hear the voice of the sheriff's deputy, and Jill inviting him in. He joins us at the table, taking a seat right next to Miranda. She stiffens and shifts away slightly, obviously uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to notice her discomfort.

He nods at me. "Morning. We're wrapping up the accident investigation. Figured I'd see if you had anything else you'd like to add."

I'm already tired of going over the same old ground. Nothing's changed. I don't remember anything more than I did right after the accident. "I don't have anything else for you. Sorry."

The deputy nods, a slight frown on his face, and we continue with the meal. Soon enough, everyone finishes. The guys prepare to head out to start the day's work while Jill and Miranda start cleaning up, leaving me and the deputy at the table.

"Come with me." He tells me. "I have something to show you."

I'm wary, but follow him to the living room, where he pulls an envelope out of his jacket. We sit on the couch as he pulls photographs out, setting them out on the coffee table. I study the photographs carefully, taking in the damage done to the truck and trailer for the first time.

It's worse than I imagined. The truck looks as if someone has taken a baseball bat to it, and only the chassis of the trailer remains, only a few pieces of wood hanging on to indicate what it was to begin with.

I suddenly feel nauseous, my heart pounding, my breath getting short. It's a miracle that the Black isn't dead. If anything had happened to him, I don't think I could have lived with myself.

I can't help but think I deserve whatever I might have coming when I eventually return home. How can I ever be trusted again?

"Do you remember anything now?" the deputy prompts me.

I take a deep breath, looking over the pictures. A flash of a memory comes to me, of driving through falling snow. I'm so tired, struggling to keep my eyes open, fighting to see through the snow.

The next thing I remember is tumbling inside the cab of the truck. I don't remember anything in between.

I tell the deputy all of this, and he nods as if he's made some sort of connection. "Your bloodwork came back clean. No sign of drugs or alcohol in your system. So, we're thinking you must have fallen asleep at the wheel."

Another piece of the puzzle slides into place for me. I recall lots of driving. I don't recall ever stopping, not to rest, only stopping to fuel the truck and care for the Black. "That makes sense."

The deputy picks up the pictures and tucks them back into the envelope. "You know, driving tired is just as dangerous as driving drunk or high on drugs."

I don't need a lecture. I've got a feeling I'll get plenty of that from Dad once I get up the nerve to talk to him.

"We've already sent copies of the pictures to your father so that he can file an insurance claim on the truck and trailer." The deputy continues. "Hope you get to feeling better soon. I'm sure you're missing home."

I nod in response, rising with him to shake his hand. "Thanks."

He soon leaves, and I'm left with a distinct feeling of ambivalence. I can only imagine how Mom and Dad will react when they see the pictures.

I find my coat and shove my feet into boots. I need to see the Black up close for myself, to make sure he's actually okay.

The air is cold, and the wind cuts through me despite my heavy coat. I find my way over to the barn, and I can see the Black out in the pasture. From a distance, he appears to be in far better shape than I am. He's tossing his head, rearing up before hitting the ground and taking off.

I finally make it to the pasture, and I let out a whistle as I lean on the fence. The short trip has taken a lot out of me, and I immediately regret the move. If I pass out while I'm out here, there's no one to find me.

My concern immediately dissipates when I feel a warm puff of air and something nudging my shoulder. I let out a sigh of relief, slowly ducking through the fence to get to the Black.

I inspect every inch of him, noting a few scratches, nothing deep, checking over his legs, looking for any sign of further injury. He snorts, shaking his head, barely tolerating my inspection.

"Yeah, you're just fine, aren't you?" I finally tell him, patting him on the hindquarters. "Just fine."

The Black whinnies in what sounds like agreement and takes off again, and I slide back through the fence, returning to lean on it, watching the Black run.

Despite being a champion racehorse, the Black still has that wild streak in him, a part of him that will never truly be tamed. And maybe, just maybe, this part of it has been good for him. He has so much room to run, more than he has at the farm.

"He sure is something." Brice's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Never thought I'd get to see him up close."

"I'm just glad he's okay." I respond. "When I saw what was left of the trailer…"

"Yeah, kind of a miracle that he just showed up here." Brice answers. "Didn't quite believe Jason at first. But sure as shit, there he was."

We both fall silent, watching the Black run. After a few moments, Brice starts talking again. "It must be something, riding that one around a racetrack."

"It wasn't easy getting him there." I laugh a little. "He hated the saddle, the bit, the whole thing."

"You turned him into a champion though." Brice responds. "Must have been worth it, right?"

"I suppose." I nod. "Hopeful Farm wouldn't exist without him."

He asks a million questions about racing, about riding, seemingly fascinated by it all. And I have to admit, it's different talking about it to someone who has nothing to do with the business. Eventually he just shakes his head. "That's some crazy life you've lived. You've seen the whole damn world. I've never made it out of Montana."

I look toward the horizon, to the clearing sky, the vague outline of mountains far away. It's beautiful in its own way. "Seems like it'd be hard to leave this."

Brice lets out a short laugh. "Well, I haven't yet. Got a lot keeping me here, you know?"

I don't, and tell him so. He gets this little smile on his face, telling me how he came here in search of a summer job and never got around to leaving. "I just like it here. Jill and Earl, they make me feel like I belong, even though Earl calls me a knucklehead every five minutes."

He turns serious then, staring down at his hands. "I know I'm not a smart guy. But here, I don't have to be. I just bust my ass, do my job. Seems like enough."

I suddenly feel a twinge of sympathy for Brice. It hasn't escaped my notice that he's not exactly a genius, but I don't think he's entirely stupid, either. He knew enough to give the Black what he needed, and that's worth a lot to me. "Smarts are overrated." I tell him.

Brice snorts and shakes his head. "Sounds like something a smart guy would say."

I can't help but laugh at that. "I seem to have taken off in the middle of the night with our farm's prize stallion without telling anyone. I'm not sure that's so smart."

Brice seems to consider this, finally nodding. "You might be right about that."

He suddenly looks up, a little smile on his face. I finally see the reason, seeing Jason approaching. "You going to stand here yapping all day, or are we going to get some work done?"

Brice has the grace to look a little embarrassed, and Jason shakes his head. "He'll talk your ear off if you let him." Jason tells me, looking slightly amused.

"It's okay." I answer. "We had a good conversation."

Brice holds out a hand, and I grip it in a firm handshake. "It was good talking with you, man. See you later."

I watch as the two men leave, observing their interaction. I think back to what Miranda said last night about Jason, how he's "not into women", and things click into place. It's obvious he has a certain affection for Brice, and maybe Brice has the same affection for Jason.

I don't get it. I probably never will. At the same time, I don't have it in me to be too bothered by it. God knows I've got my own problems to deal with.

I shiver inside my coat as the wind kicks up again, and give one last whistle to get the Black's attention. It does no good, as the Black completely ignores me. He'd rather run as wild and free as possible, and I can't say I blame him. Part of me would like to do the same.

I turn back to the house, suddenly exhausted. I hate that I've put the Black and I in this position, out in the middle of nowhere with no way home. But I'm not even entirely sure I want to return home.

I make it back to the house, hanging up my coat and toeing off my boots before returning to my room, pausing briefly when I hear Miranda tuning up her guitar. I briefly consider stopping in, but ultimately decide she's probably had enough of me for now. The sound of her soft voice and strumming guitar are enough to lull me into sleep.