To Colt?s alcohol soaked brain, it seemed mere minutes from the point in which he entered Hogs & Heifers that Friday night to find a very boozed up Blair dancing (although, he used that word loosely) on the bar with one of her plain Jane cousins to the moment he was flying down Johnson Road in the pitch dark with Blair sitting in the passenger seat of his eleven year old beat up blue Dodge pick-up. He was sure it was more like hours but several shots coupled with multiple rounds of beer had blurred the passage of time. All he knew now was he had Blair right where he wanted her. The further he pressed down on the gas, the more she squealed with delight and the further her hand rolled over his leg towards his inner thigh. Gravel was kicked up in the mighty truck?s wake, a Luke Bryan song rumbled from the truck?s speakers, and an open beer sat in the cup holder of the center console.

It was shaping up to be one hell of a night.

The tires ground to a halt as he mashed down hard on the brake pedal, timing the maneuver just right so that the truck skidded to a stop just before the gravel gave way to mud and from there to Potato Creek. Blair gave a whoop of delight as she unbuckled her seat belt. Almost before Colt had a chance to slide his free of the buckle, she was sliding onto his lap with a cool grin which he returned in kind.

Blair wasn?t the type to take home to mama. Though, she knew Missus Daniels well enough. After all, all three of her boys had dated Blair at one point or another. Like ?dance? the word ?date? was used loosely when applied to what the Daniels boys did with Blair. She wasn?t the girl you went out hoping to meet but she was a looker and never seemed to take it personally when she didn?t get a call back the next day. Taking her home -- or to the edge of Potato Creek for a little private after party in his truck -- was never a waste of a night. Then again Colt was pretty sure this would be a night he wouldn?t remember. At least it was just Blair so he didn?t have to worry about his sloppy performance.

When looking back on this particular evening the bulk of what passed between Blair sliding onto his lap and the rap on his steamed up window remained foggy. Evidently the deed never got done because as Blair slid from his lap and turned from the window to begin pulling on Colt?s abandoned flannel shirt so that whomever the knocker was didn?t get a peek of that fantastic view (although, Lord only knows there weren?t many in this town that hadn?t been privy to that view), Colt was still wearing his old beat up Wranglers.

He heaved a sigh at his interrupted alone time and leaned over to roll down the window on his side of the truck. As the steamed up window disappeared into the door, Deputy Chandler?s face filled the frame with that old stick up his ass look that had completed Martin Chandler?s expression since they were both in high school together. That was the problem with being a bit of a bully in high school and then not leaving town once you graduated. Sometimes the pricks you beat up in high school went on to become prick cops.

?Well, if it ain?t Deputy Dawg! What can I do you for?? Colt drawled in his low country accent.

A muffled snicker erupted from Blair who was desperately sinking into the shadows on the passenger side of the truck so Deputy Chandler couldn?t get a view of her face. The alcohol was slowing the speed of his brain?s functioning, not that his brain needed much help in being a bit sluggish. He knew there was a connection but he couldn?t quite make it at the moment. Blair. Deputy Chandler. Blair. Deputy Chandler. Nope, he got nothing.

Deputy Chandler?s bottom jaw tensed but he didn?t take the bait. ?You?re on private property, Colt. And you smell like cheap whiskey.?

?This is Mr. Leroy?s property. You just go right ahead and ring him up and see if he?s alright with me enjoyin? his creek for a lil? while. We?ll see who he?s actually peeved with when the good deputy wakes up his lovely wife at the ass crack of dawn interruptin? her beauty rest,? Colt replied with a big wide smile. The air blowing in from the open window was a bit nippy but he wasn?t about to ask for his shirt back from Blair. He was still hoping that Deputy Chandler would be on his way and he?d be able to enjoy the pretty bottled blonde with daddy issues wearing his shirt. ?Everybody in town knows this is my spot. Clearly, you did too since you wouldn?t have found me so far off the paved road unless you went lookin? for me.?

?Your mama told me to send you home if I saw you,? Deputy Chandler replied gruffly. ?Your baby sister is missin?.?

Of course she was. Colt sunk a bit lower in the bench seat, rolling his eyes. ?Y?know Jackie. She?s prolly fine. She?ll surface soon as she gets sick of whatever loser she been keepin? company with.?

?Well, that?s exactly what the Sheriff done told your mama but she?s still raisin? cane up there at the station,? Deputy Chandler replied, getting to the truth of the matter. The Sheriff wanted one of the Daniels boys to calm down their mama. Evidently Colt was the lucky one tonight.

He was in the middle of wondering if one of his brothers might answer their cells (or even if they were in cell range) so he could spend a bit more time with the lovely Blair when Deputy Chandler set his forearms on the edge of the window and leaned into the car a bit further as he finally tried to get a look at whichever easy blonde Colt had riding around in the passenger seat of his pickup tonight. Blair sunk back further against the passenger door trying to escape the prying eye.

?Blair??

Blair. Deputy Chandler. Blair. Deputy Chandler. Blair Chandler. That was it! Martin Chandler?s little sister.

?Well, shit,? Colt cursed beneath his breath as Deputy Chandler?s face suddenly contorted in rage as he yanked open Colt?s door.

?What the hell you doin? with my sister, you dumb good for nothin??? Deputy Chandler growled at Colt as he yanked him out of the truck and to his unsteady feet. Blair was cursing up a storm from the truck?s cab but neither he nor Martin Chandler paid her any mind.

Colt grinned a big wide grin at the deputy, offering a casual shrug of his shoulders as he set a hand down on the hood of the truck to help keep his balance. ?Oh, c?mon, Marty. I ain?t doin? nothin? that half the men in this town haven?t already done and the other half just wishin? they had. Just let me get on back to showin? your sister a hell of a good time.?

Maybe on another night Colt would have be able to duck the incoming right hook. After all, he had to know it was coming. Unfortunately, tonight it caught him square in the bottom jaw, causing him to drop against the hood. A hand reached up to cup his jaw, opening it and closing it once to make sure it was still in working order. ?Christ, Marty! It?s not fair hittin? me when you got that uniform on and I can?t hit back.?

?You?re under arrest, dipshit,? Deputy Chandler stated in an authoritative tone as he continued to ignore his sister?s threats and protests, yanking Colt?s arms back behind him and shoving him further into the hood of his truck.

A heavy exhale was given as he felt handcuffs slap against his wrists. This wouldn?t be the first time he?d had to sober up in jail. He just wish he?d gotten to enjoy Blair before the night came to an end. ?What the hell for??

Marty?s hand clamped around Colt?s arm, pulling him back up to his full height as he began leading him back to his cruiser. ?Don?t know at the moment but I got the whole ride back to the station to come up with somethin?.?

Something was off. That was the first thought that flew through Brian Perry?s head as he stepped through the front doorway and into his small prefab home. The keys in his hand slipped out and landed in the crooked catch-all dish that his Aunt Trudi made in the pottery class she?d taken at the community center. He frowned into the darkness of his empty place. A logging truck went whizzing by on the highway in front of his home as he shut the door behind him, trying to place the source of the uneasiness that rumbled deep in his gut.

A hand reached in the dark to flick on the light but it never made it all the way. Before his fingers reached the switch plate, his wrist was grabbed by an unseen force in the shadows. A startled shout escaped Brian?s throat as his arm was twisted back behind him and the wrist yanked up to a painful angle. Using the arm as leverage, the attacker shoved Brian face first into a wall. Another startled, pained groan rattled in Brian?s ears and it took a split second to realize that it had originated from his own mouth.

?Where?s Jackie, dipshit?? The attacker growled in his ear from behind while shoving Brian?s face deeper into the wall.

A Daniels brother. They all sounded too much alike for him to be able to tell which one it was without turning to look. Anger flooded past the fear and Brian tried to shove back against the man behind him but his attacker was heavier and had the advantage by having Brian?s arm pinned. ?How the hell would I know? You morons told me to keep my distance!? he shouted back in return.

Viciously the wrist was yanked just shy of a fracture causing Brian to let out a pained cry and then the pressure was released suddenly. The attacker took a step back and Brian quickly spun to face him. Lit by the eerie light of passing headlights flooding in from between the cracks in the blinds of the living room window, Brian made out the features of Colt Daniels.

Perfect. The least rational and least intelligent of the three Daniels boys. The only luck Brian ever seemed to have was the bad sort.

?Mira Lou saw your ugly mug stuck out the window of that piece of shit Buick of yours yappin? at my baby sister,? Colt stated in a low, threatening tone. Only then did Brian notice the chocolate brown retriever standing just behind Colt. Her teeth were bared and her hackles raised. Molly. Best bird hunter in Upson county. Everybody wanted a piece of her bloodlines but Colt never was interested in letting her have a litter. ?I thought me and my brothers had a talk with you about keeping your dirty hands to yourself.?

?I kept my hands to myself, you dumb sack of shit,? Brian growled back, tightening his hands into fists as he glowered across the hallway at Colt. ?I saw her tryin? to hitch a ride on the side of Highway 9 on my way home. I stopped and asked her where she was headin?. She just said north. Didn?t give me no details. Told me she didn?t want to ride with anyone she knew. Wanted to meet new people or some crap like that.?

Brian watched as the words caused Colt to rock back on the heels of his work boots. Even that dumb ass would have to admit how much those words sounded like Jackie. She was always looking for something new and shiny while the rest of them dug their roots in deeper to the rich red Georgia clay. It coursed through their veins just as it had coursed through the veins of so many generations of Perrys and Daniels before them. And when the preacher closed his prayer book and their caskets were lowered into the ground, the red clay would claim them back again. Dust to dust.

Jackie, though, she was different. She was special. Everybody could see it. Everybody wanted to be around it as if they thought that maybe, just maybe, if they hung out with her long enough, some of that special might rub off onto them. It was a fruitless wish, though. Jackie never even seemed to notice that inner light that shone so bright and drew everyone in like desperate little moths.

Distaste soured Brian?s mouth as he watched the look of disappointment cross Colt?s face. The hot-tempered Daniels brother had been hoping for more of a fight. He?d been looking for a reason to bash in Brian?s face. Again. Brian?s jaw set angrily. He wouldn?t give it to him. Not anymore. Jackie might be special but chasing after her was like running into a brick wall over and over. And Brian may have been stupid enough to run into that brick wall so many times in the past but this time he really was done.

Molly seemed to noticed the dying tension in the room. Her lips eased to cover her set of pearly white canines and she sunk in step behind Colt as he took a step backward and then pointedly turned his back on Brian to move for the door.

He hesitated when Brian lifted his voice, tilting his head to listen but not turning back around. ?I don?t know why you can?t leave that girl alone. She had to leave town to get away from you. And now what? You gonna go chasin? after her? Ain?t it just about time you let her grow up??

Colt gave a rough laugh as his hand landed on the door knob. ?Jackie Daniels ain?t never gonna grow up if I?ve got anything to say about it.?

?Where you headin?, mister??

Colt rested a forearm on the steering wheel as a gray-haired potbellied hitchhiker climbed into the cab through the passenger door. Molly gave an unhappy grunt as she was forced to curl up closer to Colt, resting her head in his lap, as the man took up a spot on the bench seat, pulling the door shut behind him.

?My daughter?s in Mobile,? the man answered as he let his bag thump down on the floor at his feet.

?Not sure if I?m headed all the way to Mobile or not but you?re welcome to come as far down 65 as we?re headed.? Colt guided the truck?s rumbling engine back on the highway before them while the hitchhiker clicked his seat belt into place.

?Well, I?m mighty grateful to you,? the man answered in a low, gravelly tone as he gave Molly?s rump a pat as an apology for taking up her room to stretch. She gave a thump of her tail to indicate their were no hard feelings but never lifted her head from Colt?s thigh. ?My wife done kicked me out for the fourth time this month. The woman?s crazy I tell you. Tracked me down to Hogs and Heifers last night shoutin? all sorts of crazy things about Mira Lou Hall. Mira Lou Hall, for cryin? out loud.?

Amusement tinted Colt?s smile. This is what happened when he missed a night at Hogs and Heifers. Colt?s eyes bounced back briefly to the familiar weathered face of his companion before shifting back out the windshield. He?d seen him around. Heck, he?d probably even known his name at one point or another. That?s how life was in Thomaston. ?Mind me askin? your name??

?Jim. Jim Collins,? the hitchhiker offered up, turning to reach out a hand to Colt.

Colt pulled his left off the steering wheel and reached across his body and Molly while still keeping an eye on the road for a good firm shake. Jim?s eyes lingered on Colt?s face as Colt?s hand returned to the steering wheel. ?You look familiar. You?re one of them Daniels boys, ain?t ya??

A flicker of a smile crossed Colt?s face. Some people wouldn?t like being pegged so quickly by their last name. Maybe it was one of the reasons Jackie wanted out of this town so badly. But Colt? Well, it caused a surge of pride to pulsate through him. ?Well, yes, sir, I am.?

?The middle one! Colton!? Jim grinned wide, slapping his hand on his knee as he remembered the name. ?Son, I watched you play ball every Friday night for four years! You were the best damn linebacker the Knights? ever had. I ain?t never forget that hit you laid on that tight end from Woodward Academy! Pretty sure that kid?s still seein? stars all these years later!?

Colt stole another look over towards Jim unsurprised to hear his high school playing days so warmly remembered. High school football was an institution. Older men like Jim would follow them on road games even, arguing over who would have to do the driving and hiding flasks in their coats as they laughed and hollered with their friends. ?My junior year, I think. That was a good game. Even if it was a bit ugly. Think the final score was somethin? ridiculous like 9-3.?

Thick calloused fingers were clapped together as another memory struck Jim with a great guffaw of laughter. He never even seemed to hear Colt as his brain bounced from one thought to the next. ?Remember the Northgate game? You were only a sophomore, I think. Some hooligan took a late helmet-to-helmet shot on McWinters -- the quarterback that year -- and you came off the sidelines. Off the fucking sidelines! And laid that boy out. Got kicked out of the game for it too! Did you know that while you were being escorted back to the locker room, your daddy was up there in the stands shouting, ?That?s my boy!?? Your daddy is one helluva character!?

?That he is, sir.? Colt agreed with a single, slow nod as his smile became more permanently embedded in place. He?d never heard the part of that story involving his dad but it certainly came as no surprise. Mr. Daniels was about as proud as could be over the rough and rowdy boys he?d raised. He wouldn?t have it any other way even if he complained they caused more trouble than they were worth sometimes.

Then a passing thought or memory clouded Jim?s face. Colt was sure he knew where the conversation was headed and his shoulders tensed in preparation. ?You was a blue chip recruit. Rated no less than three stars by the talkin? heads. Heard David Cutcliffe was in your mama?s livin? room tryin? to get you to play ball for the Rebels and Mac said he?d heard Nick Saban hisself made a phone call to your daddy and Coach Mire. You could have played SEC ball, son! But you never left town. Why?s that??

Colt?s fingers curled further around the steering wheel, tightening his grip until the curves of his knuckles were white with the tension. He maintained the steady, even pressure against the gas pedal even though his foot yearned to mash down harder. It took a beat for him to be able to erase the emotion from his voice but after a moment, he continued on with a shrug of a shoulder. ?I ain?t never been the book learnin? type.?

That was the line he gave over and over. To the coaches that came from all over the southeast and beyond. To his high school coaches and teammates. To his parents and brothers and Jackie. He said it so often that no amount of trying could wipe it clean of a rehearsed ring. His mama would say that he didn?t have to go as far as Baton Rouge or Oxford if he was afraid of being homesick. After all, Auburn was only an hour and a half south and Georgia Tech was an hour and a half north. But that wasn?t it. At least not all of it.

Maybe if he?d listened to them, he?d have a four year degree by now and be sitting pretty in some fancy office job with business cards and a plush 401k. But it wasn?t likely. What was more likely was that he would have washed out in both his classes and football. He?d have ended up coming home embarrassed and been branded a failure the rest of his days. He could live with himself as the lazy bastard who drank too much and never grew up but he couldn?t live with being a failure. Better to be the guy that never was than the one that crashed and burned trying.

?Huh.? It was all Jim Collins seemed to have to say in response and for that Colt was grateful.

Molly lifted her head up from Colt?s lap and tilted it to the side as if listening to something in the distance. So distracted was Colt by the line of questioning that it took Molly?s movement before he sensed it as well. The ripple of bouncy energy -- but more subdued as if perhaps Jackie had been sleeping -- veered off the main road and Colt quickly threw on his blinker, crossing in front of an 18-wheeler in the far right lane to take the exit ramp.

Eyes growing wide at his driver?s sudden lane change, Jim?s hand reached up to wrap his hand around the grab handle as Colt swung the truck off the exit ramp, rapidly braking to decelerate the truck through the sharp downward curve of the exit ramp. ?Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong??

?Nothing, nothing,? Colt said as he narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the faint, thin thread of his sister?s energy wake. As Jim settled back giving his seat belt a good hard tug to make sure it was working, Colt added under his breath to the anxious dog at his side, ?We?re gettin? close to whatever it is blocking her, Molly. We?re getting real close.?