Unbeknownst to Henry at the time, what he was witnessing was the culmination of Chad’s frustration with being unable to manipulate the situation—and Jessie—in the direction he wanted them to go. The frustration began to boil to the surface three hours earlier in the poolroom of Mona’s bar, when an already heavily intoxicated Chad held himself up with a pool cue, waiting for his turn to take a shot.

“He’s a son of a bitch,” Chad slurred. “That’s why I don’t like him.”

Dan lined up his shot on the pool table, drew back his cue, and skillfully sent the cue ball the length of the table. It grazed the seven ball, driving it toward the corner pocket, only to have it hit the edge of the bumper, just off target. The seven ball bounced off the bumper and skittered back out toward the middle of the table. “Damn,” Dan said under his breath. He stood up and looked at Chad, who was barely able to stand. “Who’s a son of a bitch?”

“Did ya know Jess axed him to stay a’the ranch ‘stead a me?”

“Jesus, Chad,” Dan shook his head. “Get over it. It’s your shot.”

Chad stumbled to the table, bent down and did his best to line up his shot, the thirteen ball in the side pocket. “I’m ten times th’hand that ol’ fool is. Wha’ the hell’s she thinkin’?” He hit the cue ball much harder than was necessary, spraying balls all over the table.

“Yeah,” Dan said sarcastically. “Nice shot. Maybe its time for you to call it a night.”

Chad turned abruptly, losing his balance and almost falling over backward. At the last second he caught himself and with a great deal of effort was able to get righted. “You don’t tell me wha’ ta do,” he grumbled. “I’m the boss ‘round here. You son of a bitch. Maybe I’ll just kick yer ass.”

Jake got up from the nearby table, and having seen and heard enough, walked over and took hold of Chad’s arm. “Nobody’s going to kick anybody’s ass,” he said calmly. “Come on Chad, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Chad pulled away, again losing his balance and falling into a nearby table, then sliding unceremoniously to the floor. He quickly struggled to get on his feet, and after what seemed like a monumental effort, he finally did. He pointed a finger at Dan. “You don’t tell me wha’ ta do.”

Jake came over and helped Chad steady himself. He then gently, but firmly started ushering him toward the door. “All right Chad.” Jake was only slightly patronizing. “He won’t tell you what to do. Come on, let’s go home.”

“I’m done for the night, too,” Big Steve said getting up from his chair at the table. “I’ll give you a hand.”

With Jake on one of Chad’s arms and Big Steve on the other, the two men half dragged him out the bar door and over to the pickup truck. Big Steve climbed in behind the steering wheel, Jake sat in the middle and Chad poured himself in the passenger seat. Together, the three men started for the ranch.