The blow knocked him to the ground, and Jessie struck him squarely on the back, and again on the arm before he stood up, turned and grabbed the stick from her, then grabbed her by the arm and threw her through the screen door. The force of her body going through it knocked it off its hinges. Jessie landed hard on the porch, and rolled down the steps and into the yard. A bloodied and bruised Chad stepped out onto the porch. “Damn, you’re scrappy tonight!”

The image in Jessie’s mind suddenly went blank, and she felt herself slipping back into the dark of unconsciousness, when, in the distance, she heard the familiar sound of her truck and trailer pulling into the yard outside. “Henry,” she whispered to herself.

The lights from inside the house were a welcome sight as Henry pulled the rig up the long driveway and into the yard. Since he had left that morning, all he could do was think about being back. He really missed being with Jessie, even if it were only for a few hours, and he wanted to do everything he could to get back to her as soon as he could. He found himself driving the speed limit on the way there and back. He normally drove three to five miles an hour under the speed limit. It had been a habit he acquired as a youngster driving farm machinery up and down narrow roads, and it had carried over to driving his trucks once he got older.

Had it been a quick delivery, he would have been back before dark. As it was, however, old man Wilson apparently didn’t have many visitors, so when he did get one, he took advantage of it. Henry got hung up at Wilson’s place an hour-and-a-half longer than he would have liked. This put him an hour-and-a-half behind when it came to getting back to the ranch. The good news was there was very little traffic, which made the trip go much more smoothly. One of the only vehicles he ran across the last twenty miles of the drive back to the ranch was a pickup truck on the gravel road. It was strange to see a vehicle on that stretch of road, especially after dark. At first, the truck looked vaguely familiar to him, but in the dark it was hard to tell. In the end, Henry figured it was just some kids out joy riding.

As Henry turned the rig into the yard, the headlights shone directly on the front porch and lit up the screen door hanging off its hinges. Confusion then concern shot through him. Jamming on the brakes, he sat for a minute in the truck staring at the door. He climbed out and looked around to see if anything else was out of place, then started for the house—slowly at first, but as he got closer his pace quickened.

On the porch, there was a spattering of blood. Henry’s heart sunk and, swallowing hard, he stopped at the door. “Jessie!” he called. “Jessie, where are you?” He looked inside and saw the mess that had been made, and then saw the blood drops leading up the stairs. “Jesus…Jessie,” he said to himself. He ran up the stairs skipping two at a time, and upon getting to the top immediately looked to his left in the direction of the blood trail and saw Jessie’s crimson-spattered legs sticking out of the open bathroom door. He rushed to her, gently pushing the bathroom door open to reveal her lying on her side, her shirt tore nearly all the way off and her face, arms and ribcage bloody and bruised. Henry knelt down by her side and bent down close to see if she was still breathing. “Jessie,” he whispered next to her ear. “Jessie, can you hear me? It’s Henry.”