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“That might work.” I laughed at Billy as I put my winter coat on and searched for my gloves.

“Where’s your cologne?”

“On my dresser. Don’t drown in it.”

Dry Run Roadhouse.

With the whole county buried in deep snow, everybody who was wanting a good time was at the Dry Run where the live band was playing. The Montana Marauders were a county band with a bit of a southern rock feel to them. I didn’t mind them at all. The lead singer was pretty good.

Billy was so into his date with Brenda, he wanted me to have as much fun as he was having. We had us a booth on the far side of the dance floor and I damned well knew I was drinking way too much. I’d pay for it one way or another.

Sitting across from me looking every bit as pretty as her sister, Glenda sipped on her margarita. I wasn’t looking for a woman. I was never looking and Billy pointed out that was the crux of my trouble right there.

If Annie was having a normal life in Texas, then I should have a normal life here in Montana. It made sense to Billy. Maybe to him, but not to me.

“Are we gonna dance, Travis?”

I took a good look at Glenda so I could tell her apart from her sister when they were both in the booth at the same time.

Glenda was wearing a red shirt with a black jacket over top and she had a red barrette in her hair. I made a mental note.

I stood up and steadied myself with one hand on the table. Couldn’t remember when I’d been so fuckin drunk. Maybe it was the relief of having the killers behind bars. What else could it be?

Glenda and I danced two slow songs and went back to the booth when the band played a fast one. Too much beer sent me to the men’s room and when I came back, my twin date wasn’t at the table.

I gazed through the crowd on the dance floor and caught a glimpse of Art Anderson with both arms wrapped around her. “Jeeze, that’s gonna be trouble.”

Instead of charging out there and plowing him right off the bat, I held onto the urge and did my best to keep an eye on Glenda through the dancers as they went by. Thoughts of walking out there and cutting in entered my head, but I got distracted when Tessa brought me a fresh pitcher of Miller.

Then I heard hollering and knew in an instant I’d waited too fuckin long. I pushed my way through the crowd looking for the trouble spot and got there in time to witness Glenda trying to jerk her arm away from Art, the town asshole.

He had a firm grip on her arm and he was laughing and not letting go, thinking it was a big joke. “I’ve got you, girl. You’re mine now.” Art was so drunk he could barely stand.

“Let go of her, Art.”

“Fuck off, Sheriff.”

My fist landed in the center of Art Anderson’s face for the third time and I figured I broke his nose again. Three for three.

Art raised his hand to his face to stop the gush of blood and let out a roar as he came at me with his head down like a charging bull.

Over my shoulder, I hollered, “Go back to the booth, Glenda. Run, girl.”

She took off and the dancers cleared a spot big enough for a dustup. One on one, Art Anderson didn’t have a prayer against me even in my drunk condition. He was out cold in thirty seconds.

Resisting a strong inclination to pull my boot knife and slit his throat, I left him resting in the middle of the floor and walked back to my booth.

Billy chuckled as I sat down. “That was fun, Travis.”

“For you, maybe.” I rubbed my knuckles, scraped and bleeding a little.

“I didn’t like that guy,” said Glenda. “I didn’t want to dance with him, but he pulled me onto the dance floor and wouldn’t let go.”

“Nothing to like,” I said.

“He was holding me way too close. I could hardly breathe.”

“He’s the town asshole.”