Disclaimer: Annie's character's, not mine.
Realizations
Lureen was generally pretty good at seein' what she wanted to, and not what she didn't. She saw two guys who'd known each other a long time and that was that. She didn't see nothin' more.
Not until that fall day. Jack'd left for a fishin' trip with a heck of a lot less notice and preparation than usual. He threw ten times more than he usually took into the back of the truck. He said he might be a little longer this time without explainin' himself.
Not half an hour later, she noticed Jack had left the tent. She was sure about that nagging suspicion in her head now-- fishin' was just an excuse. Jack wasn't going to Wyoming at all. He'd left her for good.
Until he returned three days later smelling like he'd taken a bath in mezcal. He hadn't been to Wyoming, she guessed; Mexico, more like, from the stink. He took to the alcohol pretty hard that night. The next day wasn't any better.
Finally she confronted him. "Jack. I don't know what's wrong, but you gotta get offa this drink and get ta work tomorrow. You can't be mopin' around like a lovesick fool. For one, I am not gonna clean up after you." He just got up and moved himself from the living room to the back porch, whisky in hand.
Regardless of what she'd said, she went to put truck his truck back in the garage where Jack usually parked it himself. There on the passenger seat was a receipt. Gas n' Go. Riverton, WY. Now she was confused. She'd thought he'd been to Mexico instead. He was gone three days; he'd have to drive straight to Wyoming, turn around with no more than a howdy-do to his friend to drive to Mexico, and then head straight home from there.
Lureen remembered the mezcal stink and hungover smell of Jack when he'd arrived home, sure he'd been to Mexico. She thought on that man in Wyoming and his no more than a howdy-do, and on Jack's mopin'. She remembered all them postcards, how he'd left the tent and she'd thought he was leaving her too. Lots of things were makin' sense now that she hadn't let make sense before. She'd thought he was leaving 'cause hell if he hadn't tried to. Tried to leave her for Mr. Wyoming-man. She'd called him a lovesick fool, and damned if he wasn't. She heaved a sigh, knowin' she shoulda known this before, knowin' she knew no way to fix this for him if Mr Wyoming-man wouldn't, and got into the driver's seat to pull the truck 'round back.
