And this is what I’ll teach my daughter.
MELISSA IS WORKING FOR the Adam’s Mark Hotel as general manager. They live in a condo on the fringe of downtown Denver because we had to sell the house without my income. Melissa insists the condo is perfect and she’s shown me photos of it and it looks nice. The only thing she regrets, she insists, is that I’m in here and Angelina is in day care every day.
I guess we both have our keepers.
MY PARENTS DROVE all the way down from Montana to see me. I could tell by the way they entered the room they were as embarrassed as hell. I was embarrassed for them because I knew the security procedures probably set them back. I don’t think my dad has ever walked a step in his life without his Leatherman tool, and my mother had to confess she had wire in her bra. As they sat at the table in the genpop visiting room, they held hands-the first time I’d ever seen them do that. I became fixated on their hands because they were so rough and knobby-the hands of hard workers- in a place where the supposedly tough guys had soft and smooth hands. My dad joked that he always thought I’d wind up in a place like this once I left the ranch, and my mom scolded him for saying that but didn’t disagree.
“That was nice when you stopped by,” she said. “I hope you’ll do that more often.”
“For Christ’s sake,” Dad said to her. “He’s in prison!”
“But he won’t always be,” she said, turning red.
I promised to come visit. I told them it wouldn’t be that long.
My dad said, “Good, I got fence to fix.”
My mom said, “And I’ve got pies!”
CODY IS BACK in Montana, splitting his time between working as a detective in the Helena Police Department and helping my dad out on the ranch. He says he’s happy, and I believe him. He has a steady girl and says he wants to bring her to Colorado to meet us. He’s come to see me a few times when he drives south to visit his son, Justin. He urges me to move back to Montana when I’m released. I’m considering it, although there are no Adam’s Mark Hotels in Montana.
Obviously, I’ve a lot of time on my hands to think about everything that happened during those three weeks. Some things became clearer in retrospect. I confirmed them during a conversation with Cody when he visited.
“You never really told Jeter to back off when we were in Montana, did you?” I asked.
He hesitated, looked around, struck a match to light a cigarette under a sign that read ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING. “No.”
“Why did you mislead us?”
“Had to. You and Melissa got cold feet, Jack. You couldn’t pull the trigger because you’ve got scruples. I don’t have that problem. I knew we needed Jeter to force the issue and maybe take out Garrett. So when I went back into Jeter’s, I asked him if I could use the bathroom and wished him good luck in Denver.”
“That’s why you were on the scene so fast after the incident in the Appaloosa,” I said.
He nodded. “I was down the street. I wished I could have prevented you from following Jeter into that place. I had no idea you’d be that stupid.”
Then he winked.
OH, AND ONE MORE thing. An amazing thing, a miracle. Melissa is seven months pregnant. The night of conception was our last night together before I went to prison. For once, I guess I had a live round in the chamber.
When I get out, we will have a daughter and a son. I wonder what our son will be like. I can’t wait to find out. We’ve already decided his name, a long one. Cody Brian Torkleson Sanders Morales McGuane. After his uncles.
C J Box
