looking over at me. “I’ll bribe a clerk to tell me which room he’s in. If he’s there, I can drag him out no problem. If he’s not, sometimes these things take a while.” He winked sidelong at me and then raised his voice to talk to Stan again.
“Do you think you can babysit my daughter for me?” he asked. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
Stan laughed. “Doesn’t seem like she needs much babysitting.”
“Oh, you know how it is. Guess I’m overprotective. Could you look out for her?”
“Sure,” Stan said.
Dad gave me a nod. He was going to make good on his promise to let me watch Stan, even though I’d gone into the bar when he told me not to.
I winked back at Dad. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Come on, honey,” Stan said. “I’m not so bad. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You’ll both stay in the truck,” Dad said. “I don’t want my daughter going with you to buy booze.”
“I was kidding, Max. You know me. Always a joker.”
Stan launched into a story about the days when he used to babysit his little sister when he was in high school. He rambled the rest of the way to North Platte, and Dad smiled so much that he didn’t ask about my homework once.
The Ramada wasn’t hard to find once we pulled off the freeway; it was taller than just about everything else in town. Dad parked down the street from it. He pulled a pair of binoculars out from under his seat and peered up at the hotel windows.
“Didn’t know you were such a peeping Tom, Max,” Stan said.
“You know how it is,” Dad said. “I take what I can get.”
“You’re not likely to find him by looking at the hotel, are you?” I asked.
“I’m checking the windows. Skips are always looking out the windows, especially when they know they’re being followed.”
“Well? Do you see him?”
Dad shook his head. “Sheers are drawn in some of the rooms, though. That means they can see out and I can’t see in.”
The sun cast a golden glare on the building, adding shine to some of the windows. That probably didn’t help.
Dad sighed. “Time to go hassle the clerk. You watch Ricki for me, okay, Stan?”
Stan saluted, and Dad climbed out of the car. “You be careful,” he mouthed at me.
I nodded, and Dad turned and ran down the street to the front doors of the hotel.
North Platte, Nebraska.
Days since Mom left: 31.
Distance from Salt Lake City: 659 miles.
10
Stan stretched his arms over his head until they tapped the ceiling of the truck. Then he rolled down his window and stuck his head out.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Stan said to me. “I’m going to take a little walk.”
“You’re supposed to stay here,” I said. “If you go get a drink, who’ll look out for me?”
“Well, see, I’m not going to go very far.” Stan was already pulling up on the door handle, but the door didn’t open. It must have a child lock. I relaxed. That’s why Dad hadn’t bothered to chain Stan before he left.
I needed to get him talking. “So,” I said, “you have a girlfriend, Stan?”
“I got me some lady friends. Don’t like to stick to just one, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m too much man to settle down.”
“Sure you just can’t get a woman to keep you?”
“Have you had a look at me?” Stan asked, motioning to his chest. His shirt collar was tattered at the seams, and his shirt looked to be two sizes too big.
“Do you have a job?” I asked.
“Not often.”
Listening to this was depressing. “Do you think maybe you should get one?” I asked.
Stan shrugged. “I get one now and again. They don’t last too long, though.”
“You forget to show up?”
“Forget to show up sober, anyway.”
That surprised me. I hadn’t realized Stan knew he was a drunk.
“People have got all these rules,” he continued. “You know how it is.”
I thought of Dad and his obsession with the law. Maybe he kept all those rules because he was afraid of turning out like this—like a
“Do you think you can babysit my daughter for me?” he asked. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
Stan laughed. “Doesn’t seem like she needs much babysitting.”
“Oh, you know how it is. Guess I’m overprotective. Could you look out for her?”
“Sure,” Stan said.
Dad gave me a nod. He was going to make good on his promise to let me watch Stan, even though I’d gone into the bar when he told me not to.
I winked back at Dad. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Come on, honey,” Stan said. “I’m not so bad. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You’ll both stay in the truck,” Dad said. “I don’t want my daughter going with you to buy booze.”
“I was kidding, Max. You know me. Always a joker.”
Stan launched into a story about the days when he used to babysit his little sister when he was in high school. He rambled the rest of the way to North Platte, and Dad smiled so much that he didn’t ask about my homework once.
The Ramada wasn’t hard to find once we pulled off the freeway; it was taller than just about everything else in town. Dad parked down the street from it. He pulled a pair of binoculars out from under his seat and peered up at the hotel windows.
“Didn’t know you were such a peeping Tom, Max,” Stan said.
“You know how it is,” Dad said. “I take what I can get.”
“You’re not likely to find him by looking at the hotel, are you?” I asked.
“I’m checking the windows. Skips are always looking out the windows, especially when they know they’re being followed.”
“Well? Do you see him?”
Dad shook his head. “Sheers are drawn in some of the rooms, though. That means they can see out and I can’t see in.”
The sun cast a golden glare on the building, adding shine to some of the windows. That probably didn’t help.
Dad sighed. “Time to go hassle the clerk. You watch Ricki for me, okay, Stan?”
Stan saluted, and Dad climbed out of the car. “You be careful,” he mouthed at me.
I nodded, and Dad turned and ran down the street to the front doors of the hotel.
North Platte, Nebraska.
Days since Mom left: 31.
Distance from Salt Lake City: 659 miles.
10
Stan stretched his arms over his head until they tapped the ceiling of the truck. Then he rolled down his window and stuck his head out.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Stan said to me. “I’m going to take a little walk.”
“You’re supposed to stay here,” I said. “If you go get a drink, who’ll look out for me?”
“Well, see, I’m not going to go very far.” Stan was already pulling up on the door handle, but the door didn’t open. It must have a child lock. I relaxed. That’s why Dad hadn’t bothered to chain Stan before he left.
I needed to get him talking. “So,” I said, “you have a girlfriend, Stan?”
“I got me some lady friends. Don’t like to stick to just one, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m too much man to settle down.”
“Sure you just can’t get a woman to keep you?”
“Have you had a look at me?” Stan asked, motioning to his chest. His shirt collar was tattered at the seams, and his shirt looked to be two sizes too big.
“Do you have a job?” I asked.
“Not often.”
Listening to this was depressing. “Do you think maybe you should get one?” I asked.
Stan shrugged. “I get one now and again. They don’t last too long, though.”
“You forget to show up?”
“Forget to show up sober, anyway.”
That surprised me. I hadn’t realized Stan knew he was a drunk.
“People have got all these rules,” he continued. “You know how it is.”
I thought of Dad and his obsession with the law. Maybe he kept all those rules because he was afraid of turning out like this—like a
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