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to leave the state.
                    "Anyway," said Gary, "once we got to Idaho, this fellow got mad at me and took off. I'm stuck at this bar, Brenda, and I better get back. Can you come for me?"
                    "You poor thing," said Brenda. "You just get your thumb out of your rear end and put it in the air."
                    A few hours later, a long-distance call reached Mont Court at his home. He was asked to contact Detective Jensen in Twin Falls, Idaho. Mont Court then learned that his parolee, Gary Gilmore, had been arrested for driving without a license. How should they proceed, Detective Jensen wanted to know? Mont Court thought awhile and recommended that Gilmore be allowed to go back to Utah on his own recognizance, and then report in to him immediately.
                    Brenda got another phone call. Gary was in Twin Falls, he said. Had been hitchhiking and got a ride with a fellow driving a pickup truck. When they stopped in a bar, the guy started making passes. Gary had to fight him right in the bar. Then, they went to the parking lot to finish. He knocked the guy out.
                    "Brenda, I thought I killed him. God, I really thought I killed him. I put him in his pickup, and drove like a maniac. I figured if I could find a hospital, I'd drop him off there.
                    "Then the guy went into a seizure. I stopped the car and got his wallet out to see his name—in case he was dying. Then I started speeding for a hospital. Soon as the cops pulled me over, the guy came to. He told the police he wanted me booked for assault and battery, kidnap, stealing his wallet, and taking his truck."
                    Brenda was trying to follow it all.
                    "I had some of my week's pay," said Gary, "and that was enough to post bail for driving without the license. Then, I worked it out."
                    "You did?" said Brenda. "My God, how?"
                    "Well, you see, the fellow was known as a faggot around here. I guess the cops were on my side, and talked him into dropping the charges. I don't have to go back."
                    "I can't believe it," said Brenda.
                    "Coz, there's just one thing," said Gary, "I used up my money to post the bail, I don't know how I'll get back."
                    "You better," said Brenda. "If you're not here by morning, I'm calling Mont Court. He'd love to give you a free ride back."
                    "Mont Court knows already," said Gary.
                    Brenda blew. "You dodo bird," she told him. "You're really dumb!"
                    It was a long Sunday. A spring snow had started and by evening it was close to a blizzard. In the living room, Brenda got tired of looking at her red rug, her red furniture and her black wrought-iron lamps. She was ready to start kicking a few kids' toys. Kept going over it with Johnny, trying to find some kind of hope for Gary in all this. It was good, she thought, that he hadn't run off from the guy he beat up. That showed some sense of responsibility. On the other hand, had he rode off with him in the truck because the man would be easy to rob that way? And how had he gotten the fellow to drop the charges? By his boyish smile?
                    It was time to recognize, Brenda decided gloomily, that when you had Gary around, there were questions for which you would not get answers. The snow kept coming down. Out on the roads, the universe would be just one big white field.
                    Around nine in the evening, Gary called from Salt Lake. Now he was broke for sure. He was also stranded in the snow.
                    Johnny was watching a show he liked on TV. "Well," he said, "I'm not going to get the damn