“All right, then, let’s go.” I touched my face. I had a little stubble, but nothing major. It’s the way I liked it. I’d trimmed up my edges, so I looked respectable. I knew I didn’t fit in with cookie-cutter society, and that was okay with me. I wore a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and my tan cowboy boots.
As we rode over to Bella’s school, she hummed all the way. I was still mesmerized by the little girl. She and Amber were the reasons I’d vowed to stay out of trouble. I pulled into a parking spot right out front. Little people were everywhere, getting dropped off. I saw the moms kissing their daughters, and I wondered how it made Bella feel.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Just sometimes, I’m sad when I think that Mommy doesn’t bring me to school.” She dropped her head, and I felt the pain hit my chest.
“It’s okay to be sad, sweety. But don’t stay sad. Mommy wouldn’t want that. She’s here with you, watching over you. Over us both. Give Daddy a hug.”
Her delicate arms reached my neck, and she slapped a wet kiss on the side of my face. “I have to go now! My friend Carly is there.”
I laughed at her resilience. Just as quickly as she was sad, she was happy again.
“Grandma is going to pick you up, okay? Daddy has some business. You’re going to stay with Grandpa and Grandma.”
“All right. I stay there a lot. We have fun. I beat Grandpa in puzzles. He gets mad.”
“That’s Grandpa for you.”
Bella opened the door and bounced into the school doors, skipping in with her friend, Carly. I felt a little heavy in my heart. Bella had built a whole life without me in prison. Where did I fit now?
I rode back home and worked alongside Hector in the Merced heat. I had my own demons to work through. I wanted the time to pass quickly. My wish was answered as dusk set over Merced.
“Hector, let’s pack up for the day. It’s showtime.”
“You sure I can’t come? I mean, you’re only going to watch, right?”
“I am, but I’m going to be close enough.”
Hector jumped in. “I’m coming with you. This whole transaction is about me.”
“You got your car? Follow my lead. Come on, we have to load up just in case.”
We went to the barn, and I turned on the light. It seemed like the little pigeons had hatched as I could hear the squawking. I put my hand out as we entered the entryway of the barn.
“Wait here,” I commanded.
I climbed the ladder and uncovered my arms supplies. I grabbed the long-range rifle and the case of bullets. I also grabbed the two semi-automatics.
I climbed down, and Hector was taken aback.
“Cowboy, you’re packing heat like that?”
I gave one nod of my head. “You better believe it. I’m an Outlaw. When we go to war, we go in armed. Here, take the semi. You know how to use it?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve had a few shots at the gun range. I’m not a bad shot.”
I eyed him warily. “It’s different when you’re faced with the situation, and you have to fire in real life.”
“Have you?” He cocked his head to look at me as we stood with our weapons and the horses looking at us.
“Yes. Once. I shot a dude in the leg for non-payment. I regret that. Again, in my younger years. I’m too old to be doing that, and I have a daughter to think about.”
“I understand. What’s that long rifle you got?”
“It’s a long-range sniper. We’re going to be sitting high up. We got walkies. So if anything pops off and I can get a clear shot off, I will take it.”
Hector put his hands on his head in despair, which let me know he didn’t have a killer instinct.
“Best you stay out of a game you can’t play, Hector,” I warned.
“I guess so. This shit’s freaking me out.”
I smiled. “Then my job is done. Come on. It’s getting late, and I need to check in with the guys.”
Remnants of dust kicked up as a soft breeze blew onto the farm. As we talked and I got out the walkies from my back room, I looked at my watch. Seven o’clock.
“Let’s go. We need time to set up on the hill. I got the binoculars packed.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” Hector’s face was pale, and he was sweating even though it was cool.
“Okay, good. Let me show you how the Outlaws do it.”
Eighteen
Amber
“Can I see Warden Smith? I have an appointment with him this morning.”
Another visit to USP Atwater, and it was fast becoming my second home. The office administrator behind the glass gave me a weary look. She looked worn down.
Warden Smith came out of the office, greeting me with a wide smile. “Amber, always a pleasure. Come through.”
I followed Warden Smith to the back room and passed all the others working in the office. They all turned their heads to look at me. I’d been trying to organize this meeting for months with him.
We made it to a small meeting room, and the standard jug of water was on the table. Warden Smith hitched up his pants. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, cream and one sugar,” I replied in a business-like tone. My stomach led the way in letting me know that Warden Smith might have the hots for me. His gaze lingered a little too long for my liking.
“Coming right up. I will be right back.”
Warden Smith left the office, and I breathed deep as I spread out my evidence. I was here on prison reform business. Some of it was reinforced by Colt’s stories of the conditions he’d faced. Warden Smith came back five minutes later with two cups full of hot liquid. I could smell the coffee beans. He placed the cup in front of me. He, too, had a stack of paperwork in front of him.
“So, Amber, how are you doing?”
I got comfortable in my seat. “I’m doing great, Warden. I’ve wanted this meeting for the longest time.”
“I know. I’m glad we’ve gotten around to it. Let’s talk about it. What do you have for me?” He slapped his knee.
“Well, I want to commend you first on how you run the prison in terms of problem-solving. If an issue arises in my dealings with you, you have been quick to correct it.”
Stroke the ego first. Warden Smith poked out his chest with pride. “Thank you, Amber. Go on.”
“Having said that, at USP Atwater, there is a significant increase in suicide in jail cells. Also, there is a marked increase in inmates with mental health conditions, who strike out by murdering other inmates. The conditions in solitary confinement are dismal, and prisoners are being exposed to toxic metals when they are working outdoors. This is my hope for USP Atwater.” I slid across a pamphlet for Hawaiian jails that showed how clean and neat they were. It also showed the plethora of prison programs available.
Warden Smith belly-laughed “You can’t be serious. Hawaii? These men are hardcore prisoners. They don’t need a home away from home.”
“Not all of them are, and if the plan is to reform them so that they don’t re-offend, we have to at least give them the right environment to thrive and gain the skills to go back into society. Not all of the prisoners at USP are lifers,” I said passionately.