Help. Was there anything he was overlooking? An all-points had been sent out on her and her car. He had found the girl’s address book in Montgomery’s desk and knew the names of her friends. And her sister. Those people were already being watched. Their phones were being tapped. Their mail would be examined. People in the girl’s hometown were already being interviewed-neighbors, teachers, classmates, members of her church. They were shown a badge and the cover story was kept vague but strongly implied that it would be in Jamie’s best interest for her to be located and that something ominous could happen to her if she were not. Even if those being interviewed were at first reluctant, eventually they would agree to help. They would let the interviewer know if they saw or heard from her.

It was only a matter of time, Gus told himself as he pulled the covers back and crawled into bed.

For so many years, whenever he was at the ranch, he and Montgomery would play gin rummy and drink scotch in the evening. And she would tell him stories about his father and grandfather. Coming here was never going to be the same.

He should not have yelled at her. What happened was his doing, not hers. He should have seen it coming. “I’m so sorry, Montgomery,” he whispered. “So sorry.”

He didn’t want to cry. Not again. He turned his thoughts to Amanda. She didn’t want Toby anymore. “I just want you and our baby,” she had said.

Maybe they could name the boy Montgomery and call him “Monty.” Or “Buck” would be nice. Buck was a good name for a West Texas boy. And that’s what Gus wanted him to be. A rancher. A man of the land. He wanted to preserve his innocence, as he had with Sonny. Gus had convinced Amanda not to take Sonny on the road as a boy, claiming that some would see that as exploitation. There would be plenty of time for that after Sonny had finished college. But Sonny wasn’t much of a student and didn’t adapt well to college. Sonny wanted to spend his life here on the ranch-not saving souls and raising money to elect political candidates. But the boy had never had the courage to tell his mother. He was happiest here at the ranch. Like his great-grandfather Buck, the boy had loved the land. If he wasn’t riding across it on horseback, he was racing around in that damned all-terrain vehicle. Gus had wanted to blame the accident on the company that manufactured it, but maybe it was the land itself that had killed Sonny. All that space was seductive. It made a man feel one with the universe. Made him long to be a wild mustang. Or an eagle.

Gus desperately needed a full night’s rest and had taken something to assure that sleep would come. He felt his body relaxing as the drug took hold. A nice feeling. He closed his eyes and imagined himself and little Buck in the pony cart. He could hear the boy’s laughter and the bells jingling merrily as the pony trotted down the drive. But to turn that vision into reality, he had to track down Jamie Long.

The baby was still alive. He had decided to believe that was so until he knew otherwise. He needed to believe that.

Monday morning Jamie found her way to the vital statistics office at the state health department. Using the information the midwife had given her, she filled out a form for the baby’s birth certificate and one for Janet Marie Wisdom. The clerk said she should receive them in a week to ten days.

That was easy, Jamie thought as she picked up the infant carrier and headed for the door. As soon as she had a birth certificate, she could apply for a Social Security number and obtain a driver’s license.

That afternoon she called a classic-car dealer in Wichita, Kansas, and told him about her car. He sounded interested. And honest, if one could determine such a thing over the telephone. Then she ran a few errands while she still had the car. At a secondhand store, she bought a baby bed, a floor lamp, and a radio. Then she went to a discount store where she selected more clothing for Billy, bedding for his bed, a huge package of diapers, a large bag of dog food, a rawhide bone, and a Frisbee. Last she stocked up on staples at a supermarket.

The landlady’s door opened as Jamie started up the stairs with the last of her purchases. “How’s that baby doing,” Mrs. Duffy asked as she stepped out into the hall.

“Just fine,” Jamie said. “He and I are learning more about each other every day.”

Mrs. Duffy reached out and stroked Billy’s head. “Such a pretty little boy,” she said. “You be sure and enjoy him while he’s little. Children grow up so fast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie said and headed up the stairs.

After she put away the groceries, Jamie put the baby in the sling and the leash on Ralph, and they went out for an evening walk. It was almost balmy, and she realized that spring was in the air, that the trees and shrubs were starting to bud.

Her long cold winter was over.

Early the next morning, she gave Ralph the rawhide bone in hopes it would help him pass a long, lonely day shut up in the apartment and headed for Wichita.

She avoided I-35 and took Highway 74 north until it ended at the town of Deer Creek, then she crossed under the interstate and took Highway 77 and then Highway 15 into Wichita.

She arrived at the classic-car lot before the appointed hour. She watched while a tall, lanky young man named Underwood walked around the car then lifted the hood. Then she and Billy waited inside the cluttered office while Mr. Underwood drove the car.

When he returned he asked what she wanted for the car. When Jamie told him, he looked as though she were demented.

“You told me on the phone that you are an honest man and would do right by me,” Jamie told him. “I’m a single mother with a new baby and need the money from this car just to get by.”

“I could take it on consignment,” he suggested.

Jamie shook her head. She needed to sever all ties with this car. Today. Its very uniqueness made her feel as though she were driving around in a vehicle with a target painted on its side.

Mr. Underwood made an offer considerably lower than her asking price. Jamie made him a counteroffer, and they shook hands.

“I’ll need the money in cash,” Jamie told him.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Domestic trouble?” he asked.

She nodded.

He looked down at the car title. “I see the original owner of the car was a Gladys Simpson.”

“She’s my grandmother. You’ll see on the back of the title where she signed the car over to me before she died. I have her death certificate-and her driver’s license if you want to verify her signature.”

She watched while he looked at the certificate and the license and made copies of both. Then he picked up her Texas driver’s license again and stared at the image. “You have any other identification?”

Jamie produced her Social Security card, her birth certificate, and her University of Texas student ID. She wondered how many months or years would have to go by before she once again could identify herself as “Jamie Amelia Long.”

Mr. Underwood gave her a ride to the bus station in downtown Wichita. “Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Florida,” she said firmly. “I am sick and tired of being cold. And I have an aunt there who is going to look after my baby while I finish college. That’s what the money from the car is for. I’m going to use it for tuition and books.”

Her story amazed her. Should she be worried that she was getting so proficient at lying?

She purchased a ticket to Oklahoma City.

As the bus rolled down I-35 toward Oklahoma City, she tried to think if there was anything else she should do. Any mistakes she might have made.

Every mile she put between herself and her car, she felt safer. Soon she would have a new birth certificate with a different name, which would also make her feel safer, but not safe.