The hardness of him seemed strangely softened.
Jack was his son.

Buster Jack, the range had always called him, with other terms, less kind, that never got to the ears of his father.

Jack had been sent away three years ago, just before Columbine's return from school.

Therefore she had not seen him for over seven years.

But she remembered him well--a big, rangy boy, handsome and wild, who had made her childhood almost unendurable.
"Yes--my son--Jack--he's comin' home," said Belllounds, with a break in his voice.