Read the first chapter, "Restless Men", from The Enders Hotel: A Memoir by Brandon R. Schrand:

"On a rain-soaked afternoon in August of 1975 my mother took her shift behind the counter in the bar of the Enders Hotel. It would have been an ordinary afternoon in Soda Springs, Idaho, if not for the sudden downpour in that stretch of summer’s furnace-breath. The rains drove farmers into the dank hollows of their Quonset huts that hugged the rocky landscape. And they sent, too, the ore-mine roughnecks scampering for cover. Some jobs shut down all together. Irrigation lines stopped surging their rainbow arc of canal water over the season’s last run of alfalfa. But because it is high desert country, the rains passed, as they always do, and the clouds cleared as evening dragged across the basalt flows and barley fields, brooming the sky of its light.

Hours later, a man named Larry who was staying in one of the hotel rooms upstairs, shot and killed his best friend, Charlie—point blank—on our barroom floor. It was an accident, a drunken misunderstanding, as so many of these things are.

For first-degree murder, Larry was given a life sentence and sent to the Idaho State Penitentiary. He was admitted only a couple of months after my father, Jerry Imeson, a man I would never meet, had been released from the same prison for knocking over a pharmacy.

Larry was thirty. Charlie was thirty-three, and my father twenty-three.

All these restless men.

My family had not owned the Enders Hotel but six months before that man’s blood soaked the carpet. And although his would be the only murder to occur under that ceiling while we owned the place, he wouldn’t be the only one to die there, or who would otherwise vanish."