OK. I just fell in love. This is my new fav crime/detective/western locale series. It is the Sheriff Walt Longmire series, and where have I been since they started? This is the sixth in the series, so as usual, I am a little late to the party, but it´s OK – I BMO beer.
Walt Longmire is a Sheriff in a region right outside a Cherokee Indian Reservation on the boundary of Wyoming and Montana. His life long best friend is Henry Standing Bear, he has a Basque deputy, and a Philadelphia born and bred woman as his other deputy.
Now here is why I love this writer:
I tried to get a straight answer from his grandson and granddaughter-in-law as to why their grandfather had been tied with a hundred feet of nylon rope to the rear bumper of the 1968 Oldsmobile Toronado.
… The chimney of the big house gets stopped up in the winter, so we dip a mop in kerosene and force it down the flue to clean it out. Grampus´s agile. He can climb out that top window on the gable end and get ahold of the gutter and swing a leg up onto the roof. It´s slippery up there with the ice, so he tied it to his waist and slung it over the peak and I tied ér off onto the Classic. Gina come around the house and said she was going to the store and then she left.
Got the picture? They had tied the rope to the car, Gina left in the car not knowing it, and pulled Grampus off the roof. His forward motion took out the mailbox at the end of the driveway. When Gina thought she heard something and stopped the car, he kept going and slid into the back of the car.
I figured this was going to be a fine tale. And it was. All about a junkyard that a developer of nearby land wants moved farther way from his property where he plans to build multimillion dollar houses. The owner of the junkyard — that would be the sliding Grandpus — finds a finger — a thumb specifically – in a cooler among the junk, and thus sets off the beginning of the search for the owner of the rest of the thumb, and the deaths of Grampus as well as the property developer.
You will be smiling to learn that the names of the eponymous junkyard dogs are Butch and Sundance. and that one of them takes a bit out of the sheriff’s butt. There. That should make your day.