Quarter-Ton Pickup #1

The Fuller Brush Salesperson

Susan Summerlin,
A twenty-seven-city tour! How do you prepare for something like that?

Hi Susan,
Fortunately, I don’t have to do it all by myself and I’ve got an incredible publicist at Penguin Random House that’s taken remarkable care of me over the years, Ben Petrone. The sad news is I’m losing him this year in that he’s retiring.

I got Ben pretty early in my career and he’s been a Godsend in setting things up on my lengthy tours, arranging flights, hotels and car rentals. I’m going to miss him greatly.

As for me personally, the best advice I ever got on touring was from my good friend Christopher Moore who said, “You really have to treat it like a marathon and get trained and up for it when it happens.”
The tour for The Longmire Defense is a whopper, but I’ve done bigger ones. When I first started out, I augmented the national tour with a motorcycle leg through the northwest that was a five-thousand-mile loop resulting in close to fifty events… Now, that was a tour. It might’ve been a little tiring, but it was less worrisome in that I didn’t have to rely on so many aspects of travel that were beyond my control. I just got on the bike, fired it up and headed out.

These days it’s a little more complicated, especially with the airlines, but I have to admit that I’ve only been delayed or cancelled twice in almost twenty years, so I really don’t have any right to complain and I’m hoping that trend continues.

Rental cars were an interesting evolution in that at the beginning I was always standing in line to get my car sometimes as long as forty minutes, which may not sound like much but when you’re flying every day, gathering your luggage, trying to get to the hotel and grab a shower before rushing to the bookstore—those forty minutes count. I noticed that businessfolks just walked right by the counter and jumped in their car and left… I asked Viking/Penguin about a corporate account, but they said they didn’t have one. So, I offered to get one for myself and just have them reimburse me, which they said was fine.

I think I’ve accumulated about a million points and generally pick out the strangest vehicles available, from Fiat 500’s to Hemi-powered Challengers. I figure it’s a way of trying these cars out without the financial burden of buying one.

It got me into trouble once when I rented one of those rent-a-racers in that I left Judy in Philadelphia and headed out to Mechanicsburg for an event. Dodging the Pennsylvania State Police on the turnpike I got there early, imagine that… I pulled in and watched a little of a Little-League game and then climbed back in the rocket ship and noticed that when you started it up, it pegged the needles and then settled into operational mode.

Pulling out my phone, yes, I have one, I took a snapshot of the dash with the car looking as if it was going 160 miles-an-hour with the graphic showing it sideways and texted it back to my wife. I went in to do the event and when I came out there were twelve messages from her.

I’m not allowed to go out on my own anymore.

See you on the trail,
Craig

PS: The Longmire Defense is out today and if you’re still on the fence have a peek at the early reviews!

USA Today:
“As compelling as ever, Johnson’s storytelling effortlessly transports the reader into the heart of Absaroka County. His attention to detail brings the landscape to life and makes it an integral part of the story. … Whether it’s the vast open plains or the soaring mountains, every scene is vividly portrayed, immersing the reader in the essence of Wyoming. … Additionally, another of Johnson’s greatest strengths lies in his ability to bring his characters to life. With his raw charm and unwavering commitment to justice, Sheriff Walt Longmire continues to be the heart and soul of the series, and longtime fans will no doubt relish the opportunity to learn more about his own family history. That doesn’t mean, however, that newcomers won’t be able to see and appreciate the chemistry between the characters, which adds depth to the story and weaves a web of relationships that will be relatable to many. … In fact, it’s precisely this blend of intriguing mystery and a perfectly cast of characters that makes Johnson’s latest novel one of his best novels to date, and a perfect place for new readers to meet Sheriff Longmire.”

Publisher’s Weekly (Featured)
A standard rescue mission reopens an old mystery in Johnson’s standout 19th outing for Wyoming sheriff Walt Longmire! While responding to a 911 call from a woman lost in the mountains, Longmire spots a 1940s-era rifle stuffed in some nearby rocks. He retrieves it and confirms it’s the same type of weapon that killed Bill Sutherland, Wyoming’s state accountant, in 1948. Sutherland had been elk hunting with a party including Longmire’s grandfather, Lloyd, the state treasurer, the treasurer’s chief clerk and hunting guide Clarence Standing Bear. Contemporary local reports speculated that Sutherland either took his own life or suffered an accident, but rumors spread that he was intentionally killed by someone he’d been hunting with-possibly Lloyd. Longmire’s discovery spurs him to try to close the cold case and, hopefully, exonerate his late grandfather. The whodunit, which presents a dizzying number of red herrings, is one of Johnson’s trickiest, keeping readers deliciously off-balance throughout. Series newcomers will have no trouble jumping into the action, and longtime readers will relish the dive into Longmire’s family history.

Kirkus (Starred)
Longmire lovers, rejoice! He’s back with a deeply personal case that uncovers family secrets.
Walt Longmire, sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming, has a long record of solving crimes under unorthodox circumstances. This time, Walt’s hunt for a lost tourist leads to an investigation that’s both personally wrenching and dangerous. The search area recalls a story his father told him about an elk hunt he went on as a teen with his own father, Lloyd. During the hunt, the state accountant, Big Bill Sutherland, was shot and killed, and his murder is still unsolved. When Walt finds the tourist, he also finds a buried, custom-made .300 H&H Magnum that was probably the murder weapon in the Sutherland case. The owner of that rifle was Lloyd Longmire, a wealthy man and a tough taskmaster who used chess lessons to teach Walt about not only the game, but about life. This coldest of cold cases forces Walt to look into his grandfather, with whom he continued to have an adversarial relationship away from the chessboard. Although Walt and cemetery expert Jules Beldon find an empty coffin in Sutherland’s grave, Lucian Connally, who’d been the sheriff when Sutherland was killed, is extremely reticent about the ancient mystery. But Beldon’s shooting turns the cold case hot, and a long conversation with a childhood friend who’s now an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives stirs up long-lost memories for Walt. Powerful people pressure him to forget the old case, which is tied to vast amounts of money in a hidden fund. It doesn’t matter: Walt has his own moral code, refuses to bend, and is ready to unmask his grandfather as a murderer if that’s where the clues lead.
Learning the history of a beloved protagonist raises an exciting mystery to a higher level.

PPS: The Longmire Defense book tour is rolling! Check the schedule here: https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/tour-of-duty.htm

PPPS: You can order autographed copies of The Longmire Defense at: https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

Quarter-Ton Pick-Up #2

Apple For Teacher

Katie Landsdale –
I am consistently amazed by the complexity and humanity of your characters and was wondering if you planned that kind of thing, or did it just come about naturally in the process of writing the books?

Hi Katie,

Well, first a thank you. You know, Sheridan College has a class this year on Thursday nights in their Fall semester titled Longmire where they explore and discuss the novels… I thought about taking it but was afraid I might flunk.

​I must admit that it’d be fun to see an academic approach to the novels, but I don’t know if I wouldn’t be a disruption to the educational process. I’m always reminded of that Rodney Dangerfield movie where he goes back to college and has to do a paper on Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five and gets, I think, an F. He calls up Vonnegut to read him the riot act, whom he also paid to write the essay, and Kurt tells him, “Hell, that’s what I thought it was about…”

​I’m not sure how much of the books are studied and how much they’re intuitive, although I’m sure that it becomes more internal as each novel mounts up. It’s interesting in that the amount of intellectual real estate the books take up in your head is equivalent to the space you take up in the bookstores, at least for me. When you first start out you have one book turned sideways and in that vast space of shelves you’re only occupying about an inch and a half… I remember walking into one of the big, chain bookstores in New York with Kathryn Court, the president of Penguin at that time and my editor, and looking around in the place and wondering out loud, “How are readers ever going to find me?”

When you have only one book in your head, there’s a limit to the high-context connection between you and the reader, but with twenty of them you’ve got a little bit more of a chance of getting noticed. I think it’s the same with the writing of the books, as the cannon grows you start having more of a mythos or universe to draw from.

There are lots of aspects that drive the choice of the next book, but one of the most powerful is—in what way is this story going to advance and develop the characters in my novel? It’s not a decision for the weak-hearted and you have to be willing to take chances or artistically speaking you’re dead in the water.

In the newest book, The Longmire Defense, there’s a major shift in the character’s lives which I think has been coming for a long time. There will be some readers who love it and others who won’t, but there’s an honesty to the choices and I think I’m being true to the trajectory I set up almost twenty years ago.

​Everybody keeps asking me what it’s like to be publishing the nineteenth novel in a series, but I have to admit that the numbers don’t really mean that much to me. I guess I go back to that time in the bookstore in New York with Kathryn.

“How am I ever going to get noticed?”

​She turned and looked at me with a smile and said, “That’s our job, all you have to do is keep writing good books.”

See you on the trail,
Craig

PS: The Longmire Defense book tour hits the road starting September 4th. A schedule of appearances can be found HERE: https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/tour-of-duty.htm

If you can’t catch us in person, you can order an autographed copy at: https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

The Quarter-Ton Pick-Up #3

The Bubbly

Ingrid De Groot Minnisto,
Not sure where to send the 52 Pickup. But here is my question. What do you do to celebrate the ending of the book? Party with Judy? Crack a beer? Do a jig around the loft?

Hi Ingrid,

I have to admit that like readers, I have a tendency to slow down when I get toward the end of a book, almost like I don’t really want it to end. It’s not like I don’t know that there are going to be more adventures with these characters, but I’m leaving them at that moment in their existence and it’s always a little sad.

​I tend to write in bookends as I call them, where the action or dialogue of the novel at the beginning is the same as the end, so I always know what the ending will be—sort of, so I’m generally not surprised by it.
​It’s usually a quiet thing, in that I’ll come down the stairs from the loft here at the ranch and we’ll be having dinner and I’ll mention, “I think I just finished a book.”

Judy tends to be a little more celebratory than me and her favorite way to express that is champagne. It’s funny but neither of us thought we liked the stuff until I did a residency in France, where we discovered we just didn’t like shitty champagne, but the expensive stuff ain’t bad at all.

Anyway, we generally keep a bottle of the good stuff ($50 or so) for just such occasions, and usually drink a toast to the good sheriff. So, that’s pretty much it, a bottle of champagne and a quiet night at home. I guess I spend so much time on the road that when I get the chance to stay here at the ranch, that becomes exotic in itself.

One of the stories I’ll always remember from that French residency was a small champagne maker who had a building in town where he did all of his work, but business was good, so he needed to expand and bought the building next door. Business was so good that they were using forklifts and other heavy equipment, so they had to pull up the cobblestones in the caves below in hopes of pouring a smooth, concrete floor that the machines could more easily roll.

That’s when they discovered human bones underneath the stones.

The building had been used by the Gestapo during the occupation of France in WWII. Knowing full well that the government would likely confiscate the building from them, they quietly returned the cobblestones in place.

The business of making champagne requires placing sugar plugs in the white wine and then stopping them, but with the process sometimes comes an explosion where a certain percentage of the product blows the corks and empties itself out and onto the cobblestones in the caves, seeping between and into the fertile ground.

​Upon showing me one of the empty bottles in the wall rack, the elder founder of the brand looked at me and then at the wet stones and simply said, “That one is for them.”

See you on the trail,
Craig

PS: You can order your autographed copy of THE LONGMIRE DEFENSE, to be released on September 5, at this link:

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

PPS: THE LONGMIRE DEFENSE book tour hits the trail starting September 4. You can find the schedule here:

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/tour-of-duty.htm

Quarter-Ton Pick-Up #4

It Ain’t Me, Babe

JoRo Momo,
I noticed while reading the books and seeing your photos on Facebook that you bear an uncanny resemblance to Walt. Was that a conscious decision, and if so, have you faced or battled any of the demons Walt has? In the first book I felt Walt was so depressed he was a hair away from death but also a closet alcoholic and the arrival of Dog seems to have been the catalyst to force him back into life. I guess 2 questions there. Thank you, I love these books!!!

Hi JoRo,

The curse of social media is that you constantly see photos of yourself, and I rarely see one that I don’t think—thank goodness I don’t make a living with my looks. I’m not exactly an industrial accident, but all I have to do is be in the same room with Robert Taylor and the difference becomes pretty obvious.

You’re right in that the first book in the series, The Cold Dish, and perhaps the series in its entirety is a story of resurrection. I’ve been lucky in life and haven’t had the tragedies that Walt’s had to face with the loss of Martha and the life and death decisions he has to make on a regular basis in his chosen profession. That having been said, I had my share of adventures with rodeo, motorcycle racing, skydiving, scuba-diving, mountaineering, and the odd scrape or two. I’m a big believer that a writer has to have a life before they can write about one, and I was able to garner a few experiences to draw from before I began seriously writing in my forties.

​Psychologically speaking, I think those demons you speak of are there for all of us. I like to think I’m an upbeat guy, but like everyone else the abyss gets ahold of me every now and then and it can be pretty grim. The way I combat that is with the writing. I guess I’ve got too many worlds going on in my head to be encapsulated by one or, as the old saying goes, the world is not enough.

​We just finished up irrigation season, or irritation season as I like to call it here at the ranch, and I’m firmly of the belief that it’s the devil’s handiwork in that it has three basic components, hydraulic, electric, and mechanical, and if you get two working, I guarantee the third will fail. Well, when I come stumbling onto the porch, covered in mud, blood, and cowshit, Judy will look at me and say, “Get undressed out there, go take a shower, and then go write.”
It always works; writing about Absaroka County has the same effect on me as I hope it has on the folks who read the books, and it takes me to a better place.

In answer to your second question, I’ve always seen Walt as the wounded animal at the center of the books, a big, rogue male buffalo who’s fought perhaps one too many battles. The amazing thing about buffalo is that when threatened, the herd will bring in the females, the calves, and the infirm, and the bulls will face out to take on all comers. I think Walt’s fortunate in that he has a lot of friends who will look after and tend to him—Cady, Dorothy, Ruby, Vic, Henry, Lucian and finally Dog. In the final analysis, they’re what keeps him afloat and woe be it to anybody who wants to take on that herd.

See you on the trail,
Craig

THE LONGMIRE DEFENSE will be revealed on September 5. If you want to ambush us on the tour trail, the schedule is HERE:

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/tour-of-duty.htm

If you want an autographed copy or six, just mosey on over to

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

Quarter-Ton Pick-Up #5

Where To Begin

Matt Smith,

If you had to choose one book from the series to give to someone to read and it was going to decide whether or not they were going to be a fan, what would your go-to book be? Personally, A Serpent’s Tooth or The Western Star are always the first ones that come to mind.

 

Hi Matt,

My wife, Judy, has strong feelings about that question and always tells people to start with the first book, The Cold Dish. I guess she’s got a point in that if you think you’re going to really enjoy the books you need to approach them chronologically, especially now that there are nineteen of them.

I’m a little more ecumenical in that I tend to ask people what kind of books do they like to read? If somebody likes thrillers, I recommend Hell Is Empty, if they like humor, I tell them to try Junkyard Dogs, history buffs like Another Man’s Moccasins, while equestrian types go for The Dark Horse. Younger readers I steer toward Spirit of Steamboat, and law enforcement gets The Highwayman.

            There are a couple I try and dissuade people from reading first, Death Without Company, Depth of Winter, or Hell And Back since they refer to the previous books so heavily.

            Beginners who don’t read much I’ll give Wait for Signs because the collection of short stories is something they can pick up and put down. I’m always a little taken aback when fans of the TV show haven’t ever read any of the books and always try and direct them to the ones who the teleplay writers relied on more heavily. Surprisingly, the producers latched onto one of the short stories, Slick Tongued Devil, as the touchstone for incoming writers. 

            It’s difficult in that the books tend to blend into one continuous story with references back, forward, and continuously threading between all the books. I love it when readers pick up the latest book and remember a reference to something about that book from two or three novels previous. There are plot points and characters in Hell and Back that harken to The Cold Dish almost twenty years ago, and for me that’s fun.

            A lot of time it comes down to the person who is doing the lend or gifting, and what their favorite novel in the series happens to be, which is always surprising. Grandmothers come up to me and tell me how much they love Depth of Winter or Hell is Empty, which are easily some of the most violent books in the canon, while hulking bikers will tell me they read Spirit of Steamboat to their children every Christmas—and isn’t that wonderful.

            Then there are some people flat-out tell me that they simply don’t read, which saddens me. I can’t imagine an existence without books and the gifts of story that they provide in my life. And there are also the folks who pick up one of my books which gets them reading again, and that’s a delight.

            So, I guess in answer to your question, it really doesn’t matter to me as long as I get a book in somebody’s hands so that they can enjoy the words in their head.

See you on the trail,

Craig

PS: You can order your copy of The Longmire Defense, to be released on September 5, at this link:

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

If you would like your copy autographed, please fill out the personalization box when you order, and thanks!

PPS: The Longmire Defense book tour hits the trail starting September 4. You can find the schedule here:

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/tour-of-duty.htm

Quarter-Ton Pick-up #6

The Road Less Traveled

“I’ve noticed writers are doing smaller tours these days, but yours seem to remain robust, I also noticed you were asking people on social media concerning their opinions on larger tours and I was just wondering about yours?”
-Eric Hilton

Hi Eric,

I’ve always done big tours, even augmenting my early jaunts with a motorcycle loop of about four thousand miles… My buddy, Willy Vlautin, a marvelous writer and lead singer for the group Richmond Fontaine, once said to me, “Craig, man, you tour like a band.”

​Back when I started writing twenty years ago that was pretty much what was done. There’s always been a great deal of controversy over whether touring really helps the sales of books, but how else do you get to meet readers and not only sign but personalize their books? I’m pretty sure it’s the cost of sending a writer out on the road that gives publishers pause, and I can understand that when the profit margins are so thin, but I have to admit—I like the road.

I once hitched a ride on a coal hopper when I was seven, finally getting picked off in a switchyard 287 miles from home with my jug of cool-aid and a grocery bag full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My father got me, drove me home in silence, and delivered me to my mother who asked the simple question, “What have we done to make you want to run away from home all the time?”

At that age I really didn’t have an answer, but I think it was just that there was a lot out there in the world and that I needed to get busy seeing it.

​I don’t mind flying, I don’t mind renting cars or doing my own navigating, especially when I walk up to the car rental counter, and they look at my hat. “Truck?”

Sometimes I think people get the wrong idea about author tours, that they’re glamourous and luxurious events, but the reality is a little more grounded. I’ll run you through the average tour day. The publisher tends to put you on early flights so that if there’s problems they can re-book you and get you to the event, so it’s usually up-and-at-‘em at 5am and then you get to the airport, grab a cup of coffee, fly, land and get your rental car, get something for lunch, go to the hotel and throw your things down before getting a shower and heading out to the bookstore to sign books before the event, do the event and then sign books for the people who are there and then go out and try and find a restaurant that’s still open, but most likely you’ll just end up going through the drive-in at the local fast-food joint and then heading back to the hotel and a strange bed—repeat twenty-six times.

Judy says we used to eat a lot better when I was less of a success and didn’t have to sign so many books. Viking/Penguin used to give me days off, but all I did was turn around and offer those days to other bookstores.

​I still enjoy doing the tours, and people say they can tell. I don’t think you can fake that kind of thing. Judy also says I enjoy them because we live in a town with only twenty-six people in it, but I think it’s more than that. It’s a challenge, but you get to know an awful lot of the people that have become friends through these little jaunts not only around our country but around the world, too.
​In a recent interview, they asked me about my fans, and I explained I didn’t have fans, just friends who read my books. I think that’s probably the key, there are folks I only get to see once a year and I miss them when I’m gone too long from them—kind of like Walt, Henry, Vic, Lucian, Ruby and Dog.

See you on the trail,
Craig

PS: I could tell you about the upcoming The Longmire Defense, the latest in the Walt Longmire series, but with all the marvelous reviews coming in, I think I’ll let Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus do the talking for me…

Publisher’s Weekly (featured)

A standard rescue mission reopens an old mystery in Johnson’s standout 19th outing for Wyoming sheriff Walt Longmire! While responding to a 911 call from a woman lost in the mountains, Longmire spots a 1940s-era rifle stuffed in some nearby rocks. He retrieves it and confirms it’s the same type of weapon that killed Bill Sutherland, Wyoming’s state accountant, in 1948. Sutherland had been elk hunting with a party including Longmire’s grandfather, Lloyd, the state treasurer, the treasurer’s chief clerk and hunting guide Clarence Standing Bear. Contemporary local reports speculated that Sutherland either took his own life or suffered an accident, but rumors spread that he was intentionally killed by someone he’d been hunting with-possibly Lloyd. Longmire’s discovery spurs him to try to close the cold case and, hopefully, exonerate his late grandfather. The whodunit, which presents a dizzying number of red herrings, is one of Johnson’s trickiest, keeping readers deliciously off-balance throughout. Series newcomers will have no trouble jumping into the action, and longtime readers will relish the dive into Longmire’s family history.

Kirkus (starred)
Longmire lovers, rejoice! He’s back with a deeply personal case that uncovers family secrets. Walt Longmire, sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming, has a long record of solving crimes under unorthodox circumstances. This time, Walt’s hunt for a lost tourist leads to an investigation that’s both personally wrenching and dangerous. The search area recalls a story his father told him about an elk hunt he went on as a teen with his own father, Lloyd. During the hunt, the state accountant, Big Bill Sutherland, was shot and killed, and his murder is still unsolved. When Walt finds the tourist, he also finds a buried, custom-made .300 H&H Magnum that was probably the murder weapon in the Sutherland case. The owner of that rifle was Lloyd Longmire, a wealthy man and a tough taskmaster who used chess lessons to teach Walt about not only the game, but about life. This coldest of cold cases forces Walt to look into his grandfather, with whom he continued to have an adversarial relationship away from the chessboard. Although Walt and cemetery expert Jules Beldon find an empty coffin in Sutherland’s grave, Lucian Connally, who’d been the sheriff when Sutherland was killed, is extremely reticent about the ancient mystery. But Beldon’s shooting turns the cold case hot, and a long conversation with a childhood friend who’s now an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives stirs up long-lost memories for Walt. Powerful people pressure him to forget the old case, which is tied to vast amounts of money in a hidden fund. It doesn’t matter: Walt has his own moral code, refuses to bend, and is ready to unmask his grandfather as a murderer if that’s where the clues lead. Learning the history of a beloved protagonist raises an exciting mystery to a higher level.

PPS: Oh yeah, here’s the tour…

The Longmire Defense Tour:

Monday, September 4th​​ Scottsdale, AZ / Poisoned Pen / 4:00 PM

Tuesday, September 5th​​ Orange County, CA / Book Carnival @Orange Library / 6:30 PM

Wednesday, September 6th​ Spokane, WA / NW Passage Book Club w/Auntie’s @Bing Theater / 7:00 PM

Thursday, September 7th​​ Seattle, WA / Third Place (Lake Forest) / 7:00 PM

Friday, September 8th​​ Portland, OR / Powell’s (Cedar Hills Crossing) / 7:00 PM

Saturday, September 9th​​ Bend, OR / Sun River Books @ Three Rivers School / 5:00 PM

Sunday, September 10th​​ Salt Lake City, UT / King’s English / 2:00 PM

Monday, September 11th​​ Cleveland, OH / Cuyahoga County Public Library w/ Mac’s Paperbacks / 7:00 PM

Tuesday, September12th​​ St. Louis, MO / St. Louis/Library w/ Left Bank Books / 7:00 PM

Wednesday, September 13th​ Houston, TX / Murder By The Book / 6:30 PM

Thursday, September 14th​ Dallas, TX / Half Price Books / 7:00 PM

Friday, September 15th​​ Raleigh NC / Quail Ridge Books / 7:00 PM

Saturday, September 16th​​ Pittsboro, NC / McIntire’s Books / 11:00 AM

Sunday, September 17th​​ Atlanta, GA / Booth Museum w/ A Cappella Books / 2:00 PM

Monday, September 18th​​ Philadelphia, PA / Main Line Books / 7:00 PM

Tuesday, September 19th​​ Mechanicsburg, PA / Mystery Books @ Shiremanstown Methodist Church / 7:00 PM

Wednesday, September 20th​ Phoenixville, PA / Read & Company / 7:00 PM

Thursday, September 21st ​Philly / Off

Friday, September 22nd​​ Denver, CO / Tattered Cover (Colfax) / 6:00 PM

Saturday, September 23rd​​ Cheyenne, WY / Laramie County Library w BN / 2:00 PM

Saturday, September 23rd​​ Laramie/, WY / Blue Mountain Books / 6:00 PM

Sunday, September 24th Casper, WY / Natrona Public Library w/ Wind City Books / 2:00 PM

Monday, September 25th ​​Sheridan, WY / Sheridan Stationary at Luminous Brewery / 6:00 PM

Tuesday, September 26th​​ Billings, MT / Billings Public Library w/ This House of Books / 6:00 PM

Saturday, September 30th Bozeman, MT /Country Bookshelf /Noon
Saturday, September 30th Livingston, MT / Elk River Books / 7:00 PM

Quarter-Ton Pick-Up #7

By The Numbers

Leo Mellon:

Except for one book, there are 16 chapters. Why?

Hi Leo,

One of the questions I get when I’m teaching writing classes (periodically) is how many words a day I write, the answer is that I have no idea. How many words in a chapter? I have no idea. How many words in a book? I, once again, have no idea. 

I don’t know. . . I guess being mostly self-taught in this writing thing, I just kind of tell the story. I’ve been quoted as saying that if you’re counting your words and not listening to those words, you are kind of missing the point—kind of like watching the odometer rather than the passing scenery.

​That having been said, the first novel I wrote is The Cold Dish, with sixteen chapters including an epilogue and I guess I got used to that kind of format early on. There are three types of superstitious personalities in my experience, ballplayers, cowboys, and writers. You get used to doing things a certain way, and you stick to it like glue. 

​Most crime fiction novels fall somewhere within a three-to-four-hundred-page range, and I write first-draft chapters that are about twelve pages, single spaced, with sixteen chapters gettingme into that area, double-spaced and formatted. Generally, I tend to write long and then cut back, because it makes a better book. The first draft of The Cold Dish was, believe it or not, 604 pages long. I know, War and Peace in Absaroka County. 

When I handed it in to my agent, she said, “You’re going to have to cut about two hundred pages out of this to get it published.” I did, and it did make for a much better book. Lesson learned. 

The book I wrote that broke that mold was my first novella, The Spirit of Steamboat. Just because an idea isn’t a four-hundred-page idea doesn’t mean it’s not a good one. I decided to write Steamboat as an extended short story, not caring how long it was. It was a hard sell to my publisher, but they finally relented, and it landed on the New York Times Bestseller’s List. The next was Depth of Winter, which I knew was going to be an epic book and so just kept writing until it was done. No real mystery, huh?

When I first started writing, I noticed that a lot of really bad books seemed to start with prologues, really terrible additions with information that could’ve just as easily been incorporated in the main body of the text. Example: “If only I had known that Uncle Bob’s branding in ’48 would lead to the carnage…” So, I decided to just remove the temptation and not write them.

Then there are the epilogues, which I really like—a little extra after the fact that provides the opportunity to sew things up. Readers tell me that they sometimes slow down at the end of the books because they don’t want them to end, and you want to know something? I do the same thing when I’m writing them. 

See you on the trail,

Craig

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

Quarter-Ton Pickup, #8

Up the Mountain

Shannon Shultz Eckley:
What is your favorite location setting in the series outside of town itself?

Hi Shannon,
Oh boy, that’s a tough one… I had lunch one time with the folks from the Wyoming Office of Tourism and they were telling me how much they loved the books and I asked why? They said it was because I used real locations in my books and when visitors ask, they can tell them exactly where the novels take place.

People sometimes ask me why, when I use so many real locations in and around the city of Buffalo and greater Johnson County, why it is I didn’t just leave the names as they are rather than Absaroka County and Durant? Pretty simple really, I just wanted the artistic freedom to create stories without being held responsible for every real-life detail. But then something funny happened. I found myself staying pretty true to the typography of the area, the natural features, the roads, the trails, buildings, and businesses. I think probably because it’s just easier to keep in my head—like the old maxim, tell the truth and you’ll never have to remember a lie.
It kind of became a challenge, seeing if I could fit the plots into the real world.

So, what are my favorite locations? Well, it breaks down into two types, the man-made and the natural ones. I like including local businesses in my novels like The Busy Bee Café, Crazy Woman Liquor, Paradise Guest Ranch, The Dash Inn and most importantly the Jim Gatchell Museum or old Carnegie Library which is Walt’s office. There are a few that are made up like Crazy Woman Books (I always wanted to own a bookstore) or some that used to exist but are now gone like the U-Turn Inn in my tiny town of Ucross (population 26) which was the model for Henry’s Bar, The Red Pony, which gets its name from the Steinbeck novella.

But the biggest one, both physically and emotionally, has to be the Bighorn Mountains.

There’s a part in The Cold Dish where Walt looks up and ruminates about the range, thinking about how he missed those mountains when he was away in Vietnam and that now that he was back, he makes a point of looking up at them every day… mostly.

I spent my youthful adulthood mountaineering, running around all over the planet climbing mountains in obscure places, but I still remember the first time I saw the Bighorns coming down out of Montana when I was delivering horses for a rancher I was working for at the time. It was love at first sight. I guess because they’re right there, all 13,171 feet and they still have a wildness to them. There aren’t any multi-million-dollar condos or ski resorts, just forests, trails and wilderness areas with no roads, electricity, or modern conveniences.
A few years back I was finally able to make one of my lifelong dreams come true and acquired an old cabin up in the National Forest that had been built back in 1896; of course, it needed a lot of work, which I did myself, but it was a labor of love. It’s pretty rustic, but I really enjoy going up there on weekends and having the moose come right up to the porch.

The cabin was originally Lodge #34 of the National Order of Cowboy Rangers and has quite a history… Supposedly when Buffalo Bill Cody died back in 1917, the Wyoming American Legion posted a $5,000 reward for the return of the body that Colorado had decided to appropriate. Well, as the story goes, Lodge #34 of the NOCR dispatched a half-dozen riders on horseback to go retrieve Bill’s body. As legend would have it, the riders made it as far as Cheyenne before being overtaken by high spirits and women of low character… But what if they hadn’t been, and who exactly is buried on Lookout Mountain?
But that’s another novel.

See you on the trail,
Craig

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

Quarter-Ton Pick-Up, #9

Lawyers, Guns & Money

Jason Dildine:

Thanks for doing this again, Mr. Johnson. Walt walks the Earth with a strong moral compass. As you and other writers have stated, ‘write what you know’. So, with that in mind, how did your upbringing influence your moral compass that you passed along to Walt? I know for me, one of the tried-and-true things I got from my dad was, never talk money, politics, or religion with friends or family. While that’s general on the face of it, I take it to mean to be accepting of all views and to ‘own’ my stance and to not force it onto others. Interested in reading your perspective. Thank you for your time!

Hi Jason,

In answer to your question, my parents walked a fine line and were very clear about their children doing that, too. I think they set us on a trajectory, but then I think it’s pretty much up to each of us as an individual to decide the path we were going to take.

When I was putting the components together to comprise Walt, an awful lot of people were writing noir and many of the crime fiction characters were alcoholic detectives burying bodies in their back yards– I wanted to do something different. I wanted Walt to be a good guy, not a boring one and not perfect but decent. The way I’ve described him is that if I slide off the road in a snowstorm in the middle of the night and a set of headlights pulls up to help me, I want that guy to be Walt.

Money, politics, and religion… Boy, I’ve heard that one my whole life, too. It’s interesting because the rules change in Europe where politics are game, but your personal life is off limits. Well, my personal life is kind of boring, so I get a lot of political questions. I think one is in a unique position as an author and a public figure. I think, early on, I decided that I could deal with those issues but not weaponize them in the novels. I have my own feeling about all three, but I’m also aware that there’s a responsibility that goes along. I think the key is in being respectful of people and their beliefs and that includes the characters I write about.

​Some of my favorite conversations are the spiritual knock-down-drag-outs in which Walt and Henry engage. Walt’s a detective, and he’s extremely grounded in his belief with empirical data—nothing but the facts. Henry, whereas is more philosophical and open to the mysticism and spirituality that’s part of Cheyenne everyday life. Both of them are right, and for me one of the joys of their relationship is watching them wrangle it out on a book-to-book basis. 

​Money is an interesting subject in that it’s hardly ever mentioned in the books although it weighs heavily in the upcoming The Longmire Defense, where we discover that Lloyd, Walt’s grandfather was greatly involved in Wyoming State finance, perhaps a little too involved. 

Every once in a while, somebody will ask me a financial question concerning the characters, like how Lucian Connally can afford Pappy Van Winkle’s bourbon… (Hint: he’s a Doolittle Raider and besides being extremely wealthy from his family ranch assets, people like to do him favors.) Actually, money infrequently entersthe novels because Walt lives in what has been described a modest lifestyle. I’m not sure what that means but I’ve also been described that way, myself. There are these wacky websites that pull together information on public figures, their physical traits, how much money they have, and a friend forwarded mine to me because he thought I’d enjoy it… Well, I have to admit that I did in that they had hardly anything right except for my lifestyle, which, by all accounts, is modest. 

​Recently, in a Belgian interview, I got asked how my life had changed, and I told them, “I can walk into Ace Hardware and buy anything I want.” I’m not sure they had any idea what I was talking about, but for those of us who’ve straightened nails or have those coffee cans with copious amounts of random screws—we know where I’m coming from.

See you on the trail,

Craig

Coming September 5!

Quarter-Ton Pickup, #10

The Road Less Traveled

Tim Goncharoff:

It can be challenging to continue developing a character after numerous novels. We’ve seen Walt go to Mexico, to the past, and recently into the surreal and fantastic. Do you worry about how far to stretch the storytelling space before you begin to lose what readers love about the character?

 

Hi Tim,

Everybody keeps telling me that it gets more challenging to write a series of novels after a certain point, and I guess I believed that, too. When I first wrote The Cold Dish and Viking/Penguin asked me to continue it as a series, I finally agreed but only for three more. I guess I figured if it didn’t work out, I could just finish up with one seasonal year of Walt’s life and then walk away. It didn’t work out like that, and I’m finishing the twentieth novel in the series right now.

I don’t put very many limitations on what I do with Walt and where I go, but there was something that became clear very quickly–if I was going to write a series of books about the sheriff of the least populated county in the country’s least populated state, how many people can you have murdered before it gets ludicrous? That led to my home and away format, where I generally have Walt close to home in Absaroka County and then out somewhere else in the next, rotating like a touring ball team.

I guess the first novel in which I did that was Kindness Goes Unpunished, the third book in the series, and then Another Man’s Moccasins where Walt goes to Philadelphia and Viet Nam in 1968, respectively. I think I learned that there’s a freedom in not doing a series in chronological order and that you don’t have to be anchored into a time/place and/or ensemble of characters, that you really must give the series and the characters room to breathe.

There are two types of emails I get after every book–that I beat up on Walt too much, and I need to take care of him in the next, and that there wasn’t enough of a reader’s favorite character… What some readers might not realize is that if you have the same amount of the same characters in the same place in each novel, you risk becoming formulaic, and that’s something I simply can’t do—not only for their sake but for mine as well.

I get positive and negative responses to every book, which is the price I pay for having an open line in social media and a personal contact email on my website at www.craigallenjohnson.com, but that’s something I’m not likely to change. I like hearing from folks and reading their opinions on my work, but that’s where it ends. I don’t think as an artist you can go around trying to make everybody happy or you’ll just drive yourself crazy and cripple your art. As my wife Judy always says to me when I’m trying to make a tough decision concerning the books, “You’re the only one in the room.”

I push the outside of the envelope sometimes, as with Hell And Back most recently, but I’m firmly of the belief that my readers are smarter than the average bear and want something more than they can get in the paperback rack at the check-out lane at the local grocery store. When I’m writing the books, I like to think that my readers have a hand on my shoulder because I care about their opinions, but allowing other people to tell you what to do for a living would be a form of artistic death.

When the first away book, Kindness Goes Unpunished, came out I had an old rancher tell me, “I’m not reading that one.” I asked him why, and he said he only read books that take place in Wyoming. I confessed that that must limit the width and breath of his reading. He laughed, and we parted ways. A few years later I ran into him again at a signing and he admitted that in a lull between books, he’d weakened and read the book and that it was now actually one of his favorites.

I think you have to have a freedom as a writer and when you concede the ability to choose what and how you write about to someone else due to popularity, personal taste, or financial gain—you’ve lost something that you can never get back.

There have always been complaints from readers who didn’t care for a certain novel, all of them, but my response is always the same, “Don’t worry, the next one is completely different.”

See you on the trail,

Craig

THE LONGMIRE DEFENSE – coming September 5

https://www.craigallenjohnson.com/the-longmire-defense.htm

Recidivism

2023 Longmire Holiday Story

Munching on caramel-corn I studied the individual in question, but like most of the guilty he wouldn’t make eye-contact with me. “The act of repeated undesirable behavior after experiencing negative consequences of your actions such as the percentage of prisoners who are arrested for similar offenses, or, in the parlance of the law — repeat offenders.”

     I glanced at Mary Jo who covered a grin but then snapped her fingers at him. “Harry, you need to pay attention here.”

     He looked at her for a moment and then gazed sadly at the floor and then back to me.

     “Harry, you have to stop doing this. First of all, it is a felony charge to escape from custody, and that’s compounded by breaking and entering. . .”

     Mary Jo sipped her coffee. “He didn’t really break, he just entered.”

     I glanced at the director of the Durant Home for Assisted Living, who was wearing her jaunty Santa Claus hat, letting her know that her input wasn’t particularly needed at this juncture in the interrogation.

     She shrugged. “Well, he didn’t. I just come in, and he’s over there on the reception area sofa, sound asleep.”

     I turned back to the lawbreaker as Louie Prima swung out What will Santa Clause Say on the intercom system. “Harry, everybody’s starting to lose patience with you.”

     His eyes returned to the carpet, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him — it was cold outside this morning and every time you walked by the glass double-doors of the Durant Home for Assisted Living the things opened.

     He offered me his paw.

     I took the paw but also glanced back at the director. “Is his name really Harry?”

     She shrugged. “Nobody knows, but when I called the animal shelter that’s how they referred to him. Short for Houdini, I guess, because he seems to be able to escape from anything.”

     “What is this, the fourth time?”

     She nodded, the fur ball on her tasseled head bobbing. “Fifth.”

     My eyes went back to the aged mutt, part Lab and who knew what else. “He seems like a nice old guy, it’s a shame they can’t find a home for him.”

     “Beth over at the shelter says he shows all the indications of being abused and it’s harder with the older dogs; people want puppies, especially this time of year.”

     I reached out and stroked Harry’s greying muzzle. “How come you guys don’t take him?”

     “I’d love to, but we can’t, it’s against state rules. Besides, one of the clients has complained.”

     I ran my hand over Harry’s head and felt the bumps or birdshot where they said somebody had used him for target practice. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “That man in room 32.”

     I sat back in my chair. “Lucian? He never complains about my dog.”

“Your dog is a visitor not a resident; I got an ear-full about it at my desk yesterday. Evidently, the Sheriff feels it’s unsanitary to have pets in the facility full-time.”

     I made a face and stood, my gun belt creaking as the dog looked up at me with a somber expression as I walked over to the front desk to get another handful of caramel-corn and thumbed through the pages in the reception book, absentmindedly reading the names and times of the people who had gone in and out of the facility. “Do you have the leash?”

     She sidled to one side, pulled a nylon loop from behind her and handed it to me. “Don’t you need another dog in your life, Walt?”

     “Not really — mine sulks whenever another one is around.”

     She stooped down, gently ruffling the mutt’s ears and looking into his sad eyes. “You hang in there, Harry, there’s somebody who’s looking for a dog just like you.”

     I slipped the loop around his neck and then turned to start down the hallway in the opposite direction of the front doors, Harry walking along beside me like a condemned prisoner on death row. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to have a word with somebody before I have to take you back.”

     Outside room 32, I knocked and then waited. It was early, but I knew he’d be up. My old boss and the previous Sheriff of Absaroka County had never slept past 6 A.M in his life.

     I knocked again, and the door was snatched open.

     “Who in the holy hell…” Holding his bathrobe and his four-prong cane, he stood there with a face half-covered in Barbasol shaving cream, at first staring at me and then down at the prisoner.“ …Again?”

     “Good morning, Lucian and Merry Christmas.” I gestured with the leash. “I got you a dog.”

     The old sheriff leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms and frowning at me. “I suppose you think this situation is humorous.”

     I shrugged. “The poor ol’ guy just needs a place to go to, and I can’t believe you’re the one who has a problem with him being around here.”

     Harry actually looked up at the aged Doolittle Raider and slowly wagged his tail, even going so far as to nose the pocket of his tattered robe, but Lucian pushed his head away. “That dog has no place in this facility — it’ll just lead to trouble.”

     I leaned against the doorway in a confidential way. “You know, you hold a lot of sway around this place, and if you were to say it was all right…”

     “No, now get him out of here and back over to the pound where he belongs.”

I stared at Lucian and then started back down the hallway with the prisoner. He called after me. “When’s dinner?”

     Turning, I gave him a moment to indicate that I wasn’t completely happy with him. “Cady says she and Lola will be up here around four, and Vic is already cooking her Tuscan-Style roast turkey — I’m assuming we’ll be eating around five.”

     “You’ll come and get me at 4:30?”

     “I will. Do you suppose you’ll be ready?” My answer was the door slamming in my face as I glanced back down at Harry and started off. “I don’t know why you’d want to live with him anyway.”

***

     The Durant Animal Shelter was only a quarter of a mile down the road but was across a steady stream of traffic which gave even more bewilderment to Harry’s ability to get to the old folk’s home, as Lucian referred to it, in the middle of the night.

     The high school kid who worked evenings, weekends, and holidays was waiting, clutching a paperback at the door when I arrived.

     “Merry Christmas, Patrick.”

“Hey, Sheriff.” He held the door open and I led Harry into the office and down the hallway to kennel #5, where the young man opened the door and held it for the dog.

     Harry glanced up at me as I slipped off the leash and then looked at Patrick, resigning himself to enter the concrete stall where he laid down, curled up and then stared at the wall, utterly forlorn.

     I studied the kennel with its concrete walls, floor, and chain-link doorway leading inside to where we now stood. “How do you suppose he does it?”

“We have no idea.” The kid shook his head. “We just come in in the morning, and he’s gone.”

     I kneeled down in order to look at the small doorway that led to the outside portion of Harry’s tiny world. “Are you the one who named him?”

     “Yes, Sir.” He held up the paperback. “I’ve been reading about him — Houdini, I mean. His real name was Erich Weiss, and his father was a Rabbi who moved from Hungary to Wisconsin.” Patrick thumbed through the pages. “He could hold his breath for over four minutes.”

     Continuing to study the tiny gulag, I gestured toward the opening with the flap. “The small door here, what keeps Harry from going through that at night?”

“It’s locked, there’s a board we put across that holds all of the kennels shut.”

     “And it’s still in place when you come back in the mornings?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Show me.”

     Patrick walked us through a side door at the end of the hall which led onto a sidewalk where a two-by-eight piece of painted lumber was hinged on one end and propped up with an L-shaped brace. Taking hold of the metal handle, I watched as he lifted it and then settled it into a lower bracket where it barred the movement of the entire row of kennel doors. “There’s no way they can get out with this thing in place.”

     “And the only way to open it is from here?”

     “Yeah.”

     Glancing at the gentle coating of snow that was continuing to fall on the end of the concrete, I could see a pattern of four circular impressions buried there as the young man joined me. “It’s a shame.”

     I turned to look at Patrick. “What’s that?”

     “We’re a no-kill shelter, but Harry’s been here so long that he’s getting transferred and he’ll probably end up in a kill facility.”

     “When does he get transferred?”

     “Monday.”

***

     “I can’t Dad, it’s a rental and nobody is there all day — I’m at work and Lola is at daycare.”

     I took another sip of wine and watched as Lucian continued to eat another helping of the Tuscan turkey, spinach casserole, and pine-nut Brussels sprouts. “Do they ever feed you over at that place, Lucian?”

     He paused chewing long enough to deliver a proclamation. “Not food like this.”

     Vic carried a dessert from the kitchen and placed it on the table. “I’m glad to hear you say that old man.”

     He lifted his own glass of Chianti. “My compliments to the chef.” He then reached across and poked my granddaughter’s nose with a forefinger. She giggled and dropped a piece of turkey which was immediately devoured by Dog, the Great White Shark wannabe who lurked adjacent to Lola’s booster seat.

     Vic, who sat opposite me, lifted her glass of red and took a strong slug. “So, why has this pound dog become such a cause célèbre?”

     “Harry, his name is Harry.” I glanced out the windows where it continued to snow gently. “I just feel sorry for the old guy. It’s the holidays, and he’s sitting over there in a concrete cell with no one who cares about him.”

     Vic continued sipping her wine. “And this, Sheriff, is a unique situation because?”

     I smiled. “He didn’t do anything to belong there, Undersheriff.” Glancing back at the assembled group, I noticed Lucian surreptitiously sneaking turkey pieces into a Zip-Lock bag for later, as if Vic wouldn’t be making him a to-go package. “Harry keeps escaping, which is enough of a miracle, but he also appears to have made up his mind to live over at the Home for Assisted Living, like that’s the place he needs to be.”

     Cady reached over and stroked her daughter’s hair. “Why a miracle?”

     “Well, when I dropped him off, I had a look around Harry’s kennel and there’s simply no way that dog can get out of that place and yet he does, night after night.”

     “Uncle Lucian, why don’t you let him come live with you guys, I’m sure the other clients would love having a dog around — it might remind them of home.”

     He leveled a gaze at her. “It is my home, and I don’t want some damn dog there.”

     “But it’s a privately owned facility.”

     He shook his head. “Still governed by state regulations that prohibit pets.”

     “But Uncle Lucian…”

     He suddenly began to stand, then struggling with his cane as he pushed away from the table, glanced at his wristwatch. “I would like to go home now”

     We all stared at him, Vic the first to respond, gesturing toward the dessert. “I made tiramisu like you like.”

     Shrugging his coat on, he moved toward the front door of my tiny cabin, cranking on his hat. “I want to go home.”

     I stood. “Lucian…?”

     “Now.”

     Cady picked up Lola and came around the table. “Uncle Lucian, I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing up the subject.”

     He patted her arm and reached up to cup Lola’s chin in his hand. “I’m fine, I just need to get home It’s Christmas, and it’s getting late, and I’m sure all of you have better things to do than babysit me.”

     Vic handed him a wrapped-up portion of the dessert. “Here, so you’ve got something to go with your bourbon when you get home, you cantankerous ole’ fart.” She reached an arm around him and gave him a hug before the three of them watched me usher him out the door and into my truck.

***

     “Harry is getting transferred on Monday.” The snow had stopped, but the roads were still slick, and I drove slowly through the empty streets. “I just thought you’d like to know.”

     Lucian starred through the windshield, watching the wipers as they kept time with our travels. “Transferred?”

     “Yep, the kid at the shelter said Harry had been there so long they were going to have to ship him off to a kill shelter and that he probably won’t last long there.”

     He took a few moments to answer. “Probably for the best.”

     I pulled up to the front door of the Home and then started to put the truck in PARK when he reached a hand out. “You don’t have to walk me in, I ain’t yer damn prom date.”

     I watched as he softly shut the door and then hobbled on his cane, careful not to slip on the shoveled sidewalk as his boots crunched on the salt melt as the doors opened and closed, the Home for Assisted Living swallowing him up.

     Looking down, I saw the dessert Vic had made, carefully wrapped in tinfoil, still setting there on the center console.

***

     There were no lights on the back of the building, and the streetlights from the busy road didn’t reach the area, so it was easy to stay in the shadows. It was getting late, but there was no wind and the temperature had leveled off in the comfortable high twenties.

     I stood there eating the tiramisu with the plastic fork Vic had thoughtfully provided and spotted the familiar individual as he made his way across the road and then followed the sidewalk until he cut across the vacant lot making a beeline directly toward me.

     I checked my pocket watch but continued eating because I knew it would take a while for him to codger over.

     Approaching, he walked past the kennels, and I watched as he stopped at the end and then lifted the board from the brace. Like clockwork, Harry plunged through the opening, his door flapping behind him as he approached the chain-link fence. The dog paused for a moment, looking in my direction as he no doubt smelled me or the tiramisu, and then leapt up the fence, climbing over to land on the other side and then wag at his partner in crime who pulled pieces of turkey out and fed them to him from the plastic bag.

     “…You know, you’re kind of a repeat offender yourself.”

     He started at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn and continued to feed the dog.

     “First off, you’ve never taken food from the table. Second, Harry hasn’t approached a single person except you in the entire time I’ve known him. Third, you’ve never left Victoria Moretti’s tiramisu behind in your life. Fourth, that four-prong cane of yours leaves highly discernible tracks in the snow — and five?” I took the final bite of his dessert and then walked over toward him, folding the fork up in the foil and depositing it in the breast pocket of his coat with a gentle pat. “When you go out on these little midnight jaunts, don’t sign in and out in the front desk register.”

     He continued feeding the dog.

     “The lady doth protest too much.” I reached down and ruffled the dog’s floppy ears. “I guess you figured if you kicked up enough of a fuss and then changed your mind, it’d swing the whole thing in your favor and poor Harry here would’ve found his forever home with assisted living.”

     Reaching into his other pocket, I watched as the old sheriff took out an expensive leather leash and then clicked the clasp onto Harry’s collar, leading the aged dog across the snow-covered field and back toward their home as if I’d never been there at all.

I smiled after the two of them, shaking my head. “Merry Christmas, Lucian — and you too, Harry.”

©️Craig Allen Johnson
28 S. Main Street
Buffalo, WY

“Annual Man-Caused Disturbance”

Longmire Days started out as a small event where author Craig Johnson set up in front of the Occidental Hotel in Buffalo, Wyoming to autograph his books and talk about Longmire. It was a hit, though Craig tells the story about one local who claimed the Longmire author had “hit the big time and doesn’t live here anymore”. Apparently, even Craig’s photo on the back covers was not sufficiently convincing to establish his identity.

Nowadays, Longmire Days is a Big Deal, sometimes referred to by the originator himself as a “man-caused disturbance”, as it draws in thousands of fans of the tv show and the book series, temporarily tripling the population in the town of Buffalo (Pop. 4415).

The 2023 annual “man-caused disturbance” takes place from July 20-23 and features appearances by Robert Taylor (Sheriff Walt Longmire), Louanne Stephens (Ruby), A Martinez (Jacob Nighthorse), John Bishop (Bob Barnes), Derek Phillps (Travis Murphy), and of course the Man himself, Craig Johnson.

https://www.longmiredays.com/