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Next to Last Stand: A Longmire Mystery
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About Next To Last Stand: A Longmire Mystery
Product Description The new novel in the beloved New York Times bestselling Longmire series. One of the most viewed paintings in American history, Custer's Last Fight, copied and distributed by Anheuser-Busch at a rate of over two million copies a year, was destroyed in a fire at the 7th Cavalry Headquarters in Fort Bliss, Texas, in 1946. Or was it? When Charley Lee Stillwater dies of an apparent heart attack at the Wyoming Home for Soldiers & Sailors, Walt Longmire is called in to try and make sense of a piece of a painting and a Florsheim shoebox containing a million dollars, sending the good sheriff on the trail of a dangerous art heist. Review Praise for Craig Johnson “It's the scenery—and the big guy standing in front of the scenery—that keeps us coming back to Craig Johnson's lean and leathery mysteries.” —The New York Times Book Review “Johnson's hero only gets better—both at solving cases and at hooking readers—with age.” —Publishers Weekly “Like the greatest crime novelists, Johnson is a student of human nature. Walt Longmire is strong but fallible, a man whose devil-may-care stoicism masks a heightened sensitivity to the horrors he's witnessed.” —Los Angeles Times “Johnson's trademarks [are] great characters, witty banter, serious sleuthing, and a love of Wyoming bigger than a stack of derelict cars.” —The Boston Globe About the Author Craig Johnson is the New York Times bestselling author of the Longmire mysteries, the basis for the hit Netflix original series Longmire. He is the recipient of the Western Writers of America Spur Award for fiction, the Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award for fiction, the Nouvel Observateur Prix du Roman Noir, and the Prix SNCF du Polar. His novella Spirit of Steamboat was the first One Book Wyoming selection. He lives in Ucross, Wyoming, population 25. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 Years ago, on one particularly beautiful, high plains afternoon when I was a deputy with the Absaroka County Sheriff’s Department, I propped my young daughter, Cady, on my hip and introduced her to Charley Lee Stillwater. Charley Lee was one of the Wavers, as they were called, the old veterans who sat in front of what was originally Fort McKinney, which then was called the Wyoming Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Home until the name was changed to the Veterans’ Home of Wyoming, to wave at passing traffic. Charley Lee put Cady in his lap and sang old cowboy tunes to her all afternoon—she’d been enraptured. On the drive home, the five year-old asked, “Has Charley Lee been out in the sun too long?” I’d smiled. “No, honey—he’s a different color than us.” She thought about that one, her hair swirling in the wind. “He’s brown.” “Well, yep, he is. Like your uncle Henry. She spoke with the certainty of one well acquainted with her colors. “Uncle Henry is tan.” “Um, yes, he is.” “What are we?” “We’re white.” The future lawyer studied her hand and then me as if I was trying to get something over on her. “We’re pink.” “Yep, but they call it white.” She’d been silent for a moment and then proclaimed with solemnity. “That doesn’t make any sense.” “Few things about skin color do, Punk.” Fort McKinney was built in response to the intense reaction caused by the defeat of Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer and his Seventh Cavalry at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876. It was one of many forts constructed to combat the fanciful Indian menace that was sweeping across the high plains, even though the Indian Wars were over with by the time Custer may or may not have saved the last bullet for himself. By 1894 it was pretty well figured out that wild Indians weren’t really much of a threat and the fort was closed; in 1903 the grounds and structure were handed over to the state of Wyoming. It’s about a half mile along the cottonwood-lined entrance from the fort’s front door to State Route 16 that winds its way through Durant and up into the Bighorn Mountains range, but
