Wait for Signs: Twelve Longmire Stories

The Cold Dish

Death Without Company

Kindness Goes Unpunished

Another Man’s Moccasins

The Dark Horse

Junkyard Dogs

Hell Is Empty

As the Crow Flies

A Serpent’s Tooth

Spirit of Steamboat

Any Other Name

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First published by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 2014

Copyright © 2014 by Craig Johnson

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“Old Indian Trick” appeared in
Cowboys & Indians
magazine
.
“Ministerial Aid,” “Slick-Tongued Devil,” “Unbalanced,” and “Toys for Tots” appeared in Craig Johnson’s
Christmas in Absaroka County,
published by Viking Penguin in digital format. “Thankstaking” appeared in Craig Johnson’s newsletter. “Firebug,” “Several Stations,” and “High Holidays” were published as individual volumes by A.S.A.P. Publishing. “Divorce Horse” and “Messenger” were published as individual volumes in digital format by Viking Penguin.

LIBRARY
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ONGRESS
CATALOGING
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PUBLICATION
DATA

Johnson, Craig.

[Short stories. Selections]

Wait for signs : twelve Longmire stories / Craig Johnson.

pages cm

ISBN 978-0-698-18182-3

1. Longmire, Walt (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Sheriffs—Wyoming—Fiction. I. Johnson, Craig. Old Indian trick. II. Title.

PS3610.O325A6 2014

813' .6—dc23

2014010100

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Eric Boss, Westerner, gentleman, and book rep of the first order.

“Too often I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen.”

—
LOU
IS
L
’
AMOUR

After I was fortunate enough to win the
Cowboys & Indians
Tony Hillerman Award with “Old Indian Trick,” the first story in this collection and the first short story I had ever written, I got the bright idea that I’d send it to the folks who subscribed to my newsletter as a free gift for the holidays. On Christmas Eve, about ten years ago, I fired the story off at 11:59 Mountain Standard Time. I didn’t really know what I was getting into until the following November when readers began asking me when I was planning on sending out this year’s holiday tale, and as the communications began piling up, I rapidly figured out that I’d created a monster.

Knuckling down, I wrote another story and discovered that I actually enjoyed the process and the format, because it gave me the opportunity to address the small points in Walt’s life that were pivotal but not appropriate for an entire novel. They run from twelve to forty pages—some are mysteries, some have mysterious elements, and others are no mystery at all, just glimpses into Walt’s life.

People have often asked me if I have any intentions of killing Walt off someday, and I have to admit that I’m somewhat taken aback by the question. Never say never, but the greatest insurance that I’ll not do that is the character of the man himself. Walt is kind, decent, caring—and I just like him and hope you will, too.

There’s another group of people I’ll never kill off, starting with actor, director, writer, and friend extraordinaire, Lou Diamond Phillips, and actor and big-dog sheriff, Robert Taylor. The adventure of having my novels adapted into the A&E television series has been a joyful affair, mostly due to the newfound friendships with the cast, the producers, and the crew, and to you, the new readers, but especially due to Lou and Rob. As only one example of the kindness and generosity of the men, I was asked to deliver the commencement speech on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation, and wrote the words, but then discovered that I was going to be on a book tour and couldn’t attend. Lou jumped on a plane from Santa Fe where he was filming
Longmire
, flew to Montana, and delivered the speech for me, much to the thrill of the Lame Deer High School graduating class and the Northern Cheyenne Nation. The man is a scholar and a gentleman on horseback, and I thank him for his generosity of spirit.

Gail Hochman, the agent above all agents and head ramrod to this wayward maverick, was instrumental in making the Longmire books and television series possible. Never without a kind or enthusiastic word, Gail was the only agent who would take on my first novel,
The Cold Dish
—little did I know, she was also the absolute best.

Kathryn Court is my wagon boss, the cowgirl errant who
stands between me and a harmful word. Her constant and personal attention has made me and the series what we are today.

Ben Petrone has been a friend, confidant, and riding partner, along with Angela Messina, Scott Cohen, Maureen Donnelly, Lindsey Schwoeri, and Carolyn Coleburn.

Marianne Merola has kept a hard eye on the manifest and loaded these twelve dogies to parts unknown and languages unspoken by yours truly.

Here’s also to those two cattle barons past, Tony Hillerman and Robert B. Parker, for looking out the window of the dining car and giving a cowboy from a town of twenty-five a leg up in making the big time.

And to Michael Crutchley and Chet Carlson, the railroad bulls who kept us on the level, and to Mike and Susie Terry, the original owners of the Divorce Horse. Thanks to Judy Slack and the Wyoming Room of the Sheridan Fulmer Library and the indomitable Vic Garber for all those marvelous stories that we listened to while those steel wheels rumbled on through the night. Thanks to the Teton Raptor Center for the phalanx of owls that flew along above us, and to Marcus Red Thunder for holding the flaming arrows at bay—except for Judy, the flaming arrow that gets through and pierces my heart every
time.

Tightrope. It’s not just a Clint Eastwood movie, or a circus performer’s next trick. It’s that thing upon which great mystery writers must boldly but carefully tread, precariously balancing the unwieldy burdens of plot, character, and setting, all the while enticing us to enjoy the journey and marvel at the view. Each step is carefully placed so as to stay one chess move ahead of the savvy readers—who, try as they might, should not be able to see the ultimate destination until their literary guide is good and ready to show them—but never to lose them. One misstep and the entire entourage tumbles into the abyss. Now, try doing it in cowboy boots, and you’ll begin to comprehend the amazing feat that is each of Craig Johnson’s Longmire mysteries.

I have the great honor of bringing one of his unforgettable characters, Henry Standing Bear, into the corporeal world—otherwise known as your TV—on A&E’s
Longmire
. Having read all of the Longmire books to date, I was understandably intimidated by the prospect. The Bear is so vividly drawn, both inside
and out, that he virtually leaps from the page and into the reader’s imagination. Preparing for the part, I kept thinking of the actor Will Sampson from the classic film
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,
and how beautifully he’d risen to the challenge of bringing Ken Kesey’s Chief Bromden to life. Fittingly, it was a Sampson-like struggle to immerse myself into the role. Standing Bear’s stature, both in height and philosophy, seemed so enormous that I quailed at the thought of filling his majestic moccasins—especially in the eyes of the man who had formed him from the Absaroka clay, whom I’d be meeting before shooting began. Trust me when I say it’s never easy to meet your creator.

I’d had the opportunity to meet the author of a literary character I was attempting to portray only once before. The year was 1991. The film was
The Dark Wind,
and I was playing Jim Chee, the iconic Navajo tribal police sergeant created by the great Tony Hillerman. Mr. Hillerman was warm, gracious, and more than magnanimous. Stately, even. He said I resembled Jim Chee as he’d always imagined him. Since he didn’t comment on my acting, I took this comment as his tacit approval of my performance. Though my encounter with Mr. Hillerman was nothing but positive, it only made me more respectful of the genius it takes to create a character beloved by millions. So it was not without a little trepidation that I looked forward to meeting the rightful heir to Mr. Hillerman’s literary legacy.

Fortunately for me, Craig Johnson not only inherited the mantle of literary genius from Tony Hillerman, but was also bequeathed his grace, warmth, and generosity. Now, sans the photo that graces the back flap of Craig’s books, many a gentle reader could be forgiven for imagining that Craig Johnson might look like the weathered but erudite offspring of Louis L’Amour
and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Not so much. The unassuming and open-faced man whom I met while filming the
Longmire
pilot was more evocative of the helpful clerk at your local Feed-and-Tack store who would gladly throw in a truckload of alfalfa if you would just purchase that beautiful hand-tooled saddle. (Okay, I wrote that last bit just to make Craig and his wife, Judy, laugh.) Still, Craig Johnson is not what you might expect . . . and yet he is everything you might expect. He is a man of letters and a man of his word. A laureate with a lariat, if you will. In short, Craig is the spring that feeds the very deep well that is Walt Longmire.

Not all of the short stories in this collection can be classified as mysteries, although there is a generous enough serving of plot thickeners to satisfy any attentive reader’s appetite. The stories, taken together, remind me of the stained-glass windows in church that become an adolescent Walt’s primary focus in “Slick-Tongued Devil.” Each story forms a small but integral part of the bigger picture, a piece of the mosaic that we, Craig’s faithful readers, have come to know as the world of Absaroka County and Walt Longmire. Each is imbued with its own unique color and illumination and can be considered a gem in its own right.

It occurs to me, too—though I’ve never actually ridden a horse with him—that Craig Johnson knows how to pack a saddlebag. These stories are bulging with the western wit, warmth, and hard-won wisdom we’ve come to expect from his long-form fiction. He continues to make me laugh out loud at the most inopportune times. And yet it is Craig’s hand with humanity, his empathy and compassion, that leaves the most lasting impression. I have often found myself rereading his sentences simply to absorb a profound truth that he’s managed to convey with an economy and specificity Hemingway would admire. Craig paints the landscape of Absaroka County masterfully, inviting the reader to share his reverence for nature, and yet it is in his role as a guide to human nature where he is most intuitive. There is a resonant melancholy that blows in the breeze of Absaroka and occasionally ruffles Walt’s unkempt hair. It whispers in the ear of the reader. It makes us feel. It makes us think. It makes us reflect on our own place in this vast wilderness. This is what art, in any of its forms, is supposed to do.

So as you read these newly collected entries into the Absaroka lore, and you find yourself on a lonely stretch of Wyoming highway or on a windswept, snow-covered plain, you might want to look up. The sky above Absaroka is often turbulent and indiscernible. But there are those times when it is clear. So crisp and blue and pristine that it might bring a tear to your eye. At those times, you might see Craig. Still up there on that tightrope. Still scanning the landscape like Henry Standing Bear’s owls. Still maintaining that delicate balance between plot and profundity as he makes his away across.

And still wearing his cowboy boots.

—
LOU
DIAMOND
PHILLIPS