Death without Company (Walt Longmire Series #2) Book

I was overjoyed with this introduction to the mystery series featuring Sheriff Walt Longmire in northern Wyoming (I couldn't nab the first, "Cold Dish"). Johnson played all my emotions like a talented pianist, from heartbreak to hilarity. Wrung me of awe and concern for a hero of mythic stature, but one who comes off humble and sincere like the dad you wish you had. And evoked so well the setting and human values of rural life in the high plains near the Bighorn Mountains, where the dangers of weather and isolation makes a sense of community especially important.


The case in this one starts with the ex-sheriff and former mentor, Lucian, asking that the seemingly natural death of his fellow resident at an assisted living center be checked out suspicious causes. When the lady, Mari Baroja, turns out to have been murdered, Walt has to press Lucian hard to learn anything about why he suspected foul play. Step by step Walt works out secrets that involve Lucian and Mari dating back to 1950. She was a member of the close-knit Basque community of sheepherders who immigrated to the region. The investigation has a tough time resolving whether the crime was driven by personal or by financial motivations. Mari had a surprising source of wealth, but someone in her life was responsible for torture and abuse readable from extensive scarring on her body. As Walt makes progress on the case, other murders and attempted murders leave a confusing pattern, but one thing is clear: someone very dangerous is creating a trail of mayhem, and Walt keeps getting in harm's way.

Even more satisfying than the compelling complexity of the mystery was my experience of Walt in his community, his circle of friends, and trusty dog (named Dog). His Cheyenne Indian friend from childhood, Henry Standing Bear, provides an ongoing sounding board at the helm of his restaurant/bar in the tiny fictional town of Durant. He also keeps him grounded with humor, spiritual wisdom, and help with processing Walt's case-related dreams and the visions of Plains Indians' ghosts he is subject to. For example, Henry reminds Walt that people don't own land--the land owns them ("You don't own your own mother, do you"). At the scene of a traffic accident in a snow storm, a big truck almost slides into him and has the illusion that ghost Indians helped allay his death like stopping a buffalo:
I looked north and west toward the Little Big Horn and Northern Cheyenne Reservation. It was comforting to think they were still here, stewards of a mother they did not own. The stinging wind made my eyes tear, at least I think that's what it was, so I laughed and lifted my hand, tipping my hat just to let them know I knew where they were and to say thanks.

Another larger-than-life friend is his female deputy, Vic Moretti, a tough, foul-mouthed Italian from Philadelphia who always has his back in a scrap. Because your heart goes out to Walt over his loneliness from the past losses of a wife and recent lover, you can't blame Walt for his hidden affections for Vic, but his integrity keeps his lusts at bay:
I looked at my recently divorced deputy, a beautiful, intelligent woman with a body like Salome and a mouth like a saltwater crocodile. … I started to wonder why she hadn't ever invited me over to dinner when it came to me that I had never invited her out to my place either. I guess it had never really occurred to me, even though I continually swam against the undertow of my attraction toward her. The thought of myself involved with a woman who was about the same age as Cady was an image so pathetic that I erased it in wide sweeps on a regular basis.



Walt is well grounded and relatively free of demons that afflict so many other fictional detectives. For example, while he has the same mental attunement for the poetry in nature and spirit visions as James Lee Burke's Louisiania detective Dave Robicheaux, Walt does not suffer his war-inspired PTSD, alcoholism, and hidden addiction to violence. Longmire's humanity shines through with his empathy and affinity for imagining the lives of the victims in a personal way. Here he tunes into dead Mari through a dream about her younger self:
I felt the breath catch in my throat at the wonder of her and knew that everything I had heard was true. After a moment, she rolled over and looked at me with those dark eyes, a plucked piece of grass between her teeth. She smiled and reached a hand across to touch my shoulder. Her fingers were light, and a shiver went through me; the coolness of her spread like a welcome cloud on an overly sunny day.
She looked toward the mountains, as if she were trying to think of how to say what she wanted to say. …She had trouble supporting herself, and it was only then I noticed she was very pregnant. Her hand came out again, slowly, as if she didn't want to frighten me. The slim fingers wrapped around mine and lifted my hand toward her. A few clouds appeared like solemn voices and broken hearts.

The key lessons Walt learns through his travails of this tough case are that "hatred has a poor shelf life but that love and hope can limp along forever" and "a professional is the one who always has his gun".

In an with the Mystery People blog, Johnson confessed to what he was after with the series, and I think he succeeded admirably in his goals:
Walt is a very iconoclastic figure, I guess, but I've attempted to humanize him by searching for the complexities within. He's very much a Western style hero but in a modern world-he has to match up with that diversity and nuance that hopefully takes the books to another level. I think the environs allow for that, that and the other characters. Henry Standing Bear is not your average, stereotypical Indian, so Walt can't be the stereotypical cowboy. One of the joys of writing contemporary western/mysteries is that it affords me the opportunity to take on the baggage of those genre clichés and turn them on their ear; I think that's one of the reasons the books are as popular as they are.

Heartfelt thanks to GR friend Harry Roolaart, Robert Downs, and Algernon for great reviews that made me a permanent fan for this series.