First Frost (Walt Longmire, #20)

by Craig Johnson

“There was one of the Twelve, Mae Mayko Oda, who said that if she was going to die for democracy, she’d like to see a bit of it first.”

then it got to be a full-scale pigeon Armageddon again with the things falling out of the sky all over the place. It seems Beldon had started sprinkling poison on the ledges of the building, and you couldn’t walk by the place without getting hit in the head with a dead pigeon. I remember Jules out here with a wheelbarrow, a broom, a shovel, and wearing an old air-raid helmet for protection.

“I think, in cowboy parlance, we refer to that as the nail that sticks up gets hammered first.”

“He’s got big feet.” She smiled at him. “He’s also got big hands, and you know what that means…” “Suppose you tell us?” She eased back in her chair. “Big boots and gloves.”

Well, the same thing goes for the truth: if enough people tell it, then it becomes something; something important, something honest.”

He glanced at me, incredulous. “You are too big to surf.” “That’s what everybody keeps telling me.”

“Of all the facets of humanity, young man, the one inalienable motivation you can count on most is greed.”

“I cannot believe you came to rescue me in a tow truck.”

She stared at him. “Who are you?” He started to speak but then stopped to breathe a laugh. “Up until twenty-four hours ago I had an answer to that question, but it appears to have left me. I suppose I am a man looking for some form of redemption.”

“So, do you suppose the Vietnam War will be more orderly than this?” “We can hope.”