Large Animal brand inspector for money; Métis fiddler for fun; private investigator from time to time. That is Gabriel Du Pré’s life in the back country of Montana.
"“I got bad feeling this,” said Du Pré. Bart nodded and tightened a fitting with a pair of channel locks.
“We’ve had worse, I expect,” said Bart.
It is not the wild horse that throws you, Du Pré thought, it is the one that you think is broke to riding."
Some bad people live in those great open spaces, and they attract others of their kind. The FBI is interested but can’t infiltrate the group so FBI Special Agent Harvey Wallace (a Blackfoot tribe member by ancestry) calls again on Gabriel to help. Gabriel is of the Métis, a very interesting group whose history spans both the USA and Canada. In previous books (of this series), Bowen goes into details of Métis history and culture.
Gabriel Du Pré is a grumpy, hard-working, hard-drinking, chain-smoking, fast-driving grandfather. All of that is referenced in this novel which builds into a thriller.
It seems that organized crime has an interest in this part of the Big Sky Country. They go by the name of the 770 Corporation. All the cattle have been sold off a big ranch. Why? There are some new cowboys on the spread who look more like penitentiary residents. "“I got a bad feelin’ about all this,” said Booger Tom.
“You go shoot them all, I don’t tell no one,” said Du Pré.
“Been done,” said Booger Tom. “They just send more.”"
I am on the edge of being annoyed by the repetition of all of the tropes that Bowen uses for his main character: the self-rolled smokes; the bottle of whiskey in his car; the driving 120 mph on backroads. And the same goes for his “significant other,” Madalaine who only “smokes one after breakfast, and no more the rest of the day, unless she drank pink bubbly wine."
Yet the plotting is good and Bowen knows this country as well as Tony Hillerman knew the “Four Corners.” There are many layers to the story (some more contrived than others), and there is a nice reflection on the merging of history and storytelling.
I liked many of the details of this gorgeous and wild land. There are nice touches of humor (though many are sarcastic). Not Bowen’s best, but good enough.
3.5
Various quotations to provide a sense of Bowen’s storytelling style:
"Du Pré hated television, video games, and most of the rest of the twentieth century. He doubted he would like the twenty-first much better."
"The rain was fairing off and by the time he went back across the bridge the Yellowstone had come up four feet and it was dirty and filled with trees and trash. In an hour the roads were dry enough so he could cruise at a hundred and ten. There would sometimes be pools of water at the bottom of hills where culverts had been plugged with debris, but none so deep he had to fish out the crap before he could go on. He was back in Toussaint by ten o’clock at night."
"“What is the 770 Corporation?” said Du Pré. “Messmer’s bunch,” said Harvey. “Very well run. Accountants and lawyers stacked three deep. Very careful to obey all the laws. Very good about the environment. They do a subdivision, there is no casual destruction of the breeding grounds of the rare Left Coast Sneezing Snail. They dug up an Indian burial ground and promptly gave it back to the local Indians. ’Course the burial ground was about two thousand years older than the tribe that got it, who, on the evidence, were up the coast, getting fungal infections in the British Columbia rain forest and eating a lot of banana slugs, when the Indians in the burial ground were planted, but it was great public relations.”"
"“Officer Parker there is a good officer and had your daughter not been mouthy your sorry ass would be right in Officer Parker’s patrol car, headed for the nearest place gives Breathalyzer tests, which you would fucking well flunk. She then would put you in jail. You would then go to court and lose the license—let me see that damn thing …” Du Pré handed McPhie his driver’s license. “I’ve seen older ones out here in the sagebrush,” said McPhie, “but that’s pretty good. Pretty damn good.” McPhie looked off into the distance. “I enjoy the hell out of your music,” he said. He smiled, his big red face all jolly. He rocked on his boot heels. “However, I must inform you that things are different here in good old Montana than they were the last fucking time you checked decades ago. We are an actual state right in the Union, the United States of America, with a Legislature filled with pissants as dumb and awful as any larger and better known state. They pass laws, to while away the time, and you, Du Pré, have broken about five of ’em.” Du Pré waited. “I know that here in the sagebrush it is easy to forget that these pissants in Helena are there passing their laws, but it is so. They pay fools like me to enforce ’em, and I do, best I can.” McPhie placed one of his giant, meaty hands on Du Pré’s shoulder. “If I catch you pulling this bullshit, your ass goes to jail, you lose the license you are going to get tomorrow, and you can work out the rest with the judge. I cleaned up after you this one time, on account of your reputation and essentially primitive nature. If you get nailed by Officer Parker, she makes up for being blonde and cute by being as mean as a snake. You get nailed by me I will make her look downright benevolent.”"