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Book Review Pro | Karen Pool
Book Review Pro | Karen Pool
Author : C. J. Box
Genre : Fiction
Joe Pickett is the new game warden in Twelve Sleep, Wyoming, a town where nearly everyone hunts, and the game warden—especially one like Joe, who won’t take bribes or look the other way—is far from popular. When Joe finds a local hunting outfitter, Ote Keeley, dead out on his woodpile behind his state-owned house where he lives with his wife and two daughters, he takes it personally. A opened cooler is clutched in one of Ote’s hands. The inside walls of the cooler were scratched as if clawed. He had already had a couple of run-ins with Ote, so why he would choose to come to Joe’s place is hard to explain. Even though he’s not supposed to interfere, Joe senses that something is amiss, especially when the other outfitters in the group are found dead.
This book contains some foul language. It’s the first of twenty-one Joe Pickett novels written by C. J. Box.
“Joe had always considered individual words as finite units of currency, and he believed in savings. He never wanted to waste words. They should be spent wisely. He sometimes paused for a long time until he could come up with the right words to express exactly what he wanted to say. Sometimes this confused people but Joe could live with that. In his experience, the person who talked the most very often had the least to say. Joe had attended meetings where little got accomplished except what he considered the random drive-by spewing of words, like unaimed machine-gun bullets. What a waste.”
“Spring. Or at least what passed for spring in Wyoming, a place with only three legitimate but not independent seasons: summer, fall, and winter. Spring was something that occurred in other places, places where flowers pushed up from the soil during May when it warmed and leaves budded and opened on hardwood trees. Places where it was unlikely that after those leaves and flowers emerged, 10 inches of heavy, wet, and unpredicted snow would fall and would cynically kill every living thing in sight. Through the slush, Joe drove home and thought that in his entire life in the Rocky Mountains he had never really experience what spring was in other places, or truly appreciated what it stood for.”
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