# Read the first page of As the Crow Flies by Craig Johnson Read the opening of As the Crow Flies by Craig Johnson free, no signup. A Wyoming sheriff witnesses a young woman's fatal fall from a cliff. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/as-the-crow-flies-craig-johnson - Genre: Westerns - Year: 2012 - ISBN: 9781101583555 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9781101583555&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9781101583555 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9781101583555 ## The opening “I wanna know what Katrina Walks Nice did to get kicked out of a joint like this for sixty-one days.” I began questioning the makeup of the negotiation team I’d brought with me to convince the chief of the Northern Cheyenne tribe that he should allow my daughter to be married at Crazy Head Springs. “Don’t call the White Buffalo a joint; it’s the nerve center of the reservation.” My undersheriff, Victoria Moretti, shook her head. “It’s a fucking convenience store.” She smiled, enjoying the muckraking. “She must’ve done something pretty shitty to get eighty-sixed out of here for two months.” Vic gestured toward the white plastic board above the cash register where all the reservation offenders who had been tagged with bad-check writing, shoplifting, and other unsavory behaviors were cataloged for everyone to see—sort of a twenty-first-century pillorying. My eyes skimmed past the board, and I watched the crows circle above Lame Deer as the rain struck the surface of Route 212. It was the main line on the Rez, and the road that truckers used to avoid the scales on the interstate. Before 212 had been widened and properly graded, it had been known as Scalp Alley for the number of traveling unfortunates who had met their demise on the composite scoria/asphalt strip and for the roadside crosses that ran like chain lightning from the Black Hills to the Little Bighorn. As my good friend Henry Standing Bear says, on the Rez, even the roads are red. I was trying to pay attention, but I kept being distracted by the crows plying the thermals of the high plains sky; it was raining in the distance, but the sun appeared to be overtaking the clouds—a sharp contrast of blue and charcoal that my mother used to say was caused by the devil beating his wife. “She must’ve stolen the cash register.” My attention was forced back inside and under cover, and I twisted the ring on my pinkie. My wife, Martha, had given it back to me before she died so that I could give it to Cady whenever she got married. I looked up—the negotiations weren’t going well. It would appear that Dull Knife College had suddenly scheduled a Cheyenne language immersion class at Crazy Head Springs on the day of the wedding. We had reserved the spot well in advance, but the vagaries of the tribal council were well known and now we were floundering. The old Indian across from me nodded his head in all seriousness. I was negotiating with the chief of the Northern Cheyenne nation, and he was one tough customer. “That librarian over at the college is mean. I don’t like to mess with her; she’s got that Indian Alzheimer’s. Um hmm, yes, it is so.” I trailed my eyes from Lonnie Little Bird to the rain-slick surface of the asphalt—Lame Deer’s main street being washed clean of all our sins. “What’s that mean, Lonnie?” “That’s where you forget everything but the grudges.” I smiled in spite of myself and took a deep breath, slowly letting the air out to calm my nerves, as I continued to twirl the ring on my finger. “Cady’s really got her heart set on Crazy Head Springs, Lonnie, and it’s way too late to change the date from the end of July.” He glanced out the window, his dark eyes following my gray ones. “Maybe you should go talk to that librarian over at the college. You’re a large man—she’ll listen to you. You could show her your gun.” He glanced down at the red and black chief’s blanket that covered his wheelchair. “She don’t pay no attention to an old, legless Indian.” Henry Standing Bear, my daughter’s wedding planner, who had made the arrangements that were now being rapidly unraveled, sipped his coffee and quietly listened. “But you’re the chief, Lonnie.” ## Books with a similar feel - [Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurtry](https://uncovered.ink/read/some-can-whistle-larry-mcmurtry.md) - [The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-tattooist-of-auschwitz-heather-morris.md) - [News of the World by Paulette Jiles](https://uncovered.ink/read/news-of-the-world-paulette-jiles.md) - [Pope Joan by Donna Woolfolk Cross](https://uncovered.ink/read/pope-joan-donna-woolfolk-cross.md) - [Dylan's Redemption by Jennifer Ryan](https://uncovered.ink/read/dylans-redemption-jennifer-ryan.md) - [Under the Stars by Beatriz Williams](https://uncovered.ink/read/under-the-stars-beatriz-williams.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). 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