DROWNING IN THE DESERT

In Schopen’s latest neo-Western, an ex-lawman finds his life upended by the discovery of a missing plane.

Fats Rangle used to be a deputy sheriff in Pinenut County, but those days are behind him. The former cop now operates Cherry Creek Stables and Excursions with his brother on the family’s ranch in the Nevada desert, which offers such activities as horseback riding, camping, and fishing parties. Fats laments the many changes that have come to his native valley, bringing more development, more people, and a lowering water table that’s causing vegetation to dry up. While riding one evening in the nearby mountains, he comes across the wreckage of a small single-engine plane that went missing two years ago. There are two bodies inside, mummified by the elements, but nothing of obvious value: “More interesting to Fats was the track in the snow…that zigzagged up to the wreckage. Someone had been here, he guessed a month or so ago. He could also guess who. And why.” Fats purposely tramples over the original tracks, and later, when he reports the crash to his former colleague, Sheriff Dale Zahn, he doesn’t mention that someone else had been there. It turns out that Fats’ cousin Strutter Martin has gone missing, and Fats suspects that his disappearance and the tracks outside the plane are related—especially after he learns of a missing briefcase full of cash that should have been on the plane. Fats launches a private investigation into the whereabouts of Strutter and the briefcase, and he soon stumbles upon a much larger scheme involving political corruption, a Las Vegas dancer, and water rights. The stakes of this game are high, and Fats will have to play his hand carefully if he doesn’t want to end up dead.

Over the course of this novel, Schopen shows himself to be a skilled poet of the Western landscape, and readers will find that his prose is as lean and tough as old leather: “The wind soughed. A jay fussed. Near the corral, a young bay mare cropped the sparse mountain foliage. Beside the water tank stood Fats Rangle, squat, still.” The hinterlands between the desert and the city provide a stark stage for this morality tale, and it’s one in which nature, in all its danger and delicacy, is a force that must always be reckoned with. The novel combines clearly recognizable Western elements with those of hardboiled detective fiction, and the laconic, short-tempered Fats exemplifies the antiheroic archetypes of both genres. The protagonist’s search for answers quickly becomes a broader exploration of himself and his history—particularly the series of events that caused him to leave the sheriff’s office for good; the story also encompasses the evolving realities of his beloved, but no longer remote, valley homeland. Is there still a place in the West for men such as Fats? Readers will hope so, as long as there are talents like Schopen to write about them.

A finely wrought Western mystery by a true master of the form.