Last of the Breed by Louis L'Amour

When I was 8 and my brother 5, my father worked as a fire watchman in the coastal mountains near Tillamook. We spent an entire summer in the remote logging camps with only nature, each other, and books to keep us entertained. Every night after dinner made on an open fire, a quick washup in a stream, and a game of gin rummy, my father would tuck my brother and me into the double bed of our camper and read us a chapter from Last of the Breed by Louis L'Amour. I loved the cadence of my father’s voice, the sound of silence except for the crackling fire and my brother’s breathing. Even though I didn’t understand very much of the overall plot, I can still see, 20-plus years later, the vision in my head of the spy in the snow trying to escape with his life. During the day we would try to use his tracking skills to find animals near the camp or set up traps and ambush each other.

This is one of my favorite memories of my father and the book that started my lifelong love affair with the written word.
– Sarah W.

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