Child drinks a meager half cup of coffee, claiming to have had a whole pot at home. He insists on paying the check, either out of gallantry or for tax reasons. Then we climb into his distinctly un-Reacher-like electric blue S.U.V. and begin a drive straight out of his novel. He lives 40 or 50 miles from town. The intersection closest to his roost is a 10-minute drive away. That’s also where the paved road ends.

Image The Jack Reacher in “Blue Moon” is older than previous incarnations. He gets into a vicious gang war between Ukrainians and Albanians. “I wanted him completely out of his comfort zone,” Child says.

The sky is as big as skies get. The high prairie is golden. Miles of dirt road lead upward to an immaculate, rustic house with decks on three sides. Unobstructed views stretch 20 miles into the distance. Child’s place is on 35 acres, protected by thousands of acres of forest, lakes and ranch land. It all cost less than he got for the 900-square-foot apartment on 22nd Street where he used to live. If you want to relocate to the middle of nowhere, this is how it’s done.

Child, an Englishman, has gone native. He’s dressed in boots, jeans, T-shirt and a leather barn coat. He owns two cowboy hats, but didn’t wear one for this interview “for fear of making you laugh.” He already lived here when he wrote “The Midnight Line,” and acknowledges that describing a familiar setting was more satisfying than making one up. Though Wyoming’s renown as a tax haven was a factor in his move, he says, the decision had “more to do with an immigrant’s sense that there’s always somewhere else to explore.” (Child and his wife have numerous homes, including one above St. Tropez and a spread in East Sussex, England, that he bought for bragging rights after growing up poor. He still spends time at an apartment he owns on Central Park West, but Jane has decided she’s through with New York.)

The Laramie area also happens to abut Colorado, where recreational marijuana is legal. Child made waves when he talked about being a regular user; his habit goes back 50 years. He finds it especially handy for reading his work, claiming the high helps him judge his writing. And he likes doing actors’ voices: Tony Curtis, a pretty good Michael Caine.

As we approach the house for lunch, Child proudly points out a few landmarks. The address number is printed in a clean font and hangs from a sturdy post. He did that himself. The generator on the hillside got them through all of last winter. To the right of the driveway sits what Child calls his rockery. Since his hands, unlike Reacher’s, aren’t the size of small animals, he’s dexterous enough to treat this tiny garden lovingly. So does Jane, who has arranged some low, heathery sprigs in a small vase for lunchtime.