Walt Longmire 07 - Hell Is Empty by Craig Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

smiled. “You have been reading your Dante.” I stared out the side window and wasn’t smiling when I made the next statement. “Wonder who would win.”
     
     
    At the next bend, I could see a few dusk-to-dawn lights over the cabins that comprised South Fork. “I want you to drop me off at the main lodge; I’ll just stay up here tonight.”
    He hunched his shoulders. “You’re going to be in even more trouble.”
    “I know.” I looked down at my lap. “Could you call and tell them I won’t be coming to dinner after all?”
    He glanced at me again as we gently slowed, listening to the sleet being thrown by the tires. “Why do you want to stay?”
    “I just don’t feel good about leaving those guys up here by themselves in this weather.”
    He nodded and turned in the drive. “I’ll stay, too.”
    I looked at the headstrong Basquo, at the same time thinking about the promise I’d made his wife a couple of months back about keeping him out of harm’s way—even if harm was just keeping him up on the mountain for a night. “No, you won’t. Go home.”
    He pulled the Suburban up to the porch at the front of the lodge, and we both peered through the windshield into the darkened windows—there were only a few lights on. “Looks like you might have to go down, too.”
    After a moment, though, Holli emerged from the kitchen, passed the counter to the glass doors, and squinted in our headlights. She pulled on a coat, pushed open the door with an arm over her eyes, and shouted. “Can I help you?”
    I rolled down the window of the SUV and hung my head through. “Holli, it’s me, Walt Longmire.”
    She approached, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Hey, Sheriff.”
    I shifted my hat back; the sleet smacked the ground around us like shrapnel. “The Feds call you?”
    “About the food?”
    “No, they’re going to need beds up here for the night.”
    “Nope.”
    That was odd.
    She stuffed her hands in her pockets only to bring them out a moment later. “How many?”
    “About a half dozen, and one for a prisoner.”
    She zipped her fleece over her stained apron and pulled up the collar. “Unfortunately, I have rooms. A lot of my guests couldn’t make it in.”
    “You have seven plus one?”
    “Who else?”
    “Me.”
    She looked past the hood of the Suburban to the cabin nearest the lodge. “I can stick you in the hired hand’s bunk. It’s small, but it’s got a single in it.”
    “That’ll do. Thanks.” I pushed open the door and stepped out with the sandwich in my hands. “Kitchen closed?”
    She looked sheepish. “I’m afraid so. Good thing you brought your own.”
    I began unwrapping it. “I’ll wait up for the Feds.”
    “That’s okay, Walt. You get some sleep. I’ll get Beatrice to do that, wherever she’s gone off to.”
    Holli flipped a few fingers at Saizarbitoria as I closed the door, and the Basquo waved back but he still sat there, parked.
    I thought about how I’d seen the waitress turning left as she got back on the main route. “Last time we saw her, she was headed toward Ten Sleep.” I took a bite of my moveable feast.
    “Well, damn it, I guess she decided to go home.”
    The club sandwich was good, and I was starved. I swallowed a bite and reached in the open window to retrieve my cup of lukewarm coffee from the holder on the dash. “Maybe she misunderstood or got scared of the roads.”
    The lodge owner nodded, not very happy with the situation.
    Sancho called out from the driver’s seat, “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
    “I’m sure.” I took another bite of my sandwich and backed away from the truck to allow the Basquo to escape. I had taken a step back when I felt something in my mouth other than bread, turkey, bacon, lettuce, and tomato. I handed Holli my cup of coffee.
    “Something wrong, Sheriff?”
    I reached into my mouth and pulled out what I thought might’ve been one of the little, flagged toothpicks that held the sandwich together but