Craig Johnson - A Serpent's Tooth - A Walt Longmire Mystery

“How long?”

“We might hold them till the end of the day, but then they’re going to post and walk.”

I sipped some more coffee. “Can Verne stall on setting bail?”

She shook her head. “Nope, he heard the name Gary Spencer and folded like a card table at a bake sale in a high wind.”

“They’ve got a lot of money.”

“I know; I’ve seen their armaments.”

“No, I mean a lot of money.”

“More than you can make at a bake sale?”

“Enough to try and buy me off last night.”

“I’ve bought you off before.” She shrugged and picked up her mug again, winking over the lip. “Cheap.” She continued studying me. “A lot a lot?”

“Yep.”

“What, are they printing hundreds down there at East Spring Ranch?”

“Maybe.” I sighed and sipped some more; apparently it was helping. “They also seemed to know an awful lot about me.”

“Who?”

“Lockhart.”

She raised an eyebrow. “The quiet man?”

“Up until last night; he got real talkative on the porch of The Noose.”

“He probably thought you were going to hang him.”

I pulled the ATM slip from my shirt pocket and handed it to her. “He made a convincing argument that he and his group had nothing to do with setting fire to the sheriff’s substation.”

“Just this? ’Cause this can mean that just one of them was there.”

“No, Eleanor says they were there the whole evening.”

“Then it was somebody else from the group; I mean, how many of them are there down there in that nest?”

“That’s a good question.” I reached over to my coatrack, pulled my jacket on, and slipped the warrant from the inside pocket. “I think I’ll find out.”

She continued sipping her coffee, and I watched the wheels turn as she watched my wheels turn. “What are you thinking about?”

“What you said, about the number of people down there.” I unfurled the fax like a Biblical scroll. “Have you ever seen any women or children in the compound down at East Spring?”

“Personally, I’ve only gotten as close as the Mexican Grand Prix at the front gate.” She thought about it. “We saw some over in Butte County—the rat patrol and the girl at the table—but not here.” She thought some more and ventured. “So far, Big Wanda is it.”

I nodded and came around the desk with her following. “There were clothes out on the line at the house and toys in the yard, but I didn’t see any women or children.”

“It was in the middle of the night when you went back there.”

“Maybe that’s it.” Waiting at her office door while she grabbed her own coat, I rolled the warrant up and stuffed it back into my jacket. “But maybe not.”

“Something else.”

I stopped and looked at her. “What?”

“They’re expanding their operation. I put out a query and got contacted by the sheriff departments of both Garden County, Nebraska, and Hodgeman County, Kansas.”

I thought about it. “Why in the world would they need all these compounds stretched across the Rocky Mountain West down to Oklahoma?”

She shrugged and passed me in the doorway. “I guess that bake sale business is good.”

• • •

Saizarbitoria and Henry were sipping coffee in the dispatcher/reception area as Ruby talked on the phone. The Bear looked a little tired, and I told him so.

“Not as bad as you do.”

I nodded. “I guess you kept my deputy alive long enough for them to jump-start him.”

The Cheyenne Nation smiled. “Yes.”

“We’re going up to the airport to see him off—you want to come?”

“I need to call The Red Pony to make sure somebody can cover for me.”

I sometimes forgot about the Bear’s going concern, his bar out by the Rez. “We’ll tell him you send your love.”

He continued to smile and shook his head in mock sorrow. “Please tell Double Tough that I do not think it is going to work out between us, but that we will always have Powder Junction.”

“Lunch at the Bee for a planning meeting?”

“Yes.”

I started down the steps. “See both of you in a half hour.”

“Walt?”

Ruby’s voice froze me two steps down. “Yep?”

“Dottie over at the courthouse says a platoon of lawyers just hit the beachhead at Verne’s office, led by Gary Spencer himself.”

Vic looked up at me. “Change of plan?”

I glanced at the Basquo and the Bear. “Change of plan. Meet us in Powder Junction in an hour.”

The phone rang and Ruby stared at it, then at me. “And if I should be confronted with the posse of lawyers and the second greatest legal mind of our time?”

I shrugged. “Get an autograph; just make sure it’s not on a subpoena.”

• • •

He looked like hell. They had him so bandaged up it was almost impossible to tell who he was, but the one eye looked directly at me as they rolled him on a gurney under the slowly rotating blades of the helicopter. “How you doin’, troop?”

The bandages pulled at one side.

“So you want me to find you a co-deputy down in Powder Junction, blonde, about five-seven?”

He actually nodded.

“I’ll handle the interviews myself.”

Vic punched my arm as the engine kicked in, and they loaded him into the elaborate confines of the medical chopper, locking the gurney to the floor. We both joined him until they were ready to take off and were grinning like possums. I leaned my face down next to his, just so I could speak and have him hear me. “I know you’re hurting, but I’ve got to find out—did you see or hear anything last night?”

His voice was ragged and breathy. “Quiet.” Maybe I was doing nothing but assuring myself that he could still speak, but his words became stronger. “Stopped a few milk trucks trying to avoid the scales and bunch of kids earlier, gave a warning, speeding, gave drunk ride home, read a little, went to bed, nine. . . .” He tried to move an arm, but they had him pretty well trussed up. “Next thing, woke up in van.”

I smiled and placed my mouth next to his ear again and spoke over the roaring of the helicopter. “Good thing; if you’d awakened with Henry’s mouth on you, you might’ve suffered irreparable psychological damage.”

The EMTs pushed us away, and I took Vic’s arm and ushered the both of us back to my truck, parked at a safe distance. I hung on to my hat as the blast of the engine lifted the thing skyward and it hovered there for a moment before pivoting and climbing in a direct line along the mountains, headed south.

She shielded her eyes out past the bill of her cap and watched the flight-for-life get up to speed at about a hundred and fifty feet. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing special, a few traffic stops on some milk trucks, some kids, a drunk, and home and cot by nine.”

“What did you expect? They’re CIA, this is what they do.”

I turned and looked at her. “Are they CIA?”

She walked around the front of my truck. “C’mon, if you’ve got a quarter, I’ll give you the audiobook version on the way to Powder Junction.”

I took the bypass and jumped on the highway in an attempt to avoid the county courthouse and the litigious dangers that lurked there. Ruby’s voice sounded from my radio.

Static. “Walt?”

Vic started to reach for the mic, but I raised my hand and stopped her. “Wait.”

Static. “Walt, it’s Ruby.”

Vic studied me. “What?”

“Wait.”

Static. “Walt?”

I boosted my speed up to a hundred and hit the light bar. “Have you ever known Ruby to not use impeccable radio procedure?”

Vic looked at the two-way. “They’re there.”

“Yep.”

Static. “Walt, if you can hear me, make a stop somewhere and call in.” There were some voices in the background and then Ruby again, this time a little sharp. “He doesn’t have a cell phone.”