Читать книгу The Case of the Perfect Dog - John R. Erickson - Страница 7

Chapter Two: A Non-Scrap Event

Drover was stunned. “He hit me and I hadn’t even done anything yet. Now look at him! He’s sticking out his tongue at us.”

“I understand, son, but we have to let this one go. We can’t risk sending troops into the yard. Don’t forget Sally May and her broom.”

“Yeah, but he slugged me!”

“I know he did, but let me point out something very important. Pete’s gone and we’ve got the scraps all to ourselves. That’s what we wanted, right?”

“Yeah, but my nose hurts.”

“Son, you were brave. You accomplished your mission, you got rid of a nuisance, and I’m proud of you.”

He stared at me, then smiled. “You are?”

I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Absolutely, and you know what else? I think we can forget about those demerits and Chicken Marks. Let’s just say they disappeared from our files. Now, let’s check out the scraps.”

“What about my nose?”

“Bring it along. You can use it on the scraps.”

It isn’t often that Drover distinguishes himself in combat, and when he does, we try to make a big deal out of it. I realize that getting sucker-punched by a cat isn’t the highest form of bravery, but at least the little guy had dared to put his nose into harm’s way. It was a start, and maybe it would give us something to build on.

After that touching ceremony, we turned our attention to…where was the boy? And, more to the point, where was that bucket of scraps? He’d been right there beside us when the fighting had broken out, but now…

At last I caught sight of him. He had gone to the garden, a patch of fertile ground that had been enclosed inside a hog wire fence. You might say that we dogs were not encouraged to go there. Why? Sally May had some peculiar ideas about dogs and gardens. On the few rare occasions when we had jumped the fence, our presence had caused major explosions.

So it struck me as odd that Alfred had chosen to do Scrap Distribution in the garden. He was about to enter the gate when we arrived on the scene, out of breath but glowing with anticipation of the big event.

Right away, I went into the Loyal Dog Waiting Configuration: plopped my hind quarters on the ground, sat at attention, and beamed him Looks of Longing and Sincerity. Drover followed my lead and did the same.

The boy seemed surprised. “Hi Hankie, what do you want?”

Well…uh…at the risk of seeming blunt…what was in the bucket?

“Oh, you want some skwaps?”

Well, sure, scraps would be nice. Yes, absolutely. I gave my tail five vigorous thumps on the ground.

He shrugged. “Sorry, I took out the skwaps right after breakfast, and you weren’t there.”

Huh?

“I gave ‘em all to Pete.” He pointed to the bucket. “This is stuff for the compost heap.”

WHAT! Compost heap! He’d given all the breakfast scraps to that miserable little…my mind was swirling. In the distance, I heard the cat laughing his head off.

I turned to my assistant. “We’ve been tricked.”

“You mean…I got slugged for nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means. Pete lured us into an argument over scraps that don’t exist. He ate them two hours ago.”

“Oh darn, now I’m all upset.”

“Fool! How could you have fallen for Pete’s treachery?”

“Gosh, what did I do?”

“Well, in the first place…Drover, Life is full of details. The fact that I can’t remember them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Pete got the scraps ‘cause we slept late. That’s the reason you’re mad.”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m mad. The other is that you’re still spreading lies and gossip about your commanding officer—namely, that I slept late.”

“Yeah, but it’s true.”

“All right, then you’re spreading truth about your commanding officer and that’s even worse.”

“Yeah, but you gave me an award for bravery.”

“I’m glad you mentioned that. The award has been revoked and those Chicken Marks are going right back on your record.”

He gave me a wounded look. “Yeah, but I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Drover, the cat is laughing his head off and one of us has to accept the blame. I could take the blame, but think of the effect it would have on morale of this outfit.”

He blinked his eyes. “Gosh, I never thought of that.”

“It could be devastating. Here’s the solution. You take the blame, go to your room, and stick your nose in the corner for five minutes. That will put an end to the whole nasty episode.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

I whopped him on the back. “I like your spirit, son. Now, run along and let’s put this thing behind us.”

“Okay, here I go!”

With an air of fatherly pride, I watched as he…huh? You know what he did? After running about ten steps toward the gas tanks, he made a hard right turn and highballed it straight to the machine shed, where he dived through the slot between the big sliding doors.

“Drover, this is the voice of your commanding officer! Return to base at once and put your nose in the corner! Drover?”

He had vanished into the depths of his Secret Sanctuary, and it would have taken a pack of bloodhounds to find him in there.

You know, it breaks my heart when these things happen. You drill the men, try to teach them discipline and loyalty, and just when you think a light has come on in their tiny minds, they make a dumb decision and blow the whole thing to smithereens.

Oh well. We have to trudge on with our lives.

Little Alfred had dumped the contents of his bucket into the compost pit, so I drifted over to check it out. Sniff sniff. Carrot peelings, wilted lettuce, coffee grounds, onion skins, peach seeds, watermelon rinds, and three dozen potatoes that had sprouted in the pantry and gone bad. In other words, I was looking at vegetable garbage that a normal dog wouldn’t touch, even if he was starving to death.

Yes, this had turned into a dark day on the ranch, and to make things even worse, I could hear Sally May’s rotten little cat: “How are the scraps, Hankie? Hee, hee, hee!”

Right then and there, I made an entry in the Log Book of My Mind: “Kitty will pay for this.” Exactly when and where he would pay had not been determined.

I turned to Little Alfred, my dearest pal in the world, gave him Shattered Looks and went to Slow Wags on the tail section, as if to say, “Here’s a thought. What are the chances that you could slip into the house and, you know, bring me a cookie? One little cookie might really turn things around.”

No sale. He ordered me out of the garden and headed back to the house with his empty bucket. (Here’s an important detail: he forgot to close the garden gate. That will come up later, so remember it).

At that very moment, I heard a vehicle pulling into ranch headquarters, and, well, you know me. Even when my heart is aching for breakfast scraps and cookies that never appear, I’m still Head of the ranch’s Security Division, and I have to work Traffic.

Who else would do it? Drover? Pete? That’s a laugh. Rain or shine, day or night, happy or sad, they can be counted on to do nothing. I have to rise to the occasion and monitor the comings and goings of all vehicles that enter my territory, and that’s what I did. I went to Turbo Four on all engines and met the UV (Unidentified Vehicle) as it was coming down that little hill in front of the house.

Okay, false alarm. It was one of our ranch pickups, and it was pulling a sixteen-foot stock trailer. The driver was Slim Chance, the hired hand on this outfit. In other words, I didn’t need to check his papers or run his license plate number through Data Control. I waved him through Security and gave him an escort down to the corrals. (When they’re pulling a trailer, we know their destination: the corrals).

Loper had just turned the horses out into the pasture and made his appearance as Slim was backing the trailer up to the loading chute. When Slim stepped out of the pickup, Loper said, “You couldn’t load the bull?”

“Of course I loaded the bull. When you send a man to do a man’s job, he gets it done.”

Loper pointed to the trailer. “Where’s the bull?”

Slim looked toward the trailer and saw that it was empty. His eyes grew wide. “Loper, when I left the east pasture pens, that bull was in the trailer. What in the world?”

They walked to the trailer and gave it an inspection. Loper pointed to the trailer gate. “There’s your answer. The sliding gate came open and you unloaded a bull somewhere on the county road.”

Slim smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Good honk. I never use that sliding gate and I didn’t check to see if it was latched.”

“I can tell you: it wasn’t latched. On that bumpy road, it worked itself open. How fast were you driving?”

“Not fast, twenty or thirty miles an hour.”

“Well, if he didn’t break a leg, he’ll be out on the road somewhere between here and the east pasture.”

“We’d better saddle the horses.”

Loper shook his head. “I just turned ‘em out, and we won’t need horses anyway. That bull’s as gentle as a pup. We’ll take three corral panels and make a wing, and load him afoot.”

“I think we ought to take horses.”

“It would take too long. I’ve got a meeting at church at four o’clock and there’s only so much time in my schedule to clean up your messes. The next time we need to move a bull, I’ll send Alfred to do it.”

Slim shook his head and rolled his eyes up to the sky. “Loper, you are the most…”

They were still arguing when they got into the pickup. Loper started the motor and pulled away from the corrals. I didn’t do Escort this time because…well, to be real honest, I didn’t want to call attention to the fact that they had left me behind.

See, most of the time, a loyal cowdog wants to go along on every adventure and, you know, be right there in the middle of things, but when the adventure involves a bull…uh, that changes things. Bulls are huge and they don’t like dogs. We don’t like them either, so any time we can solve a bull problem without putting the Security Division at risk, we consider it a good deal all the way around.

I had every confidence that they could handle the situation without my help. I mean, two grown men ought to be able to…huh? The pickup slid to a stop and…you know, I had a bad feeling about this, and just in case they had come up with some crazy idea, I tucked my tail and began creeping toward…

“Hank, come here!”