Читать книгу The Almost Last Roundup - John R. Erickson - Страница 7

Chapter Two: Okie Dokie Doodle

Well, I had been trapped into a conversation with J.T. Cluck, so I figured I might as well make the best of it and hear about the latest “crisis” on the ranch.

“Okay, talk, and try to skip the boring parts.”

“Pooch, me and every chicken on this ranch want to know what you’re going to do about this grasshopper shortage.”

“I’m going to get a drink of water.”

“Well, whoop-tee-doo. Listen, doggie, we ain’t seen a grasshopper since last October. How’s a chicken supposed to make a living around here?” I lapped water. “Course, you don’t give a rip, ‘cause they give you all that high-dollar grow-pup in a bowl. You might have a different attitude if you had to hustle your own grub.”

“What are you complaining about? Sally May throws out grain for the chickens every morning.”

“I know she does, but that stuff gives me heartburn.”

I groaned. “Don’t start the heartburn stories. I don’t think I can stand it today.”

He patted his chest and out came a ridiculous little chicken burp. “There, you see? I pecked that grain twenty-four hours ago and it’s still giving me fits. Elsa says I need more gravel in my craw, but that ain’t it. I need good old, honest American grasshoppers. A rooster can’t make a living on stink bugs and scorpions. You ever eat a scorpion?”

“No.”

“Well, you’ve never had heartburn ‘til you eat one of them little heathens. Son, they’ll bring tears to your eyes. They bite and sting all the way down the pipe. Why, the last time I ate a scorpion…”

“J.T., is there a point to this?”

“Huh? A point? Well, sure there is, and I’m a-getting there.” He glanced over his shoulders and dropped his voice. “Pooch, I’ve been a-meaning to talk to you about this. Elsa thinks there’s more to this grasshopper situation than meets the eye.” He waited for me to show some interest. “Are you going to listen to this or spend the rest of your life lapping water?”

I had drunk my fill, so I sat down beside him. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

“Well, this is important stuff and it might take longer than that.”

“If it does, I’ll get up and leave. Hurry up.”

“All right, I’m a-hurrying.” He leaned toward me. “Pooch, Elsa thinks she knows who’s behind this grasshopper shortage. It’s the British.”

“Who?”

“The British. It’s a plot. They’re stealing us blind!”

I laughed. “That’s ridiculous. We’re in a drought. No rain, no grass, no grasshoppers. It’s all about the weather.”

He looked up at the sky. “Well, that’s what all the smarties say, but some of us look a little deeper. And maybe you’d better do some checking on it yourself, since you’re the guard dog around here.”

I heaved a sigh. “Okay, who are the British?”

“That’s where it gets a little hazy. We ain’t entirely sure.”

“Oh brother.”

“But if you’ll hush your mouth for a minute, I’m a-coming to the best part of the story.”

“Hurry up.”

He rocked up and down on his toes, and stroked his chin with the tip of a wing. “Pooch, years ago when I was a little chickie, a storm come up from the northwest, big old storm, terrible storm, crash and boom, and I remember it like it happened yesterday. My granddaddy come into the chicken house, a-flapping and a-clucking, and I’ll never forget the words he said.”

He looked up at the sky. “He was a wonderful gentleman, and you know, he tried to warn me about eating scorpions and centipedes, but like a darned kid, I didn’t pay him any mind, thought I knew everything, and I can trace my heartburn back to the very first time I ate a scorpion. Hadn’t thought of that in years.”

“He rushed into the chicken house. What did he say?”

“Huh? Oh, that. Yes, well, he come a-flapping into the chicken house and all of us little chickies was scared to death. There was a bunch of us in that hatch. I had thirteen brothers and sisters.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he come a-rushing inside and said, ‘Y’all need to run around in circles and flap your wings and cluck, ‘cause the British are coming!’ And since that day, in times of trouble, we run around in circles and yell, ‘The British are coming!’”

I laughed. “I wondered how that got started.”

“Well, there it is. It’s a true story, and, mister, I think the British are here, and that’s why we’ve run out of grasshoppers.” He folded his wings across his chest and narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you say to that?”

“I’m glad you turned in the report, J.T.. I’ll get right to work on it.”

He was surprised. “Well, I didn’t expect to hear that. You’re actually going to investigate?”

“Oh yes, no question about it. This is serious stuff.”

“It sure is if you’re a chicken. How come you’re grinning?”

“I enjoy my work. Can you give me a description?”

“Of what? Oh, the British? Let me think here.” He stroked his beak and gazed off into the distance. “Granddad wasn’t real clear on that. The best I can remember, he said they wore funny hats.”

“On their heads?”

“Yes, on their heads. That’s where most people wear their hats.”

“I’m just checking, J.T., it’s part of my job.”

“That’s fine, as long as you ain’t poking fun.”

“Oh no. Any other clues or details?”

“Let me think here. Oh yeah, one of them Britishers called himself Yokie Dandy Doodle. He was a general or something.”

“Got it. What else?”

“Well, he went to town, riding on a donkey.”

“Very interesting.”

“There’s more, it’s a-coming back to me. He wore a feather in his cap and ate a macaroni sandwich.”

“Macaroni sandwich, wow.” I rose to my feet. “Excellent. I’ll open a file on Okie Dokie Doodle and get started on the investigation right away. If he’s been stealing grasshoppers, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

J.T. held me in a searching gaze. “You know, pooch, all these years I’ve misjudged you. I never thought you had sense enough to walk across a road, but I admit that I’m kind of impressed.”

“Thanks, J.T., impressing roosters is something I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

“That makes me proud, sure does. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I ate one of them japaleena peppers? Boy, you talk about a fire in the engine room!”

“Some other time, J.T. I need to get to work on this case. See you around, and watch out for the British.”

“Sure will, sure will. And you keep me informed, hear?”

“You bet.”

I hurried away. Somehow I had managed to get through the conversation without laughing my head off.

Can you believe that conversation? The British were stealing grasshoppers, Yokie Dokie Doodle…what a bird-brain! And I was supposed to be protecting him from the Bad Guys. Sometimes I wonder…oh well.

So where were we? Oh yes, after being entertained by J.T. Cluck’s heartburn stories, I headed down to the office, where I found some nice shade and two gunny sack beds. Drover was occupying one of them, conked out asleep, and I slid into the embrace of the other one.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t sleep. No sir, we have pretty strict rules about sleeping during business hours. I needed to conserve my energy, as well as catch up on reports and work out the schedule for Night Patrol. See, sometimes I do my paperwork in bed.

All of a sudden, I was awakened by a piercing…

Wait. Let me rephrase that. I wasn’t asleep and therefore couldn’t have been awakened by the scream. I was writing up my notes of the J.T. Cluck Comedy Hour, remember? Yes, that was it. The British were stealing his grasshoppers.

The Head of Ranch Security doesn’t sleep in the middle of the day. Let’s just say that upon hearing the awful scream, I leaped out of my office chair and took charge of the situation. “Parsley bubbles on the lumber bunny cobblers! Outrageous freckles see no evil and we shall beat to quarters!”

With jerky movements of my head, I glanced around and saw…what was that thing? It was mostly white. On one end, it seemed to have a head and on the other end, a stub of a tail. The creature stood on wobbly legs and stared at me with eyes that resembled…I don’t know, two bowls of dishwater.

I beamed a merciless glare at the stranger and yelled, “Halt! Stop in the name of the lawn! Who goes there?”

A mysterious voice said, “Poppy hop along with pollywog jelly.”

“That’s your name? Let’s see some ID, and keep all five feet on the ground.”

“I thought I heard someone scream.”

“Roger that. I heard it too, and we’ve got units checking it out, even as we squeak. What’s your name? We need a name to go with the face.”

“Which face?”

“The one you’re wearing.”

“Oh, that one.” He blinked his eyes and gazed around. “Well, I guess I’m Drover. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I am.”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yeah, I live here.”

“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere. Your name must already be in our system, so form a line and pick up your uniform.” I narrowed my eyes and looked closer at him. “Did you say your name is Drover?”

He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Hi.”

“Hello. We used to have a Drover on the staff and he drove me nuts. What are you, his cousin or something?”

“No, it was me all along. Sometimes they call me Rover, but it’s Drover with a D.”

“Drover with a D? Are you suggesting that I can’t smell your name? And speaking of smell…” I moved closer and checked him out with Sniffatory Scanners. “I’m picking up a strange odor. Explain.”

“Well, I rolled on a fresh cow pie.”

“Why would you do that?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t know, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“It was the wrong thing to do. You stink. You said Drover, right?”

“Yeah, with a D.”

“Please stop telling me how to spell your name. The point is that you’re Drover with a D. We’ve known each other for a long time, which makes me wonder…” I glanced around in a full circle. “Where are we?”

“In our bedroom, under the gas tanks.”

“Ah. That explains the deja voodoo, the feeling that I’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, about a million times. We were asleep and something woke us up.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Who can sleep on this ranch? Even so…what do you suppose woke us up?”

His eyes grew large. “It was some kind of scream.”

That word, “scream,” seemed to activate all my professional instincts, and I knew we had a serious problem on the ranch. Just how serious, I didn’t know. You don’t either, so you’d better keep reading.