Читать книгу The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting - John R. Erickson - Страница 7

Chapter Two: Tricked by Pete but Not for Long

We had gone only a few steps when Drover said, “What’s the business?”

I glared at the runt. “We’ve got a rattlesnake to kill, you brick. What do you think we’ve been talking about?”

His eyes blanked out, and suddenly he began to limp. “Boy, I’d love to help, Hank, but all at once this old leg just went out on me. Oh, my leg!”

“Never mind the leg. Stay behind me and stand by for some serious combat.”

“The pain’s terrible!”

To no one’s surprise, I was the first to reach the Staging Area in front of the machine shed. Drover and his so-called limp had fallen behind and I had to wait for him to catch up.

“Hurry up, Drover. We haven’t a minute to spare. This could turn out to be a very serious affair.”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s the kind that really sets off this leg. I haven’t felt pain like this in years.”

“Spare me the details.”

At last, he joined me at the Staging Area. I studied the Target Zone, an area dominated by medium-to-tall weeds and various hunks of pipe, angle iron, channel iron, and so forth. Collectively, we referred to this material as “welding scraps,” for the simple reason that Slim and Loper used it for their welding jobs.

If you want to know why their welding jobs always look junky, it’s because they draw their raw material from a pile of junk. And also, they’re not such great welders.

Where was I? Staging Area. Combat. Drover and I were fixing to go into deadly combat against an enormous rattlesnake that had been terrorizing the entire ranch and threatening to bite and eat all the little children.

Well, you know where I stand on the Children Issue. Early in my career, I took a Solemn Cowdog Oath to protect and defend innocent little children against all manner of monsters and crawling things, and the fact that this snake had been reported to be twelve feet long and as big around as an inner tube, capable of swallowing children whole and armed with huge fangs and poison that was so vehement that a single drop could kill a charging rinoserus . . . rhinoserous . . . a charging buffalo—all that didn’t bother me in the least.

Okay, it bothered me some. A little bit. I’ve never been fond of snakes, especially rattle­snakes, and maybe I’m scared of ’em, but in this old life, what matters is not what you’re scared of, but what you do about being scared.

And it was at that point that I began thinking, “Aw, what the heck, one little snake isn’t going to hurt anything.” But that was a cowardly thought and I swept it out of my mind immediately. If Drover had known that I was even the least bit afraid, there’s no telling what might have happened.

He might have had a blowout on all four legs at once and been crippled for life. We couldn’t risk that. He was enough of a nuisance with one bad leg, and the thought of listening to him moan and groan about FOUR was more than I could bear.

So I summoned all my courage and faced the difficult task that awaited me.

“Drover, I’ll go first in what we refer to as ‘the first wave.’”

“Yeah, and I’ll stay here and wave good-bye.”

“No, you’ll come in the second wave and watch the rear.”

“Yeah, and if you’re not the lead dog, the view never changes.”

“Exactly. You’ll guard the rear and the left flank. Do you know what to do if you hear a rattle­snake?”

“Oh, you bet.”

“What?”

“Run like a striped ape.”

“No, that’s exactly wrong. You freeze, hold your position, and try to get a fix on his position. Is that clear?”

“This leg’s killing me.”

“I understand that you’re in pain, Drover, but just remember that disgrace is the worst pain of all.”

“But you never know until you try.”

I curled my lip at him. “Take my word for it, Drover, and don’t even think about retreating from the field of battle until I give the signal. Is that clear?”

“I hope I can stand the pain!”

“You’ll find a way, Drover, because at this very moment, even as we speak, your conscience is talking to you.”

“It is?”

“Yes, and what it’s saying is that if you run off and leave me alone on the field of battle, I will make hamburger meat out of your worthless carcass. Now, let’s move out.”

And with those touching words, I turned toward the west, took a deep breath of air, lifted my head to a stern angle, narrowed my eyes, and marched off to war.

“Oh boy, this leg is even worse than I thought!”

I tried to ignore the noise behind me and concentrate on every weed and shadow in the Combat Zone, behind any one of which might lurk the huge and deadly rattlesnake. I took one step, and then another.

And another. And another. And then five more. And then . . .

Suddenly there was a blur of motion in the corner of my periphery, a rapid blur of motion. I froze. Drover ran into me.

“Oops.”

“Stop that! Didn’t you hear me say halt?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I didn’t say halt, but even more important was the fact that I halted, and when I halt, you halt! And stop running into me when I’m tense and alert. Do you understand that?”

“I guess so. Did you see something?”

“Affirmative. I saw something, but it wasn’t a snake.”

“Oh good! What was it?”

“A cottontail rabbit. He jumped into that fourinch pipe over there. In other words . . .”

Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. I shot a glance down to the yard gate. Sally May was there in her housecoat, scraping my morning scraps off a plate and giving them all to . . .

“Drover, we’ve been duped.”

“We have?”

“Yes, we have. We’ve been duped by the cat who sent us up here on a fool’s errand.”

“You mean . . .”

“Exactly. He sent us up here to look for a snake that doesn’t exist.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!”

“But you won’t be so glad, Drover, that Pete is getting all the breakfast scraps, including the juicy fatty ends of bacon we’re so fond of.”

“Oh darn. I’m not so glad about that.”

“Just as I predicted. Well, we have no choice but to go streaking back to the yard gate and give Kitty-Kitty the pounding he so richly deserves. Are you ready for that kind of combat?”

“Well, let me think here.” He rolled his eyes and studied the clouds. “I’m so glad the snake turned out to be a rabbit that I can’t feel sad or mad.”

“Pete lied, Drover, that’s why we’re mad.”

“Yeah, but that was the best lie I ever heard.”

“All lies are bad, especially when they cost us our breakfast scraps. You should be outraged.”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, but I’m not. I’m the happiest dog in the whole world.”

“In that case, I have no choice but to pull rank, slap an injunction on you, and force you to shut up.” I slapped him on the bohunkus. “There’s the injunction.”

“Thanks, Hank. I can stand the junk as long as there’s not a snake in it.”

“The junk is in your brain, Drover.”

“No, it’s right over there in the weeds.”

“An injunction has nothing to do with junk. It has to do with . . . you’ve got me so confused, I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Rabbits.”

“Yes, of course. Rabbits are an excellent source of entertainment for ranch dogs and they never bite. Any more questions about rabbits?”

“Yeah, just one. How come Pete got all the scraps?”

I blinked my eyes, cut them from side to side, and tried to shake the vapors out of my head. “Drover, have you ever felt that you might be going insane?”

“No, but I sure wonder about the rest of the world. It’s a pretty crazy world.”

“Yes, and you account for 90 percent of it. Now hush, don’t say one more word!”

“Okay.”

“That’s better. Let’s move out.”

And with that, we went streaking down to the yard gate to claim our true and rightful share of the scraps.