Horace & Bunwinkle

by PJ Gardner

  “Wee barns? Does that make sense to you?” Bunwinkle asked once Mal was safely locked away.

  Horace shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but he had the feeling it should.

  8

  Dr. Schwank

  Winkie was in a lot of trouble. Ellie put her in a time-out in one of the alpaca pens. Which was totally unfair. She hadn’t really hurt Mal. He’d just fainted. Besides, he’d headbutted her first. Why wasn’t he in trouble for that?

  Maybe chewing would make her feel better. She dug around until she found something with just the right amount of crunch.

  “What’s in your mouth now?” Horace asked from the other side of the fence.

  Winkie ignored him. She didn’t need a lecture. She needed to chew her feelings.

  “You might be interested to know Eleanor called Dr. Schwank. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  She spit out the thing in her mouth. “Good. We can inspect the van for traces of the princess and the others.”

  Horace didn’t argue. He just got a weird look on his face.

  Ellie appeared next to Horace and opened the gate to the pen. Before her human could change her mind, Winkie ran straight to the house.

  Winkie didn’t sleep well that night. Every time she closed her eyes, an image of the one-eyed cat from the vets’ office popped into her head. She had to be on her guard against Dr. Schwank so he couldn’t do that to her.

  She was still awake when the mobile vet van pulled into the driveway the next morning. Winkie didn’t like the look of it at all. No windows. What were they hiding in there? And it was perfectly clean. A van that drove around farm country all day should be covered in dirt.

  She didn’t like the look of Dr. Schwank either. You couldn’t see any of him. He had a cap on his head and a surgical mask that covered most of his face. The only thing she could tell for sure about him was that he was tall.

  “How are you doing, Pete?” Ellie asked when the vet got out of his van.

  “Rough morning. Allergies are acting up, so I gotta wear this thing.” He pointed to the mask. “The office flooded, and we spent the better part of the morning moving files and such. And then I just had to send off the Hoglands’ old horse, Travere. Sad thing. The twins took it real hard.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Dr. Schwank nodded. “Well, let’s take a look at that goat of yours.”

  He followed Ellie across to the barn. At the door he turned and glanced back to where Winkie and Horace sat on the porch.

  “Creepy,” she whispered.

  They waited until he walked into the barn, then raced to the van. They’d made their plan last night. They needed evidence, and the mobile van was the best place to look for it.

  “Lucky he left the door open,” Bunwinkle said, trying to climb up.

  “He always leaves it open. Makes it easier to get supplies, I suppose.” Horace boosted her into the van. Once she was in, he said, “I’ll stay here and be the lookout. If someone comes out of the barn, I’ll bark.”

  Sometimes Horace was the biggest chicken.

  “Fine.”

  The inside of the van was just as clean as the outside. And organized too. Everything important was either in a drawer or cabinet. Winkie pulled on a handle with her teeth, and it opened.

  Needles!

  Winkie slammed the drawer shut.

  Horace came around to the back of the van. “Not so loud.”

  “I found the shots.”

  He shuddered, then went back to his lookout post.

  She went through the drawers one by one. There were a bunch of surgical tools and bandages. The last drawer she opened was full of pet-grooming brushes like the one they’d found by the pond. This was good, but it wasn’t enough to prove the vets were the petnappers.

  Near the driver’s seat, she found a case. She pushed it over, and files spilled out.

  “Horace!”

  He came round to the back again. “What? I’m not a very effective lookout if I’m not actually able to look out.”

  “You’ve got to see this.”

  He shook his head but jumped into the van anyway. “What is it?”

  “Files on the missing animals.”

  “What? All of them?” He opened the top one with his paw.

  “Totally.”

  Horace narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you actually go through them?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “I’m glad it’s nothing serious.” Ellie’s voice sounded close.

  Winkie turned to Horace. “You were supposed to be on guard duty.”

  He gave her an irritated look. “I would have been, but someone called me into the van.”

  They shoved the files back into the case and raced out of the van. Winkie was in such a hurry, she missed the last step and tumbled to the ground.

  “Bunwinkle!” Ellie had Winkie in her arms in the blink of an eye.

  “How are you doing, little one?” Schwank asked.

  His voice was soft. Some animals might even have called it kind, but Winkie knew better. It was just an act. The whole thing was an act.

  Ellie looked her over with a sigh. “You’ve got to slow down or you’re going to get seriously hurt.”

  “Do you want me to give her a quick exam?”

  “Would you?”

  Dr. Creepy snatched Winkie up before she could make a run for it. He ran his cold hands over her head, like Dr. Schott had done.

  “Everything feels fine,” the vet said, but he didn’t put her down or hand her back to Ellie.

  Winkie squirmed. She didn’t trust this guy for a second. He was up to no good.

  “Thanks, Dr. Schwank. She’s a bit of a wild one,” Ellie said, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to do with her sometimes.”

  “You know, in vet school they used to call me the pig whisperer. Can I try something?”

  Ellie nodded, and the next thing Winkie knew, she was face-to-face with the evil vet. He pulled his mask down and then leaned in until their foreheads touched. He stared deep into her eyes. She tried to look away, but it was impossible. His eyes were light. So light, they looked almost white. Like they were made of ice.

  She kicked and twisted. “Horace, help! He’s trying to hippotize me.”

  “Shh,” the vet whispered at her. “Stop wiggling. Be calm. Behave. Heal. Rest.”

  He said it over and over, and each time he said it, Winkie got tireder and tireder. Her eyelids were so heavy. So . . . heavy . . .

  And then she was asleep.

  Winkie woke up to find Horace’s face an inch from hers. He looked worried.

  “You’re alive. Thank heavens!”

  “What happened?”

  “That dreadful Dr. Schwank mesmerized you. He told you to rest and you passed out. And another thing—Mal is missing.”

  “What?” Winkie stopped stretching.

  Horace nodded. “He disappeared sometime last night.”

  “Last night? How long was I out?”

  “Almost twenty-four hours.”

  Dang it! That creepy vet had put the whammy on her, and then he’d stolen Mal while she was asleep.

  “You know what that means?” Horace asked.

  “Yeah, those petnappers are going down.”

  He didn’t laugh or give her a lecture. “No, it means Smokey isn’t the guilty party. One animal couldn’t get the better of that goat, even if she was the meanest cat in creation. And I don’t think she’d hurt Princess Sofaneesba either. She’d never risk her meal ticket.” He cleared his throat. “Bunwinkle, you were correct.”

  Winkie’s jaw dropped. Horace had admitted he was wrong. Maybe he was sick. She put her snout on his forehead.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to see if you have a fever.” He didn’t. He felt the same as always.

  He pushed her away with his paw. “Very amusing. Now, if you’re done playing, let’s go get proof of the veterinarians’ wrongdoing
s.”

  “How?”

  “By interviewing eyewitnesses.”

  Winkie’s face fell. “You mean the horses, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Horace hopped off the couch and headed for the back door. “You coming?” he called over his shoulder.

  Winkie followed him even though she knew it wouldn’t do them any good. How were you going to get help from someone who believed in ghosts, aliens, and sprites, for pity’s sake?

  She caught up with Horace inside the barn door. “I think this is a job for Agent Bunwinkle.”

  “Oh, all right,” Horace said with a sigh.

  As they approached the stalls, they heard Jones’s voice.

  “This is it, brother . . . the end of the road. It’s been a good life, hasn’t it? You remember the tours we used to do? Boy, we sure had fun tossing those ole city slickers around, didn’t we? Heh! And you remember that filly? The appaloosa? What was her name again?”

  Smith didn’t answer. His eyes were closed like he was asleep, but Winkie wasn’t buying it.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Jones, but I’m on urgent P.I.G. business,” she cut in.

  The old gray horse nodded his head. “I’m glad you came, Agent Bunwinkle. We don’t have much time left, and I have a lot to tell you.”

  Maybe Horace was right. Maybe the horses did have something to say.

  Winkie had never seen Jones look so serious. She put on her best listening face. “I’m ready.”

  “You were right: it wasn’t aliens. I realized that when they tried to take me.”

  “They?” Winkie and Horace asked at the same time.

  Jones nodded solemnly. “They wanted to lead me to my new home, but they couldn’t work the latch on my stall. So they took Mal instead.”

  “Well, who was it?” she asked. “Who took him?”

  “Angels.”

  Winkie put a hoof over her eyes and groaned. What a waste of time. The vets were probably doing something horrible to their friends right now, and she and Horace were stuck talking to a loony.

  Horace hopped up onto the hay bale closest to Jones. “Tell me about the angels.”

  What was he doing? He didn’t actually believe this story, did he?

  “Well, there were two of them. And they were small. They had the most beautiful halos.”

  “They were small?” Horace asked.

  Jones nodded. “Oh yes. And they laughed a lot. It was enchanting. Just hearing it made me happy. And they’ll be coming back for Smith and me real soon. Our time is running out, you see. You probably can’t tell, but my brother and I are getting up there in age.”

  Winkie almost burst out laughing.

  “Was Mal happy to hear them too?” Horace asked.

  “No, sir. He fought the angels real hard. You know how it is, some critters just can’t accept when it’s their time to go. That’s why I’m preparing myself. I want to be ready when the angels come for me.”

  Really?

  “What about your brother? Did you see anything?” Horace shouted at the black-spotted horse in the next stall. Smith peeked at them through squinted eyelids and pretended to snore.

  Jones answered for his brother. “He had that head cover on. The one that keeps the flies out. Says he can’t see or hear a thing when it’s on.”

  Winkie stared at Smith suspiciously. There was something fishy about that horse.

  “Thank you, Jones.” Horace climbed down from the hay.

  “You’re welcome. And it’s been a pleasure knowing you. Both of you.”

  “I told you that wouldn’t do us any good,” Winkie said as they walked away.

  Horace’s face scrunched up the way it did when he was thinking hard about something.

  “Maybe we should we talk to the nanny goats? They were outside, but they might have seen something.”

  “DON’T YOU DARE!” Jones suddenly shouted.

  “Is something wrong with the nannies?” Horace turned back.

  Jones laughed. “No, that was the name of that ole filly. Don’t You Dare. She was quite a gal, wasn’t she, Smith?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Winkie said.

  The goats were no help. Minnie hadn’t seen anything, and the other two laughed their faces off when Horace told them about Mal.

  “Good riddance.”

  “Why would we want him back?”

  Ellie walked out as they stood there. “Come on, guys. We’ll drive around and look for Mal.”

  First stop was the goat’s old home—MacDougal Farm.

  “Och, haven’t seen the beast since I sold him to ye,” said the big man at the gate.

  He sounded exactly like Mal. Maybe that was why the goat talked so funny.

  After that they drove around for over an hour with no luck. Ellie stopped at every house, farm, and ranch along the route. The only place they didn’t stop was the old barn around the bend from the Homestead. Even Mal couldn’t get past a locked gate.

  “He’s not around here,” Winkie muttered to herself. “He’s in that back room at the vets’ office.”

  The last stop was Hogland Farm. Ellie stopped at the big milking shed close to the main road. While she rolled down the windows, she stared at Horace and Winkie in the rearview mirror. “You two stay here. I’m going to talk with Lars for a minute. Do not get into any trouble. Do I make myself clear?” Ellie twisted around and gave them the stare until they started squirming. Then she got out and went into the shed.

  Winkie stuck her head out the window as soon as Ellie closed the door. “Too bad we promised to be good. This is a great place to look for clues. Dr. Schwank was here just before he came to the Homestead. He might have left some evidence.” She watched the cows for a few minutes. “You know, I still can’t believe the Hoglands don’t raise hogs. It would make way more sense.”

  A loud sniff from Horace’s direction made her turn. Her brother dog sat by the open window with tears pouring down his face.

  Winkie rushed to his side. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “I think I’ve finally become countrified,” he sniffed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t smell bad to me anymore.”

  She turned her head so Horace couldn’t see her grin.

  Before long, Ellie and a tall, skinny man walked out of the milking shed together. He opened the car door for her, saying, “We’ll keep a lookout for him, Eleanor. He’s bound to turn up soon. Shoot, he might be back at your place already.”

  “Thank you, Lars. I hope you’re right. I just . . . I can’t imagine how he got out.” Ellie shook her head.

  On their way home, they passed the twins. The girls were walking up the road with a big bag hanging between them. They hopped up and down and waved when they saw Winkie and Horace.

  “Too bad we didn’t stop.” Horace sighed. “I’m sure they had cheese for me.”

  9

  Petnapped

  They stayed up late going over the evidence. Winkie didn’t know why—it was obvious the vets had done it. But Horace would not let it go.

  “Something isn’t right about this,” he insisted.

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought you agreed with me.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “I did, but the more we investigate, the more I question the veterinarians’ involvement.”

  “You’re thinking too hard.”

  Horace ignored her. “We know you smelled cat fur and hand gel in the field. We both smelled something sweet, like cookies. All the missing animals are from this neighborhood, which means the culprits must live in this area or spend a great deal of time here.”

  “Or they could’ve found them when they went to the vets’ office,” Winkie said.

  “I don’t think so. Smokey doesn’t look like she’s been inside a house, let alone a clinic, for quite some time.” Horace nodded. “I think we can safely rule out a mountain lion attack at this point. A mountain lion would have gone for easier prey, and I’m certain Smith and
Jones would have noticed one roaming around the barn. And we’ve already eliminated Smokey.”

  Winkie dropped her head on the blankets. “Yeah. It’s definitely not them, ’cause it’s totally the vets.”

  Horace got the teaching-moment look on his face. “But would anyone ever mistake them for angels?”

  “Jones isn’t the sharpest tack in the toolbox. He thought I was a sprite, remember?”

  Horace shook his head and sighed. “I’m certain we’re missing something.”

  “Yeah, sleep.” Winkie yawned so hard, her jaw cracked.

  “Goodness, how did it get so late? You should have said something.”

  For a second she thought about biting him. He must’ve noticed, because he suddenly smiled at her. “Let’s get some rest. We can start again first thing tomorrow.”

  It was a bad night. Winkie had a hard time getting to sleep, and then she had weird dreams. Like the one where Dr. Schott was an evil scientist and he kept shouting, “Do what you like to me but you’ll never find my bairn!” He said the word “barn” just like Mal did.

  All of a sudden she was wide awake. The barn. That’s what Mal had been talking about. There must be a clue in the barn. But they’d searched it already. Maybe something was behind it. Maybe there was some clue in the field back there. They needed to check it out right away.

  “Horace.” She nudged him with her snout.

  “Leave this property, you loathsome devils.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was having the bird dream again. It was impossible to wake him up when he had that one. And he’d insist they check the pond first thing.

  He’d be mad if she investigated by herself, but maybe she could clear the ducks out of the pond now. Then when he woke up, they could get right to work.

  Everything was quiet and peaceful when she walked out. The ducks were back in the pond. Good thing she’d gotten there early.

  She stopped to sniff the air. There was that smell again—animal fur and cookies and something like cleaning spray. Stronger than before. She heard rustling behind her . . . just before a pair of hands grabbed her and shoved her into a duffel bag.

  “Horace! Help me!”