The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse
Page 7
“RUN, HANK, RUN!”
“Honey child, I’d be glad to run, but these old legs have just quit me.”
I collapsed and watched the hooves come down. I felt the first one and heard the bone in my back leg snap like a twig. After that, I didn’t feel a thing and heard no more.
The great cold darkness moved around me and began to carry me away.
Chapter Twelve: Happy Ending and Also the Case of the Flying Punkin Pie
When I awoke, I was in Dog Heaven. I saw clouds floating past and two angels standing over me. I was a little surprised that I had made it into heaven without an argument at the gate.
I mean, I had always tried to live a good life and be a good dog, but I was also aware that I had, uh, certain blemishes on my record—such as the time I had eaten the T-bone steaks Sally May had left out to thaw, the time I had . . .
Speaking of Sally May, there she was, standing above me and . . . HUH? Holding a shotgun? Holy smokes, this wasn’t Dog Heaven! I’d gone to the Other Place!
That sort of confirmed my worst nightmares, that I would end up in Doggie Hell and find out that the place was run by Sally May instead of the Devil. All at once I regretted every naughty thing I’d ever done and wished that I could apply for another assignment.
But wait! If I had landed in Doggie Hell, what were those two angels doing there? My head began to clear and my eyes began to focus, and I recognized the angels: Ashley and Amy. Then I glanced around and saw Little Alfred and Grandma. And Drover.
“Hi Hank, how you doing?”
“Swell. How did you get here?”
“I don’t know. Been here for years. That horse sure beat you up, didn’t he?”
“Horse? What horse?” Then it all came back and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Where’s Tuerto?”
“Oh, he couldn’t stay. Sally May peppered him with the shotgun and he went home.”
“Bless Sally May’s heart. She not only saved my life, she saved me from a fate worse than death. In other words, I’m still alive.”
“Sure looks that way to me.”
My head was lying in Amy’s lap and Ashley was stroking my neck—not such a bad deal, in spite of a few aches and pains.
Grandma cleared her throat. She had a very serious expression on her face. “Well, Sally May, you have a dog with a broken leg. What are you going to do with him?”
“I don’t know, Mom. What would you do?”
Grandma sighed and looked up at the sky. “Honey, I’d probably do what I’ve done before—load the worthless rascal up, take him to town, get him patched up, cry over the vet bill, and spend the rest of my life wondering why I did it.”
Sally May nodded. “That sounds like something I might do.”
“He did save the girls.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Shall I bring the car around?”
“There’s nothing for this in our budget.”
“I have a little extra this month. I’ll contribute to the Hank Fund.”
“But Mom, he’s such a scoundrel!”
“I know. Shall I bring the car around?”
Sally May closed her eyes, shook her head, and heaved a sigh. “I guess there’s nothing else to do. Yes, bring the car around. Girls, get some towels out of the bathroom. Alfred, please stop putting dirt in your shoes.”
Grandma went to get her car and the kids ran up to the house. That left me and Sally May alone. Made me feel mighty uncomfortable. She kept staring down at me and shaking her head. Her lips moved but no words came out.
Then she laid her crutches aside and sat down on the ground beside me. She laid my head in her lap and sang me a little song. Here’s how it went.
A Fundamental Disagreement
We seem to have a problem relating, you and I,
We seem to have a problem, seeing eye to eye.
We seem to stand a world apart on almost everything.
It’s a fundamental disagreement.
I know you think I’m fussy about my yard and home,
You probably think I’m wicked, my heart is made of stone.
You just don’t seem to understand or even really try,
It’s a fundamental disagreement.
Oh Hank, if you would just shape up!
Oh Hank, if you could take a hint!
Oh Hank, you love the septic tank!
Why can’t you change your ways and try to be good?
I could be a lot more patient if you were just less crude.
Sometimes I think God put you here to test my fortitude.
And if you’d leave my cat alone and not corrupt my child,
We have a fundamental disagreement.
I’d rather not be near you when you’ve just fought a skunk
I’ve tried it several times before and, Hank, you’ve really stunk.
My nose is very sensitive, I guess that’s at the root
Of our fundamental disagreement.
Oh Hank, if you would just shape up!
Oh Hank, if you could take a hint!
Oh Hank, you love the septic tank!
Why can’t you change your ways and try to be good?
I guess we’ll take you to the doctor and put you through the mill.
We’ll get your broken leg fixed, and then we’ll pay the bill.
I can’t explain my reasoning, it doesn’t make much sense.
It’s a fundamental disagreement.
A woman has an instinct for keeping things alive.
When we see a creature suffering, our spirits take a dive.
But, Hank, you strain my instincts and put them to the test.
It’s a fundamental disagreement.
Oh Hank, if you would just shape up!
Oh Hank, if you could take a hint!
Oh Hank, this trip will cost us a mint!
Why can’t you change your ways and try to be good?
Become a nicer dog and do what you should?
I’d like you better if you just understood.
While she sang to me, I looked up into her eyes and gave her my sincerest loyal dog expression and whapped my tail. I made solemn promises to shape up, to take a hint, to stay out of the overflow of the septic tank, and to leave her stupid cat alone forever and ever.
When she was done, she looked down at me and rubbed me behind the ears. “Hank, you’re such a bad dog, and I guess you’ll never change.”
Oh no, she was wrong about that. I had taken the Pledge, I had turned over a new leaf, I had begun a new life. Things were going to be different this time.
“But I’ll say this for you, Hank McNasty. You came through when we needed you today. You were a brave dog. I’ll try to remember that in the future when you mess up again.”
Hey, there wasn’t going to be a next time. This was a new deal. We were starting all over with a clean slate. No more mess-ups for this dog. She’d see.
Grandma pulled the car around front. They laid a towel across the back seat and placed me on top of it. Sally May and the girls rode in the back with me, and thank goodness, they put Little Mr. Wiggleworm in the front with Grandma.
My old leg was pretty well messed up and every time we went across a cattle guard, I felt needles of pain shooting all over my body. I tried to be brave and tough, but now and then I couldn’t help whimpering.
But you know, every time I whimpered, Sally May and the girls scratched me and rubbed me and patted me and whispered soft things in my ears, and shucks, by the time we reached the vet clinic, I had just about decided that I should bust a leg more often. It would have been okay with me if Grandma had decided to drive on up to Kansas.
Now, when they carried me inside the clinic, that wasn’t much fun. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt! And I admit that I growled at the doctor and tri
ed my best to bite him when he came at me with that thing with the needle on the end of it.
But my gals told me to act nice, and since I’d taken the Pledge and sworn never to mess up again, I didn’t bite him. But once.
And then he stuck me with that needle, and after that, I didn’t much care what he did, because I fell into a big vat of warm molasses and just floated around.
Next thing I knew, we were back at the ranch. I opened my eyes and, much to my surprise, found myself in a cardboard box next to the woodstove—in Sally May’s living room! I had two of the cutest little nurses a dog ever dreamed of having, and when they weren’t stroking my head, they were bringing me bowls of warm milk.
Yes sir, right then and there I decided to go into the Hero business full-time. It would take a lot of that kind of treatment to wear me out.
Course, the one bad thing about it all was that I had to pack my leg around when I walked. They had that rascal bound up with tape and a metal splint, and I felt pretty peculiar trying to walk on it.
Around dark, Loper came home and the girls met him at the door and told him the whole story. He came over and knelt down beside my box and told me I was a “pretty good dog,” which seemed a rather modest description but better than some of the things he had called me over the years. Or even that day.
Then Sally May hobbled in on her crutches and handed him the vet bill. His face turned red and his eyes almost bugged out of his head, and for a second there, I thought he was going to throw me out of the house. But he settled down.
“First you sprain my wife’s ankle, then you get your own leg busted. In one day, you’ve become the only four-hundred-dollar dog I’ve ever owned.” He held up the vet bill. “And look here, we even have papers on you now.”
That got a big laugh. I missed the humor in it myself. I mean, if he was making snide remarks about my claim to being a prizewinning, top-of-the-line, blue-ribbon, papered, pedigreed cowdog . . . oh well. As long as they’re laughing, they won’t throw you out of the house. That’s my motto.
Well, it was a wonderful holiday, one of my better Thanksgivings. Amy and Ashley camped out beside my box that night and took good care of me, and by noon of the next day, I was getting around on my peg leg.
I went into the kitchen, where Sally May was working on the Thanksgiving dinner. Not only did I build up a few points with the cook, but I also won a free turkey gizzard, which had a wonderful flavor but didn’t chew any better than an old inner tube. I finally gave up trying to chew the thing and swallered it whole.
And did I mention the laughs we got when we walked through the house together? Yep, got some good laughs, Sally May hobbling along on her crutches and me coming along behind on my peg leg. That was the hit of the whole day.
Yes, it was a wonderful holiday. I mean, for once everything had turned out just right and couldn’t have been bet . . .
Oh, there was one little incident that cast a shadow . . . I want to make it clear that it wasn’t exactly my fault . . . yes, I had taken the Pledge and had sworn never to do anything wrong for the rest of my . . .
You see, all the family had gone into the dining room and sat down to a big Thanksgiving feast and . . . well, they were all eating and I could hear their lips smacking . . . a guy naturally thinks of food when he hears six pairs of lips smacking and . . .
How or why I wandered into the kitchen, I’m not sure. Maybe I was exercising. Yes, that was it, doing therapy, and wandered into the kitchen, so to speak, and found myself all alone . . .
And there was this pie sitting on the counter—I mean, one lonely pie sitting there with no friends, nobody to talk to, no one with who or whom to share the holiday spirit, so naturally I . . .
I could smell it, see. PUNKIN PIE. Boy, do I like punkin pie! Well, I knew better than to . . . I mean, I’d taken the Pledge and everything and . . . I’d be the last guy in the world to . . .
You won’t believe this, but all of a sudden a gust of wind came through the winder, picked that whole pie up off the counter, and knocked it on the floor. Yes sir, just like that!
Well, you know me. When there’s a mess to be cleaned up, I jump right in there and make a hand. I was in the process of trying to clean up the mess, and I mean cleaning it up in huge gulps, when . . .
Oh well. I thought it was too stuffy in the house . . . a ranch dog has no business spending his time in a stuffy house and . . . I needed some fresh air, see, and . . .
I spent the remainder of the holiday season outdoors, where I belonged.
When my girls left two days later, they hugged my neck and cried. And, fellers, when the girls are crying when they leave you, that’s got to be a happy ending.
Further Reading
Have you read all of Hank’s adventures?
1 The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
2 The Further Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
3 It’s a Dog’s Life
4 Murder in the Middle Pasture
5 Faded Love
6 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
7 The Curse of the Incredible Priceless Corncob
8 The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse
9 The Case of the Halloween Ghost
10 Every Dog Has His Day
11 Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest
12 The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox
13 The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve
14 Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business
15 The Case of the Missing Cat
16 Lost in the Blinded Blizzard
17 The Case of the Car-Barkaholic Dog
18 The Case of the Hooking Bull
19 The Case of the Midnight Rustler
20 The Phantom in the Mirror
21 The Case of the Vampire Cat
22 The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting
23 Moonlight Madness
24 The Case of the Black-Hooded Hangmans
25 The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado
26 The Case of the Kidnapped Collie
27 The Case of the Night-Stalking Bone Monster
28 The Mopwater Files
29 The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper
30 The Case of the Haystack Kitties
31 The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook
32 The Garbage Monster from Outer Space
33 The Case of the Measled Cowboy
34 Slim’s Good-bye
35 The Case of the Saddle House Robbery
36 The Case of the Raging Rottweiler
37 The Case of the Deadly Ha-Ha Game
38 The Fling
39 The Secret Laundry Monster Files
40 The Case of the Missing Bird Dog
41 The Case of the Shipwrecked Tree
42 The Case of the Burrowing Robot
43 The Case of the Twisted Kitty
44 The Dungeon of Doom
45 The Case of the Falling Sky
46 The Case of the Tricky Trap
47 The Case of the Tender Cheeping Chickies
48 The Case of the Monkey Burglar
49 The Case of the Booby-Trapped Pickup
50 The Case of the Most Ancient Bone
51 The Case of the Blazing Sky
52 The Quest for the Great White Quail
53 Drover’s Secret Life
54 The Case of the Dinosaur Birds
55 The Case of the Secret Weapon
56 The Case of the Coyote Invasion
57 The Disappearance of Drover
58 The Case of the Mysterious Voice
About the Author and Illustrator
John R. Erickson, a former cowboy, has written numerous books for both children and adults and is best known for his acclaimed Hank the Cowdog series. He lives and works on
his ranch in Perryton, Texas, with his family.
Gerald L. Holmes has illustrated numerous cartoons and textbooks in addition to the Hank the Cowdog series. He lives in Perryton, Texas.