Wagons West
Page 7
Good grief! I didn’t have much time for this, so I cranked up all the resources of Data Control, and we plunged into heavy-duty math. The machines clicked and whirred as I threw myself into the task. I had just arrived at an answer when her voice ripped through the silence.
“Time! Pencils down! Your solution?”
In a shaky voice, I delivered my answer. “Twenty-three ricks of wood and thirteen jars of pickled okra.”
She flinched in surprise. “Astounding. But what kind of wood?”
“Hackberry.”
“Green or cured?”
“Cured.”
“Split or round?”
“Round. No, wait, split.”
“And the okra? Does it take the form of okra pickles or pickled okra?”
“Uh…both, half and half.”
“With or without a clove of garlic?”
“With garlic.”
“Pint jars or quarts?”
“Pints.”
Her jaw dropped. “Unbelievable! No one has come close to solving that riddle, yet you did it in mere seconds.”
“So…I passed? No kidding?”
“Not only passed, but scored a perfect minus-three hundred. Has anyone ever said that you might be a genius?”
I almost fainted with relief. “Well, I don’t want to brag, but…yes ma’am, I hear that quite a lot.”
“I’m sure you do.” She cupped a wing around her beak. “Timothy! Open the outer gates and let the prisoners leave. And don’t you dare hiss at them!”
Big Tim slithered out of his coils and cleared the opening, but he didn’t look too happy about it. He gave us the old Pit Viper Glare and continued flicking out his tongue. We hurried past him.
Only then did I feel secure enough to say, “You need to keep that thing in your mouth, buddy, or somebody’s liable to step on it.”
Hee hee. That was fun, mouthing off to a snake, but the fun didn’t last long. The moment we stepped out of the cave, we heard an odd rushing sound. The rain had stopped, but the creek was running hard, fast, and bank-to-bank.
Madame had walked outside with us. “Madame, I don’t suppose you know any magic words that would help us cross the creek, do you?”
“No. Yes. Well, maybe. Let me think.” She pressed the tips of her wings against her head and closed her eyes.
“Oh, vapors, vapors, vanilla wafers.
Crocodiles and eagle beaks.
Reveal to us a magic word
To help them cross the flooded creek.”
Her eyes popped open and she beamed a smile. “It came, I’ve got it! But you must never share the secret word with anyone. Promise?”
I raised my right front paw. “You have my Solemn Cowdog Oath.”
“Very well.” She crept closer and dropped her voice to an eerie whisper. “The secret, solemn, magic word is…HELP!”
“Help? That’s not a magic word.”
She gave me a wink. “Try it. Goodbye, O Rabbity Hank, and come again some time!”
And with that, she hopped back into her cave and Big Tim closed the gates behind her, so to speak.
Alfred and I made our way down to the creek and found it running wide and swift. Most dogs would have quit right there. I mean, we’re talking about a flood. But don’t forget, Madame had given me the magic word that would…I don’t know, pick us up and carry us across to the other side, I suppose. Isn’t that what magic words are supposed to do?
At the water’s edge, I took a wide stance, grabbed a big gulp of air, and barked the magic word. “HELP!” We waited and listened. Nothing happened, so I reloaded and blasted it out again, over and over, for a solid minute.
And nothing happened, except that I got a sore throat.
You know, with Madame Moonshine, a guy can never be sure if she’s totally weird, partly weird, or something in between. On this deal, her magic word had turned out to be a big flop.
Alfred was getting restless. “Hankie, I think we can wade across.”
Wade across? Bad idea. Number One, the water was running so fast, he’d probably get swept away. Number Two, he couldn’t swim. Number Three…
Huh?
Good grief, he had rolled up his pant legs and was wading out into the swirling water!
I barked. “Hey, come back here!”
He kept going, deeper and deeper. As the water came up over his knees, he looked back and gave me the sweetest little-boy smile…and suddenly I felt this awful sense of dread. I KNEW that I would never…I mean, you hear about these things happening to other people, but you never dream…
You probably think this story is going to come to a bad end. Don’t you? Go ahead and admit it. Well, it sure seemed to be heading that way, only I did something that really surprised me.
I sprang into the water and took a bite on his hip pocket and started pulling him backwards. He didn’t like that and tried to swat me away. “Hankie, quit! I can make it.”
I ignored him, which is something we have to do with little boys. I kept pulling and managed to get him back into the shallows. And, oh, he was mad! He drew back his fist and I got the feeling that he wanted to slug me, but just then, we heard a voice in the distance.
“Alfred? Hank? Where are you?”
Alfred looked at me with big eyes. “It’s my dad!”
Right, and the kid had come within an inch of punching me in the nose. I cut loose with a barrage of 911 barks. “Over here!”
Moments later, Loper and Slim rode their horses out of the willows on the other side of the creek. They were wearing rain slickers and their hats were soaked. Man oh man, was I glad to see them!
They dismounted and tied their two catch ropes together, which gave them seventy feet of stout line. (Each was carrying a thirty-five foot nylon rope on his saddle, don’t you see). After several tosses, Loper managed to land his loop on our side of the creek. Alfred snugged the loop around his middle and he was ready.
Slim yelled, “Grab aholt of the dog, so we don’t have to fish him out too!”
The boy wrapped his arms around me and yelled, “Ready!” We entered the water (yipes, it was cold!) and the current swept Alfred off his feet. Fellers, it was a good thing we were tied to a line. That kid never would have made it across on his own power.
Out in the middle of the flood, he gave me a grin. “You bit me on the hiney.”
Exactly right, and the next time he tried to do something crazy, I would do it again.
We made it to the other side, cold and soaked but otherwise okay. Alfred climbed on the horse behind his dad, and with me out front in the Escort position, we headed back to the headquarters—the Return of the Famous Explorers.
Sally May rushed out of the house and scooped up young Daniel Boom in a hug. Everyone was laughing and happy…for a while. But then, well, the hammer came down on young Daniel Boom, as the adults took turns giving him a lecture about naughty little boys who slip out of their rooms and sneak down to the creek.
Sally May said, “Sweetie, why did you go down to the creek? You know we don’t allow that. Why, you could have drowned!”
The boy tried to explain. We were playing Wagons West close to the house, but then…well, the horse ran away with the wagon and things got out of hand.
Oops. Her razor eyes shifted to me. “Hank ran off with the wagon and took you all the way down to the creek?”
“Yes, but Mom, listen. Pete made him do it!”
“My cat?”
“Honest. Pete started a fight and Hankie chased him.”
My goodness. The silence was amazing. A bolt of truth had just come crashing down from the sky. She glanced toward the iris patch. The villain had vanished, of course, so she turned her gaze on Loper.
He shrugged and said, “Cats.”
Then, in a burst of excited words, Alfre
d told them the rest of the story. Our wagon got hung up in the brush, the storm hit, and we took cover in Madame Moonshine’s cave. She held us prisoner then let us go, the creek was flooding and Alfred tried to wade across, only…well, a certain hero pulled him back to shore.
He finished up with, “And Mom, it was the same owl we had in the box this morning. Hankie wasn’t going to eat the owl. He saved it from your cat.”
Poor Sally May didn’t know what to believe, with all the talk about owls and caves and runaway wagons, not to mention the fact that her precious kitty had fallen under a cloud of suspicion. It kind of threw her for a loop. Me? I loved it.
She knelt down in front of the lad, held him by both shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes. “Alfred Leroy, we might never find out what really happened, but it doesn’t change the rules. ‘Children, obey your parents.’”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Always obey your parents.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Her eyes slid around to me. I wilted. “And YOU…if you contributed anything to keeping my child safe from harm…” She searched for words. “…I’m very grateful. Thank you.”
Did you hear that? What a finish! All that remained was for us to hug and make up for all the years of Broom Events and misunderstandings. I leaped into her arms and…
Okay, I should have waited for a better time. I mean, dogs who swim rivers aren’t always aware of their “wet dog smell,” but Sally May sure was. Wow. She gagged and pushed me away, but you know what? Things had turned out pretty well.
Sally May and I had made some progress in patching up our relationship, the boy was safe, we’d gotten a good rain, the cat had been exposed as a villain, and Drover would spend a whole hour with his nose in the corner, repeating, “George ate three blind mice at Grandma’s house yesterday.”
This case is…
Wait a second. You’re probably wondering about Madame Moonshine’s “magic word.” Was it really magic? Well, I used it and we got help. One way or another, it worked, and on this outfit, that’s pretty close to a happy ending.
This case is closed.
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
59 The Case of the Perfect Dog
60 The Big Question
61 The Case of the Prowling Bear
62 The Ghost of Rabbits Past
63 The Return of the Charlie Monsters
64 The Case of the Three Rings
65 The Almost Last Roundup
66 The Christmas Turkey Disaster
67 Wagons West
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. The Hank series began as a self-publishing venture in Erickson’s garage in 1982 and has endured to become one of the nation’s most popular series for children and families. Through the eyes of Hank the Cowdog, a smelly, smart-aleck Head of Ranch Security, Erickson gives readers a glimpse into daily life on a cattle ranch in the West Texas Panhandle. His stories have won a number of awards, including the Audie, Oppenheimer, Wrangler, and Lamplighter Awards, and have been translated into Spanish, Danish, Farsi, and Chinese. USA Today calls the Hank the Cowdog books “the best family entertainment in years.” Erickson lives and works on his ranch in Perryton, Texas, with his family.
Gerald L. Holmes is a largely self-taught artist who grew up on a ranch in the Oklahoma Panhandle. He has illustrated the Hank the Cowdog books and serial stories, in addition to numerous other cartoons and textbooks, for over thirty years, and his paintings have been featured in various galleries across the United States. He and his wife live in Perryton, Texas, where they raised their family, and where he continues to paint his wonderfully funny and accurate portrayals of modern American ranch life to this day.