I went skipping into headquarters, so happy that my feet hardly touched the ground. “Beulah? Yoo-hoo, Miss Beulah? The conquering hero hath returned from his journey and is ready to collect the rent, as you might say.”
I didn’t find her at the machine shed. Had she gone back home? Surely not. We’d made a deal and she would be waiting for me, right? Of course she would.
I checked several other places and was beginning to feel some irritation. I mean, she should have been waiting and watching, so that she could rush into my arms the moment I entered ranch headquarters. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work when the hero returns? Of course it is.
But then I saw her down by the yard gate, and fellers, my heart did flips and cartwheels. Even at a distance, I could see the flame of love shining in her gorgeous collie eyes and . . . huh? Drover?
Little Buttinski was perched right beside her, wearing his patented silly grin and looking at her with an adoring gaze. You see? That tells us all we need to know about his so-called bad leg. The little faker had . . .
Oh well, no harm done. I was sure the runt had bored her senseless with his poetry. Heh heh. Actually, I couldn’t have planned it better myself. A couple of hours of Drover makes great advertising for anyone else—ME, for example.
I went swaggering down to the gate. When Drover saw me, he cringed and crept around behind Beulah. “Hank, I hope you don’t think . . . we were just . . .”
“Never mind, son, I’ll settle accounts with you later.” I turned a pair of wolfish eyes toward the lovely Miss Beulah and wiggled my left eyebrow. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m back.”
I was a little disappointed that she didn’t come flying into my arms. Instead, she studied me with a level gaze. “Did you find Plato? Is he all right?”
“Yes ma’am, he is. To save the mutt, I had to whip half the coyotes in Ochiltree County. If the other half had shown up, it would have taken me another thirty minutes.”
“Did you tell him . . . about us?”
“I did, yes.”
“And how did he take it?”
“Well, he walked away with his tail dragging the ground and he probably thinks his heart is broken, but he’ll get over it. This time next week, he’ll be off on another crusade to find the Great White Quail.”
She turned away from me. “Hank, I know I gave you my word, but I’m having second thoughts. It’s about Plato, not me. The poor dear gets so distracted, he needs someone to look after him.”
“Right. He needs to be put in a home, a kennel with all the other bird dogs in the world. Beulah, the mutt doesn’t deserve you, and he even said so himself.”
I heard her sniffle. “That sounds just like him, so kind, so humble.”
“Oh brother! He has every reason to be humble. He’s a nitwit.”
She turned to me with pleading eyes. “Hank, please, I beg you to reconsider.”
I showed her a frozen smile. “I will not reconsider. I won you fair and square, and I intend to collect my . . .” At that very moment, I noticed an object lying at Beulah’s feet. “Drover, is that my garden trowel?”
He peeked his head out from behind Beulah. “I thought it was Sally May’s.”
“It used to be Sally May’s, but I claimed it.”
“Yeah, but you dropped it. I figured you didn’t want it.”
“What is my Priceless Plastic-Handled Garden Trowel doing out here?”
“Well . . . I thought it would make a nice present for Beulah.”
I felt my eyes bulging. “What? You gave away my most treasured possession? Why, you little thief, give me that!” I made a dive for the trowel, but Drover got there first. He snatched it up and scampered away. “Drover, come back here, and that is a direct order!” He kept running, so I turned to Beulah. “Excuse me, ma’am, we’ve had a robbery.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re leaving, at a time like this? We’re in the middle of a very important discussion.”
She was right. I knew she was right, but she didn’t understand the magnitude of Drover’s crime. I began pacing. “Beulah, that trowel is priceless! It has a plastic handle.”
“A plastic handle! What’s wrong with you?”
My mind was swimming, I hardly knew what I was saying. “I don’t know . . . but I have to chew that plastic!!”
She stared at me and pulled herself up to her full height. “Hank, I used to think that Plato was daffy about his birds, but you . . . plastic! This is absolutely crazy!”
“I know it seems that way, but . . . listen, I’ll be right back, honest. You wait here, don’t move.” I went roaring up the hill after the Trowel Thief. “Drover, if you chew my trowel . . . !”
Behind me, I heard Beulah’s voice. “I hope you enjoy your trowel, mister, because when you get back, I won’t be here!”
“Beulah, be reasonable! This will only take a minute.”
“I will never pledge my heart to a dog who chews plastic! Good-bye!”
“Drover, come back here!”
I knew she wouldn’t leave.
I was pretty sure she wouldn’t leave.
SHE LEFT!
I couldn’t believe it! I mean, it only took me thirty-five minutes to catch the thief, place him under arrest, confiscate the stolen trowel, and chew the plastic handle to smithereens. When I rushed back to the yard gate, she was gone, and with her she had taken all my hopes and dreams of romance.
I was crushed. Smashed. Absolutely devastated. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to glue the pieces of my life back together again. That evening at sundown, I found myself alone in an empty office, thinking back on a love story that had turned to ruins, and wondering if . . . well, if I’d been partly to blame.
Actually, I wasn’t alone in the office. Drover sat nearby, serving jail time with his nose in the corner. Desperate for warmth and companionship, I found myself talking to him.
“I still can’t believe she walked out on me.”
“Yeah, but you walked out on her.”
“Drover, I was recovering my Priceless Plastic-Handled Garden Trowel. Oh, and thanks a lot for wrecking my life.”
“Can I take my nose out of the corner?”
“No. I just don’t get it. What do these women want?”
“Well . . . dogs who don’t chew plastic, I guess.”
I ran my gaze over the two thousand pieces of plastic in front of me, all that remained of the trowel’s handle. “Do you suppose Sally May will notice that her trowel is missing?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think there’s a chance she’ll suspect . . . well, us?”
“She’ll suspect you. I can almost guarantee it.”
I heaved a weary sigh and paced over to him. “I was afraid of that. Drover, this tragedy has forced me to look deep inside myself.”
“I tried that once, but I couldn’t see past my belly button.”
“Please hush. I’m trying to tell you something profune.”
“Sorry.”
I ran my gaze around the office. “Drover, I’m beginning to think that I should give up chewing plastic. I mean, when you view it from a certain angle, it seems . . . well, a really stupid thing to do.”
“Yeah, and it makes all the women mad.”
“Exactly. It’s not as loony as chasing birds, but it has caused me a mountain of grief. Drover, as of this moment, I suggest that all of us in the Security Division take a pledge never to chew plastic again.”
“I already did that once.”
“I know, it gets confusing, doesn’t it? But this time, Drover, we must swear off plastic forever.”
“Can I take my nose out of the corner?”
I gave that some thought. “Okay, for this solemn occasion, we’ll let you out of prison. You’re a free dog, and I hope you use your freedom weedem.”
“What?”
“I said, I hope you use your freedom wisely.”
I gave him a few moments to hop around and celebrate his release from prison, then we assembled the entire staff of the Security Division and administered the Pledge of No Plastic. After the day’s tragic events, the words took on a whole new meaning. Losing Beulah had been a terrible experience, but I knew that it had left me an older dog, a wiser dog in every way.
Never again would I fall for the luster of plastic!
After the ceremony, we retired to our respective gunnysack beds and prepared for a night of sad dreams and maybe a little sleep. I had just fallen into the warm embrace of my beloved gunnysack bed, when I heard an odd rustling sound nearby. I turned my head and saw . . . I couldn’t believe my eyes!
“Drover, do you see what I see?”
“Yeah. It’s a plastic soda-pop bottle. It must have blown out of the trash barrel.”
“Exactly. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
A crazy gleam had come into Drover’s eyes. “Just one more time?”
Anyway, we, uh, dropped right off to sleep and almost nothing happened.
The rest of the story is that—sigh—Beulah went back to her bird-dog boyfriend. For weeks and days and hours, I could hardly function, so deep was the wound to my . . . whatever. But slowly and painfully, my broken heart healed itself, and I was able to return to my duties as Head of Ranch Security.
Have I stopped dreaming about the lovely Miss Beulah? No, and I never will, and one of these days . . . well, there’s always tomorrow.
Oh, remember the stolen twuck? We stayed on the case for several months, but finally had to give it up for, uh, lack of evidence. As of this writing, nobody knows what became of Little Alfred’s plastic twuck. It just . . . well, vanished without a trace. No kidding.
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
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.
The Quest fort the Great White Quail Page 7