Slingshot and Burp

by Richard Haynes

  “All your racket is stirring up the dogs,” said McKenzie with a glare.

  “And keeping us awake,” said Kate, arms crossed and looking mad.

  “You can’t tell us what to do,” Slingshot fired back.

  “If the racket’s not over in ten minutes, you’ll be sorry,” said McKenzie. “So pipe down!”

  “Yeah, pipe down!” echoed Kate.

  With that, the girls turned and headed back to the playhouse.

  “Guess we’d better keep it down.” Slingshot tilted his head in the direction of the playhouse. “We don’t want to end up back in jail.”

  “They ruin everything,” said Burp, popping a few knuckles.

  The boys got quiet, nestled into their bedrolls, and closed their eyes.

  “Hey, get your paws off me, Burp,” said Slingshot.

  “My paws?” said Burp. “How about you quit elbowing me!”

  A wet nose and slurpy warm tongue startled the boys fully awake. It was the scruffy half-coyote pup.

  “Hey, how’d you get out here, boy?” asked Slingshot.

  “I bet he snuck out,” said Burp. “You want to sleep out here under the stars with us, don’t you, boy?” He gave the pup a piece of beef jerky, and the pup gobbled it up in one bite.

  “A dog like this should be with us cowboys,” said Slingshot.

  “Yeah. He’s a real trail dog. He’s a cowboy’s-best-friend kind of dog.”

  “First thing tomorrow, we’ll take him with us to go after that loot,” said Slingshot, fighting back a yawn.

  “And to find the rest of Windy’s skeleton!”

  “Don’t worry, boy,” said Slingshot, pointing to the skull sitting by the old cottonwood tree. “We got Bloody Eyes to protect us while we sleep. Nobody will come near a haunted skull.”

  Burp burped out a soft chorus of “Burp, Burp on the Range.” The boys’ eyes grew heavy. The pup turned around in one full circle, looked up at the boys, and then settled down between them.

  Under a sliver of summer moon, the three Wild West friends fell asleep dreaming of loot, bones, and running free.

  At the edge of morning, an eerie screech jolted the boys awake. Through twisted branches overhead, they spied a white flash zooming by. It swooped low across the campsite, then soared up and out into the Boneyard.

  “What was that?” asked Burp, sitting up.

  “An owl, I think,” said Slingshot. “Hey, where’s the pup?”

  Through the dark, a low whimper drifted in from the Boneyard. Then came a screech. A low grumble or growl followed soon after.

  “Think that’s the Ghost Cat?” asked Burp, shivering. “What if it already has the pup?”

  “No! Don’t say that. I’ll bet the pup went after that owl,” said Slingshot, jumping up. “Still, if we don’t go get him — and fast — he might be nothing but a pile of bones by morning.”

  “But it’s as black as tar out there,” said Burp. A far-off yip and then a howl pierced the dark. Desert noises sounded bigger, more dangerous, in the nighttime. Both boys shivered, goose bumps running up and down their backs.

  Pushing the fear down, Slingshot said, “That pup’s in trouble! Cowboy code is: we have to help. Deal?”

  Burp cracked his knuckles — pop-pop-pop-pop. “Deal,” he finally said.

  “And we can’t ever, ever let the girls know the pup got lost,” said Slingshot. “We can’t even let them find out that he was with us.”

  “We’d be back in jail quicker than you can say biscuits and gravy,” said Burp, staring out into the endless dark.

  Slingshot and Burp got out their flashlights. Slingshot and Burp wanted to go save the pup from the Boneyard. Slingshot and Burp tried to go to the Boneyard, but their boots had other plans. Their boots wouldn’t move one inch.

  “Maybe he’ll come back on his own,” said Burp.

  “Yeah, maybe we just give him five more minutes,” said Slingshot.

  Another yelp sliced the darkness. “That’s definitely him,” said Slingshot. “Come on, we have to go save him. Cowboy code!”

  This time their boots knew what to do. Without another word, Slingshot pushed into the pale darkness, Burp right behind him and nearly glued to his back.

  Burp tried to switch on his flashlight. “Cow plop!” he said. “It doesn’t have any batteries! I bet you a million bucks Calamity Kate stole my batteries for her Goodnight Monkey clock radio. Again!”

  “Shh!” Slingshot hissed, grabbing Burp’s arm. “Hear that?” Another yelp came from just ahead. A spooky echo followed. “That was close.”

  Burp clamped a hand on Slingshot’s arm and stopped. “What if the Ghost Cat ate the pup and now it’s after us? What if it’s licking its lips right now, hungry for cowboy steak?”

  “Cut it out, Burp. You’re making everything seem worse.” Slingshot shook off Burp’s hand and inched forward.

  Burp stumbled after him, stepping on Slingshot’s boot heels.

  “Watch it!” gasped Slingshot.

  “Here, boy! Here, boy!” they whispered, peeking nervously around every rock. Jagged shadows twitched and skittered in the low beam of Slingshot’s lone flashlight. Every shadow seemed ready to pounce.

  “This place gives me the creeps!” said Burp. “Windy’s ghost is probably watching us right now. The Ghost Cat probably works for him, guarding the loot. I bet they lure cowboys out into the desert, just to watch them squirm and turn into dried-up piles of bones.”

  “Knock it off, Burp,” said Slingshot, shining the dull light in Burp’s face. “My batteries are giving out. We have to hurry!” A new sound — a grunt — came from over by Camel Rock.

  Burp reminded himself that home wasn’t too far away, in case they had to make a mad dash for their lives. To be sure, he looked back and checked. The back-porch light of Slingshot’s house still shone. So why didn’t he feel one bit safer? Because if the Ghost Cat ambushed them, they would both be gone in two bites!

  “If we don’t find the pup in ten minutes, back we go. Deal?” said Burp, forcing his boots not to turn and take off for home.

  “Deal!” said Slingshot. “Now, come on! Quit dragging your feet.”

  Arr! Arr!

  The back of Slingshot’s neck tingled. Razor-sharp claws of fear crawled up Burp’s shaking spine.

  “What if a pack of wild coyotes rushes us?” said Burp.

  “Stop it! You’re scaring the cowboy out of me,” said Slingshot.

  Suddenly they heard another noise. Or did they? In this kind of darkness, sound and distance — real and not real — got all mixed up.

  Slingshot ducked behind a rock, pulling Burp with him. He whispered into Burp’s ear, “Something’s out here! Something big.”

  Just then, Slingshot’s flashlight went dead. The batteries had finally given out.

  Can wild animals smell fear? Slingshot couldn’t remember. If they could, he thought he must smell like grilled buffalo burger!

  “I’m g-going back,” Burp stammered, pulling away.

  Slingshot grabbed Burp’s arm. “You can’t leave!” Slingshot believed that sometimes cowboys had to make their feet go forward, even if they didn’t want to.

  Shaking in their boots, the boys nudged ahead, slow as snails.

  Creeping through the dark, the cowboys were never quite sure if they were in real time, cowboy time, or Big Jim tall-tale time. Every dark outline of cactus became a ruthless outlaw. Every branch or twig became a diamondback ready to strike.

  Burp never saw the dry gully right under his feet. Down, down, down he tumbled, on a roller coaster of stomach-churning fear.

  “Yaaah! Quicksand!” he yelled. “It’s swallowing me!”

  Slingshot quaked. Quicksand was TROUBLE in capital letters. More than all the loot in the world, he wanted to be safe in his bedroll. And he wanted Burp snoring right beside him.

  “P-i-fff-i-t!” Burp spit sand. “Help! Pull me out!”

  Slingshot could just make out Burp’s outline. “Grab hold of
my hand,” he called, leaning down into the gully.

  On the count of one, two, three, Burp was up and out.

  “That devil’s slide almost ate me whole!”

  Arr! Arr!

  “That way!” The cowboys started off again in the direction of the yipping. “Here, boy. Here, boy.” Why wouldn’t the pup come?

  Burp was so scared, he couldn’t think straight. “What if that’s not the pup? What if it’s a trap?”

  Slingshot ignored him and crept ahead.

  Arr! Arr!

  “I mean it,” said Burp, digging his boot heels into the sand.

  As he stood there for what felt like one long, endless moment, the sky was starting to show tiny hints of dawn. Burp had never been so happy to see the color pink in his whole entire cowboy life.

  Feeling slightly braver in the pink light, Burp clutched his Spitball Blaster and followed Slingshot along a narrow, zigzagging path.

  Arr! Arr! The tiny bark was always slightly ahead of them, just out of reach. What was the pup after? Or, what was after him?

  Something like a branch snapped. Slingshot and Burp stopped cold.

  The wind began to whistle. Dust whipped itself up into a funnel-shaped cloud and moved toward them. From out of the dust devil, a ball of fur came barreling at them. Burp screamed. The hair on the back of Slingshot’s neck stood porcupine-stiff. This was more danger than even a famous cowboy like Wild Bill Hickok could handle. “We’re done for,” whimpered Burp, falling weakly to his knees.

  “Ghost Cat!” Slingshot yelled, diving toward Burp and knocking him completely to the ground. The mini twister zoomed right over and past the cowboys. So did the ball of fur. Even in the panic, Burp recognized a flash of gray ears and tail.

  “Hey, that was the pup!” yelled Burp.

  Slingshot and Burp clambered to their feet and raced after the fur ball. It darted into a low rock overhang. The boys dropped everything and crawled straight in after it.

  A new panic started to grow as they crawled into the cramped and tiny little cave. Still, they pushed and clawed farther as it narrowed, their hearts pounding jackhammer-fast.

  “Come, boy! Come!” Burp pleaded. “Where’d he go? I can’t see!”

  Only a thin slice of gray light filtered into the crawl space. Slingshot groped and felt his way along the rough, jagged walls of the cave. “Hey, there’s an opening here, all the way at the back. I can feel it, but I don’t think I can fit through it.”

  “The pup must have gone that way,” said Burp. “Here, boy. Come! Pleeeease.”

  There was no answer. Not even a whimper.

  Slingshot slumped to the ground. A cold chill ran through him. He squeezed his eyes shut. In his mind’s eye, he saw the Ghost Cat. With blazing eyes and sharp claws, it was coming. And it wasn’t after the pup anymore. It was after them!

  “We’re done for,” said Burp. “The Ghost Cat’s going to crunch our bones like carrots.”

  Slingshot called up every bit of cowboy courage he had left. “If that cat comes anywhere near the opening, blast him, Burp! Blast him into next week!”

  Slingshot reached for his trusty Super-X. “Hey, my Super-X is gone! So’s my flashlight!”

  Burp went for his Double-Barreled Spitball Blaster. “Oh, no!” he said. “We must have dropped everything outside when we ran for it. We’re sitting ducks now!”

  A nerve-jangling, heart-stopping fear rattled the cowboys down to their RR-branded boots. The dark of the cave closed around them mummy-tight. From outside came another sharp cracking noise.

  Was that the Ghost Cat, swiping its claws in after them?

  “Help me dig, Burp. DIG! We have to find a way out.”

  If they didn’t find an exit quick, that dusty hole might become a cowboy coffin.

  The boys clawed and scraped at a small crack in the back wall until a big chunk of sandstone gave way and the cowboys tumbled into a bigger chamber with a clear opening straight ahead. Morning sunshine streamed in.

  “We made it!” cried Slingshot. Just then, a different sound filled the air, a dry, rattling sound that seemed to ooze up out of the ground. The boys about swallowed their tongues.

  “Rattlesnake den! Run!” Burp shouted, and took off, nearly flying right out of his boots. Slingshot was right there with him, scrambling for the opening.

  Outside the cave, the boys flopped to the ground, gasping and thankful to have escaped Ghost Cat claws and rattlesnake fangs!

  Turning his head to the side, Burp blurted out, “There he is!”

  Just a few yards away, the pup sat near a tumbleweed, busily chewing on an old piece of leather. In the weak morning light, the scruffy pup looked full coyote. He looked happy, free, and wild!

  “You scared the pork and beans out of us,” Slingshot called to the pup. “No more call of the wild for you. Time to get you — and us — home. Pronto.”

  Burp pulled a piece of jerky from out of his pocket and held it out to the pup. “Here, boy!” The pup dropped the old piece of leather and trotted over to sniff at it.

  “You’re too young for the Boneyard,” Burp said, scooping up the pup and cradling him under his arm. That hungry pup gave Burp’s hand a big, wet lick. Then he started chewing on the jerky like it was candy. “Stick with us; we’ll keep you safe.”

  “Wow! Burp, check it out,” Slingshot shouted.

  “What? Where?” said Burp, jumping.

  “There!” said Slingshot. “Where the pup was!”

  “I don’t see anything,” said Burp, scratching behind the pup’s ears. “Quit scaring me.”

  Slingshot bent down and picked up something shiny. “It’s an old buckle,” he said. “And it’s attached to a bit of leather.” He let out a whistle. “I bet this is from an old saddle strap — a cinch or something.”

  “Let me see,” said Burp.

  Slingshot tossed the thing to Burp and began to scrape away at the sand some more.

  A moment later, Slingshot whistled through his teeth again. “Whoa!” he said, holding up a twisted hunk of metal. “This is a . . . it’s a spur. Windy’s other spur! It’s gotta be. And the cinch must be from Windy’s saddle. We hit the jackpot! That pup’s one lucky charm.”

  “Yeah,” said Burp. “He led us right to it!”

  “Wait until Big Jim sees this stuff,” said Slingshot. “Let’s go.”

  “But where are we? Nothing looks right. We came out the back end of that cave. I think we’re lost.”

  “We can’t be lost. We only came in a little ways.”

  But Burp was right; nothing looked familiar. Not the rocks, the cacti, or the lay of the land. No wonder so many cowboys never made it out of the Boneyard alive.

  Slingshot looked east, west, north, and south. Finally, using the pink morning horizon as a compass, he said, “Come on. Follow me.”

  After five wrong turns, the cowboys came within sight of Camel Rock.

  “There’s the cottonwood tree!” Burp hollered, pointing with relief. “And home.”

  The cowboys tiptoed back to camp, trying hard to beat full sunrise and trying even harder not to be seen or heard by the Scorpion Sisters.

  You’re in trouble, mister.” McKenzie stared daggers at Slingshot.

  “You too, Burp-Breath,” said Kate, arms crossed.

  The boys were just crawling back into their bedrolls when Kate and McKenzie crashed into their camp, mad as wet cats. Burp quickly hid the pup behind his back.

  “Where have you guys been?” growled McKenzie. “Instead of playing cops and robbers, or whatever it was you were off doing, you should have been here helping us.”

  “We should have been helping you with what?” Slingshot asked. “We already told you — NO poop scooping.”

  “Not that,” said Kate, uncrossing her arms. “You should have been helping us look for the runaway pup. That half-wild mutt must have broken out last night and taken off somewhere.”

  “We’ve looked everywhere,” said McKenzie, “even in your bedrolls
. Talk about gross.” She held her nose. “Don’t you two take your boots off before crawling into bed? Anyway, the point is, the pup has vanished. And it’s probably your fault.”

  “Our fault! You’re nuts,” said Burp. “How do you figure that?”

  “Because he probably followed you out to wherever you snuck off,” said Kate. “Bet Mom and Dad would like to know where you —”

  Right then, Burp started squirming and twisting sideways. The pup was licking every finger on both of his hands.

  “Hey, why are you wiggling like that?” McKenzie asked.

  “Yeah! What are you hiding?” said Kate.

  Two dusty gray ears poked out from under Burp’s arm.

  “That’s him!” shouted McKenzie. “Give him back, you dog nabbers.”

  Kate reached to take him from her brother. “How could you? Did you do this because of the playhouse?”

  “Hang on, Burp!” said Slingshot. “Don’t let them take the pup. They’ll mess him up worse than a poodle or one of their frilly dolls.”

  “But that’s our job,” said McKenzie. “We get paid to give dogs makeovers. Then they aren’t so dirty and stinky or, in his case, wild.”

  “But this one wants to be a cowboy dog and ride with us,” said Slingshot. “He wants to be wild and free. Besides, we almost got eaten alive rescuing him, so we deserve to keep him.”

  “Give him back,” said McKenzie. “His owners are paying us to wash the wild out of him, so stop playing cowboys. After his bath, we’ll jazz him up and make him look like a show dog.”

  “That would ruin him. He doesn’t want that. Why do you think he ran away?” said Slingshot. “Besides, you’re the ones who lost him, not us. We saved him. Why do you think we even went out there in the dark?”

  But the girls wouldn’t listen. Kate reached out to take the pup from the boys. “C’mere, Jackpot,” she cooed. “It’s bath time for you.”

  The cowboys’ eyes about popped out of their heads. Did Kate just call the pup Jackpot?