Faded Love by John R. Erickson

Author:John R. Erickson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cowdog, Hank the Cowdog, John R. Erickson, John Erickson, ranching, Texas, dog, adventure, mystery, Hank, Drover, Pete, Sally May
Publisher: Maverick Books, Inc.
Published: 2015-05-12T22:09:47+00:00

He taxied into the wind and finally got himself off the ground, just as Snort made a dive at him and bit off half his tail.

Junior got knocked over backwards, did a couple of back flips, and came up sitting down. “Oh g-g-gosh, P-Pa, there’s a W-W-Wolf!”

Old man Wallace flew in a wide circle and landed in a cottonwood tree nearby. Snort came back to the skunk and showed Junior some fangs.

That was enough for Junior. He scrambled to his feet and took cover behind the cottonwood. “W-w-w-wolf, w-wolf, h-h-help, mu-mu-mu-murder!”

By this time, the old man was safe on his perch. “Junior, you git yourself out from behind this tree and go out there and fight for our rights!”

“B-b-b-but P-Pa, it’s a w-w-wolf and th-th-they b-b-bite, bite.”

“That’s no excuse, son. We had that skunk first and he’s our property. Now you git out there and quit acting like a danged kid, you hear me?”

“N-n-n-no. I d-don’t uh hear a th-th-thing.” Junior wasn’t kidding. He really couldn’t hear—because he had covered both ears with his wings.

“Junior! You git yourself . . .”

“L-l-louder, P-Pa, I c-can’t hear y-you.”

“Junior! You uncover your ears this very minute or I’m gonna come down . . . danged ungrateful, irresponsible kid!”

“W-what did you s-s-say, P-p-pa?”

“I said, you hush up! And y’all,” he turned to us and beamed us an evil glare, “y’all just better git on outa here and leave our breakfast alone, or I’m liable to lose my temper!”

Snort was sitting beside the skunk by this time. He grinned up at old man Wallace. Maybe he was remembering the night over in the canyons when Wallace had, shall we say, upchucked on him and Rip. That’s what buzzards do when they get mad, don’t you know, but this time Wallace was out of range, and Snort knew it.

He grinned and old Wallace fumed and squawked. Then Snort turned to me and Rip and motioned us over. I wasn’t really looking forward to this. Dead skunk has never been one of my favorite foods.

“Now we sing special coyote song,” said Snort. “Hunk sing tenor.”

So the three of us got together, me in the middle. Snort gave us the pitch (that was pretty funny, Snort trying to find a pitch), gave us three beats. He couldn’t count to three, so he counted, “One, four, seven!” And we belted out an old coyote favorite called “Rotten Meat.” Snort sang the verses and me and Rip came in on the chorus. Here’s how it went.

There’s many a mystery’s got lost in our history

But none more important for us to repeat

Than this secret potion, this coyote love lotion,

The wonderful essence of ripe stinking meat

Oh, rotten meat, rotten meat!

The odor’s deliciously subtle and sweet.

Coyotes love to cheat and we love to eat.

This life would be rotten without rotten meat.

I know a feller, his coat is dark yeller.

He’s got sinus drainage and sneezes a lot.

He had no success in the wimmen department

Until he discovered the perfume of rot.

Rotten meat, hey, rotten meat!

The odor’s deliciously subtle and sweet.

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