The Case of the Tricky Trap 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: 2015-05-06T18:39:23+00:00

“Thank you, thank you. Son, you might have been crazy when you got here, but you’re a-talking sense now.” He turned to me. “How ’bout you, pooch? You ever heard finer music than that?”

“Three stray cats with a bellyache couldn’t have sounded worse.”

“Well now, I ain’t ever claimed to be the best singer in the world, but you’ve got to admit that it had a strong message.”

Junior nodded. “Y-yeah, I l-l-learned a l-lot, P-pa.”

Wallace grinned at me. “See? This younger generation ain’t gone completely off the deep end. The song had a powerful message, puppy: traps are for dumbbells.” He cackled. “And look where you’re at! Hee hee.”

His laughter echoed in my ears. “Are you through?”

“Well, maybe I am and maybe I ain’t. If you gave me a few minutes, I might cobble up another tune. Would you like that?”

“No.”

Wallace turned to Junior.

“He’s kind of a sore loser, ain’t he? And you know, I don’t think he learned one thing from my song.” Back to me. “Well, I can see that my talents ain’t appreciated around here.”

“That’s for sure.”

“So I reckon me and Junior’ll just . . . ” His eyes flashed and went to the can of corn. “Say there, neighbor, I don’t suppose you’d mind passing that corn, would you? I mean, dogs don’t eat corn and I hate to see good food go to waste.”

An idea popped into my head. “Okay, sure. Come closer and I’ll see what I can do.”

Heh heh. Have you figured out my wicked plan? Heh heh. Wallace was such a greedy-gut, he couldn’t turn down a free meal.

He hopped over to the cage, licking his chops and rubbing his wings together. “Just hand it through a little at a time, pup.”

I drew back a paw and gave the can a good slap. A moment later, Wallace was blinking his eyes, dripping juice off the end of his beak, and wearing most of the corn on his face. “Now, you didn’t need to do that! Junior, did you see what he done?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “That’s what I think of you and your music, Wallace—corn for a corny song.”

I thought that was a pretty good trick, but you know what? After he got over the shock, the old coot went right to work, pecking every corn kernel he could find. “It needs a little salt, but this ain’t half-bad. Junior, you might want to get in on some of this.”

Junior just grinned. “Oh, th-that’s okay, P-p-pa. I’ll just w-w-watch.” He looked at me and shrugged. “H-h-he’s kind of g-g-greedy, greedy.”

“Yes, I noticed.”

It took Wallace about a minute and a half to clean up the corn. He flashed a smile, rubbed his belly, and burped. “Mighty fine, mighty fine. Corn’s just corn, but it beats a poke in the eye.” His gaze slid around to me. “And it beats sitting in a trap too. Hee hee! Boy, I know you’re proud of yourself.”

Junior shook his head. “P-p-pa, d-d-don’t r-rub it in.”

“Why

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