The Case of the Measled Cowboy 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: 2015-05-06T19:50:17+00:00

Chapter Seven: Oops

Dog food?

I took a closer look at the can. So did Little Alfred. Until this very moment, neither of us had noticed the picture of a German shepherd on the label, but there he was. Well, it sure fooled me, and it sure fooled Slim too. Don’t forget, he’s the one who’d said it was the best hash he’d ever eaten.

Well, this was a strange turn of events. Neither I nor Alfred knew quite how to respond to it. Under different circumstances, we might have gotten a big laugh out of it, I mean, you must admit that it was pretty funny. But with Slim sick to start with and talking on the phone to his lady friend . . . well, it just didn’t seem the proper time to go into fits and gales of laughter.

Slim wasn’t laughing. After giving me and Alfred some hot glares, he returned to his phone conversation.

“Hello? Viola, you still there? Yes, I’m serious. Button opened up a can and thought it was hash, only it was dog food. Uh-huh, every bite. Well, I thought it was pretty good, until I seen the can. Yes, I feel a little sick, but I felt sick before I ate it. Oh, just a little cold, is all. Button thinks it’s the measles but I’m sure it ain’t. Grown men don’t get . . .”

He scowled. “They do? Pretty bad, huh? Well, that part fits. I’d have to feel better to die. Red spots? No, I don’t have any.”

Alfred was listening to Slim’s end of the conversation, and his face showed astonishment. “Swim, you do too have wed spots!”

“Shhh. Just hush. We don’t want to get her all stirred up. Huh? Oh, I was just talking to my chef. After feeding me dog food hash, now he’s trying to play doctor. He thinks I’ve got red spots but I’m pretty sure . . . Mirror? Well, yes, I reckon there’s . . . I’ll be derned, I’m standing right in front of one.”

He squinted into the mirror. His eyebrows jumped. “Viola, you still there? What would it mean if a guy’s whole face was splotched with red? Huh. I’ll be derned. Well . . . supposing a feller had measles, what would he do for ’em?” He gave a wooden laugh. “Well, we can skip over that part, I ain’t going to the doctor. Me and doctors don’t . . . no.”

He held the phone away from his ear for a few seconds, then went back to it. “You still there? No, it ain’t that I’m stubborn and mule-headed. It’s just . . . okay, I’m stubborn and mule-headed, and I ain’t going to the doctor.” His gaze went to the window. “Good honk, did you know it’s snowing outside? Well, there’s my reason right there. I ain’t going to town in a snowstorm. Huh? Well, if it quits snowing, I still ain’t . . .”

His expression darkened. “No, I wouldn’t hear of it. No, I ain’t sick, I’m feeling better already.

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