The Case of the Three Rings 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: 2015-04-30T18:12:20+00:00

Huh?

The earth beneath my feet seemed to be trembling. I cocked one ear and heard…that was odd. Did we have trains around here? I didn’t think so, but I was almost sure that I’d heard…

Gulk.

Did you forget about Winkie? I did. How could an intelligent dog forget about a snorting killer buffalo that was back-hoeing dirt only ten feet away from him? That’s a great question and I have no great answer. All I can say is that…well, we cowdogs have tender feelings, even though we try to hide them most of the time, and when our friends take a tumble…uh oh.

HERE CAME WINKIE!

Just for an instant, time seemed to stop and my mind held a snapshot of something huge, shaggy, mad, and dangerous coming straight at me. And I heard this voice inside my head: “Bud, you’d better get out of here…fast!”

Out of the cornea of my eye, I saw Slim roll up into a ball and cover his head with his arms. I also saw an enormous animal with sharp horns and a real bad attitude about dogs. I pushed the throttle to the floor and went to Full Afterburners.

Behind me, I heard Uncle Johnny yell, “Winkie, come back here! Be nice!”

Yeah, right. Be nice. What a joke.

You know, in many ways buffalo look and act like cows, but we should point out a few important differences. First, buffalo have amazing acceleration. They can go from a dead stop to full gallop in the blink of an eye.

Second, over a short distance they can run as fast as a horse. Your average ranch dog can stay ahead of a cow without a whole lot of effort, and can even look back and bark a little trash. With buffalo, you run for your life and don’t even consider barking trash.

Third, this buffalo had some kind of twisted hatred of dogs. I mean, cows don’t like dogs, but multiply that times ten and you get Winkie. What had I ever done to him? Nothing. I’d never even seen him until today, but fellers, he hated my guts and wanted to wear a few of them on his horns. And he wasn’t kidding.

While I ran circles around the gravel drive in front of the barn, Slim and Uncle Johnny took to their heels and scattered like chickens. I mean, Winkie cleared the arena and was gaining ground on me and I could feel his blow-torch breath on my tail, so I feinted left and turned right, and went sprinting north down the lane.

I headed straight for Slim’s pickup-trailer rig that was blocking the road. That would be my salvation…if I could stay alive that long.

Oh, what a chase! You should have seen it. I had become Rocket Dog. Grown trees bent to the ground in the wake of my jet engines. Dust swirled, fence posts shuddered, birds fell from the sky, stunned by the sonic booms.

Even so, Winkie was closing the gap on me and I could feel his blow torch burning the hairs on my tail.

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