The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper 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: 2015-05-06T20:07:17+00:00

Chapter Eight: We Go on Stray Dog Alert

Miss Viola clapped her hands together. “Well! I came for some coffee.”

“Oh yeah, but can’t you stay a while? Me and the dogs went to a lot of trouble to clean this place up. It’d be a shame for you to leave so soon. You want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

“No thanks, Slim, I’d better get back down the creek.”

He was disappointed, I could tell. So was I. Having Miss Viola on the place was a pretty special event.

Slim limped into the kitchen and began searching for the can of coffee. It took him a while to find it, and guess where it was: in a grocery sack on the floor beside the ice box. He’d bought it two months before and had never gotten around to putting it up on a shelf.

“You save shelf space that way,” he explained to Miss Viola.

Well, she had fulfilled her mission. She put on her coat and hat, and Slim and I walked her to the door. Just before she walked out into the night air, she stopped.

“Oh, I almost forgot. On the way over here, I saw a pack of dogs crossing the road.”

Slim’s face became serious. “A pack of dogs?”

“Yes, four of them, and I don’t think they belong to anyone on the creek. I thought you’d want to know.”

“You bet I do. I’ve got a hundred and forty-six calves in the weaning trap, and what they don’t need is a pack of stray dogs runnin’ ’em through fences. We had a little incident with them dogs about two hours ago. Thanks, Viola, we’ll be on the lookout for ’em.”

She said good night and left. Slim watched at the window until she was gone, then he heaved a sigh and turned back to me.

“That’s a mighty fine lady right there. If I had any sense, I’d ask her to go dancin’ some time . . . only I can’t dance. Oh well, after seeing this house, she probably won’t speak to me again anyways. I don’t know how it gets in such a mess.” He scowled and glanced around the room. “We’d better go check them calves. I wonder where my boots ended up.”

He went to the hall closet and opened the door. It burst open and all the things he’d stuffed in there came spilling out. He muttered something under his breath and picked through the rubble until he found two boots that matched. He pulled on the right boot and tried to pull on the left one—and we’re talking about serious grunting and tugging—but his swollen ankle wouldn’t fit.

He kicked the boot across the floor—in my direction, by the way, and if I’d been half a second slower, it would have hit me—and said in a growling tone of voice, “Thanks a bunch, Hank. What do I do now?”

Me? What . . . had I asked him to step on the turkey bone? Had I planted it there, just so he could .

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