The Ghosts of Rabbits Past by John R. Erickson

Author:John R. Erickson
Language: eng
Format: epub
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: 2015-05-01T13:42:27+00:00

Chapter Eight: A Wreck

Slim broke the silence. “Okay, we’ve got two cowboys, one rope, and one dog. How are we going to get the bone out?”

“You sit on the hood with the rope. I’ll drive and give you a shot.”

“Forget the hood. I’ll ride in the back.”

“You’d get a closer shot on the hood.”

“Yeah, and if I fell off, you’d run over me, and probably enjoy it too.”

Loper chuckled. “Fine, do it the hard way, I don’t care. If you happen to slop a loop on her, dally the rope to the headache rack. We’ll let her fight the rope till she chokes down, walk down the rope, open her mouth, pull out the bone, take off the rope, and go home. Ten minutes and we’re done.”

“We should have brought horses.”

“Hurry up, will you? I’ve got things to do.” Slim said no more. He found a catch-rope behind the seat, climbed into the bed of the pickup, and built a loop. When he had stepped outside the pickup and slammed the door, Loper muttered, “That is the slowest human being I ever saw.”

Slim yelled, “All right, let’s do it!”

Loper shifted into first gear and drove toward the cow. In theory, this promised to be an easy job: drive up close to the cow and pitch a loop around her neck. If cows were made of stone, cowboy plans would work every time, but cows are alive, and when a pickup comes toward them, they move.

She moved away as the pickup approached. Slim threw long and missed. He reloaded, made another long shot, and missed again. He was starting to get mad. “For crying out loud, get closer and give me a shot!”

“I told you to sit on the hood. Okay, hang on.” Loper tromped on the gas and we roared after the cow. She ran, of course, but this time, Loper jerked the wheel to the left and stayed right on her tail. We waited for Slim to make his throw.

At that moment, we heard a racket coming from the bed of the pickup. Loper looked through the back window. “Where’d he go?”

He seemed to be asking me. How was I supposed to know?

It was then that we saw Slim, picking himself off the ground. Gee, he must have fallen out. He slammed his hat down on his head and stomped over to Loper’s open window. He didn’t look too cheerful.

“Did you have to stick your foot plumb through the carburetor?”

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