The of the Booby-Trapped Pickup 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: 2015-05-05T21:23:04+00:00

Chapter Seven: We Ride in the Fancy New Pickup

My eyes moved up the stranger’s legs and came to rest on . . . Loper’s face. He was standing on one leg and sucking breakfast particles out of his teeth.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Slim grabbed his hat off the ground and pushed himself up to his feet. “Oh no, me and Hank was just . . . rassling.”

“Rassling.”

“Playing around.”

“Oh. Well, I just wondered if there was a chance you might feed cattle this morning. ’Course, we could put it off for a few days, if it’s not convenient.”

Slim gave him a scowl. “You just love catching me in awkward moments, don’t you?”

Loper snorted a laugh. “I do, I really do. Thanks, Slimbo, you’ve made my whole day.” He started walking away, but when his eyes fell on me, his smile fell like a dead pigeon. “Forty bucks.” Shaking his head, he walked down to the corrals.

Well, gee, did we have to bring up ancient history? Hey, we’d already worked through that crisis and had moved on with our lives.

Oh well. Slim and I had made peace and he’d invited us to help him on his feed run. And you know what else? He even let us ride in the cab of that fancy new loaner pickup! No kidding. I could hardly believe it, after the fuss he’d made about the Donut Fiasco. But that was the nice thing about Slim. He didn’t hold a grudge. He didn’t hang on to his anger the way some people did. (I won’t mention any names.)

Yes I will. Loper.

Once we were settled inside the cab of the new pickup, Slim started the engine and listened to it for a second. “It’s a diesel. What do you think?”

Well, it was . . . loud. Real loud. Sounded like a dump truck.

“I like the sound of a diesel. And check this out.” He snapped on the radio. “It works, and so do the windshield wipers.” He turned on the wipers and grinned like a little boy. “Oh, and look at this.” He pushed a button on the armrest and. . . amazing. The window on the passenger side zipped up. He gave us a wink. “Heh. Electric winders. And it’s even got electric door locks.” He pushed another button on the armrest, causing the door-lock gizmos to move up and down. “What do you think of that?”

Incredible. Drover and I were speechless. We had never known such luxury, or even imagined it.

“This pickup’s way too fancy for me, but I won’t mind being pampered for a few days. Heck, I deserve it, after all those years of driving Loper’s junk heaps. Don’t you dogs agree?”

Oh yes, no question about it. He deserved to be pampered . . . and, well, so did we. After all, we had put up with those junk-heap pickups too—the bad smells, the dust, the rough rides over pasture roads. I’d never been the kind of dog who craved luxury or pampering (it’ll make

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