I mean, he was trotting along beside the rustler, panting happily and wagging his tree-limb tail. And get this. When the rustler had loaded up all his portable corral panels and was ready to go, Brewster hopped up into the back of the pickup, just as though they had become the best of friends!
When I asked him about this later, he said, “Stealing Uncle Johnny’s cattle? Aw heck, is that what he was doing? He sure seemed like a nice feller to me.”
I guess if the rustler hadn’t kicked him out and told him to go home, Brewster would have become an outlaw dog, and probably never would have known the difference, since he slept most of the time anyway. If you’re always asleep, it doesn’t make much difference which side of the law you’re on.
Well, the rustler was a slick operator, but he made one little mistake (they always do, you know). He should have disconnected the lights on his license plates. But he didn’t. Slim got a good look at the tags on the trailer and the pickup, and wrote the numbers down in the palm of his hand.
“His goose is now cooked,” said Slim with a smile. “Let’s see, this is Wednesday. He’ll be taking them calves to the livestock auction in Beaver. I have an idea that old Chumpy Cates of the Cattle Raisers will be waiting for him at the sale barn when he backs up to the chute.”
And that’s pretty muchly the way things turned out. Slim climbed on Dunny and rode the two miles down to Loper’s hay field, where he was baling the hay he’d mowed the day before. They drove to the house and put in a call to Chumpy Cates in Canadian (got him out of bed, I’ll bet).
And with that, the wheels of justice began to roll.
When daylight came, Slim and Loper combed the pasture on horseback and found Uncle Johnny’s pickup, right where he had parked it in a washout. (I found him, actually, but don’t expect the cowboys to remember it that way.)
Uncle Johnny was spread out across the seat, with his boots sticking out the window and his head pillowed on a rolled-up gunnysack. Slim and Loper woke him up by banging on the hood of the pickup and yelling, “Hey, wake up in there! You’re parked in a fire lane and we’re fixing to tow your vehicle!”
Always making jokes, those two. How I manage to run this ranch with . . . oh well.
Uncle Johnny came out wearing a sheepish grin. “I figgered you old boys would find me sooner or later. Sure enough, it was later. Has anybody seen my dog? Brewster quit me after the wreck and I ain’t seen him since. I hope the coyotes didn’t eat him.”
Coyotes? Eat Brewster? Ho, that was a laugh! Who can eat a dog that’s always stepping in your face? Rip and Snort would have gotten a big chuckle out of that.
As a matter of fact, Brewster had already reclaimed his spot in the back of Uncle Johnny’s pickup and was throwing up a big long line of Z’s.
Well, Slim and Loper tied onto Uncle Johnny’s pickup with ropes and horses and pulled it out of the wash, and then we all headed down to headquarters for coffee and the ritual known as “The Telling of Tales.”
Gathered in Sally May’s backyard, we all listened as Slim told and retold of our adventures up in the canyon. And yes, even I was admitted into the yard—under a temporary visa, you might say—although I could hardly relax and enjoy myself with Sally May standing nearby.
I went out of my way to smile and wag my tail at her, but she was bad about holding a grudge, you might remember, and I found it convenient to, uh, camp beneath Slim’s chair and cast glances at her from afar, so to speak.
Reading the expression on her face from afar, I certainly got the feeling that my temporary visa would be very temporary, and that if I so much as set foot in her flower beds, I would feel the sting of her tongue, and then of her broom.
Slim told about how he’d gotten bucked off his horse—although he neglected to say that it happened TWICE, not once. It appeared that this event would end up as one of those secrets between a cowboy and his dog.
Too bad we dogs can’t talk. If we could, it would add a whole new dimension to mankind’s knowledge of cowboys.
Then he told his “Weenie Thief” story and it was greeted with howls of laughter. Even Sally May loosened up enough to crack a smile and say something like, “Don’t I know that dog?” Then he told the “Tent Rope” story, and I thought Uncle Johnny would fall out of his chair laughing.
I missed the humor of it myself.
But then Slim scratched me behind the ears. “Nice work, Hank. I hate to give you credit for anything, you’re such a goof-off, but this time you did come through in the clutch. You ate my weenies, but then you saved my bacon. Say, that would make a great country song, wouldn’t it?”
Well . . . I wasn’t so sure that would make a “great country song,” and he had certainly given me a mixed compliment, to say the least. I didn’t know what he meant by that “goof-off” business, and as for the slur about me stealing his alleged weenies . . .
Hey, I still held firm to the theory that those weenies had simply disappeared from camp. Vanished without a trace. Probably misplaced by some careless person.
A simple case of mistaken identity.
On the other hand, a guy takes his roses when and however he can, and Slim had definitely hit a bull’s-eye in giving me full and total credit for cracking the Case of the Midnight Rustler.
And with that my visa expired and I was invited to leave the yard—which was sure okay with me.
And while they laughed and told windy tales and drank coffee, guess who slipped back into harness and went back to work, protecting his ranch from evil forces.
ME.
I had cracked another case and had produced another happy ending, had even managed to squeeze a little appreciation out of certain unnamed persons whose names I won’t mention. And fellers, that’s as good as it gets around here.
Case closed, and back to work.
Further Reading
Have you read all of Hank’s adventures?
1 The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
2 The Further Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
3 It’s a Dog’s Life
4 Murder in the Middle Pasture
5 Faded Love
6 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
7 The Curse of the Incredible Priceless Corncob
8 The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse
9 The Case of the Halloween Ghost
10 Every Dog Has His Day
11 Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest
12 The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox
13 The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve
14 Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business
15 The Case of the Missing Cat
16 Lost in the Blinded Blizzard
17 The Case of the Car-Barkaholic Dog
18 The Case of the Hooking Bull
20 The Phantom in the Mirror
21 The Case of the Vampire Cat
22 The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting
23 Moonlight Madness
24 The Case of the Black-Hooded Hangmans
25 The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado
26 The Case of the Kidnapped Collie
27 The Case of the Night-Stalking Bone Monster
28 The Mopwater Files
29 The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper
30 The Case of the Haystack Kitties
31 The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook
32 The Garbage Monster from Outer Space
33 The Case of the Measled Cowboy
34 Slim’
s Good-bye
35 The Case of the Saddle House Robbery
36 The Case of the Raging Rottweiler
37 The Case of the Deadly Ha-Ha Game
38 The Fling
39 The Secret Laundry Monster Files
40 The Case of the Missing Bird Dog
41 The Case of the Shipwrecked Tree
42 The Case of the Burrowing Robot
43 The Case of the Twisted Kitty
44 The Dungeon of Doom
45 The Case of the Falling Sky
46 The Case of the Tricky Trap
47 The Case of the Tender Cheeping Chickies
48 The Case of the Monkey Burglar
49 The Case of the Booby-Trapped Pickup
50 The Case of the Most Ancient Bone
51 The Case of the Blazing Sky
52 The Quest for the Great White Quail
53 Drover’s Secret Life
54 The Case of the Dinosaur Birds
55 The Case of the Secret Weapon
56 The Case of the Coyote Invasion
57 The Disappearance of Drover
58 The Case of the Mysterious Voice
59 The Case of the Perfect Dog
60 The Big Question
61 The Case of the Prowling Bear
About the Author and Illustrator
John R. Erickson, a former cowboy, has written numerous books for both children and adults and is best known for his acclaimed Hank the Cowdog series. He lives and works on his ranch in Perryton, Texas, with his family.
Gerald L. Holmes has illustrated numerous cartoons and textbooks in addition to the Hank the Cowdog series. He lives in Perryton, Texas.