BAM BAM BAM!

  “Slim, get out of bed!”

  Holy smokes, we had problems bigger than Drover. Had you forgotten the intruder? If you don’t start paying attention, we’re going to drop you from the next assignment. One Drover on this team is all we can stand.

  Chapter Three: Not a Robot

  Slim was coming down the hall, tucking in his shirttail. Good. He could take the lead on this deal and I would provide backup. I dived under the…that is, I found myself beneath the coffee table and started pumping out some cover fire. Awesome barks.

  He went to the door and yanked it open. There stood…hmmm, it wasn’t a robot, as you might have thought. It was an old guy: white hair, bushy eyebrows, smoky gray eyes, and red suspenders holding up khaki pants that bagged in the seat. I sent this info to Data Control and got an ID: Woodrow, Viola’s daddy.

  See? What did I tell you? We’ve never had a robot show up at Slim’s place and probably never will. I’ve tried to drill this into the troops: stick with the facts and don’t let your imagination run wild. Drover is the very worst about making a mountain out of a mohair.

  Anyway, there stood Viola’s daddy. Slim said, “Why…Woodrow. What a nice surprise.”

  “Did I get you out of bed?”

  “Heck no, been up for hours. I was updating my tally book.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Well sure, come on in. You want some coffee?”

  “No, I’ve coffeed. Been up since five.”

  Slim brought a chair from the kitchen. When Woodrow sat down, it collapsed, I mean sank into a heap of rubble. Slim had to pull him out. “Sorry, Woodrow. I’ve been meaning to fix that thing.” He brought another chair from the kitchen.

  Woodrow tested it. “Is this one safe?”

  “Here, you take the easy chair and I’ll…” Woodrow waved him off and sat in the kitchen chair. It held.

  Slim flopped down in his big easy chair. “Well, what can I do for you?”

  “Are you going to marry my daughter or not?”

  Wow, that killed every fly in the room. Slim’s adam’s apple jumped and he blinked his eyes. “What?”

  “Are you going to marry my daughter or not?”

  “Well, Woodrow, yes, but I need to save up some money.”

  “She’s been wearing that ring for six months and I ain’t seen any signs of progress.”

  “Saving money is kind of slow on cowboy wages.”

  “I told you that from the beginning. You can’t afford a parakeet, much less a wife. If y’all wait till you can afford to get hitched, she’ll be eighty years old. Maybe you ought to start robbing banks.”

  “Well, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Or get some heifers, calve ‘em out, and start building your own cow herd. I’ll give you the pasture for free.”

  “Woodrow, if I wrote a check for heifers, they’d send me to the pen. My checking account’s in pretty sad shape.”

  Woodrow’s eyes were crackling and he leaned forward. “I’ll give you the danged heifers!”

  Now a little fire came into Slim’s eyes. “That’s nice, but I don’t want free heifers from you or anyone else. I can take care of my own business.”

  “Then do it! Go talk to a banker.”

  “I don’t have one. I like bankers even less than doctors.”

  “Well, I’ve got one and I’ve used him plenty. He loans money to people who want to make something of themselves.”

  Slim took a deep breath. “Woodrow, if your banker looked at my financial statement, he wouldn’t quit laughing for a week.”

  “I’ll co-sign the note.”

  Slim’s eyes bugged out. “You ain’t going to co-sign my note! I ain’t going to borrow money to buy cows I can’t afford!”

  There was a moment of deadly silence, then the old man’s lips twitched into a wicked little smile. “That’s just what I thought you’d say.” He pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door.

  “Sorry, Woodrow. I appreciate the offer.”

  “That’s all right. Viola didn’t figure you’d go for it, so she’ll talk to the banker herself. See you around.”

  He went out the door. Slim sat there for a moment, then flew out of his chair. It kind of caught me by surprise and, well, I fired off three barks. He sailed out the door, I followed, and we caught up with Woodrow as he was about to get into his pickup.

  “Hey, did you say she’s going to sign a note to buy some heifers?”

  “That’s right, ten head of bred heifers. She’ll meet with the banker. You don’t have to do a thing but stay out here and preach thrift to that dog.” He glared down at me through shaggy brows. “You’d better preach good, ‘cause he don’t look too smart.”

  What? Who?

  He climbed into the cab and started the motor. Slim banged on the window. Woodrow rolled it down. “What?”

  Slim dug his hands into his pockets and took a big breath. “Okay, I’ll talk to the frazzling banker.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure I got ambushed. When does this take place?”

  “We’ll pick you up in an hour. Take a bath and do something with that hair. Do you own any decent clothes? Wear ‘em. Just because you’re a pauper don’t mean you have to look like one.”

  He drove off, didn’t roll up his window or say goodbye, and left us in a cloud of dust. Slim fanned the air in front of his face and muttered, “Thanks, Woodrow, for putting me on the road to the Poor House.”

  He trudged back to the porch, walking like a sad old man, all bent over and frowning. I must admit that I didn’t understand any of that conversation, except the part about taking a bath. Maybe that was it. He had to take a bath and it wasn’t even Saturday. That can put a guy into a dark mood, I guess.

  It really didn’t matter if I understood or not. Dogs don’t understand half of what goes on with our people, but that’s just part of the job. What matters is that we’re there to walk beside them. We’re there when they need us.

  I would walk with Slim all the way to the bathtub and give him comfort in his time of need. I might even drag his jeans into another room and fling them around in my jaws. I kind of enjoy doing that.

  When he reached the front door, he speared me with his eyes and said, “No.”

  No what? I hadn’t done anything.

  “You stay outside. Stubtail will be right out.”

  Well, gee, that seemed kind of harsh. How could he take a bath without…he went inside. A few minutes later, the door opened and Stubtail came flying out and landed on the porch.

  He seemed on the virgil of tears. “He yelled at me and threw me out of the house!”

  I marched over to him. “Good. Now we can get started on your court martial. Sit down and show some respect. This court finds you guilty of all charges.”

  He blinked. “What charges?”

  “The charges of which you’ve been charged of which, mainly being a little chicken.”

  His head sank. “Oh, that. I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

  “Of course I noticed! Every member of this jury saw you run from the field of battle.”

  “Oh rats.”

  “Do you admit the charge of the charges?”

  “Might as well, if everybody saw it.” He started sniffling. “But you didn’t see the worst part.”

  “You mean…there was more?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so ashamed!”

  I began pacing in front of the witness, I mean, this sounded bad. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Tell this court exactly what happened, and don’t forget that you’re under oath.”

  “You mean like oathmeal?”

  “Exactly. Oathmeal is the most honest of all cereals, and that’s what we expect from your testimony. No whoppers, in other words.”

  “Oh drat.”

  “Please don’t use naughty language. Go on.”

  He hung his head and wiped a tear out of his eye. “I wet under Slim’s bed.”

  Those words hit me like a wooden nickel falling from the sky. I stopped pacing and stared at him. “You wet…Drover, how could you do such a thing?”

  “It was easy. You told me there was a robot on the porch and it scared me so bad, I couldn’t hold it.”

  “Why would you want to hold a robot?”

  “No, the water.”

  “Oh. Well, you wasted your water. There wasn’t a robot on the porch.”

  “That makes it even worse.”

  I paced around him and pondered all the evidence. I found it hard to keep from laughing. “This is ha ha shameful. Your honor, we the jury have come to a verdict.”

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “No, just listen and keep your trap shut. Your honor, we find the defendant guilty of being a little chicken and wetting under Slim’s bed.”

  “Oh no!”

  “But it’s so funny, we recommend no punishment.”

  His jaw dropped. “No fooling? I don’t have to stand with my nose in the corner?”

  “Drover, this is hilarious. Did Slim find the puddle?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then you’re home free. Congratulations, son, you’ve beat the system by being a complete goose. This court is adjourned!”

  Chapter Four: Slim Wears a Suit

  So there you are, a little glimpse into the inner workings of the Security Division. Most of our cases involve serious crimes and serious crinimals, but this one…

  How can you stay mad at a little mutt who’s so scared of robots, he wets under the bed?

  I know, I know, he went chicken in combat and hid under the bed, but sometimes Justice must be merciful to noodle-brains. There’s a time to stick their noses in the corner, sure, but once in a while, Justice must pause and laugh its head off.

  Anyway, we disposed of an important case and it was time to get back to work. Actually, there wasn’t any work, because Slim was getting ready to go somewhere and do something, so we sat on the porch and werp wonky donut snork.

  I must have slipped into a light doze, but don’t forget that I’d been in court most of the morning. That wears you down. I was awakened by a name calling my voice.

  “Hank?”

  “We’re away from the phone. At the sound of the tone, leave me alone.”

  “What a cute rhyme!”

  “Figgy pudding.”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  I cranked open one eye and saw a dog. “Who are you and who gave you my number?”

  “I’m Drover, remember me?”

  I blinked all four eyes and glanced around. “Wait. You’re the one who wet under the bed?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good. Where are we?”

  “Slim’s porch.”

  I pushed myself to a sitting position, glanced around, and took a big yawn and stretch. “I must have drifted off for a minute.”

  “You were zonked out for an hour. You were twitching and making squeaky sounds. I heard ‘em myself.”

  I gave him a smoldering glare. “I don’t make squeaky sounds. You need to get your ears fixed. Why did you wake me up?”

  “Well…” He rolled his eyes around. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “You’re sick? Open your mouth and say ah-h-h-h.” He opened his beak and I peered inside. “Has your tongue always been pink?”

  He nodded. “I hink hoe.”

  “Close your mouth. When did you start feeling bad?”

  “It was right after you said something about germs. I think I caught some of ‘em.”

  “I didn’t say anything about germs. Why would I be talking about germs?”

  “I don’t know, but you said, ‘This court is a germ,’ and that’s when it all started.”

  I stared into the great emptiness of his eyes. “Drover, is this a pathetic attempt at humor?”

  “Heck no. There’s nothing funny about germs.”

  “When you were a kid, did your mother think you were strange?”

  “Well, let me think. She thought I was a lazy bum.”

  “She was right, but you’re also a hypocardiac. You get sick when you’re not sick.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  I stuck my nose in his face. “I didn’t say anything about germs. I said, and please pay attention, I said, ‘This court is now adjourned.’ Adjourned! It meant that your court martial was over.”

  He tilted his head to the side and squeezed up a silly grin. “No fooling? So…I’m okay, I’m not sick?”

  “You’re not sick in the usual sense. You’re weird, and we need to have a long talk about that.”

  I had planned to give him The Heavy Lecture about his weirdness, but that got interrupted when a strange pickup came creeping toward the house. My head shot up and I activated sensors. I had never seen this vehicle before, so you can guess what happened next. My lecture went out the window.

  “Uh oh, Bogies at two o’clock! It’s time to launch all dogs, let’s go!”

  I pushed the throttle up to Turbo Five, dived off the porch, and went streaking out to intercept the Bogies, and you should have heard those jet engines! Awesome roar. I made contact, gave ‘em a burst of Warning Barks, and kept ‘em under cerveza until they parked in front of Slim’s shack.

  The driver honked the horn. I couldn’t tell if it was a hostile honk or a friendly honk, so I stood my ground and kept ‘em covered. The window on the driver’s side window rolled down and I saw…holy smokes, it was Miss Viola! She looked fabulous and gave me a big smile and said, “Hi, Hank!”

  See? What have I been telling you? She was crazy about me and she’d come to pay me a visit! I rushed forward, hopped my front paws on the side of the pickup, and leaned upward to receive Rubs and Pats. I got ‘em, but also heard a deep growl inside the cab. “Don’t let him scratch my paint job!”

  Okay, that was her grouchy old daddy, and Viola said, “Hank, get down.” No problem. Anything for her.

  Slim came out the front door, and get this. He was wearing a suit and tie and a clean hat! Incredible. I mean, he looked halfway civilized. I hardly recognized him. But he wasn’t wearing a happy face. His lips looked like nails and he walked with his head down.

  When he opened the passenger-side door, Viola said, “My, don’t you look handsome!”

  “I feel like I’m going to a funeral. Mine.”

  He got in and they drove off and didn’t come back until late afternoon, which left me alone on the porch with the guy whose mother thought he was a lazy bum. Boy, what a long day!

  But I survived and was there to meet the pickup when they came back, and gave ‘em an escort to the house. Slim and Viola got out and walked to the porch. They were holding hands. I’ll admit that it made me a little jealous, her giving him so much attention, but I tried to be mature about it. I mean, they were engaged.

  She said, “See, that wasn’t so bad. I was proud of you, sitting across the desk from the banker. That was very brave.”

  “The way Brady looked at me, I felt like a chicken thief.”

  “Oh, that’s the silliest thing I ever heard! Slim, every young couple goes through this, starting out. We’ll work together and it’ll be fine. Two calf crops and we can burn the note.” They climbed the steps and stopped at the door. She looked him over. “You should dress up more often.”

  “When we burn the note, the suit goes into the fire.”

  The horn honked and we heard Woodrow’s growly voice. “Hurry up, girl, I’ve got to gather the eggs!”

  She stood on tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You did great. See you soon.”

  Eight seconds after she drove away, Slim ripped off his necktie and unbuttoned his collar. He leaned against a pillar post and looked off into the distance. “Hank, I’m inching closer to the altar. Should I be glad or scared silly?”

  You know, I was proud that he had asked my opinion, but since I had no idea what he was talking about, all I could do was answer with Slow Caring Wags on the tail section. He didn’t even notice my wags. Oh well. Sometimes SCW works and sometimes it flops.

  He changed back into his work clothes, went to his mailbox on the county road, and retrieved a week’s collection of mail: a picture show calendar, grocery store ads, a newsletter from the church, and the latest issue of Livestock Weekly. Back at the house, he spent an hour studying the “Cattle For Sale” section in LW and making phone calls to ranchers who had heifers to sell.

  The next morning, he hooked up the flatbed pickup to the 24’ gooseneck trailer, and off we went to Lipscomb County to buy ten head of heifers. He insisted that I go along and ride shotgun on this deal, and I was glad to do it. To be real honest, I needed a break from Drover.

  But there was another reason I volunteered for the mission. Can you guess? Heh heh. Miss Viola went along too and, well, you know how it was between us. She was engaged to Slim, but also crazy about me. In fact, I take credit for bringing them together.

  Think about it. Slim owned no land, couldn’t dance, was always bachelor-broke, ate bad food, and had all the charm of a rock, but he had partnered with a dog who was…well, everything you’d want: handsome, strong, smart, brave, loyal, smart, brave, and handsome.

  So, yes, I take a lot of credit for bringing them together. I’m not saying that I wanted to steal her away, but I never passed up an opportunity to ride in the pickup with her. Sometimes, when things were just right, I was able to slither into her lap, and those were delicious moments.

  I was with them when they picked up the heifers, and watched Slim write Lance Bussard a check for eight thousand bucks. His hand trembled and his face was pale, and he told Lance, “Just keep running it through till it clears the bank.”