As I approached the fence, I did one last instrument check. Allowing for wind and so forth, I would arrive at the lumber pile three seconds before the victim.

  All systems were go. All I had to do now was perform what we call an Under-the-Bottom-Board-Maneuver, a fairly simple and routine procedure in which your cowdog approaches a corral fence at top speed and darts under your bottom 2 x 6 board without

  CRUNCH!!

  Uh.

  Uhhh.

  Uhhhhhhh!

  Lorkin @#$%&*?%$#@ murgle porkchop snickle­­fritz aimed a wee bit high on that one. Swimming in molasses, the stars came out gork murg snork and I gathered myself up off of the . . .

  I became aware of a throbbing pain in my head. My neck was badly cricked and someone had removed my legs and installed a new set made of soft rubber. The earth was turning in an odd direction and I found it hard to stand in one spot.

  It appeared that I had, or shall we say that my instruments had failed me at a very crucial point in the maneuver, and once your entire guidance system has gone on the fritz . . .

  Laughter? Did I hear . . . yes, the cowboys. Laughing. Howling. Leaning against the saddle shed. Doubled over. Slapping their thighs.

  They had been spying on me, had watched the entire incident. Did they rush out with ice packs or bandages or even an encouraging word? Oh no. Everything’s a big joke with them.

  “Go get that little rabbit, Hankie!” one of them yelled. I don’t remember which one, it doesn’t matter, I don’t care, one’s as bad as the other and neither one shows much sensitivity to tragic situations.

  “Sic ’im, boy!” said the other, as he was brought to his knees by a convulsion of childish laughter.

  So there I was—not only badly injured from wounds received on a combat mission, not only wrecked and deformed and partly crippled, but also mocked and scorned by the very people I had sworn my Cowdog Oath to protect.

  Maybe you think I had hit the absolute bottom, that I couldn’t stink any deeper, sink any deeper, I should say; maybe you think that everything bad that could have happened to me had happened to me.

  If that’s what you think, then you’ve forgotten that I had wagered my job as Head of Ranch Security and HAD LOST THE WAGER.

  In other words, fellers, not only had I lost my job but it had been won by Pete the Barncat.

  That’s what I’d call a pretty scary thought.

  Chapter Five: Humble Pie Stinks

  Well, the cowboys got a real lift out of my disaster. I mean, it just about made their whole day.

  After howling and chuckling and slapping their knees and rolling around in the dirt, they finally ran out of excuses for loafing and had to go back to work. I know that broke their hearts.

  And don’t forget that if they had hauled off that pile of junk lumber in the first place, there would have been no lumber pile and therefore no Lumber-Pile Bunny.

  Hence, by simple logic, we see that the cow­boys were actually to blame for the entire incident—which didn’t make my broken neck or damaged head feel one bit better, but it’s always nice to share the blame with someone else.

  I mean, sharing is a very important thing in this old life. Furthermore, there is a wise old saying about people who laugh at the misfortunes of others: “He who laughs first . . . he who laughs last . . . he who laughs in the middle . . .”

  There is this wonderful wise old saying about people laughing but I think we’ll skip it for now. It’s a real good wise old . . . never mind.

  I went limping back to the gas tanks. I mean, I’d just suffered one of the worst setbacks of my career and had lost just about everything that was dear to me, but I still had my old gunnysack bed.

  That was the one thing they couldn’t take away from me. It was my place of refuge, the spot from whence I could launch myself into the sweet dreams about Beulah and feats of greatness. No matter what happened to me, that old gunnysack would always be there to welcome me home.

  I dragged myself toward the gas tanks, hoping with all my heart that Pete wouldn’t see me. I’m never anxious to see Pete, but this time I was even less anxious than usual.

  Luck was with me for a change, and Pete did not appear.

  At last I could see it: my gunnysack, my friend. It was waiting for me, calling my name, ready to embrace the folds of my tired and worn body, ready to launch me into . . .

  A cat in my bed?

  A grinning face with partially hooded eyes rose from my gunnysack. “Mmmmm, it’s Hankie the Cowdog, and isn’t this a wonderful coincidence!”

  I summoned up just enough energy to issue a short growl. “Out of my bed, cat, before I . . .”

  “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Hankie. You haven’t forgotten our little wager, have you?”

  “I, uh . . . did I think to mention that, down deep in my heart, I don’t approve of betting or wagering or gambling of any kind? I mean, I might have forgotten to . . .”

  “You forgot to mention that, Hankie.”

  “Yes, well, it just slipped my . . .”

  “It must have slipped your mind, Hankie.”

  “Exactly, and I’m sure the same thing has happened to you a time or two, you get caught up in something, excited and so forth, and before you realize it . . .”

  “You’ve made a stupid mistake, hmmm?”

  “Right. Well, stupid is pretty harsh . . .”

  “A dumb mistake?”

  “Yes, right, exactly. A dumb mistake. Or call it a hasty decision, or it could be that you misunderstood my true meaning, see, and you might have thought that I was making a foolish wager . . .”

  “Um-hmmm, I did, Hankie, I certainly did.”

  “. . . when in fact the record will show that I was . . . only words. Really. Honest.”

  Pete stretched out on my gunnysack and made himself right at home. I could hear him purring. Oh, and that tail of his was sticking straight up in the air.

  “Mmmm, so you’re saying that you didn’t intend to make the bet, is that right, Hankie?”

  “Right. Yes, and I’ll be the first to admit it, Pete. I was misquoted and I’ll have to take full responsibility for my actions. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth, I never would have been misquoted in the first place.”

  “Um-hmmm.”

  “And as far as I’m concerned, we can chalk the whole thing up to experience. I mean, it’s been a painful lesson for me, and why are you shaking your head?”

  “No deal, Hankie.”

  “By ‘no deal’ do you mean . . . no deal?”

  “I mean, Hankie, that we made a bet and you lost.”

  “Oh, I see, yes, well, let me hasten to . . .”

  “And I’m ready to collect, Hankie.”

  “Huh? Collect? You mean . . . now wait a minute, Pete, you can’t do this to me.”

  “Fair is fair, Hankie.”

  “I know that fair is fair, I’ve said that many times myself, but YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”

  He grinned and purred and flicked his tail back and forth.

  “Oh yes I can, Hankie. I won. You lost. I’m ready for you to pronounce me Head of Ranch Security.”

  “I won’t! I can’t! I . . .” I began pacing. “Listen, Pete, we can cut a deal, just you and me, right now. How about this: you’ll be my First Assistant. Hey, wouldn’t that be great?”

  “Mmmm, and what about Drover?”

  “Ha! He’s out, through, finished, fired. It’s just me and you, Pete, just the two of us, a team for the future!”

  “No thank you.”

  “Huh? Okay, listen to this. Dog food, all you can eat for three days!”

  “I’ll pass on the dog food, Hankie.”

  “Good thinking, pal, I don’t blame you, but here comes the killer deal of the century.” I winked and leaned forward. “Bones, Pete. You give me a number and I’ll deliver the goods.”

  He yawned, “I don’t think so, Hankie, because bones hurt my teeth.”

  “Good point, hadn’t thought of that, okay, we’ll dig a little deeper in the old . . .”

  “Hankie, had you thought of begging for your job?”

  “Huh? Begging? Well, I . . . no, actually I hadn’t thought of . . . begging. It sort of goes against my grains. Don’t you see.”

  “Well, you might try it and see what happens.” He studied his claws. “I’ve never been tested before, and who knows? It just might be my weak spot.”

  “I see. Begging. Could you give me some odds and percentages? I mean, I wouldn’t want to go into a begging situation without knowing the . . . I’m sure you understand.”

  “Mmmm, yes, I understand, Hankie.”

  “I mean, it would be very painful.”

  “Oh, I know, it would hurt so bad!”

  “Right, which is why I’d like to know . . .”

  “Fifty-fifty.”

  “Fifty-fifty, which is only slightly better than average.”

  “That’s the best I can offer, Hankie.”

  “Okay, well, fifty-fifty beats forty-forty, and uh . . . you said beg?”

  “Umm-hmmm. Just hop on your back legs and beg, and we’ll see what happens.”

  I coughed and cleared my throat, paced back and forth, scratched my ear, paced some more, and wrestled with this heavy decision.

  “This is very difficult for me, Pete, I hope you understand that, and I mean VERY difficult and painful, but if this is what it takes to . . . I don’t look forward to this, Pete. It’s going to be very humiliating and I’ve never . . .”

  “My patience is wearing thin, Hankie.”

  “Right, okay, and so the best thing for me to do is just . . . only for you would I do this, Pete, so watch carefully.”

  Against all my cowdog instincts, I hopped up on my back legs and brought my front paws into the Begging Position.

  “There we go! What do you think of this, Pete?”

  His smile went sour. “Mmmm, something’s missing, Hankie. It just doesn’t move me.”

  “Okay, what’s missing is this little flourish which we call Moving the Paws While Begging. You’ll love it, Pete, it’s going to knock your socks off. Watch close!”

  I did the maneuver, which is very difficult, by the way, and very few of your ordinary dogs have the muscle tone and coordination to pull it off.

  “There you are, Pete, that’s the whole show. Pretty impressive, huh? You ever see anything quite . . . you’re shaking your head again, Pete, and I’m wondering what that means.”

  “Oh, Hankie, I’m afraid it didn’t work, and just drat the luck!”

  “Drat the . . . didn’t . . . wait a minute. Are you saying that you’re not going to call off the bet? After I lowered myself and humbled myself and made myself look like an idiot?”

  The grin spread all the way across his mouth and his eyes brightened. “Mmmm yes, I’m afraid so, Hankie, but nice try anyway. Now, you may pronounce me Head of Ranch Security.”

  At last the pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. I had been duped and humiliated, and now I was fixing to be stripped of my rank.

  I lowered my front paws to the ground and glared at him. “I should have known better than to do business with a cat.” He nodded his head. “You’ll regret this, Pete.”

  “Fair is fair, Hankie.”

  I took a gulp of air and plunged into the terrible unknown. “Very well. I pronounce you Head of Ranch Security, and I hope you get a big ringworm right where you sit down.”

  “Thank you, Hankie. Your unhappiness means more to me than I can possibly express.”

  “Fine. Now get out of my bed.”

  “Ah, ah, ah! MY bed. It goes with the job.”

  My mind was reeling, my head was pounding, my body was begging for rest. I didn’t have the energy to argue.

  “All right, Pete. You’ve got it all: my job, my pride, and now my bed. You win. I’m whipped. The ranch is yours.”

  And with that, I turned and limped away from my bedroom, my home, and the gunnysack that had been my last friend in the world.

  Chapter Six: The Case of the Disheartened Chicken

  I dragged myself up to the machine shed. Drover was there, sleeping on the cement pad in front of the big double doors.

  I needed a friend to talk to, fellers, I mean I was at the bottom of my luck. On another occasion, I might have chosen a friend with more wealth, influence, and brains than Mister Stub-Tail, but this wasn’t another occasion.

  Yes, Drover had his flaws and his short-comings, but after working beside the little mutt for years, I knew in my heart that if he were the only dog available, I would choose him to be my best friend.

  This was his lucky day.

  “Drover, I don’t want to alarm you, but the very worst thing that could possibly happen has just happened.”

  “Skonk snort zzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

  “Please don’t panic. Screaming and running in circles won’t help the situation.”

  “Snork glorg rumple ricky tattoo.”

  “I’ve come to inform you that I have gambled away my future and ruined my life. I’ll be leaving soon to spend the rest of my miserable years living in ditches and gutters. I know this must come as a terrible shock.”

  “Skaw shurtling snort zzzzzzz.”

  “All I ask is that . . . wake up, you idiot! Can’t you see that I’m pouring out my heart to you?”

  He raised up and stared at me. His eyes were crossed, his ears were on crooked, and his tongue was hanging out the left side of his mouth.

  “Oh my gosh, who’s going to clean up all the blood?”

  “Blood? What blood?”

  He staggered to his feet. “I can’t stand the sight of blood, where am I?” His eyes began to focus. “Oh, hi Hank, I must have dozed off. Did you hear about the murder?”

  “Murder? No, what happened?”

  “Gosh, I’m not sure, I just heard about it, but somebody got murdered, maybe it was a chicken, and they busted into the chicken house and cut her heart out and chopped it up into little pieces!”

  “Chopped up her heart!”

  “Yeah, it was awful. And then they poured out the pieces of heart all over the ground! And then they chopped up her lizzard and giver and . . .”

  “Hold it. Do you mean gizzard and liver?”

  “Yeah, did you hear about it too? Oh my gosh, I guess it’s true, Hank, and there was blood everywhere, I saw it with my own eyes!”

  “You witnessed this unspeakable murder with your own eyes?”

  “I think they were mine. Yeah, they must have been.”

  “Holy smokes, Drover, why wasn’t I informed?”

  “Well, I never would have thought you’d be interested.”

  I glared at him. “You didn’t think I’d be interested in a ghastly murder?”

  “No, I meant my eyes.”

  “I don’t care about your eyes!”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m talking about the . . .” Then I remembered. “But never mind all that, Drover. I’ve just lost my post, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Well, there’s a whole bunch of them over in the post pile, and I think there’s a rabbit over there too.”

  “Don’t mention that word in my presence, Drover.”

  “You mean post?”

  “No, I mean rabbit. A rabbit has just ruined my life.”

  “I’ll be derned.”

  “Because of that lying, cheating rabbit, I have lost my post.”

  “Ate the whole thing, huh?”

  “Exactly, and I’d appreciate it if you’d never speak of rabbits again.”

  “I guess they’ll eat anything.”

  “It just breaks my heart to think about this terrible loss.”

  “Oh, you can always find another post. Digging the hole’s the big problem.”

  “Yes, it’s an enormous hole, Drover, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to fill it.”

  “Well, you might try dirt. That works sometimes.”

  “A whole lifetime down the drain, Drover, and I have no one to blame but myself.”

  “I’d blame the cowboys.”

  “No, it was my fault. All the cowboys did was laugh at my stupidity.”

  “Yeah, but if they’d feed these rabbits once in a while, maybe they wouldn’t have to eat fence posts.”

  My eyes swung around and focused on him. “WHAT?”

  “I said . . . well, let’s see, what did I say? I think I’ve already forgot.”

  “Out with it! Something about fence posts.”

  “Oh yeah. I said, if they’d feed these fence posts once in a while, they wouldn’t have to eat so many rabbits.”

  “The cowboys are eating rabbits?”

  “No, the fence posts.”

  “The cowboys are eating fence posts?”

  “No, the fence posts are eating . . . you said the rabbits were eating . . . fence posts?”

  I looked into the huge emptiness of his eyes. “Drover, has it ever occurred to you that you might be going insane?”

  “I’ve wondered about that.”

  “It has already happened. The post to which I was referring was not a fence post, but rather my post as Head of Ranch Security.”

  “I’ll be derned.”

  “I lost it in a bet with the cat. I bet Pete that I could catch the Lumber-Pile Bunny and I failed. Which means that Pete is now Head of Ranch Security and I am Head of the Broken Heart Society.”

  “Yeah, but the chicken doesn’t have a heart at all.”

  “It was a rabbit, and yes, he was utterly heartless.”

  “No, I mean the chicken that was murdered and disheartened.”

  “Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten that. You witnessed the crime yourself?”