Around seven, as the sun was going down, the volunteers went home and we made it back to headquarters. Slim and Loper were bushed, their faces weary and smudged with soot. A car turned at the mailbox and came our way.

  It was Chief Deputy Kile. He said the wind had rekindled several fires in Hemphill County but they were mostly contained, unless the wind really cranked up and started spreading embers. Some ranchers had lost 50% of their cattle.

  “I know y’all don’t feel lucky, but you are. What I saw today was...” He turned to Slim. “We’ve still got a spare bedroom at my house.”

  “No thanks.”

  “So you’re going to live in your pickup for the next year? You and the dogs?”

  “Bobby, I’ve been busy, trying to save cattle, and haven’t worked out my schedule for the year. I take life one wreck at a time, and tonight I’ll sleep in my pickup. I don’t want to be around people.”

  The deputy chuckled. “Well, son, there’s a bunch of us that don’t want to be around you either.” Loper snorted a laugh.

  “Good. Everything’s working out.”

  The deputy flicked some ash off his uniform. “There’s a camper trailer parked where your house used to be.”

  “What?”

  “I got a call from a man in Amarillo. He’d heard about the fire and asked what he could do to help. I said, ‘I know this cowboy. He’s crabby, nobody can get along with him, and he’s not very smart, but he needs a place to stay.’ The gentleman brought a camper trailer and people showed up to help. Electricity’s out, so Scot and J.B. hooked it up to a generator. Bennie and Jake came over from Gruver and got the water running.“

  “Bobby, I’m kind of tired. Is this one of your jokes?”

  “Nope. A lot of people are thinking about you. It’s a cute little trailer, twice as good as you deserve.” He pitched Slim a set of keys. “Porch light’s on and it’s got a little shower.” He turned to Loper. “You can use it as long as you need it.”

  Loper was shocked. “Who is this guy?”

  “I don’t even know his name, somebody who wanted to help. If y’all need anything, let me know.”

  He got into his car and drove off. Loper shook his head. “Well, that beats it all. Just when you think the world’s got no heart, everybody shows up to help.”

  Slim nodded. “It makes it hard to keep up a bad attitude.” He yawned. “Man alive, this ranch is a work horse.”

  “Yeah, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

  Slim gave him a tired look. “It’s worth it.”

  “We’ve got plenty of food at the house.”

  “No thanks. Shower’ll do me. I’m tired, and tired of smelling smoke. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter Eleven: The Mysterious Marsh Berries

  We loaded into the pickup and headed for what used to be Slim’s shack. It was almost dark now and we could see little fires burning along the creek.

  Drover was riding in the middle, of course, because he hadn’t been certified for the Shotgun Position. It’s an important job and you don’t get it just because you want it. We have a training program and you have to pass a test. Drover had flunked it ten times in a row, a perfect record.

  That’s why we put him in the middle of the seat, where he could do the least amount of damage.

  Anyway, the fires along the creek looked a little creepy and he got creeped out. “Oh my gosh, look at those campfires!”

  “Those are big trees that are still smoldering.”

  “Yeah, but they look like campfires.”

  “They’re not campfires.”

  “Yeah, but what if they are, and what if…what if it’s the Charlies!”

  Hm, I hadn’t thought of that. I took a closer look. “You know, they do look like campfires, now that you mention it.”

  “See? I told you.”

  “Please don’t gloat. Why would the Charlies be camping out after a prairie fire?”

  “Well, maybe they wanted to marsh some roastmallows.”

  “Do you mean ‘roast some marshmallows’?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “That’s not what you said.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said they’re roasting marsh berries.”

  “Gosh, do we have marsh berries around here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we have a few, yes. You’d find them along the edges of the creek. Marsh berries grow in marshes, don’t you see. Marshes are wet and creeks are wet.”

  “I’ll be derned. I wonder why.”

  “They’re wet because they contain water.”

  “Oh yeah, and water’s wet too.”

  “Exactly my point. It all fits together: wet water, wet creek, and wet marsh, and that’s where you find marsh berries.”

  “And the Charlies eat ‘em?”

  “I suppose they do, yes. What else could they find to eat in March?”

  “I’ll be derned. So they’re eating roasted March marsh berries?”

  “You could put it that way, I guess.”

  An odd gleam came to his eyes and he sat up in the seat. “I just got an idea for song. You want to hear it?”

  “You know, we’re kind of busy right now.”

  “Listen to this.” He sat up tall in the seat and let ‘er rip.

  March marsh berries march, roasting by the stream.

  Merrily, merrily, marsh and mellowly, pass the bowl of cream.

  He gave me a grin. “What do you think?”

  “It makes no sense.”

  “Yeah, but it rhymed and everything.”

  “Okay, it rhymed. So what?”

  “Well, I wrote it myself, hee hee, and we could do it as a round.”

  “A round what?”

  “A round song. I’ll start it off and you come in. It’ll be great.”

  This was so silly, but what could I do? I was trapped inside a pickup with the little goof. “All right, let’s get it over with.”

  So we sang it as a round. He was so proud of it, we had to do it several times. When we got done, he was almost beside himself. “That’s the coolest song I ever wrote!”

  “Drover, it was a little jingle about marsh berries, but not even close to being serious music.”

  His smile faded. “Wait a second. Did you say ‘marsh berries’?”

  “Of course I did. That’s what your song was about.”

  “Yeah, but I meant marshmallows. I’ve never heard of marsh berries.”

  My vision went red. “Look, pal, we’ve already had this discussion, and you were the one who brought it up.”

  “I thought you did.”

  “I had never heard of stupid marsh berries until you started blabbering and sang a pathetic little song about them!”

  His face crumbled. “You didn’t like my song?”

  “Are you kidding? That was one of the…” I stared out the window and tried to calm myself. The captain of the ship must never lose his compost. His compossum. His composure. I took several deep breaths. “Drover, it disturbs me that we’re discussing something that neither of us has ever heard of. Does that strike you as weird?”

  His head began to sink. “Yeah, I worry about myself sometimes.”

  “So do I. Is there something you need to tell me about marshmallows? Have you ever wanted to be one?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s good. Let’s not tell anyone about this conversation. It wouldn’t do the Security Division any good.”

  “Yeah, it might sound like two dumb dogs talking.”

  “Exactly. It could damage the morale of this unit. As far as the outside world is concerned, we’ve never discussed marshmallows or marsh berries.”

  “Yeah, and we don’t believe in marsh berries anyway, so there!” He stuck out his tongue at something, I don’t know what. “What did you think of my song? Be honest.”

  “Great song. I’m speechless.”

  He squeezed up a grin. “Gosh, thanks. I feel better now. Thanks a lot.”

  “Glad to do it, son. That’s what I’m here for.”

  My brains were scrambled. He does this to me all the time, you know, lures me into loony conversations that go around in circles and make me wonder if I’m going insane.

  Why would two ranch dogs be singing and talking about…never mind, let’s just drop it.

  We made it to Slim’s place around sundown, and it was a sad spectacle that greeted us: a pile of ash and debris where Drover and I had spent many pleasant nights in front of the stove, and where Drover had spent many nights barfing and wetting on the floor. Those stains were gone now and Slim would never know the truth about Drover’s nighttime adventures.

  But then we saw a shiny silver tube parked nearby, the camper trailer Deputy Kile had talked about. The generator was humming, the porch light was on, and it looked pretty inviting. Slim looked it over and reached for the door handle. I was right there, ready to…

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Well, I…inside, of course. I mean, that’s where dogs belong. What’s a camper without a dog to camp with? It would be like a house without a home.

  I went to Slow Wags on the tail section and beamed him a look that said, “Our house burned down. We’ve lost our porch. We’re homeless dogs, tired and hungry, weary, sad, and discouraged, looking for one true friend in this cold, uncaring world.”

  I studied his face and saw ice. “Hank, you’re filthy. You look like you’ve been rolling around in a fireplace.” He went inside and slammed the door.

  Oh brother. How’s a dog supposed to look when his world burns down? Oh well. I knew he would change his mind. One hour alone in the trailer would soften his heart and he would BEG me to come inside. I could wait.

  I found a spot near the door of the trailer, flopped down, ignored Drover, and waited for Slim to call me into the house.

  Perhaps I fell into a light doze. Then…I heard a mysterious sound and leaped to my feet. I was outside, in front of a silver space vehicle, and, good grief, some kind of creature was coming down the ladder!

  Okay, the Charlies had been roasting marsh berries around campfires, and now they had landed in the yard! I went straight into Code Red and fired off several blasts of Stage One Barking.

  “Will you dry up?”

  Huh?

  Wait, hold up. Ha ha. It was morning and Slim was coming out of the camper trailer. See? I had brought the ranch through another dangerous night, but that camper really did look like a space ship, no kidding.

  He was wearing clothes, Slim was, the same jeans and shirt he’d been wearing the day before, because they were the only rags he had left after the fire, and they were almost black with soot.

  He had washed the soot off his face and run a rake through his hair. I went to him and gave him Broad Swings on the tail section, delivering the message, “Pretty sad night without your dogs, I guess.”

  He grumbled something and walked past me to the ruins of his former house. Naturally, I went with him, I mean, we hadn’t confronted the Breakfast Situation yet and I wanted to stack up a few points.

  He found the rusted gun barrel of what used to be his .22 rifle and stirred the ashes around. Hm. Maybe he was looking for the puddle Drover had left under his bed.

  He reached down and lifted something out of the ashes. One of his spurs. He stirred some more ash and found the other one. The leather straps were gone, but at least he’d found the spurs, and he seemed pleased. “Well, I ain’t completely wiped out.”

  Just then, we heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. I was about to Launch All Dogs when I saw Viola’s daddy’s pickup, and she was driving. She parked in front of the camper and got out. She wore a pretty yellow dress and waved and, my goodness, the whole world just sparkled with her smile. It was as though someone had opened the drapes in a dungeon.

  I ran to her and she said, “Morning, Hank!” Wow! She let down the tailgate and brought out two lawn chairs and set them up in front of the camper, just as Slim arrived. “How was the camper?”

  “Pretty nice. It sure beats a cardboard box.”

  “Have you had breakfast?”

  “No, I’m a little short on groceries.”

  “Here’s breakfast.” She pointed to a thermos of coffee, and pans that held scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and homemade biscuits, and a jar of wild plum jelly.

  Slim’s mouth dropped open. “Good honk, you went to a lot of trouble.”

  She gave him a cute smile. “A little. Mom made the biscuits. Help yourself.”

  He poured himself a cup of coffee, filled a paper plate with grub, and plopped down in one of the chairs. Naturally, I…

  “Buzz off, Shep.”

  Naturally, I kept a respectful distance and observed. I mean, our people don’t always appreciate dogs drooling at them at breakfast time.

  What a grouch.

  Chapter Twelve: Together In This

  Viola brought her plate and joined him. “Well, how are you feeling today?”

  “You ever seen an ant den after a road grader plowed over it? The ants walk around in circles all day. That’s how I feel. That old house wasn’t much, but I’m going to miss it. And I lost my saddle.”

  She took a bite of scrambled eggs. “You wouldn’t believe how people have responded to this fire. Our phone has been ringing off the wall: ‘What can we do to help? What does Slim need?’ They’re driving out from town with food, groceries, clothes, kitchen items. They can’t find you, so they’re leaving it with me and Sally May. I have three boxes of things in the pickup.”

  “Good honk. I’m surprised they even knew about it.”

  “Well, since you’re a hermit, you don’t know that it was one of the biggest fires in Texas history. It’s been in the newspapers and on the radio, and help is coming from all over the country: hay, sacked feed, vet supplies, fencing material. There’s a line of trucks in Twitchell, waiting to unload.”

  “I’ll be.” He poked at his food. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from the banker.”

  “Yes. He called and wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh good.”

  “I explained that your phone is a lump of melted plastic, and that you’re working daylight to dark, trying to keep cattle alive.”

  “I don’t reckon he cried, did he?”

  “No.”

  “Did he say anything about debtor’s prison?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “He said,” she gestured in the air with her fork, “that the cattle note is on hold and won’t draw any interest until things straighten out.”

  He stared at her. “I’ll be derned. But things won’t straighten out, Viola. Those heifers are gone. We didn’t even get a package of hamburger out of ‘em and we still owe eight thousand dollars.”

  “The Lord takes care of every sparrow.”

  “Birds don’t borrow money.”

  “We’ll get through it.”

  We heard a vehicle approaching. Slim and Viola looked toward the sound and somehow Slim’s sausage…well, it disappeared. It was very slurp…very mysterious.

  Loper’s flatbed pickup pulled into view. He got out and walked toward us, wearing his usual Morning Face. Glum. He glanced at the pans of food in the bed of Viola’s pickup. “You’ve fallen into luxury since I saw you last.”

  “It ain’t a bad life. Help yourself.”

  Loper grabbed a biscuit and smeared it with wild plum jelly. “Where do you want those heifers?”

  “What heifers?”

  “All day yesterday and into the night, people were calling to donate a heifer. George Clay’s running the deal and he’s holding ten head in his pens. He wants to know where to haul ‘em.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Slim shot a glance at Viola. She shrugged and gave him an innocent smile. “I don’t have a place for heifers.”

  Viola said, “Of course you do. Daddy’s letting us use his pasture.”

  “Yeah, but it’s burned down to the dirt, and we don’t have any hay.”

  She seemed surprised. “Really? When I left the house, two nice men from Garden City were unloading a truckload of alfalfa. If that’s not enough, I’ve got a list of ten people who want to donate more. We could probably have five thousand bales here by tomorrow night.”

  Slim seemed bewildered. “I don’t deserve this.”

  Loper took a snap off his biscuit. “I agree, but what can you do? I’ll tell George to unload the heifers at Woodrow’s pens.”

  “Woodrow ain’t got any pens. They burned to the ground.”

  “George’s hired man is bringing portable panels and he’ll set up a pen. They’re eight to nine months pregnant and George didn’t offer to calve ‘em out. You’ll have to do that yourself.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Well, are you going to eat all day or can we squeeze in a few hours’ work?”

  Slim chuckled and shook his head. “Loper, it ain’t even eight o’clock yet.”

  “When you get burned out, the days start early. I’ll see you at the hay lot, if you can work it into your schedule.” He waved a farewell and drove off.

  Slim shook his head. “Don’t he beat it all?” He looked into his plate. “Hey, where’d my sausage go?” His eyes came at me like arrows. “Hank!”

  Sausage? What burp sausage? Excuse me. I knew almost nothing about his sausage, but I had a suspect: Drover! Where was the little thief?

  Viola said, “Do you want to see what’s in the boxes?”

  They went to her pickup. The first box contained secondhand clothes: five pairs of faded jeans and six long-sleeved shirts. Out of the second box he pulled an insulated vest, socks, boxer shorts, T-shirts, and a wool cap. In the third box he found a cooking pot, two plates, a coffee mug, spoons, forks, knives, and a can opener.