Chapter Eight: Not Just One Brilliant Maneuver, but Several

For all I knew, this would be my last meal on earth—also my first and last roll on a dead skunk. I decided what the heck, I might as well try to enjoy it.

Rip and Snort went first. I watched and took a few mental notes. First they got down on their bellies and crawled around on the skunk. Then they flipped over on their backs and wiggled around and kicked all four legs in the air. Then they hopped up and gave themselves a big shake.

Well, that looked easy enough. I dived in, rolled, kicked, did the whole routine. After I had shooked myself, I turned to Snort. “Well, what do you think? Did I do it right?”

“Pretty good. Now we have big coyote feast, oh boy!”

I glanced down at the dead skunk. You might recall that on one of my previous adventures, I sat in on a big coyote feast where “aged mutton” was on the menu. It didn’t do much for me. Well, yes it did. It made me sick, and I mean SICK. “Tell you what, fellers, I’m not real hungry right this minute, and maybe I’ll pass on the grub.”

Snort gave me an unfriendly glare. “You want make coyote angry?”

“Angry? Why, heavens no.”

“You want insult coyote hospitality? Berry bad manners turning down coyote feast.”

“Well I . . .”

“And when coyote get mad, want fresh meat—maybeso dog meat.” The two savages stared at me. I noticed that Rip licked his chops, and I thought I detected a hungry glimmer in his eyes.

I coughed. “I see what you mean. No, I think you misunderstood. What I meant to say was that I’ll go first, and I wondered if you guys would be upset if I ate the whole skunk myself. After all, I’m your guest.”

They went into a huddle and discussed it in whispers. Then Snort turned back to me. “That not work. Hunk not eat first.”

“Now hold on. The guest always eats first and gets first dibs on the grub. That’s only fair and decent.”

Snort shook his head. “Coyote not give hoot for fair and decent. Coyote tradition say guest eat last.”

“Well, that’s an outrage! Do you expect me to take that kind of treatment?” Their heads bobbed up and down. “Very well, we’ll eat in the coyote tradition, but I’ll have to demand a fair and equal division of the meat.”

Snort pushed himself up and swaggered over to me and stuck his sharp nose right in my face. “Coyote not like demand and not give hoot for equal division.”

“I’m sorry, Snort, but fair is fair and right is right. I want my equal share of the skunk. Otherwise, there’s nothing to keep you guys from hogging the whole thing.”

Snort started laughing, then Rip joined in. They had a good chuckle. “Ha! At last Hunk understand coyote manners.”

“What are you saying? Surely you don’t mean . . .”

He poked me with his paw. “In coyote tradition, coyote eat and guest watch.”

“Now wait just a minute! If you think I’m going to sit still while you guys . . .” He lifted his lips and displayed his teeth, which were long and sharp. And he also growled. “All right, calf-rope, I surrender. Just this once we’ll eat in the coyote tradition.”

“Hunk pretty smart dog.”

“You got that right, Charlie,” I muttered.

“Huh?”

“I said, thanks.”

Snort gave a yip and a howl and dived into the middle of the skunk. Rip did the same, and within seconds they were in the midst of a terrible fight. They snapped and they snarled and they slugged and they gouged. Brotherhood among the cannibals can be a pretty rough affair. Nobody but a coyote could survive it.

Well, they rolled off the skunk, don’t you see, and all of a sudden Junior’s head appeared around the edge of the cottonwood tree. He looked left and right and hopped over to the skunk. He snatched it up in his beak and hustled back behind the tree.

Upstairs on his perch, old man Wallace watched the whole thing. When he saw Junior steal the skunk, he brought his right wing to rest over his heart.

“Oh son, my boy! All these many years I’ve waited for a sign, and there it is, right before my very eyes! Praise the Lord, the boy’s gonna make something of himself, save me a leg, son, I’ll be right down!”

He stepped off the limb, spread his wings, and crash-landed in a plum thicket.

Rip and Snort missed the whole thing, didn’t see any of it. They were still trying to tear each other apart, rolling around and chewing on each other. The air was filled with dust and coyote hair.

Next thing I knew, I heard a yip-yip-yip off to my left, followed by a big deep roof-roof-roof! I looked around and guess what I saw: Mister Half-Stepper came flying across the creek, and right behind him, in hot and deadly pursuit, was an old enemy of mine, Rufus the Doberman Pinscher.

And Drover was not half-stepping. He was showing a kind of speed I’d never seen before, never mind his bad leg and allergies.

He came streaking right up to me. “Oh Hank, help, murder, mayday, mayday, he’s going to kill me, what am I going to do!”

That was an interesting question, and quite frankly, I didn’t have an answer worked out by the time he slid to a stop and took cover behind me. An even more interesting question was, what was I going to do?

I had a suspicion that after Rufus tore Drover to shreds, he’d get a kick out of shredding me too. And he, being a ferocious Doberman pinscher, was just the guy who could do it.

“Drover, I’d rather you didn’t take cover behind me. Rufus is liable to think we’re friends.”

“But Hank, I think he wants to fight!”

“What ever gave you that idea? Just because his little green eyes are flaming and he’s got slobber dripping off his fangs?”

“Yeah, and he said so too.”

“Well, this is your fight, son. I’m just a neutral party.”

“But Hank!”

Rufus came stalking up, the muscles rippling up his long thin legs and into his shoulders. He had his pointed ears down in fighting position, and his evil eyes were blazing.

Kind of scared me, if you want to know the truth.

“Morning, Rufus. What brings you out on a . . .”

“Shaddap, cowdog. Let me have him. I’m gonna tear him apart.”

“Don’t let him, Hank! Remember, I’m just a chicken-hearted little mutt, and my leg hurts.”

“Hey look, Rufus, he didn’t mean any harm.”

“He was trespassing on my ranch. Get out of my way or I’ll trespass you.”

“Would you actually do a thing like that?”

He gave me a snarling grin. “In a New York minute. Just give me a reason.”

“Will this be a fair fight between you and Drover?”

“As fair as it needs to be, cowdog.”

Drover started moaning. “No Hank, don’t let him hurt me!”

“Drover, you got into this mess by yourself and you’ll have to get out of it by yourself. It ain’t my fight.”

“Now you’re talking sense,” said Rufus. “You just run along and keep out of my way and you won’t get hurt.”

“Thanks, Rufus, I worry about getting hurt.”

“Oh Hank,” Drover cried, “I never thought I’d hear you say that! I thought you were fearless and brave.”

“Most of the time I am, Drover, but I try to stay out of the way of Doberman pinschers.”

Rufus liked that. “You may be smarter than you look, cowdog. Let’s get the fight started. I got things to do.”

“Oh Hank!”

“All right, let’s get it started,” I said. “But first, I’d like for you to meet a couple of pals of mine.”

“I ain’t interested in your pals.”

“I understand that, but you’re going to be fighting on their property and I think it would be a good idea . . . I’m sure you understand.”

“All right,” he growled, “but make it quick.”

“It won’t take but a minute. Come on.” The three of us walked over to the spot where Rip and Snort were tearing up the grass and gouging holes in the earth. “Hey, Snort, hold up a second.” They kept fighting. “Hey! Back off and shut up, I’ve got an important message for you.”

The snarling stopped. Rip and Snort looked at me with puzzled expressions. “Not good you butt into family discussion.”

“I know, Snort, but this is important. Rufus here has something he wants to tell you.” All eyes swung to Rufus. “Go ahead and tell ’em what you told me, Rufus.”

His little eyes went from me to the coyotes and back to me. “Say, what is this!”

“All right, I’ll tell ’em. Snort, Rufus just ate your whole skunk and he wanted you to know that it was real good.” Two pairs of coyote eyes swept the spot where the skunk had been. “And he also wondered if that was grounds for a fight, because if it is, he said you boys better go get four or five of your coyote pals to make it a fair fight.”

The brothers stood up, and so did the hair on their backs. “Not like smart-mouth dog! Not like skunk all gone!”

“Hey listen . . .”

“And Rufus said if you boys know what’s good for you, you’ll tuck your tails and head for the house.”

Low rumbling sounds started coming from the throats of the coyote brothers. Snort stepped toward Rufus. “Rip and Snort not need help for fight!”

“You dope, can’t you see what he’s doing?” said Rufus.

“Snort, he called you a dope.”

Rufus turned to me. “Why you low-down, sewer-dipping, pot-licking, double-crossing . . .” 

“Are you going to take that, Snort? Just give me the word and we’ll teach him a lesson.”

Snort didn’t give any word. But what he lacked in language skills he made up for in sheer meanness. He and his brother pinned back their ears and moved in for battle.

Rufus started backing up. “Stupid, that’s what you are, a couple of stupid stinking coyotes! Can’t you see what he’s doing? Hey listen, we can get together on this . . .” 

They got together, all right, Rufus on the bottom, Snort in the middle, and Rip up on top. The wreck was on, fellers, and me and Drover had to step back to keep from getting maimed.

It wasn’t a bad match, let me tell you. Rufe put up a good tussle and got in some pretty good licks. But of course the terrible thing about fighting those coyote brothers was that the harder the fight and the longer it lasted, the more they loved it.

After a bit Rufe managed to kick them away. That gave him just enough time to gather up those long Doberman legs and head for the back side of the pasture. He lit a shuck and headed north, with Rip and Snort right on his sawed-off tail.

“Well, Drover, we’ve solved another case and it’s time to move along. I believe my true love is waiting.”