Chapter Four: The Robber
If you recall, Chief Deputy Kile was telling Slim about a robbery in Twitchell. Here’s the rest of the story.
“The man wasn’t bluffing, and the skunk wasn’t de-skunked. When the cashier reached for the phone, the man blew a high-pitched whistle. The skunk hopped up on its front legs, fanned out its tail, and fired.”
Slim’s face fell into a scowl. “Wait a second, I cain’t believe this. You’re telling me that he’d trained a skunk to spray on command?”
The deputy gave his head a solemn nod.
“I never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, you can believe it or not, I don’t care.”
Slim pulled on his chin. “He blew a whistle and the skunk sprayed?”
The deputy nodded. “That’s right, and as you might guess, skunks aren’t good for grocery stores. Bad. They had to shut down for the day.”
“Well, what happened to the crook?”
“He pulled a gas mask out of the paper sack and put it on his face. In all the excitement, he just walked away. Nobody had any idea who he was or where he went. He didn’t get the baloney, but he just about ruined the store. The manager wants his scalp . . . yesterday.”
Slim smirked. “If you catch the guy, what’ll you charge him with? Attempted robbery with a skunk?”
The deputy laughed. “I’m not sure how we’ll handle the charges, but we’ll try to throw the book at him for property damage. It was pretty funny, but not cheap.”
Slim leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. “So a man tries to rob a store in Twitchell with a skunk . . . and you’re sitting on my porch, telling me about it. Is there a connection?”
The deputy rose from his chair and walked over to the edge of the porch. He pointed to some greenery below the porch. “Are those weeds or flowers?”
“Weeds. I’ve got plenty of ’em.”
The deputy poured his coffee onto the weeds. “You don’t have as many as you thought. This stuff ought to kill ’em dead.”
He returned to his chair and pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. It was a map. He unfolded it and showed it to Slim.
“The day after that deal at the store, a rancher in Lipscomb County reported that somebody entered his house and stole some beef out of the deep freeze. The next day, another rancher up the creek made the same complaint, only this time the missing items were cans of food. Next day, same thing . . . here, here, and here.” He tapped his finger on the map, three times.
Slim squinted at the map. “Huh. It seems to be moving this way.”
“That’s right. I’ve got a hunch the crook’s on foot in this empty ranch country and he’s living off the land. He seems to be moving east, down the creek, and I guess he’s got that skunk on a leash. If he sticks with the pattern, he’s liable to show up around here.”
Slim’s eyebrows rose. “Huh. Well, thanks for the tip. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
The deputy’s expression darkened and he lowered his voice. “Slim, if he shows up at your door, here’s what I want you to do. Give him a cup of your coffee and call an ambulance. If he survives, I’ll throw him in jail.”
Cackling at his own joke, Deputy Kile started walking toward his car. Slim turned around in his chair and said, “Bobby, you ain’t near as funny as you think.”
The deputy waved. “Seriously, keep your eyes peeled and call if you see anything suspicious.”
Slim cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled, “We’ll probably have a lawsuit over you blowing my ears out with that si-reen. My lawyer’ll be in touch.”
The deputy climbed into his car, blew the siren one last time, and drove away. Slim settled back into his chair and looked down at us dogs. “He’s too fussy to be an officer of the law.” He took a gulp of coffee and spit out some grounds. “You know, he’s got a point. This ain’t my best . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence because, at that very moment, the telephone rang inside the house. He heard it but didn’t move. Instead, he waved a hand in the air and growled, “I ain’t going to answer it. I don’t care who you are.” The phone kept ringing. Slim dropped into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t a slave to the telephone. Go ahead and ring all you want.”
Well, that was okay with me. The ringing stopped, and I stretched out on the porch and prepared for a nice little—the phone started ringing again. I sat up and threw a glance at Slim.
He heaved a sigh. “It’s Loper. He knows I’m here and he won’t quit.” He pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door.
Drover and I sprang to our feet and followed him. I mean, it was pretty obvious that he needed some help from the Security Division, and by George, we were glad to do it.
Slim had his mind on other things and didn’t hold the screen door open for us, but we got there double-quick and managed to squirt through the opening, before the door slammed shut.
He stomped across the living room in his bare feet and snatched up the phone.
“Hello. Yes. I figured it was you. Because I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to talk to, and I still can’t. What? Well, I’d planned to spend the whole day loafing on the porch, if you want to know the truth. But thanks for the invite. Bye.”
He hung up the phone and turned to us dogs. “Loper and Sally May are having a Fourth of July picnic.”
Picnic? Hey, great news!
“I ain’t going. Too much trouble.”
He headed for the porch again, so we had to do another scramble to make it through the screen door before it slammed shut. This time he noticed and said, “Are y’all following me around?”
Well, yes. That’s what dogs do. If we’d been ordinary lazy mutts, we wouldn’t have gone to the trouble. He was a lucky man to have dogs who cared about him.
He flopped down in his chair. “Well, now we can get back to the good life.” He propped his feet on the banister and sang the chorus of his song:
Sitting on the porch in my shorts.
Loafing outside in my underwear.
Sitting on the porch in my shorts.
Who’d want to be anywhere else but here?
Yes sir, here was a happy man, doing the thing he did best and loved most (loaf), and he must have sat there for an hour or more. The sun rose above the trees along the creek. The temperature climbed, and flies buzzed around our ears. Drover and I found it harder and harder to keep our eyes open and finally we . . . dribbled off to slip . . . zzzzz.
I was awakened by the sound of Slim’s voice. “You know, this ain’t as much fun as I thought. In fact, it’s kind of boring.”
Drover and I blinked our eyes and yawned. Good point. I hadn’t wanted to say anything but, yes, spending time on the porch with Slim wasn’t exactly an electric experience.
He rose from the chair. “By netties, I think I’ll go to the picnic. And I’ll even take a bath.” He headed for the front door. Drover and I leaped to our feet and fell in step behind him. He went through the screen door and pulled it shut. Looking back at us through the screen, he said, “Quit following me around. You’re getting on my nerves.” He vanished inside the house.
I turned to Drover. “We get on his nerves? Is that the thanks we get for being loyal dogs?”
A quiver came into Drover’s voice. “Yeah, it’s not our fault that he makes bad coffee.”
“Exactly, but you know who always gets blamed. The dogs. This has been going on for years, Drover, and sometimes I wonder why we put up with it. If these people had to live a day without dogs, maybe they’d appreciate all the things we do.”
“Yeah, we ought to run away from home.”
“Maybe we should.”
“That would teach him.”
“It really would. What do you think, should we walk off the job and let him learn the hard way?”
“Yeah, let’s do. It would serve him right.”
“Then it’s settled. We’re going on strike!”
We left the porch and marched down the sidewalk, the first leg of a long journey that would take us we-knew-not-where. When we reached the yard gate, Drover stopped and glanced around. “But you know, it’s kind of hot.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Maybe we ought to wait for a cooler day.”
I gave that some thought. “It might be better to wait.”
“Yeah. You know, October will be here before you know it.”
“Exactly. Okay, we’ll let him off the hook this time.” We marched back to the porch and flopped down. “Slim has no idea how close he came to losing the entire Security Division.”
“Yeah, he took a chance, leaving us out here in this heat.” Drover was silent for a moment. “Reckon it’s cooler in the house?”
“Oh sure.”
“Why don’t we go inside?”
I stared at the runt. “Because we can’t. He shut us out. He doesn’t want to share his house.”
A grin spread across his mouth. “Yeah, but I know a trick.”
I couldn’t imagine what “trick” he had in mind. In fact, if he’d learned a trick, it would be the biggest news of the week. I followed him over to the screen door and watched.
He hooked his left front paw under the bottom of the screen door and gave it a jerk. The door opened wide enough for him to scoot through the crack. Inside the house, he grinned at me through the screen. “What do you think?”
It took me a moment to recover from the shock. “When did you learn to do that?”
“Oh, a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been practicing.”
“It didn’t look all that difficult. I mean, you just hooked your claws under the door and pulled, right?”
“Yeah, any dog could do it.”
“Exactly my point. Stand back, I’m coming in.”
And with that . . . well, you’ll see. It wasn’t as easy as you might think.