Chapter Nine: We Prepare for the Worst

Around dark, Slim finished his chores at the corrals and joined us in front of the machine shed. Dragging himself along like an old man, he sat down on an overturned bucket in front of the shed and stared at the ground with glazed eyes.

“Dogs, here’s the plan. We’ve got to stay up tonight and keep a watch. The trouble is, I’m wore out and hungry, and I smell like a billy goat.”

Hmm. Good point. I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but, yes, he did smell a little ripe, after sweating all day in the field.

“I’m going to raid Sally May’s icebox and fix myself a bite of supper. Then I’m going to crawl into her bathtub and soak for about half an hour.” He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “Maybe a nice hot bath will wake me up.”

What? He thought that soaking in a tub of hot water would wake him up?

Maybe I should have barked a protest and tried to argue the point, but I had no reason to suppose that he would listen to me. They never do, you know. One of the first things a cowdog learns about his job is that his people really don’t want to know what he thinks.

It’s too bad. We dogs could spare them a lot of grief if they would just listen to us, but they don’t and there’s nothing we can do about it.

He took a big yawn and stretch, then his eyes drifted down to me. The lines in his brow hardened. “Hank, I don’t know what kind of foolishness went on between you and that monkey this afternoon, but if he shows up again tonight, I’d sure appreciate it if you’d remember who buys your dog food.” He leaned down into my face. “It ain’t a monkey. Am I making myself clear?”

Well, sure . . . yes. Of course.

“If you want to be pals with a monkey, do it on your own time.”

I did NOT want to be pals with a monkey, and there was no need for Slim to rub salsa into old wounds.

He turned and started toward the house. “You act like a monkey about half the time, but try to remember that you’re a dog.”

Oh, brother. Make one little mistake around here and they throw it on you like a saddle and ride you until you drop. For his information, I had spent the entire afternoon roasting over the fires of guilt, and had concluded on my own that . . . yes, Drover had made a serious mistake and had failed his ranch. And I had no intention of letting it happen again.

Slim shuffled down to the house and disappeared inside. As darkness fell around me, I realized that . . . yawn . . . gee, I was really bushed. I mean, chasing rodents all day in the hot sun . . . yawn . . . will suck the life right out of a . . . yawn . . . dog.

And all at once, I began to . . . yawn . . . wonder if I could . . .

I know what you’re thinking. You think I rushed down to the gas tanks, fell into the loving embrace of my gunnysack bed, and didn’t move a hair until morning. And while I slept, the Monkey Burglars came and stole half the ranch.

Isn’t that exactly what you were thinking? Go ahead and admit it.

Well, I have two words to say to that: ha ha. That’s the most ridiculous, the most outrageous . . . okay, maybe it’s not so ridiculous, and just to prove what kind of dog I am, I’m going to admit, here and now, in front of everybody, that I was tempted to sprint down to the gas tanks and dive into the awaiting arms of my gunnysack bed.

But get this: I didn’t do it. I imposed Higher Discipline upon myself and stayed awake, so you were wrong. Are you sorry that you doubted me? You should be.

I stayed awake, even though I could hear my gunnysack singing a lullaby and calling my name. Then, sometime in the deep dark of night, I saw a pair of headlights creeping toward ranch headquarters, and heard the sound of an unidentified vehicle.

Okay, let’s be honest. Drover was the first to turn in the report. “Hank, wake up! Somebody’s here. Hank?”

I leaped to my feet. “Everybody stand back, don’t panic. Drover, is that you?”

“Where?”

“There, right in front of your stub tail.”

He looked at his tail. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Good, I thought so.” I blinked my eyes. “Drover, I have a feeling that something’s going on around here.”

“Yeah, something is. A pickup just stopped at the mailbox.”

“A pickup!” I swung my gaze around to the north, just in time to see a pair of headlights go dark. A chill of dread cut a path down the middle of my back. “Holy smokes, they’re back! Where is Slim?”

“I don’t know. He went down to the house three hours ago and never came back.”

“What!”

“Hank, what are we going to do? What if it’s that monkey again?”

By this time, the vaporous waves of vapor had . . . okay, maybe I had slipped into a very light doze, but now I was back on the job

“Drover, listen carefully. We don’t have much time. I’m going to rush down to the house and bark the alarm. I don’t know what Slim’s doing in there, but we need him out here right away. While I’m gone, you go up to the machine shed and stand guard. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Be a brave little soldier, and I’ll see you on the other side.”

In the privacy of my mind, I strapped on the tanks of my Rocket Dog suit, turned the controls to Turbo Five, and went roaring down to the house, followed by a long streak of yellow flames and smoke. At the yard gate, I screeched to a halt and unbuckled the RD equipment. I was about to sound the alarm when I noticed . . .

“Drover? I thought you were guarding the machine shed. That was our plan.”

“Yeah, but I thought of a better plan: Stay close to you.”

“Why?”

“Well . . . I’m kind of scared of monkeys.”

“Oh, brother. Okay, it’s too late to spill the milk. Let’s go into Code Three Barking. Ready? Hit it!”

Boy, you should have heard us. We leaned into those Code Threes and really rattled the windows. Very impressive barking. Then we waited for Slim to come bursting out the door. Seconds passed, minutes. Nothing.

“What is wrong with that guy! How can I protect this ranch if he . . . wait a second, I just figured it out. He fell asleep in the bathtub! I knew it, I tried to tell him. Okay, son, I’m going into the yard, and I may have to tear down the door to dig him out of there. You wait here and keep a lookout. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“If a monkey tries to offer you some pills, don’t take ’em.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck, soldier.”

I coiled up the enormous muscles in my hind legs and went flying over the fence. Back on Planet Earth, I sprinted toward a window on the north side of the house, which I happened to know was the bathroom window. There, I spread out all four legs, went into the Barking Stance, and prepared to . . .

“Drover? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be standing guard at the gate.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He keeled over, kicked all four legs, and started bawling. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what I’m doing!”

I glared down at him for a moment, shaking my head and wondering how one little mutt could be so worthless. “Okay, never mind. I’ve got to stick with the plan.”

“I feel awful about this!”

I stepped over his carcass and hopped up on the side of the house, until I could see through the window. I knew it! There he was, stretched out in the tub with water up to his chin and a peaceful grin on his face.

Well, you know me. When Duty calls, I get pretty serious about things. I barked and I barked and I barked—big barks, manly barks, the kind of barks that can cause a rock to jump up and start dancing.

Again, I peered through the window . . . and couldn’t believe my eyes. He was still asleep and hadn’t even moved! And at that very moment I heard a sound up at the machine shed. I cocked my ear and listened: a rattle, a clink. Someone was inside the machine shed!

I cut my eyes from side to side. My mind was swirling. What should I do? Drover had gone into a swoon, and Slim was asleep in the bathtub. Should I stay at the house, claw the screen off the window, dive through the window glass, and make a desperate attempt to get Slim’s attention?

Or should I march up to the machine shed and take care of the nasty business without any backup?

Time was slipping away, and my heart was pounding like the beat of a heartbeat. I had to do something. I decided to take matters into my own hands. If I went down in battle, at least I would go out protecting my ranch. I would be honored and mourned. Sally May would cry when she got the news, and Miss Viola would throw herself across the casket and weep for days, crushed by the loss of her beloved Hank.

When she learned that Slim had slept through the tragedy, she would refuse to go dancing with him, and maybe even refuse to speak to him again, and the cause of Justice would be served.

I took a big gulp of air, perhaps one of my last, whirled around, and began my fateful march to the machine shed. But first I tripped over Drover. “Idiot! If you can’t help, at least get out of the way.”

“Help!”

“Our machine shed is being robbed.”

“Hank, this leg’s killing me!”

“I don’t care. While I’m gone, maybe you could bark a few times and try to get Slim out of the bathtub.”

“I’ll try. Oh, the guilt!”

I left him there and marched across the yard to the fence. My newly discovered reserves of courage lasted, oh, maybe five steps. At that point, I stopped and realized that . . . gulp . . . I was going into this action all alone and without backup. I would be going up against a professional monkey burglar, and I had no idea what kind of resistance he might offer.

I mean, the guy had been trained to rob, so maybe he’d been trained to fight too: boxing, wrestling, karate, kajudo. Did he carry a billy club? A sword? I looked back toward the house. The light from the window spilled out into the yard, revealing that Drover was sitting up.

“Uh . . . Drover, you’re looking better now. Listen, pal, I was wondering if you might . . .”

BAM. He was stretched out again. “Oh, darn, there for a second the pain went away, but then it came back, and now it’s worse than ever! You’d better go on without me.”

Great.