Tags:
adventure,
Mystery,
Texas,
dog,
cowdog,
Hank the Cowdog,
John R. Erickson,
John Erickson,
ranching,
Hank,
Drover,
Pete,
Sally May
Chapter One: Mysterious Esther Appears on the Ranch
I tâs me again, Hank the Cowdog. When I heard the noise, I knew we had serious problems. Iâll admit that I didnât know the cause right away, and I never suspected that it might have been caused by an enemy agent named Mysterious Esther.
Nor did I have any suspicions that before the night was over, I would be attacked by a Vampire Vacuum Sweeper. All I knew was that we had us a wild stampede down at the weaning pen, and I had to stop it before the calves tore down the fence and scattered into four counties.
It was in November, as I recall, yes, because thatâs when we rounded up all the cattle, separated the calves from their mothers, and weaned them. The calves, that is. We weaned the calves. We donât wean the mothers because theyâre already weaned.
We wean the calves off their mommasâ milk, donât you see, because itâs time for them to get out and hustle their own grub, like the rest of us. We put âem together in a bunch and feed âem alfalfa hay and store-bought feed for a couple of weeks. No problem there. The problem is that they are little dummies, afraid of every little noise and shadow, and once they start running, theyâll flatten fences and scatter like quail.
Itâs called a stampede, and thatâs what we had cooking. I knew it just as soon as I heard the rumble of their hooves.
We were down at Slimâs place, donât you see, on the front porch. We were, uh, guarding the porch and the woodpile. Or to be perfectly accurate about it and to call a spade a shovel, I was guarding the woodpile while my assistant was in the process of sleeping his life away.
I was standing guard, see. Why? Well, weâd gotten some secret information that there was a thief in the neighborhood, some nut who went creeping around ranches and stealing their woodpiles and porches.
Itâs true. Several whole entire porches had been stolen, and I guess you know where I stand on the issue of porch-thieving. I donât allow it. By George, if a guy wants to steal a porch, heâd better go to the next ranch. If he tries it here, he has to deal with the Head of Ranch Security.
Anyways, thatâs what I was doing down at Slimâs place, and when I heard the rumble of hooves, I came flying out of a deep . . . out of a deep state of, uh, concentration and thought about the problem of Porch Theft.
My ears sprang to the Alert Position. âDrover, the porkchops are cascading across the honking sassafras!â
Mister Nap-in-the-Afternoon leaped to his feet and began squeaking. âWho? Where are they? How many do you see?â
âThey came out of the woodpile and theyâre trying to steal our porch.â
He shook the vapors out of his head and stared at me. âOh, hi Hank. Gosh, I must have been asleep and I dreamed that a honking porkchop was trying to steal our porch.â
I raised up and blinked my eyes. There was Drover, giving me his usual empty stare. âWhat are you talking about?â
âWell . . . Iâm not sure, but I think you said . . .â
âNever mind what I said. I was lost in thought, Drover, deepest thought, and you interrupted my deepest porkchops with your . . .â Suddenly, I heard the rumble of hooves down at the weaning trap. âHoly smokes, Drover, the calves are running. Weâve got to warn Slim. Where is he?â
âWell, letâs see here. Before we went to sleep, I saw him walking down to the hay barn.â
âHmmm, yes. Hay, barn, walking. It all fits the pattern. Go on.â
âWell, he said he was going down there to see Esther.â
I stared into his eyes. He had two of them. âSee Esther? Whoâs Esther? Out with it, Drover, we havenât a moment to spare.â
âWell, Iâm not sure. But thatâs what he said, that he was going to the hay barn to see Esther.â
âHmmm, very strange.
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