Tags:
adventure,
Mystery,
Texas,
dog,
cowdog,
Hank the Cowdog,
John R. Erickson,
John Erickson,
ranching,
Hank,
Drover,
Pete,
Sally May
record. It simply looks bad for a tree to be wearing my bodyguard. Come, Hank the Rabbit.â
I followed her across the creek and to the bluffs. There, she disappeared into a hole and I followed. I crawled through the darkness for ten feet or so, until it opened up into a kind of underground room.
She stood beside a flat-topped rock in the middle, with tree roots hanging around her head. She was looking down at the flat-topped rock and . . . I didnât know what she was doing. Muttering, I suppose.
âGo left. Go right. Stand up. Sit down.â She glanced up at me and smiled. âMy troop of performing fleas. Would you like to say hello to them?â
âUh . . . not really. Fleas and I donât get along. That is, weâll get along fine as long as they stay over there.â
She clapped her wings together and turned her eyes on me. âWell, we are safe from marauding coyotes, and âtwas foolish of you to enter my cave, oh Rabbity Hank, because I just might not allow you to leave. But before I donât allow you to leave, tell me why you came.â
âWell, Madame, I have a small problem.â
âOh good. A small problem is only half as large as a large one, so we neednât bother with it.â
âOkay, Iâve got a large problem.â
âOh dear.â She blinked her big moon eyes. âWhat have you done?â
I started at the beginning and told her the whole story about the grasshopper, the root stimulator, the mopwater, and the fight Iâd picked with Billyâs pet gorilla.
âSee, I talked my way into a fight with one of the biggest, meanest dogs in Texas, and I donât know how to get out of it.â
âYes, itâs coming clear. If you donât fight, youâre a coward. If you do fight, youâre a hamburger.â
âRight, and I was hoping that you might be able to teach me some fighting tricksâyou know, like karate or judo.â
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. âKarate or judo, kersplotting menudo, weâre plotting but you knowâthe answer is no.â Her eyes drifted down to me. âI know many things about many things, little things about big things, and big things about little things. But I know no things about . . . fighting. In my line of work, we donât fight. We use our minds.â
âYeah, I saw you using your mind on those cannibals and it almost got you eaten.â
âBut I didnât need to use my mind. You used yours. One mind is enough, yours or mine, and I donât mind that it wasnât mine. The result was the same.â
âWe got lucky, Madame. That was pure-dee dumb blind-hog luck, and Iâd just as soon have something more substantial when I go into battle with Rufus.â
âRufus. An interesting name. Does he say roof-roof?â
âThatâs probably the nicest thing he says.â
âHmmm.â She raised a wing and began stroking some of the tree roots above her. âRufus. Root stimulator. I am stimulating the roots on the roof of my cave. May I think about this?â
âSure. Go ahead.â
âYes, we have the entire summer, donât we?â
âWell, I . . . to be honest, Madame, I really . . .â
âHush. Silence.â
She closed her eyes and went into a thinking spell. I could only hope that it was a good one.
Chapter Twelve: Caution: Scary Ending
A s the minutes dragged by, I began to suspect that Madame Moonshine wasnât thinking about my problem; she had totally checked out and gone to sleep. I got a clue from the fact that she snored.
âMadame? Madame Moonshine? I donât want to rush you, but Iâm operating on a deadline. Madame, wake up.â
Her eyes popped open. She stared at me and blinked. âYou are in my cave.â
âYes maâam, I realize that.â
âWere you invited? And where is Timothy?â
âYes, I was invited, and the last time we
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes