Free The Case of the Vampire Cat by John R. Erickson Page B

to re­mem­ber this vampire routine. It works like a charm.”
    I managed to get everything shut down before I tore down any trees or caused any major damage to the surrounding ecosystems. I studied her very carefully.
    â€œAre you kidding or not?”
    â€œOf course I’m kidding. How could I turn into a vampire?”
    â€œWell, a guy never knows about you cats, and don’t forget whose idea it was, and stop using my ideas against me. It’s not funny.”

    â€œSorry. I just couldn’t resist.”
    â€œOkay. Let’s get out of here before they decide to come back. Lead the way.”
    She went scampering up the canyon—across a snowy meadow, over rocks and through bushes, and then into a forest of huge cedar trees. I soon lost my sense of direction, and I could only hope that this crazy cat knew where she was going.
    At last we came to the place she had called Moon­­shine Springs, where clear sweet water came out from under a big rock. We paused there to catch our breath and get a drink. Then she pointed to a washed-out trail going up the side of the canyon wall.
    â€œThat’s the only way out.”
    â€œBoy, that’s a steep rascal. I hope . . .”
    Suddenly I was cut off in mid-sentence by the raspy hacksaw voice of . . . yikes, was it Rip and Snort?
    â€œHey, y’all can’t leave! We ain’t had a bite to eat in three whole days, we’re starved plumb out, and . . . Junior, talk to ’em, son, and explain just how hungry we are.”
    I seemed to remember hearing that voice before. It belonged to a certain buzzard named Wallace, who happened to have a son named Junior. Yes, it was all fitting together.
    I swept the surrounding trees with my most penetrating radar gaze and . . . sure enough, there they were, perched on the limb of a big cottonwood tree—two slouching, hungry buzzards.
    Junior grinned and waved his wing at me. “Oh, h-hi D-d-doggie. W-w-w-we g-got lost in the n-n-night.”
    â€œYes we did,” said Wallace, “got lost and blowed off course in the snowstorm, and here we are in this canyon. Tell ’em how hungry we are, son.”
    â€œW-we’re l-lost and p-p-pretty h-hungry.”
    â€œVery hungry, Junior. We were pretty hungry two days ago and ain’t had a scrap to eat since then.” Wallace glared down at me. “We’re very hungry, is what Junior’s tryin’ to say, and I don’t suppose y’all would happen to have, oh, a couple of pounds of baloney or some old chicken necks you don’t need, or a dead rabbit, would you?”
    â€œNope. We’re on our way back to the home ranch and we’ve got no eats. Sorry.”
    â€œNaw you ain’t. You don’t give a care. You’re just sayin’ that.”
    â€œOkay. We don’t have any eats and I don’t give a care.”
    â€œSee there, Junior! I knew he didn’t care and that’s the kind of friends you have, selfish and heartless, and . . .” His eyes focused on Mary D Cat, who had begun rubbing on my leg. “Say, neighbor, what do we have there?”
    â€œThis,” I said, moving away from the rubbing machine, “is a cat, and she will rub on anything.”
    A sparkle came into his eyes. “A cat, a darling little kitty cat! You know, if that cat’s gettin’ on your nerves, maybe we could talk trade.”
    â€œOh n-now P-pa, d-d-don’t s-start that. The k-k-kitty is his f-f-f-friend, m-most likely.”
    â€œHush, son, I’m a-workin’ on a deal here.” Wallace turned back to me. “Anyways, dog, me and Junior was just a-wonderin’ about the maybe-so of makin’ a little swap for that cat of yours.”
    Junior rolled his eyes. “Oh P-p-pa, d-d-don’t embarrass m-m-me again!”
    The old man ignored him. “That’s a mighty nice looking cat, neighbor, and me and Junior would sure try to trade with