Free The Case of the Hooking Bull by John R. Erickson Page A

h-h-hear any of it, b-but I’m g-glad you l-l-l-l-liked it. B-bye.”
    He rocked back and forth three times, and with a loud grunt, pushed off the windmill tower and flew away. No sooner had the swish of his wings vanished in the distance than I heard another sound that sent shivers of dread down my spine.
    â€œAhh-ooooooo!”
    Coyotes, and they were close. Holy smokes, darkness was coming and there I was, all alone in the pasture, too beat up and injured to climb out of the stock tank and run for my life!
    â€œAh-oooooooo! Ah-ooooooo!”
    There it was again, the evening song of heartless hairy cannibals. The howls were close and coming closer. By now they had picked up my scent and were moving in for the kill. I could almost see their yellow eyes sparkling and the foam dripping off their deadly fangs.
    Crouched and shivering in my watery grave, I held my breath and listened. I heard the swish of their paws in the grass. I heard them belching and laughing. Then, much to my dismay, I heard them tune up and sing the Coyote Sacred Hymn and National Anthem.
    Me just a worthless coyote,
    Me howling at the moon.
    Me like to sing and holler,
    Me crazy as a loon.
    Me not want job or duties,
    No church or Sunday school.
    Me just a worthless coyote
    But me ain’t nobody’s fool.
    I had heard those two verses before, and indeed, in better days I had even sung them with Rip and Snort on several occasions. I had never heard them sing but the two verses and wouldn’t have bet a nickel that they knew any more, but now, before my very ears, they sang a third verse.
    Me catch the smell of supper,
    A-floating in the breeze.
    With all this dust and pollen,
    It make me want to sneeze.
    It smell like something yummy,
    It smell like something neat.
    It smell just like a HOT DOG,
    And hot dog, me love to eat!
    I didn’t like that new verse, not at all. In fact, it made me, uh, very nervous to hear them out there in the darkness . . . I sure needed to get out of that stock tank, and all my instincts began screaming RUN! in the back of my mind.
    But running from heartless hairy cannibals was a sure and certain way to get caught. I mean, you might as well try to run away from your own shadow. Once those guys locked into a scent and got on a trail, there was no stopping them, no escape.
    I didn’t run. I couldn’t have run, even if I’d wanted to, and so I hunkered down in the water and waited like a helpless rabbit—waited and listened to the sounds of my assassins as they came closer, ever closer.
    I could make out their voices now: Rip and Snort. I recognized the tone of their belching. Well, maybe I could talk my way out of this. I had done it before. Rip and Snort were heartless brutes but they had their weak spots. Maybe if . . .
    But then I heard another voice, and all my hopes were dashed. It was a deep and cruel voice. It belonged to Scraunch the Terrible.
    â€œScraunch think we come to end of trail. Here at windmill, we find big yummy ranch dog, oh boy!”
    And with that, Scraunch walked up to the edge of the tank and looked inside.

Chapter Twelve: Saved Just in the Nick of Time

    â€œU h!” said Scraunch. “Not see yummy dog supper in tank. Better we look around windmill.”
    Heh, heh. Maybe you thought he would look inside the tank and see me there, huh? And then eat me alive? Well, that could have happened to one of your ordinary ranch dogs, but don’t forget that those coyotes were dealing with the Head of Ranch Security.
    I had my little bag of tricks, see. When I saw Scraunch’s nose appear over the rim of the tank, I took a big gulp of air and went underwater. It was just dark enough by then so that he couldn’t see me.
    Pretty clever, huh?
    When I came up for air, I heard them chasing around and yelling at each other. It really had ’em buffaloed. My scent was strong around the tank and they knew I was somewhere close by, but they couldn’t find me.