“Ha. Coyote got plenty bones.”
“Yeah, but these have been buried for months, Scraunch, my own personal collection of aged bones. I wouldn’t offer this deal to anyone but you, no kidding.”
He shook his head.
I was running out of ideas. I cocked my right ear, hoping to hear the sounds of the men coming in our direction. Where had they gone? If they didn’t show up pretty soon . . .
I turned back to Scraunch. “Okay, Scraunch, I’ll play my last card. Let Beulah go and take me as your captive. Make me your slave, eat me for supper, do as you wish, but let the girl go.”
He gave that one some thought. “Pretty good deal . . . but not goodest enough. Hunk-dog too skinny for eat, too lazy for work, too ugly for look-at.”
“Is that your last word?”
“Last word. Coyote tired of too much foolish talk.” He beamed an evil eye at me. “Hunk-dog better git-go while gitting-go still good.”
“All right, Scraunch, okay, you win.”
“Huh. Coyote always win.”
“I know, but before you carry this lovely lady off into captivity . . .”
Beulah let out a gasp. “Oh Hank, no!”
“. . . before you carry her away, Scraunch, I want to sing her one last love song, just for old time’s sake.”
His face showed dill pickles and lemons—a sour expression, in other words. “Uh! Scraunch not give a hoot for dummy love song.”
“That’s fine, Scraunch, it’s not for you anyway. You don’t even have to listen.”
He reached out a paw and poked me in the chest. “Hunk not tell Scraunch what to doing.”
“Okay, fine. Listen to the song. It might improve your mind and upgrade your cultural standards.”
He gave me a big wicked grin. “Scraunch not listen to dummy love song.”
“That’ll work. All right, Beulah, here we go.”
“Oh Hank, don’t abandon me to the coyotes!”
“Just listen to the song, dear. I think you’ll find it pretty interesting.”
Whilst I tuned up my tonsils, Scraunch turned his back on me and covered his ears with his paws while keeping a foot on Beulah. As you will soon see, he was walking right into my trap.
My Best for You
Beulah, collie of my dreams
With flaxen hair and eyes that beam
A light that warms me like the morning sun.
You do not know, I should not say,
I think of you most every day,
And dream of you when every day is done.
But there’s a shadow in my dream,
A certain bird dog, and it seems
That you find him hard to ignore.
He’s not a bad guy, I’ll admit,
He’s good with quail but I submit
That life with him could sure be a bore.
Now, Beulah, listen carefully,
There’s more here than the eye can see,
So do the things I say, my dear,
I’m going to bust you out of here,
And when I move you’d better hit the road.
When the music stops, I’ll punch the brute
And do my best to break his snoot
While you and Plato run off to the west.
So don’t look back but now and then
Remember that you had a friend
Who cared for you and gave you his best.
Scraunch missed the hidden message in the song, of course, but Beulah caught it. I could see the change in her eyes on the third verse. I gave her a nod of my head. She nodded back.
I took a big gulp of air and prepared myself for the next scene in My Life’s Drama. “Hey Scraunch,” I tapped him on the shoulder, “I’m finished.” He turned around. “But I’m taking your nose with me. Here’s a little bouquet from me and Beulah.”
I drew back my right paw and delivered the hardest, straightest punch I could muster. I leaned into it, fellers, and gave it everything I had.
Ker-WHOP!
Holy smokes, that guy had the hardest nose in all of Texas! It was like slugging an anvil, a tree, a tombstone, a huge rock. It sent an earthquake through my paw, up my arm, through my entire body, and out to the tip end of my tail.
But you know what else? It knocked him backward one step, and that’s all Beulah needed. In a flash, she scrambled to her feet and went streaking off to the west. On the other side of the bushes, she met up with Plato, and together they set sail for the house.
“Good-bye, Beulah,” I heard myself say. “I wish it could have worked out better for us but . . .”
I turned my gaze back to . . . gulp . . . the horrible expression on his face sent shingles of sheer terror down my backbone, tingles, that is. Blood dripped off the end of his nose and there was a prairie fire raging in his eyes.
“Scraunch, I think I can explain everything if you’ll just . . .”
“Ranch dog die!”
Before I could argue the point, or turn and run for my life, Scraunch leaped right into the middle of me and . . . that’s all I remember.
He murdered me right there and that’s the end of the story.
Sorry.
Okay, maybe he didn’t quite get the job done, but only because the hunters came to my rescue and ran him off. He did pretty well, though, for a guy who’d been interrupted.
By the time the guys got there, Scraunch had shown me most of what he knew about boxing, pasture fighting, and Coyote Karate. He’d used my carcass for a basketball, a mop, a broom, and a dustpan, and then stuffed me into a hollow log.
That’s where they found me. They saw my toenails sticking out of one end of the log. To get me out, they had to call in three winch trucks, two units from the Wolf Creek Volunteer Fire Department, seven chain saws, and three welders with cutting torches.
Pretty serious, huh? You bet it was.
But then came the good part. They carried my near-lifeless body up to headquarters and laid me out under that big hackberry tree in the front yard—yes, in Sally May’s precious yard.
Everyone was there. The whole ranch had turned out to see the Return of the Wounded Hero. Get this:
—The hunters raved about my bravery.
—Sally May fed me warm milk with a spoon and lavished her praise upon me for saving her, uh, turkeys.
—Plato said they should start a special fund at the First National Bank and erect a huge stone statue of me at the scene of the battle.
—Pete watched the whole ceremony from his spot in the iris patch. I had never seen him look so crushed. I loved it!
—And best of all, the lovely Miss Beulah hovered near my wounded side, called me her “extra-special friend” and even gave me a kiss on the cheek before she left.
Wow! Does it get any better than that? I don’t think so.
Case cl . . .
Well, there was one small detail that bothered me. When Billy left our place around sundown, Plato and Beulah were standing in the back of his pickup.
Oh well. In the Security Business, we take what’s offered, and hope the rest will come down the road.
Case closed.
Further Reading
Have you read all of Hank’s adventures?
1 The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
2 The Further Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
3 It’s a Dog’s Life
4 Murder in the Middle Pasture
5 Faded Love
6 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
7 The Curse of the Incredible Priceless Corncob
8 The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse
9
The Case of the Halloween Ghost
10 Every Dog Has His Day
11 Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest
12 The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox
13 The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve
14 Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business
15 The Case of the Missing Cat
16 Lost in the Blinded Blizzard
17 The Case of the Car-Barkaholic Dog
18 The Case of the Hooking Bull
19 The Case of the Midnight Rustler
20 The Phantom in the Mirror
21 The Case of the Vampire Cat
22 The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting
23 Moonlight Madness
24 The Case of the Black-Hooded Hangmans
25 The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado
26 The Case of the Kidnapped Collie
27 The Case of the Night-Stalking Bone Monster
28 The Mopwater Files
29 The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper
30 The Case of the Haystack Kitties
31 The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook
32 The Garbage Monster from Outer Space
33 The Case of the Measled Cowboy
34 Slim’s Good-bye
35 The Case of the Saddle House Robbery
36 The Case of the Raging Rottweiler
37 The Case of the Deadly Ha-Ha Game
38 The Fling
39 The Secret Laundry Monster Files
40 The Case of the Missing Bird Dog
41 The Case of the Shipwrecked Tree
42 The Case of the Burrowing Robot
43 The Case of the Twisted Kitty
44 The Dungeon of Doom
45 The Case of the Falling Sky
46 The Case of the Tricky Trap
47 The Case of the Tender Cheeping Chickies
48 The Case of the Monkey Burglar
49 The Case of the Booby-Trapped Pickup
50 The Case of the Most Ancient Bone
51 The Case of the Blazing Sky
52 The Quest for the Great White Quail
53 Drover’s Secret Life
54 The Case of the Dinosaur Birds
55 The Case of the Secret Weapon
56 The Case of the Coyote Invasion
57 The Disappearance of Drover
58 The Case of the Mysterious Voice
59 The Case of the Perfect Dog
60 The Big Question
About the Author and Illustrator
John R. Erickson, a former cowboy, has written numerous books for both children and adults and is best known for his acclaimed Hank the Cowdog series. He lives and works on his ranch in Perryton, Texas, with his family.
Gerald L. Holmes has illustrated numerous cartoons and textbooks in addition to the Hank the Cowdog series. He lives in Perryton, Texas.