The Case of the Three Rings Read online

  Okay, maybe I finally drifted into a troubled sleep, after tossing and turning for hours and worrying myself sick over Slim Chance and his latest bonehead idea. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was awakened by the sound of footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw…good grief! There was some kind of monster—nine feet tall, and he had vampire teeth and three horns sticking out…

  Wait, hold everything. Ha ha. You can fool Hank the Cowdog once in a row, but never twice. It was Slim, dressed in flannel pajamas, and he didn’t fool me, not even for a second. Okay, maybe for one second, but it was no big deal.

  I rose to my feet, took a good stretch, and glanced around. Daylight was showing through the windows, so it must have been around eight o’clock. Wait! Hadn’t Slim told me to do something at eight o’clock? My mind raced back to that strange encounter I’d had with him in the middle of the night.

  Oh yes, he’d told me to bark him out of bed, but he was already out of bed, stumbling around the house and slurping on a cup of coffee. Should I bark anyway? Maybe so. I mean, a dog should follow orders, even when they seem pointless. I barked.

  “Hank, dry up.”

  See how he is? He tells me to bark at eight o’clock, I bark, and he snarls at me to “dry up.” Nobody understands how hard it is to be a dog around here.

  He raked the hair out of his eyes and reached for the telephone, and now I remembered what he’d said in the middle of the night: he was going to call Miss Viola and tell her their engagement was off. And do you remember what I’d vowed to do if he made that call?

  I had taken a solemn vow to BITE HIM, in hopes of preventing him from making the dumbest decision of his life. Through some miracle, he’d made the right move and asked her to marry him, and now he was on verge of blowing the whole deal to smithereens—because he felt he wasn’t good enough for her!

  How dumb was that?

  Hmm. You know, come to think about it, he had a point. I don’t mean to be cruel, but let’s look at the facts. The guy had skinny legs, big feet, and a long nose. In the morning, he looked like a vampire. He ate boiled turkey necks and sandwiches made of ketchup and canned mackerel (that’s really bad stuff). He seldom washed his dirty dishes and was prone to sing corny songs to his dogs.

  You add that all up and you get…why was she interested in such a man? I mean, the evidence just screamed out the verdict: SHE WAS TOO GOOD FOR HIM!

  In other words, Slim had arrived at a sensible decision and was fixing to do what any honorable man would have done, call her up and tell her that he’d made a terrible mistake. That left only one question unanswered: would she remain an old maid, or would she marry…well, ME, for example?

  I’m not one to honk my own canoe, but while we’re looking at evidence, let’s pull out the file on me. Check this out:

  •Long, handsome cowdog nose.

  •A great set of ears.

  •Wonderful personality, worlds of charm.

  •A deep, manly aroma.

  •A noble heart.

  •Years of distinguished service heading up

  the ranch’s Security Division.

  Pretty impressive, huh? You bet. The only lady dogs in Texas who weren’t wild about me were the ones who’d never met me, and that couldn’t be helped. A dog can’t be everywhere at once.

  Did I deserve Miss Viola’s love and devotion? Absolutely, you bet. But one small problem stood in our way. I was a dog, and there was no chance that she would ever marry me.

  Sigh. What a bummer. Okay, back to Slim and his phone call.

  Chapter Three: The First Ring

  Slim paced around the house like a caged coyote. He tugged on his chin, stared at the floor, waved a finger in the air, and muttered to himself.

  “If I make this call, I’ll be burning a bridge. It could change things forever, ‘cause I don’t think I’ll ever meet another woman like her.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Hank, I know I ain’t worthy of such a lady, but…well, she seems to like me.”

  Yes, it was hard to explain.

  “If she thinks I’m good enough, maybe I am…or could be.” He began stalking around the room again. “I’m an honest man and a hard worker. I know I’m not wealthy…”

  You’re a pauper, but she doesn’t seem to care.

  “…but I’d try to give her the things she deserves.” He stopped pacing, scowled at the floor, then looked at me again. “Hank, what should I do?”

  You know, I had figured something out. If Slim never saw Viola again, neither would I, and you know how I felt about her. She was the sweetest, kindest woman I’d ever known. She was a great cook, a true friend, and she liked dogs, especially me. The thought that I might never see her again forced me to take charge of this deal.

  Through wags, growls, and facial expressions, I gave him some fatherly advice.

  “Meathead! For years, she’s waited for you to come to your senses. For years, everyone on this ranch has been telling you that you’d better latch onto that lady, but did you listen? Oh no! And do you know why? Because inside your head, where the brain’s supposed to be, you’ve got a big rock.”

  He gave me a peculiar look. “Are you growling at me?”

  I plunged on, unable to control my emotions. “Yes, I’m growling at you, because you’re worse than a meathead. You’re a quitter! The lady is worth fighting for, so get off your tail, quit moping around like a sick calf, and act like a man. If you mess this up, pal, I will bite you every day for the rest of your life. I will howl all night long and you’ll never get any sleep. I will chew your slippers and drag dead skunks into your yard.”

  Boy, I gave him the full load. I can’t say that he understood every bit of it, but the expression on his face began to change. A look of steel came into his eyes. He glanced around the room and straightened his back.

  We’ll never know if he would have made that phone call, because he didn’t get the chance. At that very moment, we heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house.

  “Huh. I wonder who that could be.” He walked to the window and peeked through the dusty, moldy curtains that had been there since the Civil War. His eyes popped wide open and he let out a gasp. “Good honk, it’s Viola!”

  He must have realized that he was walking around in pajamas, and you know how cowboys are: they want everyone to think that they get up every morning at four-thirty and do chores by the light of a kerosene lantern. I don’t know why, but they’re all that way, and the last thing they ever want is for someone to catch them flopping around the house in pajamas at eight o’clock in the morning.

  And you talk about a stampede! Slim wasn’t exactly an electric personality first thing in the morning, but seeing Viola’s pickup built a fire under him. He stepped on Drover, tripped on me, knocked over a chair, and went flying down the hall to his bedroom, where he began tearing off pajamas and pulling on jeans and a shirt.

  He even managed to run a brush through his hair. Good. Now he didn’t look so much like a vampire.

  A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Slim had just enough time to button two buttons on his shirt before he opened the door. Oh, and get this. I noticed that he’d put on his shirt wrong-side out.

  He threw open the door and…my goodness, there she stood, wearing a shy smile on her lovely lips. Slim stared at her (so did I, so did Drover) until he was able to say, “Why, Viola! What are you doing here?”

  “May I come in? I won’t be long.”

  “Well, sure, yes, come in. The house is kind of a mess, but…sit down.”

  She stepped inside and gave her head a shake. “I can only stay a minute.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  She looked at him with clear blue eyes. “Slim, I don’t know how to say this except to say it. I think we should call off the engagement.”

  Wow. You talk about DEAD SILENCE.
You could have heard a flea crawling over the carpet. Slim couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d seen a Martian. At last he was able to croak, “How come?”

  She pressed her lips together and squeezed up a brave smile. “I’m honored that you asked, I really am. It made me very happy, but I don’t think it will work.” Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip. “Let’s face it. I’m not much of a catch. Now I have to go.”

  She whirled around and was on her way out the door when he grabbed her arm. “Wait, don’t leave.”

  She gave her head a vigorous shake. “If I don’t leave, I’ll cry.”

  “That’s okay, cry all you want.”

  She came back inside, flopped down in a chair with two recent issues of Livestock Weekly in the seat, buried her face in her hands, and cried. Slim stood beside her and patted her on the shoulder. “Did you say that you’re not a good catch?”

  She nodded and peeked out from behind her hands. “Of course! I’m a silly old maid. I live with my parents and drive my daddy’s ranch pickup. I’m not glamorous, fashionable, rich, or talented. For ten years every bachelor in the county has walked past me, even the ones that were older than Moses.”

  “Well, my dogs sure like you.”

  I couldn’t believe he said that. What a clod! I mean, it was true, but what a dumb thing to say to a lady! It sent her into another burst of crying and left him wondering what to say next. Me? I was ready to bite his pockets off.

  He fidgeted and shifted his feet and ran his gaze around the room, and finally said, “Let me tell you something.” He told her about the phone call he had planned to make. “See, you got it all backwards. You’re everything a man could want, and I’m just an old boot. It don’t seem like a fair deal for you.”

  She brushed a tear away and looked up him. “You were going to tell me that?”

  “Yes ma’am, only I didn’t quite get around to it.”

  She broke into a laugh. “How funny! We’ve been engaged for a whole week, yet on the same day, each of us decided to call it off. That’s funny.” She glanced around the room. “Well, where does that leave us?”

  Bewildered, Slim made his way over to his easy chair and sat down. “I don’t have any more idea than a rabbit. One minute, I’m so scared I can’t sleep, and the next, I’m too excited to sleep.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “Everything—making a living, supporting a wife, changing my socks every day.”

  “Don’t you suppose that most men have those fears? When it’s done right, marriage is a big change.”

  “All I know is that you’re causing me to lose a lot of sleep.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be so painful. Maybe we should just call it off. We can still be friends.”

  The steel returned to Slim’s eyes and he leaned forward in his chair. “Yeah, but I don’t want to be your friend. If I let you go, I’ll be kicking myself for the rest of my life. I don’t deserve a lady as fine as you, but if you’ll have me, I’d sure like to be your…” He choked and coughed. “…husband.”

  She smiled. “Is it that hard to say?”

  “Yes ma’am, it’s going to take some practice.”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “Here’s an idea. You think about it all day. If you decide that we should do it, come for supper tonight at six. You can ask Daddy’s permission.”

  Slim’s eyes bugged out. “Ask Woodrow? You’d better hide his gun or he’ll shoot me.”

  She laughed. “Oh fiddle, he will not. He’s been trying to marry me off for years.”

  “Well…I guess we’ll find out.”

  Viola’s face grew solemn. “But remember, you don’t have to come. If you don’t, that will be your answer and I’ll understand.” She reached into the pocket of her coat and handed him the lock washer. “Here’s your ring back. If you come tonight, we’ll start from scratch. If you don’t come…well, you’ll have an extra lock washer.”

  “Does that mean you’ll say yes?”

  She gave her head a cute little toss. “I might. You won’t know unless you show up.”

  “I’ll be there, you can bet on it. All I have to do is feed cows today. I might even have time to take a bath.”

  She lifted one eyebrow. “You’d better!”

  She got up to leave and he followed. At the door, he reached his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “When you’re around, everything feels right.”

  She pressed her cheek against his chest. “That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

  “Yes ma’am, I do.”

  “Slim, you’ve got to stop calling me ‘ma’am.’”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “If you decide to come, bring your banjo. We’ll play for Mother and Daddy. And your shirt is wrong-side out.”

  With that, she floated out into the cold morning air, leaving a hint of delicious perfume lingering in the room. It smelled a whole lot better than Slim’s old boots.

  Chapter Four: Uncle Johnny’s Bottle Calf

  When Viola left the house, it was as if…well, it was like being in a big concert hall when the program’s over. Everyone leaves, they turn out the lights, and there you are, standing in a dark shell. She had a kind of radiance that just filled up a room.

  When she had gone, Slim did something really strange. He opened up his instrument case, brought out his banjo, sat down in his favorite chair, and sang a song. He sang a song to US, his dogs, and what’s even more shocking, it was nice…pretty…a love song, if you can believe that.

  You probably want to hear it, but we have to get on with the story. Maybe, if things turn out right, we can listen to it later on. But I’ll tell you this: it wasn’t bad.

  Slim put his banjo back in the case and stared at the floor for a long time. “Well, we got that settled, and I will be at her house at six o’clock, even if her daddy tries to shoot me.” Just then, the telephone rang. Slim’s face fell into a scowl and he grumbled, “That’s got to be Loper. What does he want?” He picked up the phone and held it away from his ear, so I was able to hear both sides of the conversation.

  Loper said, “Did I get you out of bed?”

  “Heck no, been up for hours. I was having some breakfast.”

  “You cooked breakfast?”

  “That’s right. Last week, I boiled up a pot of turkey necks. I keep ‘em in the fridge and they make a dandy breakfast. You want me to save one for you?”

  Loper barked a laugh. “No thanks. Listen, Uncle Johnny just called. He’s got a little job and needs some help.”

  “A little job?”

  “He said it won’t take long. He’s got a calf out in the neighbor’s pasture. Why don’t you saddle a horse and go help him. I’ll feed the cows for you.”

  Slim rocked up and down on his toes. “Loper, Uncle Johnny’s ‘little jobs’ have a way of turning into big jobs. I’ve got someplace to go tonight and I need to be back here by four o’clock.”

  “A New Years party?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Where? Is Viola going?”

  Slim’s face turned red. “I ain’t talking.”

  Loper laughed. “Holy cow, you’ve got a date and you’re going to a New Year’s party! I can’t believe this! What’s the world coming to? Well, have fun with Uncle Johnny.”

  Slim hung up the phone and glared at the floor. “I didn’t need this, not today. The last time I helped that old goat, I didn’t get home till after dark.” He shot a glance at me. “But this time I will.”

  Half an hour later, the sun had climbed over the eastern horizon and Slim was ready to go, dressed for a winter day ahorseback: shotgun chaps, denim jacket over a wool vest, a wild rag around his neck, and his high-top riding boots with spurs attached. Oh, and he’d brought his wind-up alarm clock from the house and set it on th
e dash of the pickup.

  Ordinarily, Slim wasn’t a slave to the clock, but today he was watching the time. Good.

  He hooked up the sixteen-foot stock trailer and saddled a young horse called Socks (he had three white feet). When he loaded Socks into the trailer, he was ready to go. I followed him to the pickup door.

  Where was Drover? Sitting on the porch, watching. He’d said the cold ground hurt his feet and he didn’t want to go. Oh brother.

  When Slim reached for the door handle, he saw me standing at his feet. “Are you follering me?”

  Well, sort of, yes. That’s what loyal dogs do.

  “You can’t go. I’ve got work to do and you’d get in the way.”

  Yes sir. I understood.

  “Bye. I know you’ll miss me.”

  He climbed into the pickup and slammed the door, shifted into first gear and drove away.

  Maybe you think it’s pretty sad that a cowboy would go off on a big adventure and leave his faithful dog behind, but don’t waste any time feeling sorry for me. See, I had tricks that Slim didn’t know about. Hee hee.

  He’d gotten all the way to the mailbox before he noticed that I was following him. He stopped and rolled down his window. “Hank, go home!”

  Yes sir.

  He turned right on the county road and picked up speed. After a bit, he glanced into his side mirror and saw me sprinting beside the trailer. He slammed on the brakes, jumped out, and started throwing rocks at me.

  “Hammerhead, GO HOME!”

  He chunked three rocks and missed every time. He jumped back inside the pickup and drove off again. Hee hee. I followed, and boy, did that make him mad! I knew it would, but, well, what’s a dog supposed to do?

  He stopped again and I could hear him sputtering inside the cab. He got out and glared at me for a long time. “Hank, you are the most disobedient, ill-trained, ungrateful whelp of a dog I ever saw. I told you to go home.”