The Disappearance of Drover Read online

  Ralph sat there for a moment, staring off into the distance. Then he said, “I’m going to tell you this one more time.” He gave me a hard look. “The dog I was talking to at the sale barn was named CORKY.”

  “What? But you said . . .”

  “His name was Corky, and he was a Yorkie. I never saw your pal Drover.”

  “What! Then where did he go?”

  “Well, I don’t know. If he’s wandering around town, Jimmy Joe’ll scoop him up and he’ll end up out here with you.”

  I marched over to Ralph and glared at him through the fence. “Ralph, you had two hours to give me that information. Why didn’t you?”

  He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Because you’re a meathead. You’re kind of a nice meathead, but I’ve met stumps that listen better than you do.”

  Those words tumbled through my mind, and I heard myself uttering a bitter laugh. “So here I am, locked in a prison cell, and Drover is wandering around, lost in space . . . and it was all for nothing.” I took a deep breath. “Ralph, what would you think if I sang you a song?”

  He gave me a blank stare. “Sang me a song? Why would you do that?”

  “Because . . . because there are times when only music can express the incredible gloom that fills our souls.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. I ain’t got anything better to do.”

  And so, right then and there, I sang him this song about the tragedy my life had become. Check it out. . . .

  The Low-down Dogpound Blues

  Once upon a time, I was proud and free,

  In charge of Ranch Security.

  At the height of my maturity,

  I went to town.

  Caught a ride in the back of a pickup truck.

  Had a grand old time until my luck

  Had a cardiac arrest, and now I’m stuck

  In the pound.

  I’ve got the Low-down Dogpound Blues,

  There’s nothing more to lose.

  The trouble was I didn’t think

  I could end up in the clink.

  I guess I should have tried to hide

  When Jimmy Joe offered me a ride,

  But like a fool, I jumped inside

  The cage, in his truck.

  I thought the man was being kind

  And didn’t want me left behind.

  But now I think I lost my mind.

  Never ride with the dogcatcher.

  I’ve got the Low-down Dogpound Blues,

  There’s nothing more to lose.

  The trouble was I didn’t think

  I could end up in the clink.

  I’m sure my mother never thought

  The puppy that she raised and taught

  Would go astray and have to rot

  In a jail in Twitchell.

  But here I am, down at the mouth.

  My luck ran out, my life went south.

  I’m doing time with Dogpound Ralph

  In a prison for dogs.

  I’ve got the Low-down Dogpound Blues,

  There’s nothing more to lose.

  The trouble was I didn’t think

  I could end up in the clink.

  I’ve got the Low-down Dogpound Blues.

  I’m sad down to my shoes.

  The problem was . . .

  The problem was, I didn’t think.

  Chapter Twelve: Drover Is Lost Forever

  Pretty sad song, huh? You bet. I mean, for a few precious moments, Ralph and I were the only two dogs in the whole world, and I opened the floodgates of my emotions and let ’em come pouring out.

  I was shocked when I looked up and saw that my prison buddy had fallen asleep. “Hey, wake up! For crying out loud, I just poured out my heart and soul, and you couldn’t even stay awake for it!”

  He flinched and opened his eyes. That was a pretty depressing sight in itself, the sad eyes of a basset hound. He stared at me for a moment and said, “His name was Corky.”

  “We’ve already discussed that, Ralph. I made a tragic mistake, and you stood by and let me ruin my life, but the point is that you fell asleep in the middle of my song.”

  He yawned. “Was it pretty good?”

  “It was a great song. I’m just sorry I wasted it on you. Furthermore . . .”

  He gave me a pained look and held up one paw. “Shhh, not so loud. You’re hurting my ears.”

  That drove me deeper into anger. “You’re worried about your ears? Ralph, I’m rotting away in prison. I’ve lost my home, my career, and all my friends. I’m left here with you, and you can’t even stay awake!”

  He brought a paw to his lips. “Shhhhhh.”

  “Don’t shush me, you flop-eared donkey of a dog! If I ever get out of here . . .”

  He leaned toward me and muttered, “You probably will, if you’ll be patient and shut your big mouth.”

  He jerked his head toward . . . I turned my gaze in the direction his nose was pointing, and saw that Jimmy Joe had finished his chores. He washed his hands with a water hose, waved at Ralph, and said, “Abyssinia.” Then he climbed into his pickup and drove away.

  I turned to Ralph. “He’s going to Abyssinia?”

  “Nope. It’s his way of saying, ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ It’s a little joke between us, I guess you’d say.”

  “Well, forgive me if I don’t laugh.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. If I was on Death Row, I wouldn’t laugh either.”

  “Thanks for all your care and compassion. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I began pacing around my cell, looking for any weakness that might allow me to escape, “I’ve got to find a way of busting out of here.”

  “There’s a way . . . but you won’t find it.”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned my gaze around to Ralph. “What did you say?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he walked a few steps away and looked off to the north, to be sure that Jimmy Joe had gone. When he came back, the claws on his feet were clicking on the cement. “He’s gone. You still want to bust out?”

  “Of course I do!”

  The angry tone in my voice caused him to flinch. “You make more noise than any dog I ever met. Move the dog feeder.”

  He pointed toward a metal object inside my cell, a box that held maybe twenty pounds of dog food kernels. It appeared to be a self-feeder, and, to be honest, I hadn’t even noticed it before now.

  “Ralph, did you say . . . move the feeder?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Move the feeder. It’s covering up a hole in the fence.”

  “No kidding?” I walked over to the feeder and gave it a nudge. Sure enough, it was covering a decent-sized hole in the fencing. “Hey Ralph, there’s a hole in the fence. How can that be?”

  “Well, the other night a raccoon showed up. He wanted the feed and tore up the fence. Big rascal, and he ate all the feed too. Jimmy Joe parked the feeder over the hole. I guess he figured most dogs would be too dumb to notice.”

  Our eyes met, and for a moment of heartbeats I thought of asking exactly what he meant by that, but there wasn’t time. This was my chance to break out of prison, and I had to seize the sneeze before the iron got too hot.

  Jimmy Joe had filled the feeder and it was heavy, but my desperate situation had given me sources of strength I didn’t even know I had. After several minutes of pushing and tugging, I moved the feeder out of the way and slithered through the hole in the fence.

  Safe on the other side of the prison walls, I filled my lungs with the fresh air of freedom and gave a triumphant shout. Then my gaze drifted down to my old prison buddy. “Ralph, you have a weird personality, but I really appreciate this.”

  “I’ll get in trouble. Jimmy Joe’ll blow a gasket.”

  “It’s a small price to pay. Now, if you’ll excuse m
e, I have to make a lightning dash back to the sale barn. I just hope that Slim hasn’t left yet.”

  “If Jimmy Joe offers to give you a ride, don’t take it.”

  I had to laugh. “Thanks, Ralph. I’ll try to remember that. Until we meet again . . .”

  I turned myself into the wind, set flaps, lowered the canopy, got clearance from Data Control, pushed the throttle up to Turbo Six, and roared off into the sky. Moments later, I glanced back. Ralph had become a tiny speck, waving good-bye with his paw.

  Lucky for me, I didn’t encounter enemy aircraft—Buster and Muggs or the dogcatcher—and ten minutes later, I executed a perfect landing in the parking lot of the livestock auction.

  Pickups and cattle trucks were leaving when I arrived, so I knew the auction had ended. Was I too late? I ran my gaze over the parking lot. My heart leaped with joy when I saw Slim’s pickup, parked exactly where I’d left it . . . when? It seemed days ago, but maybe it had only been a few hours.

  I sprinted toward the pickup and dived into the back end, safe and sound in spite of incredible odds. I had survived one of the most harrowing ordeals of my entire career . . . but then I was almost overwhelmed by feelings of great sorrow, for you see, I had failed in my mission to rescue Drover from his own . . . how should I say this? Never mind, I was too sad to be honest.

  I glanced around the bed of the pickup and felt its emptiness. My life would never be the same again. It had never been the same before either, but now it would never be the samer.

  I felt a rush of tears pressing against my eyeballs and, through the swimming shimmeringness, saw Slim leading his horse out of the sale barn corrals. He loaded the horse into the trailer and came my way. As he passed, he gave me a nod, just as a tear drizzled down my cheek. He climbed into the cab and shut the door.

  He hadn’t even noticed that our friend, our dear friend, had vanished.

  But then, in the aching silence, I heard his voice. “Wait a second.” He stepped outside and looked into the hollow emptiness of the lonely pickup bed. “Where’s Stub Tail?”

  I was fighting back tears but managed to give him a look that said, “He’s missing in action. I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid we’ve lost him.”

  Slim scowled and kicked the tire. “Disobedient mutts! That’s exactly why I don’t bring y’all to town. I tell you to stay in the pickup and . . .” His eyes darted from side to side. He seemed to be thinking. “I wonder . . .” He bent down and looked under the pickup, and a moment later, I heard him say, “Get in the pickup! Good honk, I could have smashed you like a dead skunk in the road!”

  Have you figured it out? I couldn’t believe it.

  DROVER HAD SPENT THE WHOLE AFTERNOON, SLEEPING UNDER THE PICKUP!

  Well, we needn’t go into all the gory details. I was so mad at the little goof-off, I couldn’t speak for ten minutes, but by the time we made it back to the ranch, I had screamed myself hoarse. It was kind of an odd situation, to tell you the truth. If I was so glad to get him back, how come I screamed at him for twenty minutes? You figure it out.

  Fellers, I threw the book at him. He got twenty-seven Chicken Marks and had to stand with his nose in the corner for three solid hours, and I stood right there to make sure he served every minute of his sentence.

  So there you are, the true story of Drover’s Disappearance. He wasn’t lost in space or even lost in town. He was sleeping under the . . .

  Oh well. He survived, and in some ways that makes it a happy ending. Life at the ranch returned to normal and . . .

  This case is closed.

  Oh, remember that big parade in town? It really was for me, no kidding.

  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.