The Secret Pledge. John R. Erickson
might have gone on for hours, but, lucky for me, an oil field tanker truck had pulled up behind us and blew his air horn. Slim almost jumped out of his skin, but what did he expect? We’d been parked in the middle of the county road for twenty minutes, but guess who got blamed. Me.
“Bozo.”
Fine. I made my way across the seat and shoved Drover out of the Shotgun Position. After a moment of silence, he said, “How’d it go with Beulah?”
“Not so great.”
“I’ll be derned. What did you tell her?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“Just curious.”
“Well, if you must know, I told her to ditch Plato.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that. I went straight to the point.”
“Maybe that was the wrong approach.”
I barbecued him with a glare. “What do you know about approaches to women?”
“Well, I know that yours flopped.”
That hurt. I heaved a heavy sigh and turned my gaze out the window. “In small but tiny ways, you have a point. Maybe I was too blunt.”
“You were too blunt. She’s not a bulldozer.”
“Drover, she’s a lady, not a bulldozer. Here’s a thought. Next time, I’ll try to be more subtle.” I turned back to the runt. “Why are your eyes crossed?”
“Oh, I was about to sneeze.”
“So sneeze.”
“Well, it passed.”
“Good, but please don’t cross you eyes when I’m trying to give you lessons on romance. It makes me think you’re not paying attention.”
“Sorry.”
“One of these days, when you grow up, if you ever grow up, you might need some tips on charming the ladies.
“Yeah, I think she likes me.”
“But I can’t help you if you’re crossing your eyes all the time.”
“She loves my poetry.”
“The point to remember is that we don’t approach the ladies as though they were heavy equipment. Technique is very important.”
“Got it, thanks.”
Whew. Some dogs require more tutoring than others, and Drover requires a lot. I mean, he wears me out. I try to be patient with the little mutt. I want to pass along helpful tips from my Archive of Wisdom, but let’s be honest: It’s very hard to help a dog who spends half his life sneezing and crossing his eyes.
Oh well. Life moves on and so does a ranch pickup on a feeding day. We had work to do and we did it, even though my heart had been badly damaged. I could only hope that fate would allow me one more chance to woo back the Lady of My Dreams.
The next morning brought us bright sunlight that glistened on frost-covered trees and grass. By the time I had finished Morning Patrol, the frost had melted away and the day had turned out warm and beautiful, with the temperature nudging up into the fifties. We’re talking about gorgeous, perfect autumn weather.
To be honest, the day was so pleasant, I found it hard to concentrate on my daily workload of work. I mean, in the wintertime, sometimes it’s too cold for me to get excited about work, and sometimes in the summer, it’s too hot. In the fall of the year…well, by George, once in a while on a delicious fall afternoon, it’s just too nice for work, and sometimes a guy yields to the temptation to…
Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this. You know how I am about the children. I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea, that I’m a lazy bum who takes naps in the afternoon.
That’s the kind of behavior we expect from Drover, but me? Hey, I’m Head of Ranch Security, not a lazy bum, so it’s very unlikely that you’ll ever find me napping on a warm autumn day. No sir. I might be lying in a warm patch of sun, but I’ll be hard at work, running spreadsheets or reading reports or updating my logbook of Drover’s Chicken Marks.
You talk about hard work! Keeping a record of Drover’s Chicken Marks is a full-time job. It would wear out five ordinary mutts, but I have to do it all myself, in my so-called spare time.
Have you ever seen that book? You talk about HUGE. Two thousand pages, thirty-four pounds of Chicken Marks. Sometimes, when Drover has a good day, we delete a few, but most of the time, we’re adding them.
We keep that logbook in our vault in the Security Division’s Vast Office Complex. It’s open for public inspection every Thursday between two and one o’clock in the aftermath. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, you should drop by and read it. It will give you a shocking glimpse at exactly what the King of Slackers has been doing all these years.
But the whole point of this discussion is that after spending hours and hours, bringing the logbook up to date, I was exhausted, just flat worn out and, well, on warm autumn days, occasionally a guy’s eyelids begin to droop.
Sometimes my eyelids seem to have a mind of their own, don’t you see. On this occasion, school was out, so to speak, and the eyelids were running the show. They staged a mutiny and began drifting in a downward direction, and before I knew it…well, perhaps I dozed, but it had nothing to do with my being a lazy bum.
Yes, I dozed, and even better, I fell into the embrace of a delicious dream about…can you guess who? Stand by, we’re fixing to watch a dream.
LOADING DREAM SEQUENCE #357-753
Loading…loading…loafing…loading
Enter Password
********
Re-enter Dream Sequence Password!
You forgot your password, didn’t you?
Dummy
Stand by…
Dream Sequence #357-753 is ready!
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