The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper. John R. Erickson
and so did his boys, and that was the whole point of the exercise, right? Sure it was. I got ’em shut down. I picked myself up and marched over to them. A glance toward the house told me that Slim was already out on the porch, loading shells into his pump shotgun. That gave me fresh reserves of courage.
When I marched up to them, Buster was talking to his pals. “Say, what was that thing I just ran into? Was it a fly or a gnat?”
Muggs, who had the build of a bulldog and the brain of a fencepost, was bouncing up and down on his short, thick legs. “Nah, it was the jerk, Boss, right there, see him? He ran into you and I saw it, I saw the whole thing.”
Buster looked me up and down. “Oh yeah, I think you’re right, Muggsie. Say, jerk, when you’re out running and playing, you need to be more careful. You could get yourself hoit, running into objects made of steel and iron.”
Muggs stuck his nose in my face. “Yeah, jerk, and if the boss don’t steal your object, I just might have to iron your face, har har. Did you hear that one, Boss? Huh? Wasn’t that pretty good, huh?”
“That was very clever, Muggsie. I find myself astonished, as you might say.” Buster’s gaze drifted over to me. “So what kind of foolish impulse brings you into our midst?”
I cleared my throat. “Okay, this won’t take long.”
Muggsie was back in my face. “It better not, jerk, ’cause the longer it takes, the shorter you’ll be.”
I pushed his face away. “Would you point that hot air somewhere else? Thanks. Maybe you can kill a few weeds.”
Buster grinned. “Say, that ain’t bad. Did you hear that, boys? Muggsie might kill some weeds with his breath.” The others laughed. Buster’s gaze remained on me. “Go on, hero, I can hardly wait to hear your message. Let me guess. You ain’t fond of us chasing your cows, correct?”
“That’s right, only they’re not cows, Buster. Cows are adult animals. You’re chasing steers and heifers, but I guess that’s a little too complicated for you guys.”
His eyes grew wide. “Ooooo! Hey boys, we thought we was chasing cows, but they ain’t cows. They’re heffs and steroids.” They all laughed. “So what’s the point, country boy? Somehow, your cows just started runnin’ and we couldn’t figger out why, could we, boys?” That got a laugh. “So was we doing something bad? ’Cause if we were, me and my boys might feel terrible about it.”
“Chasing cattle is against Ranch Law, Buster. You know that as well as I do.”
“I do? Then you tink we was doing it just for meanness?” He rolled his eyes toward the sky. “I fear my heart will break.”
Muggsie jumped back into the conversation. “Yeah, jerk, and then I fear we’ll have to broke your face, and after we broke your face, we’ll broke your nose off too, won’t we, Boss?”
“Shat up, Muggs. I appreciate your interest, but let ’im talk.”
“Thanks. You have two minutes to get off my ranch.”
“Wow. Two minutes. That ain’t much time, and me and the boys was having fun and maybe we can’t make it, see? So I wonder what might happen.”
I gave them an easy smile. “You guys ever go up against a shotgun?”
“Yeah. Lots of times. It ain’t fun. But you know what?” He drilled me in the chest with his paw. “You ain’t got one, jerk. That could be a problem—I mean, with you mouthing off and everything.”
Muggs was back. “Yeah, jerk, and if you don’t mouth stopping off, I’m gonna . . . if you don’t get that shotgun outa your mouth . . . if you don’t . . .”
Buster stopped him with a raised paw. “Tink about it, Muggsie. It’ll come to you in a minute.” Back to me. “Me and my boys obsoive that you ain’t got a shotgun, pal.”
I swallowed hard. What the heck was Slim doing! “It’s . . . it’s up on the porch, Buster, and it’ll be here any minute now. That’s Slim and he’s doubling all the charges.”
“Is he? But the problem is that he ain’t here, and you are, and he ain’t mouthing off to me and my boys—and you are. Do you see what this means?”
I laughed in their faces. “Ha, ha. Buster, you don’t really think I’d be stupid enough to walk into the middle of you guys without a secret weapon, do you?”
He thought about that. “Yeah, I do. I honestly do. I tink you’re that dumb, and I thought so the minute I laid eyes on you. Somehow you just look . . . dumb.”
“What if I told you that I’ve got a whole division of Rottweilers hiding in those chinaberry trees, just waiting for my signal to attack?”
He shrugged. “Well, naturally I’d tink you was lying.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Okay, guys, it’s time for me to reveal that you’ve walked right into my trap.”
Buster grinned. “Oh gosh, we have walked into his trap. What shall we do?”
Muggsie popped up. “Hey Boss, we could always run.”
“Uh-uh. We ain’t gonna run ’cause he ain’t got a trap. He’s all mouth and no brains, Muggsie, and in that respect he reminds me of . . . you.”
I stiffened my back and tried to hide the quiver in my voice. “I’ll give you to the count of three. At that point, we’ll find out who’s bluffing.”
Buster nodded his head. “Yeah, we will, only I already know.”
“ONE!”
Zoom! I went to Full Flames on all engines and made a wild dash for the house.
Sure, I knew it wasn’t dignified for the Head of Ranch Security to be chased up on his own porch, but at that moment I didn’t much care about appearances and so forth.
You’ll be proud to know that I made it. I flew up on the porch, skidded to a stop, and took refuge . . . that is, I established a new command post behind . . . okay, I hid behind Slim’s legs, but the important thing is that I began firing off barks immediately, and I mean big barks, huge barks, barks that would have scared the liver out of a liverwurst sandwich.
Boy, you should have seen me. First I fired off two barks around Slim’s left leg, then shifted sides (to confuse them, don’t you know) and fired off two more barks around his right leg. Pretty impressive, huh? You bet it was.
And then—this will impress you even more—I poked my head between his legs and showered those hoodlums with a burst of Fully Automatic Barking. It stopped ’em in their tracks, I mean, those guys were so shocked and terrified, they turned and ran like the cowards they really were.
Okay, maybe it helped that Slim finally got his shotgun loaded and sent a full chorus of buckshot singing over their heads, but mainly it was my Counter Offensive of deep, manly barking that turned the tide of battle in our favor. As the cowards vanished into the distance, I crept out of my Bunker Position and went charging after them. I went all the way to the edge of the porch, if you can believe that.
“Let that be a lesson to you, you meanies! And don’t forget that your mommas are twice as ugly as you are!”
Boy, I got ’em told, huh? You bet I did. I had a feeling we’d never see those guys again. After I’d sent the rascals fleeing for their lives, I turned a sour gaze on Slim.
He grinned and shrugged. “Derned gun jammed on me.”
Great. Swell. But wasn’t there a new miracle invention called gun oil? I mean, some guys actually oiled their shotguns once or twice a year, and guess what—their shotguns didn’t jam! And their dogs didn’t get chased up on porches either.
Oh well, we’d won a huge moral