The Almost Last Roundup. John R. Erickson
laughed. “I wondered how that got started.”
“Well, there it is. It’s a true story, and, mister, I think the British are here, and that’s why we’ve run out of grasshoppers.” He folded his wings across his chest and narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you say to that?”
“I’m glad you turned in the report, J.T.. I’ll get right to work on it.”
He was surprised. “Well, I didn’t expect to hear that. You’re actually going to investigate?”
“Oh yes, no question about it. This is serious stuff.”
“It sure is if you’re a chicken. How come you’re grinning?”
“I enjoy my work. Can you give me a description?”
“Of what? Oh, the British? Let me think here.” He stroked his beak and gazed off into the distance. “Granddad wasn’t real clear on that. The best I can remember, he said they wore funny hats.”
“On their heads?”
“Yes, on their heads. That’s where most people wear their hats.”
“I’m just checking, J.T., it’s part of my job.”
“That’s fine, as long as you ain’t poking fun.”
“Oh no. Any other clues or details?”
“Let me think here. Oh yeah, one of them Britishers called himself Yokie Dandy Doodle. He was a general or something.”
“Got it. What else?”
“Well, he went to town, riding on a donkey.”
“Very interesting.”
“There’s more, it’s a-coming back to me. He wore a feather in his cap and ate a macaroni sandwich.”
“Macaroni sandwich, wow.” I rose to my feet. “Excellent. I’ll open a file on Okie Dokie Doodle and get started on the investigation right away. If he’s been stealing grasshoppers, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
J.T. held me in a searching gaze. “You know, pooch, all these years I’ve misjudged you. I never thought you had sense enough to walk across a road, but I admit that I’m kind of impressed.”
“Thanks, J.T., impressing roosters is something I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
“That makes me proud, sure does. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I ate one of them japaleena peppers? Boy, you talk about a fire in the engine room!”
“Some other time, J.T. I need to get to work on this case. See you around, and watch out for the British.”
“Sure will, sure will. And you keep me informed, hear?”
“You bet.”
I hurried away. Somehow I had managed to get through the conversation without laughing my head off.
Can you believe that conversation? The British were stealing grasshoppers, Yokie Dokie Doodle…what a bird-brain! And I was supposed to be protecting him from the Bad Guys. Sometimes I wonder…oh well.
So where were we? Oh yes, after being entertained by J.T. Cluck’s heartburn stories, I headed down to the office, where I found some nice shade and two gunny sack beds. Drover was occupying one of them, conked out asleep, and I slid into the embrace of the other one.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t sleep. No sir, we have pretty strict rules about sleeping during business hours. I needed to conserve my energy, as well as catch up on reports and work out the schedule for Night Patrol. See, sometimes I do my paperwork in bed.
All of a sudden, I was awakened by a piercing…
Wait. Let me rephrase that. I wasn’t asleep and therefore couldn’t have been awakened by the scream. I was writing up my notes of the J.T. Cluck Comedy Hour, remember? Yes, that was it. The British were stealing his grasshoppers.
The Head of Ranch Security doesn’t sleep in the middle of the day. Let’s just say that upon hearing the awful scream, I leaped out of my office chair and took charge of the situation. “Parsley bubbles on the lumber bunny cobblers! Outrageous freckles see no evil and we shall beat to quarters!”
With jerky movements of my head, I glanced around and saw…what was that thing? It was mostly white. On one end, it seemed to have a head and on the other end, a stub of a tail. The creature stood on wobbly legs and stared at me with eyes that resembled…I don’t know, two bowls of dishwater.
I beamed a merciless glare at the stranger and yelled, “Halt! Stop in the name of the lawn! Who goes there?”
A mysterious voice said, “Poppy hop along with pollywog jelly.”
“That’s your name? Let’s see some ID, and keep all five feet on the ground.”
“I thought I heard someone scream.”
“Roger that. I heard it too, and we’ve got units checking it out, even as we squeak. What’s your name? We need a name to go with the face.”
“Which face?”
“The one you’re wearing.”
“Oh, that one.” He blinked his eyes and gazed around. “Well, I guess I’m Drover. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I am.”
“I’ve heard that name before.”
“Yeah, I live here.”
“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere. Your name must already be in our system, so form a line and pick up your uniform.” I narrowed my eyes and looked closer at him. “Did you say your name is Drover?”
He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Hi.”
“Hello. We used to have a Drover on the staff and he drove me nuts. What are you, his cousin or something?”
“No, it was me all along. Sometimes they call me Rover, but it’s Drover with a D.”
“Drover with a D? Are you suggesting that I can’t smell your name? And speaking of smell…” I moved closer and checked him out with Sniffatory Scanners. “I’m picking up a strange odor. Explain.”
“Well, I rolled on a fresh cow pie.”
“Why would you do that?”
He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t know, it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“It was the wrong thing to do. You stink. You said Drover, right?”
“Yeah, with a D.”
“Please stop telling me how to spell your name. The point is that you’re Drover with a D. We’ve known each other for a long time, which makes me wonder…” I glanced around in a full circle. “Where are we?”
“In our bedroom, under the gas tanks.”
“Ah. That explains the deja voodoo, the feeling that I’ve been here before.”
“Yeah, about a million times. We were asleep and something woke us up.”
“I wasn’t asleep. Who can sleep on this ranch? Even so…what do you suppose woke us up?”
His eyes grew large. “It was some kind of scream.”
That word, “scream,” seemed to activate all my professional instincts, and I knew we had a serious problem on the ranch. Just how serious, I didn’t know. You don’t either, so you’d better keep reading.
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