The Big Question

by John R. Erickson

  We stopped to catch our breath. I glanced around. “Drover, it didn’t work. We’re still here.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

  “That leaves us with just one course of action, and I hate to do it. We’ll have to start chewing.”

  He gave me a peculiar look. “Chewing?”

  “Exactly. You take the arm rest, I’ll take the steering wheel. Come on, soldier, chew as you’ve never chewed in your entire life. Slim’s depending on us!”

  Maybe you’re wondering about the chewing procedure. I can’t explain all the dynamics of it, but in times of stress and trouble, a lot of dogs find comfort in chewing. Somehow it helps. Would it save poor Slim from being eating by the cattle? We didn’t know the answer, but we had to give it a try.

  Drover rushed to the door on the passenger side and began gnawing on the arm rest, while I dashed to the other side and threw myself into the task of grinding away at the hard plastic on the steering wheel. Fellers, it was a toughie. If you don’t have a pretty good set of teeth, don’t try to…

  Snowflakes, inside the cab? I glanced to my left and noticed that I was standing next to…well, next to an open window, you might say, and suddenly I remembered that before Slim had gotten out of the pickup, he had rolled down his window!

  You’d probably forgotten about that and, okay, maybe in all the panic of the moment, I had too. But just because you forget once in a while doesn’t mean you can’t remember once in a while.

  I whirled around to my assistant and yelled, “Cease chewing! We’ve had a change in plans. Slim left his window down. We will now parachute out the window and rescue him from the man-eating steers.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have a parachute.”

  “Too bad. Out the window, move it!”

  I knew that if I jumped first, we would never pry Drover out of that warm pickup. He’s very predictable, you know. He whimpered and moaned about his leg, but I didn’t care. To save Slim, we would need all the amassed forces of the Security Division, even the half-steppers.

  He hopped up on the window ledge and I shoved him out, then dived out behind him. My landing was a little messy, but I scrambled to my feet, spun all four paws in the snow, and went ripping over to the knot of steers that were gathered around poor Slim’s potsrate body.

  I gave them the full load of threats and growls. “Out of the way, you morons, we’ve got a man down!” Heh. They wanted none of me. I mean, when they heard me coming, they scattered like quail and disappeared behind the curtain of snow.

  I rushed over to Slim and was relieved to find that he hadn’t been eaten. Actually, maybe that hadn’t been much of a threat because, well, cattle don’t eat people, but they had certainly sniffed him and left several wet nose prints on his clothes, and a dog can’t take any chances.

  He lay motionless in the snow, so I went straight into our CPR Licking Protocol, delivering a series of long, wet licks to his fevered cheeks. It worked! His eyelids drifted open and he groaned, “Hank? Where am I?”

  Well…I glanced around in all directions. I didn’t have the faintest idea where we were. In a pasture. In the snow. Somewhere. He needed to take charge of the situation and drive us back to civilization.

  He spoke in a weak croak of a voice. “Hank, you’ve got to find Viola. Find Viola!”

  I stared into his hollow eyes. What? Me, find Viola? Hey, she lived five miles down the creek! And did he notice that the whole world was buried under ice and snow? I would never be able to find her place, and that was about the craziest idea I’d ever heard.

  His voice came again, and this time it was filled with urgency. “Hank, you’ve got to do it. I’m bad sick. I need help. Go find…”

  His voice faded away and his eyes drifted shut. Oh great! He’d passed out again and what was I supposed to do? I mean, I’d tried everything—running away from home, chewing the steering wheel, CPR licks…what was left?

  It was then that I noticed that Drover had crept up beside me. A tear slid down his cheek. I laid a paw upon his shoulder. “Drover, I can see that you’re very concerned about our friend.” He nodded and blinked back a tear. “Listen, I’ve just come up with the greatest idea.”

  POOF! He was gone. The little chicken didn’t even wait to hear my great idea. In a flash, he ran and hid under the pickup, covered his eyes with his paws and started bawling.

  Oh brother. Now what?

  Chapter Twelve: You’ll Never Guess How This Ends, Never.

  I squared my shoulders, lifted my head to a brave angle, and took a deep breath of air. Well, someone on our outfit had to go for help and it sure appeared that it would have to be me.

  I marched over to the pickup and looked underneath. “Drover, you’re fired!”

  “Oh good, thanks.”

  “In the meantime, I have to go for help. My chances of surviving are so bad, I won’t even talk about it, but while I’m gone, I want you to curl up beside Slim and try to keep him warm. Can you do that?”

  “You said I was fired.”

  “I was misquoted. Get over there and do your job.”

  He crept out from the pickup and headed toward Slim, dragging himself along like…I don’t know what. Like a wounded crab. “Boy, I hate that I can’t go with you, but this old leg…”

  I didn’t wait to hear about his “old leg.” I’d heard it a thousand times. And, in the end, it didn’t matter. Drover was only Drover. I was the Head of Ranch Security and I had to do my job, even if it was impossible.

  How impossible? Well, for starters, I didn’t have any idea where I was or where I was going, and that’s a real bad way to start out on a mission. But…wait. The pickup had left fresh tracks in the snow, right? So…what if I followed the tracks?

  At the very least, they would lead me back to headquarters, and from there, maybe I could follow the main road four miles east to Viola’s house. Do you see the meaning of this? In that one blaze of insight, my chances of surviving had gone from one in ten million to one in nine million.

  I followed the tracks to the south and, sure enough, they led straight to the county road. There, I pointed myself toward the east, pushed the controls up to Turbo Seven, and went streaking down the middle of the road. I was beginning to feel more confident about this deal. Hey, if I could just keep up the pace…

  I ran as fast as I could, all the way to the mailbox at ranch headquarters, and there I had to stop. Have you ever tried running a mile through snow and ice? It’s a killer. I was gasping for air. My lungs burned, the ice had cut the bottoms of my feet, I was feeling light in the head…and I still had four miles to go.

  I couldn’t do it! A dog can only do so much, and…well, just think of how easy it would have been to trot down to the gas tanks and spend the rest of the day in the warm embrace of my gunny sack bed. It would have been SO easy.

  And SO WRONG.

  I caught my wind and set out again, this time in a trot instead of a run. I knew I couldn’t run four miles in the snow, but maybe…huh? A vehicle was coming toward me and I would have to move into one of the ditches, else I might get myself smashed all over the road. I pointed myself toward the south ditch and a pickup drove past.

  Behind me, I heard brakes grabbing, tires sliding in the snow, a door opening, then… “Hank! Is that you?”

  Huh? I turned and saw…well, maybe it was a woman, dressed in a wool coat and wearing a rabbit-skin cap on her head and a wool scarf around her neck. And there for a second, I thought her voice sounded kind of…

  Viola?

  Holy smokes, it was Miss Viola! I sprinted down the road and threw myself into her…well, her arms weren’t actually “awaiting,” but they got me anyway. Fellers, I dove right into the middle of her. She’d come back for me, and now we could run away and spend the rest of our lives…

  “Hank, where is Slim?”

  Who? I blin
ked my eyes and glanced around. Oh, him. Well, that was an interesting question and as a matter of fact…

  “I got worried about him. He looked terrible when I left. Where is he? Is he all right?”

  I looked directly into her eyes and barked. “He’s sick, passed out in the snow, and we’ve got to help him!”

  She seemed to understand. “Oh dear, I knew it! But how will I ever find him?”

  Easy. Follow me.

  I didn’t think I had any strength left in my exhausted body, but I reached down deep and pulled up enough of something to lead her back down the road. She jumped into the pickup and followed. A mile to the west, I found the tracks leading out into the pasture, and led her right to the spot where I’d left him in the snow.

  He was sitting up by then, looking around with a dazed expression in his eyes, and I must pause here to give credit to little Drover. He had actually followed my orders and was curled up in Slim’s lap.

  At a glance, Viola read the situation and we went right to work. Our cowboy was bad sick, out of his head, and we needed to get him to a doctor right away. She pulled him up to his feet and draped one of his arms around her shoulders. Groaning under his weight, she half-carried him to her pickup.

  Once we got him stuffed inside, we dogs dived into the cab before she could close the door. I can’t say that she’d planned on taking us to town in her daddy’s nice clean pickup, but, well, she did anyway.

  And so it was that we began the long drive into town, twenty-five miles over icy, snow-packed roads. Viola’s lips were compressed into a thin line and she cast worried glances at Slim. He was slumped against the door, sometimes awake but mostly asleep.

  When we got to the main highway (the very spot where we’d gathered the steers only hours before), Viola turned onto the pavement and picked up speed. In a soft voice, she said, “Slim, how are you doing? Slim?”

  He raised his head and glanced around. When he saw her, a weak smile formed on his lips, and he said…you’d better hang on for this, because it’s going to knock your socks off. He said, “You know, me and you ought to get married sometime.” And then he went back to sleep.

  Everyone in that pickup was stunned. I mean, you could have heard a flea crawl. Drover stared at me, I stared at Viola, and she stared at Slim. None of us could speak.

  I can’t describe the look that came over Viola when she heard that. Shocked. Stunned. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes filled with tears.

  Well, you know about me and ladies in distress. When they cry, it touches something deep inside my Inner Bean. I rushed to her side, laid my head in her lap, and used my tail section to tap out an important message: “Viola, I’ll never make you cry, honest.”

  She dabbed at the tears and squeezed up a sad smile. “I wonder if he’ll remember that when he wakes up.”

  I tapped out another message with my tail. “If he doesn’t, you’ve still got me.”

  I kept my head in her lap the rest of the way into town, and the next thing I knew…okay, maybe I dozed…the next thing I knew, we had pulled up in front of the Twitchell General Hospital. Viola jumped out, ran inside, and came back moments later with a nurse and a wheelchair.

  They opened the pickup door, woke up Slim, and told him to climb into the wheelchair. He blinked his eyes and looked around. “Good honk. Viola, take me home! I ain’t fixing to…”

  They laid hands on him and loaded him into the wheelchair, and he started yapping and fuming. “Viola, I’ve got to feed cattle.”

  “Daddy and I will feed your cattle.”

  “I ain’t got time for this.”

  “Slim, hush.”

  As the nurse wheeled him inside, we heard him yell, “This place smells like a hospital! Take me home!”

  Drover and I weren’t invited inside, so we stayed in the pickup for a long time, an hour or more. At last, Viola came back outside, carrying Slim’s boots. Back inside the cab, she must have noticed that I was wondering about the boots.

  “So he won’t try to escape. You should have heard him when they gave him a shot. Honestly!”

  Well, against his deepest wishes, Slim had to spend a day and a night in the hospital. He’d almost come down with pandemonia but we’d gotten him to the doctor just in time. The doc said Miss Viola did right, hauling him to town.

  Nobody mentioned all the things I’d done, but that was okay. We dogs are used to that.

  Two days after Christmas, someone at the hospital called Viola and told her to come get him, they couldn’t stand him any longer, so she drove into town to fetch him. Guess who got invited to go along. ME. Little Mister Squeakbox was off snapping snowflakes and got left behind, tee hee.

  At the hospital, she went inside and gave Slim his boots, and we started back to the ranch. I’m proud to report that I rode all the way with my head in Viola’s lap. When we got out on the highway, Slim said, “Well, I guess I was pretty sick, after all.”

  “You were one step away from galloping pneumonia.”

  “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

  Her gaze slid around and she stuck him with those blue eyes. “You were terrible! You are the worst patient, the biggest baby…ohhhh! I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d tossed you out in the snow.”

  “Sorry. Me and hospitals don’t get along.”

  “Believe me, everyone noticed.”

  “How are the cows?”

  “Your cows are fine. They didn’t even miss you.”

  That caused him to laugh. “Well, a cow’s love is pretty fickle. It goes to whoever holds a sack of feed.”

  Silence fell over us. Viola gripped the steering wheel with both hands and kept her eyes on the road. “Slim, do you remember anything you said when we were driving to the hospital?”

  “Nope, it’s all a fog. Did I say anything intelligent?”

  She gave him a quick cut of her eyes. “I guess not.”

  “Good. I’d hate to break the pattern.”

  She said no more, but I could see the disappointment on her face. Poor Viola, she’d gotten her hopes up about…well, you know. I felt sorry for her.

  She took us to Slim’s place and we got out. Standing beside her open window, Slim said, “Well, I’m mighty grateful for all you did.” She squeezed up a brave smile and nodded her head. “And I want to give you something.”

  He ducked into the shed and emerged a moment later, holding something between his thumb and finger. It looked like…well, a lock washer, the kind of round metal piece that you use with bolts and nuts. Wearing a puzzled expression, Viola watched as he approached her open window and held the washer up for her to see.

  “You know, Viola,” he blinked his eyes and swallowed hard, “me and you ought to…ought to get married sometime.” He snatched her left hand and slipped the washer onto her ring finger.

  I was…well, you could have knocked me down with a feather. Stunned. And so was Viola. She stared at the “ring” for a long moment, then turned a pair of astonished eyes on Slim. “Are you serious?”

  Suddenly, Slim looked very uncomfortable. His face turned bright red, he dug his hands into his pockets and looked off into the distance. “Well, I was when I said it, but I’m already starting to have second thoughts.”

  Fellers, she FLEW out of that cab and threw her arms around his neck. “Well, you can’t have second thoughts, because the answer is YES!”

  He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her feet off the ground, and swung her around in a circle, while she laughed and cried and buried her face on his shoulder. When he set her back on the ground, she wiped her eyes and said, “Should we tell my folks?”

  Slim kicked a rock and looked at the ground. “Let’s keep it quiet for a while. I’ll have to save up some money. Right now, I can’t even afford a proper ring.”

  “This one is beautiful.”

  “I
don’t want you living like a trapper’s wife.”

  “I can wait…as long as you don’t forget.”

  He touched her cheek with his fingers and looked into her eyes. “Viola, a man don’t forget someone like you.”

  Her eyes were sparkling when she drove away. Slim’s gaze followed her, even after her pickup had disappeared from view. Then he muttered, “Good honk, what have I done? I don’t make enough wages to support a parakeet, much less a wife.”

  I narrowed my eyes and gave him a snarl that said, “Yeah, well, you’d better figure out how to eat the parakeet and support the wife, because if you try to weasel out of this deal, buddy, I will personally bite your toes down to stubs!”

  His gaze drifted down to me. “Are you growling at me?”

  Yes sir, and I was just getting warmed up. By George, if I couldn’t marry that fine lady, he’d better do it! And take good care of her, too.

  He grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you was trying to lecture me.”

  “Right, and you’d better get used to it.”

  Wow, what an ending! But it wasn’t actually the ending. See, you don’t know if they actually went through with it or not. Did she back out? Did Slim think it over and change his mind? Those are questions we’ll have to face in another story.

  But for now, this case is closed.

  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