All Dwarf'ed Up (Dwarf Bounty Hunter Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  The Wood Elf lurched forward toward the boat’s side rail when a spray of water erupted from the river.

  “Johnny.” Luther whipped his head to look from one craft to the other. “Johnny, can we get it?”

  “Well, I ain’t never.” Ronnie grunted and leaned far back and as he hauled on the rope. “By everythin’ on this good green planet, what the hell?”

  “Holy crab!” Rex barked at the trap that had half-emerged from the swamp and now thumped against the side of the Wood Elf’s fishing boat.

  “Johnny, let me at it!” Luther’s feet clicked across the deck as he paced in excitement. “That old guy’s gonna lose it.”

  “It’s in a cage, dummy.”

  The dwarf’s eyes widened at the massive single Florida stone crab in Ronnie’s trap. He snapped his fingers and both hounds sat. “That’s a hell of a catch you got, Ronnie. Do you want a hand?”

  “Naw. Naw, I—” The old Elf groaned with the effort of pulling his prize fully out of the water. He finally rolled the cage over the side of the boat and kicked it away from him across the deck. “Hot damn! Would ya lookit that monster? Ha!”

  The massive crab was almost wide enough from one side of its body to the other to fill the entire cage. Legs and claws extended through the holes in the gridded bars and they flailed and snapped wildly with sharp clicks.

  “Hoo-ee.” Ronnie swiped his wrinkled brow. “What’dya reckon this feller is, eh? Two feet across?”

  “Might be.” Johnny hauled another trap over the side of the airboat and tossed it onto the dock. Six crabs clacked and scrambled inside.

  Rex backed away from it and barked again. “How ʼbout a little warning next time, huh, Johnny?”

  “Aw, come on.” Luther stepped toward it and sniffed. “I wanted the big one, Johnny. These little guys can’t do—ow!” He yelped and scrambled across the airboat as he pawed at his nose. “It bit me! Johnny, it bit me. That’s worse than a door, man. That’s…that’s…”

  “A claw,” Rex added dully. “Not a mouth.”

  “Huh?”

  Johnny ignored them and reached for another trap line.

  Ronnie chuckled. “You never brought them hounds out to pull lines before?”

  “No, I have. It seems only one of ʼem remembers.”

  “Hounds’ll do that. The trick is to get ʼem out doin’ one thing e’ryday and them brains o’ theirs will pick up on what’s what. But you already know how them hounds work, Johnny. I ain’t here to tell ya nothin’.”

  The dwarf smirked and helped his friend pull the traps like he’d done so many times before. The hounds kept their distance and sniffed the side of the boat and the bank instead before they finally leapt off to go exploring.

  When all the traps were retrieved, he lifted the first to haul it onto Ronnie’s boat. “You gonna sell these down at Earl’s?”

  “Oh, sure. ’Cept that big bastard over there.” The Wood Elf took the trap the dwarf dragged closer and tossed it up against the monstrous crab. “Him, I aim to boil up and eat all by my lonesome. Say, if ye’re lookin’ for some comp’ny now that yer kid’s gone off to learn her some knowledge, come on by. I’ll share him with ya. S’yer traps, after all.”

  He heaved another trap closer. “Do I look like some lonesome charity case you gotta invite to dinner for the first time now?”

  “Hell, you know ye’re always welcome to stop on by. Even when I ain’t steppin’ out to fill a few fidgety bastards full o’ buckshot.” They both chuckled, and the Wood Elf focused on stacking all the crates before he pried the lid off the metal bin bolted to the side of the boat to start emptying his haul into it. “All’s I’m sayin’ is, you been used to havin’ that young’un ʼround. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny boy. School’s a good choice. They need all that, ya understand? Friends, playin’ ʼround, a buncha hooligan’s runnin’ all over gettin’ into trouble.”

  “Hooligans.” He snorted.

  “I reckon both y’all find yerselves better for it in the end.” Now, Ronnie was merely rambling as he tipped the traps and shook the crabs free into the metal bin. “Nah, I ain’t got little’uns myself, mind, but my sister’n her get live in Tampa. Sure, they come down e’ry twenty years or so to say hi and remind me how far I let my cabin go to hell.”

  Johnny chuckled and shook his head.

  “But I tell you what. E’rytime they roll in, that niece o’ mine… Man, she sure does have no end of things to say and tellin’ stories ʼbout all the times she and her friends got into some real trouble down here in the Glades. Even when her mama took them all up north, she still got stories. One time, she even brought that ol’ girlfriend o’ hers down to see me. First time they’d seen each other in decades, by my count. And they was rollin’ ʼround laughin’ like they was sisters.” Ronnie shook his head with a fond, nostalgic smile. “Reckon they was laughin’ at an old Elf livin’ in a shack, but don’t matter none to me. You won’t mind it neither, understand? Yer girl, whatever young’un she makes her friend at that special school, mark my words. At least one o’ them’s gonna be her friend for life. Yessir.”

  “Which is exactly what she needs.” Johnny tossed the ends of the trap lines off the edge of his boat and paused. Friends for life. There’s a lotta history between best friends. And a lotta time to muddle it up over fifteen years too. But maybe that’s where I need to start.

  “You good, Johnny boy?” Ronnie looked at him with a wide, gap-toothed grin, his eyes squinted against the sun. “Lookin’ a little flushed there.”

  “Just because I don’t mind the heat don’t mean the heat’s stopped mindin’ me.”

  The Wood Elf threw his head back so far when he cackled that he almost toppled onto his empty traps. The giant crab snapped at him with an enormous claw. He scrambled away from his catch and chuckled. “Shit. Ya got the best damn traps, Johnny, but if I lose a finger or five to this bastard, I’m blamin’ you and yer jokes.”

  “Who said I was jokin’?” Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, he turned toward the bank and uttered a piercing whistle. “Time’s up, boys! Let’s go!”

  A sharp yip came from the thick foliage of the swamp, followed by heavy splashes and a low growl. Rex darted to the edge of the bank and leapt onto the airboat and his claws clicked and scraped across the deck as he skidded to a stop. Luther stumbled out of the trees and tried to gain traction but slipped in the mud and splashed around.

  “Somethin’ wrong with that one,” Ronnie muttered and narrowed his eyes at the dog.

  “I’m startin’ to think the same.” Johnny glanced at Rex, who looked at his master with wide, expectant eyes.

  “What? Hey, it’s not my fault he’s a dumbass.”

  “Who you callin’ dumbass, huh?”

  “Any hound who tries to eat a prickly pear, dumbass.”

  Luther limped to the edge of the bank, then leapt toward the side of the airboat. His rear paws missed the deck by a foot, and his front paws scrabbled for purchase before his weight dragged him down into the swamp with a splash.

  Ronnie cackled again, thumped a boot on the deck of his boat, and slapped his thigh.

  With a snort, Johnny leaned over to grab Luther by the scruff of the neck and hauled the hound onto the airboat. “Come on, you big sack with fur.”

  “That’s Mr. Sack, Johnny. How about a little—” Luther thumped onto all fours, slipped, and slid before his front paws gave out and he crashed head- and chest-first onto the deck. After a moment, he scrambled to his feet again and sat perfectly straight to stare downriver. He licked his muzzle. “I’m hungry.”

  Shaking his head, Johnny hopped off to untie the docking rope, then returned to his place at the control throttle. “Good seein’ ya, Ronnie.”

  “Hoo, boy. Got yer work cut out fer ya with them two.” The Wood Elf chuckled. “Thanks for the catch, Johnny boy.”

  “Naw, you hauled that one up all on your own. Lemme know how he tastes.”

  “Will do. Swee
t as a pie, I reckon.” Ronnie tittered and slammed the lid of his metal crab bin down before he started the engine of his small fishing boat.

  The dwarf cranked the throttle and the airboat’s fan whirred to life as he made a sharp turn along the river to take them home.

  “What are we doin’ now, Johnny?”

  “Yeah. How ʼbout that hunt?”

  “I have a few phone calls to make.” He glanced briefly at his hounds and saw Luther lying on the deck, his lower half sideways and his front paws propping him up in an oddly twisted position. The smaller hound panted and whipped his head, oblivious to the odd looks both his master and his brother settled on. “Maybe one of them to the vet.”

  Rex’s ears flattened against his head.

  Luther’s ears flopped around as he snapped at the flies buzzing around him. “They have treats there, right?”

  Chapter Six

  “Man, we never get to do anything fun anymore.” Luther slunk through the dog door, followed closely by Rex. “First the pup goes off to some stupid school, and that’s one down from the pack. Now, we can’t even hunt.”

  “How long has she been gone again? It’s been like a year, right?” Rex moved quickly away from the back door as Johnny opened it to step inside.

  “At least. Probably won’t even recognize her.” Luther cast a pitiful glance over his shoulder at his master. “She probably won’t even know how to hunt anymore. We’ll get fat and lazy and die of boredom.”

  The dwarf closed the back door and grunted. “She ain’t been gone a full day. Hush up.”

  Luther padded onto the thick area rug in the living room, spun in three tight circles, and curled beside the empty fireplace with a heavy sigh. “I probably won’t ever get up after this.”

  Rex trotted after Johnny and sat at his master’s feet when the dwarf slumped into the couch. “What’s wrong, Johnny?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “First you were pissed, then you were laughing with that old Elf, now you’re making your planning face.” Rex scratched behind his ear. “You losing your mind or something.”

  Johnny pulled his phone out and scrolled through his contacts. “Go on, now.”

  “Was it the crabs?”

  “Out.”

  Rex lowered his head and shuffled morosely toward his brother before he settled beside him. “I don’t get it.”

  “We’re gonna die of boredom,” Luther muttered.

  “He’s going crazy. Smells kinda crazy too. You know what it smells like?”

  “Boredom.”

  Rex’s furry eyebrows lifted as he glanced at Johnny. “Lemons.”

  “Huh?”

  “Hush.” Johnny snapped his fingers and pointed at the hounds as he lifted his phone to his ear with the other hand. “I can’t have a talk when y’all are yammerin’ away.”

  “Boring…” Luther dropped his head onto his forepaws and uttered a low whine.

  The bounty hunter propped his boots on the coffee table—ignoring the stack of fifteen-year-old reports beneath them—leaned back on the couch, and waited for the call to be answered.

  “Who’s this?” a gruff voice demanded.

  “It sounds like your manners ain’t changed that much.”

  “Johnny?” The wizard hacked and coughed and cleared his throat. “Is that you?”

  “Come on, Harry. Do you think I’d let some asshole get away with tryin’ to be me?”

  “Ha! No one says it like you do.” Harry paused for another round of hacking coughs and his voice was significantly scratchier when he continued to speak. “It’s been a long time, Johnny. And I guess this isn’t exactly a social call, is it?”

  “It didn’t start that way but now, I’m wondering how you are.”

  “Oh, don’t even.” The sound of slurping through a straw came over the line. “It’s only me catching something. I think they call it old fucking age.”

  Johnny snorted. “You should get yourself outta the freezer up there and come here where it’s warm. I hear that’s a decent balm for what ails ya.”

  “And do what? Join a retirement home in Venice? No thanks.”

  They both chuckled until Harry was seized by another coughing fit.

  Damn. That ain’t old age, no sir.

  “So what—” The wizard paused for a long, wheezing breath. “What’s the special occasion for the unexpected hello?”

  “I was hopin’ you could find someone for me.”

  “Ha! Still behind the times, huh? Do you even know how a cell phone works?”

  The dwarf rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Harry. I’m callin’ you on one. But I ain’t—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You don’t have time for learning technology unless it’s yours. Same old spiel as back in the day, huh?” Harry chuckled, followed by the sound of compressed air being released, probably an inhaler. “I remember when you had no clue how a floppy disk worked.”

  “Harry.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still in business?”

  “Me? No, not me. I don’t have to fiddle with other people’s personal squabbles anymore. But the business is still in business. I let my son take over…oh, about seven years ago. He’s good, Johnny, and might even be better than me. What’s the name?”

  Johnny grunted. “Hamilton family. Ben and Kay and their daughter Lucy. They lived in Georgia when I did. I’m not sure how long they were there before, but—”

  “All right, stop with all that extra BS.” Harry slurped through his straw again. “All I need is a name and you know that.”

  “What does your son need?”

  “Hell, probably only the initials.” The wizard coughed again and sighed heavily. “I gotta let you go, Johnny. My energy lasts about as long as my bladder. I’ll send this to Davie and he’ll get back to you. How’s that?”

  The dwarf stared at the boar’s head mounted above his fireplace. “It sounds fine.”

  “All right. Good to hear from you. I would’ve been pissed if it turned out you kicked the bucket first.”

  “Consider Florida. The heat and humidity will clear that plague right outta ya.”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Johnny. My roots have grown deeper in this world than they ever were back home. Same as you. Watch for Davie’s call.”

  “Thanks.”

  The line went dead and he stared at the background of his home screen—a picture he’d taken of Sheila when he’d first restored her and fitted her with all the extras. That damn wizard ain’t gonna make it through another winter soundin’ like that. But it ain’t none of my business, no matter how much I want it to be.

  His stomach growled fiercely and made both hounds whip their heads up to stare at him.

  “That you, Johnny?”

  The dwarf patted his stomach and stood. “I guess I skipped a few meals.”

  Rex and Luther glanced at each other and scrambled to their feet. “Yeah, we did too.”

  “We missed a lost count of how many meals. Catfish in a tent. Leftovers. Could’ve had that crab, but no. Someone said we couldn’t—”

  “Y’all ain’t missed nothin’.” Johnny strode into the kitchen, cast a speculative glance at the bottle of whisky on the counter, and turned toward the fridge instead.

  “But what about an extra snack, huh, Johnny?” Luther skidded out of the way when the fridge door opened, then padded around his master to look inside.

  “Yeah, the pup always gave us—”

  “She gave you what, now?” He looked at Rex and raised an eyebrow.

  The larger hound glanced all around the kitchen and turned his head slowly away from his master. “Very good…belly rubs?”

  Luther panted and stared at the contents of the fridge. “But she was way better than you at dropping scraps on the floor. Like big, hulking, juicy piles of—”

  Rex snapped at his brother. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Hey.”

  Johnny pulled out the makings of a sandwich and kicked the do
or closed as he went to the counter with an armful of ingredients.

  “Rex, Rex, Rex.”

  “What? Oh.” Rex lunged toward the closing fridge door and snorted when it closed against his snout.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” Luther’s tail thunked against the floor as he glanced at his brother, then at Johnny, then back again. “Don’t screw it up.”

  “How about you shut up,” Rex retorted.

  The bounty hunter took a plate from the overhead cabinet and a knife out of the silverware drawer.

  “Hurry! No, no, no—”

  A jar of pickled okra fell from the shelf beneath Rex’s fridge-exploring head. Johnny spun and stared at the hounds with wide eyes.

  “Shit.”

  “You ruined it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you boys up to somethin’?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Luther’s tail hit the kitchen floor once before he yelped and spun. Rex knocked him off balance as the larger hound raced to the dog door.

  “Hey, hey! Wait for me!”

  “No way. I only have to be faster than you.”

  The hounds’ sharp barks continued as they barreled across the soggy back lawn and disappeared under two loud splashes in the swamp, one right after the other.

  Johnny sniffed and turned to face his unmade sandwich. He looked at the knife still clenched in his fist, smirked, then shrugged and made his lunch.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite the promising plan of finding the Hamilton family through Harry Malkenshire and his half-wizard son, Johnny didn’t feel any better about his prospects the next day. He spent the first hour wishing Lisa had shown up with a cup of coffee, the second hour sweeping the floors of every room in the house, and the third hour fiddling with the reinforced—by steel and magic—armor around one of his spy-bug gadgets.