The Warrior Sheep Go West (9 page)

Tummy Trouble

The taxi slowed to a halt and Stanley Boomberg looked up from his wrist computer screen. There didn't seem to be much point in staring at it now— the sheep were there, just waiting to be captured. Holly reached for the taxi door but it was locked.

“Would you mind letting us out?” she demanded.

“Would you mind paying?” replied the driver mildly. “Sorry to ask, lady. It's just an old-fashioned custom we taxi drivers have.”

He tapped the fare meter.

“All right, all right…”

Holly delved furiously in her briefcase but the taxi man didn't want any of her twenty-five credit cards.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don't do plastic.”

Holly was becoming angry. She couldn't see the sheep anymore.

“Stanley! Give the man some cash!”

“Yes, honey…”

But Stanley had to scrabble around in every pocket to find enough, and by the time the Boombergs had finally been released and the taxi man had gone off to breakfast with a handful of crumpled dollar bills and coins, the sheep had gone.

“Relax, honey…” said the Professor, feeling in charge for once. He showed Holly his wrist computer. “I've got them. They're rooting around the trash yard.”

The warriors had trotted around to the back of the roadhouse. Wills was searching for a sign that would show him where they were. Everyone else was searching for food.

Oxo banged his head against one of the rubbish bins, not just because he was hungry, but also because the gold stud in his ear was beginning to drive him mad with its pinching.

“Ohmygrass, you're making it bleed,” cried Jaycey, but Oxo went on banging.

A waitress, who'd seen them from the kitchen doorway, suddenly strode over.

“Is that thing bothering you?” she asked, taking hold of Oxo's ear and peering at the gold stud. “Who would do this to a dumb animal?”

She pried open the staple with her kitchen scissors and removed the stud from Oxo's ear.

“Is that better?” she asked, holding it in the palm of her hand for Oxo to see.

Oxo put his nose into her hand and snaffled up the stud. He chewed once or twice, then swallowed. The waitress laughed and went back to the kitchen.

“Why in Ovis did you do that?” asked Wills.

Oxo shrugged defensively. “Habit, I suppose. Well, when humans hold a hand out, there's usually something in it to eat, isn't there?” He waggled his ear. “Anyway, feels great now. Which way do we go?”

“Uh…that way,” said Wills.

He nodded to a narrow stony road, a hikers' trail, leading from the back of the service area into the desert hills. A small wooden signpost stood beside it.

“That says ‘Shortcut to Aries End,'” he said.

“What's a shortcut?” asked Oxo suspiciously.

He'd heard about cuts of meat. He didn't fancy being a shortcut. Not even a long cut.

“It's just a quick way to get somewhere,” said Wills. “I expect the highway goes there too but takes longer.”

“And remind me why Aries End is important?” said Sal.

“It's where Red Tongue's goin' next, right,” said Links excitedly.

“Yeah,” said Oxo. “It's where we're gonna have the final showdown. So let's not keep him waiting.”

And he led the gallop onto the narrow, winding road.

***

The Boombergs had stopped on the other side of the bins while the Professor stared at his wrist, suddenly bemused.

“Lost the picture again,” he muttered.

“We don't
need
the picture anymore, Stanley. They're there, behind the bins!”

But they weren't. When Holly crept quietly around, noose at the ready, she met with nothing but the gray dawn of the desert.

“This is awesome…” The Professor was still staring at his wrist screen. “They're in some weird wobbly cave full of sloshy stuff!”

Inspiration struck his wife.

“The bins!” she cried. “They must be in these bins! Help me tip them over!”

They tried the organic waste first. They manhandled the head-high bin against a curb and toppled it on its side.

“Hey!” shouted the waitress from the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

Making a horrible mess for nothing was what they were doing, and ruining Holly's smart shoes while they were doing it. The bin was indeed full of sloshy stuff. It rolled and gushed all over the tarmac and up Professor Boomberg's legs. But there were no sheep amid the half-eaten burgers and yesterday's ice cream.

As the waitress strode from the kitchen again, Holly heard an engine start. She spun around. Inspiration had struck again.

“The trailer! Of course! They're back in the trailer!”

She raced after the departing bus, caught hold of the trailer doors, and yanked them open. As she threw herself inside, she turned and grabbed her husband's outstretched arm, and hauled him in after her. The Professor landed flat on his face and the trailer turned onto the highway with his legs still sticking out of the open doors. Holly was already rummaging amongst the sports bags.

“They're here somewhere…” she muttered. “I can
smell
them.”

The Professor could smell all kinds of things, mostly on his trousers. He wobbled to his feet and banged his head on the roof of the trailer.

“They
were
here, honey,” he said through gritted teeth. “Were…” And he gazed at his wrist in wonder. The picture on the screen now looked like the inside of an active volcano.

The bus had picked up speed and was cruising along the highway with the players inside singing:

“We're on our way to Aries End, Red Tongue, Red Tongue! On our way to Aries End, Red Tongue, remember the name!”

Gradually, the players became aware of thumps and shouts from the trailer behind them. The driver pulled over to the side of the highway and they all got out to investigate.

“We were merely looking for our sheep,” said Holly primly, as she slid out and pulled Stanley after her.

“What's with you and sheep, lady?” demanded the driver.

“They were here! Can't you smell them?” demanded Holly.

The players sniffed.

“That's Dave's socks!” one of them laughed, slamming the trailer doors.

Stanley just had time to ask some of the players for their autographs before the driver ushered them back into the bus.

“I'm a great fan,” the Professor whispered, taking back his pocket-sized copy of
Physics For Unbelievably Brainy People
.

“Stanley!”

His wife was already striding back along the highway toward the Bouncing Burger. The Professor loped guiltily after her.

***

The warriors were marching on toward Aries End. After the bumpy darkness of the trailer, they actually enjoyed the early sun's warmth on their backs. Except for Oxo.

Oxo did not feel good. It was rare for him to regret eating anything, but ever since he'd swallowed the gold stud, every one of his stomachs had been churning. Eventually, he stumbled and sat on the dirt road, his sides quivering.

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Sal.

“Course I am,” said Oxo.

He struggled to his hooves and staggered on, but a few minutes later he was sitting again.

“Better stop, eh,” said Links. “There's a bit of shade up there…”

The small patch of shade was cast by a battered truck parked a little way ahead of them. Two men in dusty clothes and boots were digging in the desert close by. They hadn't noticed the sheep.

“We're wasting our time, Gramps,” the younger man said, stopping to wipe the sweat from his face. “There ain't no gold here.”

The older man kept on digging. “Sure is
somewhere
, Brad…” he said. “Jumpy Joe's map's clear enough. Give or take a mile…”

“But if Jumpy Joe never found it a hundred years ago, how we gonna find it now?”

“By
believin
', boy,” puffed Gramps. “You gotta have faith. And dig. Go get the map again.”

Brad dropped his shovel, turned toward the truck, and stopped.

“Hey, Gramps…” he said in amazement. “Looks like lunch just arrived.”

Both men stared at the little group of sheep.

“Well blow me to San Francisco…” laughed Gramps. “Where did you all come from?” Then he stopped smiling. “One of the poor critters looks sick,” he said.

The biggest of the sheep was staggering badly. It just reached the shade of the truck before it keeled over and collapsed.

Gold Fever

As Oxo lay panting in the shade, he knew he was going to be sick.

“Scuse me…” he mumbled and dragged himself to the other side of the track.

The gold stud came up in a sticky, smelly mess of half-chewed plastic grass.

“Here, fella, have a drink…”

Oxo suddenly found an old man squatting beside him. He'd poured some water into his upturned hat and was holding it out. A younger man was standing close by. Oxo gratefully slurped a few mouthfuls then tottered back to the other sheep.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “All gone.”

The young man was still standing by the pile of sick. He slowly bent forward to peer at the recent contents of Oxo's stomach. Something had caught his eye.

“Gramps…” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Look at this.” He crouched and picked the gold stud from the soggy pile. “Gold…a nugget of gold!”

He wiped the lump of chewed metal on his sleeve and held it up. Gramps stared and then snatched the stud, put it between his front teeth, and bit it.

“Well?” asked Brad anxiously.

Gramps cackled and creaked to his feet, waving the stud.

“It's gold, sure enough!” he cried. “A hungry ole ram's found Jumpy Joe's gold! What did I tell you, boy?” He grabbed his shovel and began digging maniacally at the road. “Tell Uncle Silas,” he said. “But no one else. This is
our
find, boy! Ours!”

Brad ran across to the campfire smoldering beside their truck. He held his hat over the flames for a moment, then moved it aside. A puff of white smoke rose into the still desert air. He did it again and another puff of smoke rose. When he'd finished sending his message, he spat on his hands, seized a pickaxe, and attacked the road beside Gramps.

The warriors had been watching with interest.

“Sometimes,” said Oxo, “it's very hard to understand humans.”

“Are you all right to go on now, dear?” asked Sal.

“I'm right as rain now I've got rid of that,” said Oxo.

“Oh wouldn't that be nice,” sighed Jaycey. “Some rain!”

They each took a quick sip of water from Gramps's upturned hat, then trotted away.

***

The Boombergs had hoped to rent a truck when they got back to the Bouncing Burger, but there was none to be had so they were forced to make do with a motorbike. While it was being filled with fuel, Holly looked around for clues.

“That's the way they went,” she said, pointing at hoofprints on the track behind the rubbish bins.

Apart from saying “Shortcut,” the sign to Aries End said “No Trucks, No Autos, No Bikes” but Holly Boomberg didn't
do
no. She sped away into the arid hills, doing a wheelie, with Stanley clinging on behind.

Peering ahead, Holly could see puffs of white smoke in the distance. It soon became obvious that she wasn't the only one who ignored road signs. A four-by-four swept past the motorbike in a cloud of fumes and dust. Then another…and another. All kinds of vehicles, motor and horse-drawn, appeared from nowhere, jostling for position on the narrow track.

Gramps and Brad stopped digging and gazed at the fast-approaching swarm of uninvited fortune hunters.

“I'm always tellin' you we should get ourselves a cell phone, Gramps,” said Brad.

“Maybe you're right, son,” agreed Gramps. “Smoke signals ain't that private nowadays.”

He fumbled for a match, then lit a fuse and stuck his fingers in his ears. The explosion that followed was a tad bigger than he'd anticipated; he was a bit rusty when it came to dynamite. It blew out a huge crater of sand and rock, which, though it didn't reveal any gold, did entirely block the track.

As the greedy army of vehicles began arriving, a couple on a motorbike skidded to a halt in front of Gramps and Brad.

“Clear the road!” shouted the woman, glaring at the mountain of impassable rubble behind Gramps. “We have to get through!”

Gramps shrugged. “Not today you ain't, lady, leastways, not on that.” He eyed the motorbike. Brad had always wanted one. “But I'll swap you my mule for that there thing.”

Holly quickly made up her mind.

“Come on, Stanley,” she snapped, and scrambled off the bike.

“Mind she don't bite now,” Gramps called after her, but not loud enough for Holly to hear.

***

Tod and Gran had been locked up for one whole day and a night, which was long enough for them to have excavated a tunnel under the jailhouse wall. Tod had done the digging while Gran carried away the dirt in her hat and found places to hide it. The sun had just come up on the second day of their imprisonment and they were getting excited.

“We're nearly there,” said Tod, wriggling backward out of the tunnel and handing another shovel-load of dirt to Gran. “I can see daylight—it must be from the street.”

Gran had filled the little stove and both bunk beds, and was just starting to top up her handbag with Tod's latest load when they heard Sheriff Tiny arriving in the outer office.

The prisoners scurried to their beds, jumped in on top of their piles of dirt and stones, and pulled the blankets up to their chins. The overloaded mattresses sagged and groaned beneath them. Sheriff Tiny was whistling and carrying a breakfast tray.

“I hope you slept well, ma'am?” he said courteously.

“Like a rock,” replied Gran.

“A pile of rocks,” confirmed Tod.

“I have to do my rounds,” said Tiny, sliding the tray beneath the bars into the cell. “When I come back, we'll have a proper chat about your friend Mr. Rhubarb.” He gave Gran a stern look. “Maybe you'll have seen sense by then.”

“And maybe you'll have seen our sheep,” she replied.

When the sheriff had gone, Tod and Gran devoured the breakfast. After all the hard work, they were starving.

“I've never thought of putting syrup on my bacon,” said Gran as they munched. “Lovely. One to try when we get back home. Maybe with a couple of chillies.”

Tod just nodded. Home seemed an awfully long way away.

They'd just started digging again when the new day's first group of tourists wandered into the sheriff's office.

“Great show,” said one of them.

“Glad you're enjoying it,” replied Gran, thrusting a hatful of stony dirt through the bars. “Get rid of that, would you?”

***

Back in gold-fever country, the warriors had heard the dynamite explosion behind them but they had more urgent things to worry about. Wills was afraid they might be going the wrong way. There were no more signs to Aries End, and the track they were following had become narrower and was descending sharply now, with the steep red hills on either side becoming cliffs, hemming the sheep in. If anything ahead blocked their way, there would scarcely be room to turn round. They would be trapped.

And then Jaycey, who was in front for once, suddenly stopped.

“Ohmygrass…” she whimpered. “He's here. We've foundhimfoundhimfoundhim…”

The other warriors crowded as close as they could to see. There, on the sandy track before them, was the biggest claw print they had ever had nightmares about.