The Case of the Three Rings (2 page)

Chapter Two: Slim's Fateful Decision

D
rover and I were on our way to the kitchen to wish Slim the good-morningest of good mornings, when we met him coming into the living room. He had just finished gnawing on a cold turkey neck. He wore flannel pajamas, his hair was a mess, and there was an odd expression on his face: distracted and very serious.

The man had something on his mind and that was odd. I got the feeling that he'd been thinking about something during the night and we were fixing to hear about it.

I gave Drover the signal to cancel Happy Dog and Good Morning, and we shifted into a program called Dogs Who Listen. It's a dandy program but pretty difficult to pull off. It requires that we mirror the moods of our people, don't you see. If they look thoughtful, we look thoughtful. If they want to talk, we listen.

The reason it's a tough program is that it requires a high level of concentration. As you might expect, Drover isn't very good at that, because he has a lot of trouble staying on task. When we're doing Dogs Who Listen, we can't scratch or fall asleep. You'd be surprised at how crabby our people get when they confide in their dogs, and we scratch or fall asleep.

We sat down on the living room floor and waited to hear what this was all about. Wearing a deep scowl, Slim paced two circles around the room, then stopped beside the stove and stared at the floor. “Dogs, I can't sleep. A week ago, I done a terrible thing and it's eating me up.”

Drover and I exchanged glances. What was this? Slim had done a terrible deed and we didn't know about it? I inched closer so that I could hear every word.

“I asked a fine lady if she'd marry me, and she said yes. Now my conscience won't give me a minute's peace. I think she was feeling sorry for me, is why she said yes, and I'm betting that she's changed her mind, only she's too nice to tell me.”

He looked down at us. “I've been brooding about it all week, and the truth just came to me. I've got nothing to offer Viola. She needs to forget about me and go on down the road. I'll wait till eight o'clock and then I'm going to call her up and tell her the deal's off. She'll probably cry for two minutes, but for the rest of her life, she'll thank the Lord that I let her off the hook.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “There, the decision's made and maybe I can get some sleep.” He shuffled off toward the bedroom. “Hank, if I ain't up by eight o'clock, bark me out of bed.”

And with that, he was gone. I was too stunned to speak, and my mind drifted back to that day a week ago. Yes, I remembered it very well. In a snowstorm, Slim and I spent five hours gathering a hundred head of steers off a busy highway and driving them five miles back to the ranch. He was ahorseback, I was afoot, and Miss Viola drove ahead of us in the pickup. Fellers, that was one of those times when the weather wasn't fit for man nor beets. We're talking about brutal cold.

Slim caught a bad chill and came down with galloping pneumonia. Miss Viola had to drive him to the hospital (he fought it every step of the way, as you might expect). He slept most of the way into town and seemed to be out of his head with the fever, but all at once he sat up straight, looked at Viola with a crazy expression in his eyes, and said, “You know, me and you ought to get married some time.” Then he went back to sleep.

I was right there in the cab of the pickup and saw the effect it had on Miss Viola. It made her so happy, she laughed and cried at the same time. She was afraid he wouldn't remember what he'd said, but two days later, when he got out of the hospital, he asked her again—and even slipped a lock washer on her ring finger (he didn't have an engagement ring). She cried with joy and threw her arms around his neck.

For a whole week, Drover and I had adjusted to the new reality. Slim had finally come to his senses and had done what every sane human and dog had known all along: that he should put a ring on that lady's finger and let her start planning for the future.

And now he was going to call her up and tell her the deal was off?

I couldn't believe it. I COULD NOT BELIEVE IT! Didn't he know that she'd been waiting for years for him to ask the Big Question? I mean, it was so obvious, even the dogs knew it.

Remember all the times she'd volunteered to help him haul hay and move cattle? All the dozens of cookies she'd baked for him? The times she'd taken care of him when he was hurt and sick, all the meals she'd cooked for him?

Any man with a brain in his head would have seen the glow on her face when she was around him, but Slim…oh brother! Sometimes the man drove me nuts. He had a treasure in his hands and now he was fixing to throw it away.

I turned to my assistant. “Drover, if he makes that phone call, I'll be forced to take drastic action.”

Drover's gaze returned from the vapors. “Oh, hi. What's a plastic reaction?”

“If he backs out of the engagement, I'm going to bite him.”

“Yeah, chewing plastic's kind of fun.”

“I'll probably lose my job, but I don't care.”

“You sure got in trouble for chewing the plastic handle on Sally May's garden trowel. Boy, she threw a fit.”

“What? Viola threw a fit?”

“No, Sally May.”

“Sally May threw a fit because Viola was chewing plastic? Drover, what are you talking about?”

He stared at the floor and shook his head. “I don't know. It's three o'clock in the morning and nothing makes sense. I'm going back to bed.”

He shuffled over to his favorite spot in front of the stove, flopped down, curled up into a ball, and went right to sleep. What a weird little mutt.

Oh well. He'd been right about one thing. It was three o'clock in the morning and my bed was calling me back. I scratched around on the bare carpet, hoping to soften it up a bit (no luck there) and flopped down.

My body cried out for sleep, but I already mew that slop wooden crumb...sleep wouldn't come. My mind was just…purple onion Spanish rice chicken coop…my murg was just too wound up over that bushwhack with Slum…that business with Slim. If only the bananas wore cufflinks, the whooping cough wouldn't be any the wiser…murf bop pattywhack, give a dog a bone…snurf snicklefritz mulligan stew….zzzzzzzzzz.

Okay, maybe I finally drifted into a troubled sleep, after tossing and turning for hours and worrying myself sick over Slim Chance and his latest bonehead idea. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was awakened by the sound of footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw…good grief! There was some kind of monster—nine feet tall, and he had vampire teeth and three horns sticking out…

Wait, hold everything. Ha ha. You can fool Hank the Cowdog once in a row, but never twice. It was Slim, dressed in flannel pajamas, and he didn't fool me, not even for a second. Okay, maybe for one second, but it was no big deal.

I rose to my feet, took a good stretch, and glanced around. Daylight was showing through the windows, so it must have been around eight o'clock. Wait! Hadn't Slim told me to do something at eight o'clock? My mind raced back to that strange encounter I'd had with him in the middle of the night.

Oh yes, he'd told me to bark him out of bed, but he was already out of bed, stumbling around the house and slurping on a cup of coffee. Should I bark anyway? Maybe so. I mean, a dog should follow orders, even when they seem pointless. I barked.

“Hank, dry up.”

See how he is? He tells me to bark at eight o'clock, I bark, and he snarls at me to “dry up.” Nobody understands how hard it is to be a dog around here.

He raked the hair out of his eyes and reached for the telephone, and now I remembered what he'd said in the middle of the night: he was going to call Miss Viola and tell her their engagement was off. And do you remember what I'd vowed to do if he made that call?

I had taken a solemn vow to BITE HIM, in hopes of preventing him from making the dumbest decision of his life. Through some miracle, he'd made the right move and asked her to marry him, and now he was on verge of blowing the whole deal to smithereens—
because he felt he wasn't good enough for her
!

How dumb was that?

Hmm. You know, come to think about it, he had a point. I don't mean to be cruel, but let's look at the facts. The guy had skinny legs, big feet, and a long nose. In the morning, he looked like a vampire. He ate boiled turkey necks and sandwiches made of ketchup and canned mackerel (that's really bad stuff). He seldom washed his dirty dishes and was prone to sing corny songs to his dogs.

You add that all up and you get…why was she interested in such a man? I mean, the evidence just screamed out the verdict: SHE WAS TOO GOOD FOR HIM!

In other words, Slim had arrived at a sensible decision and was fixing to do what any honorable man would have done, call her up and tell her that he'd made a terrible mistake. That left only one question unanswered: would she remain an old maid, or would she marry…well, ME, for example?

I'm not one to honk my own canoe, but while we're looking at evidence, let's pull out the file on me. Check this out:

• Long, handsome cowdog nose.

• A great set of ears.

• Wonderful personality, worlds of charm.

• A deep, manly aroma.

• A noble heart.

• Years of distinguished service heading up

the ranch's Security Division.

Pretty impressive, huh? You bet. The only lady dogs in Texas who weren't wild about me were the ones who'd never met me, and that couldn't be helped. A dog can't be everywhere at once.

Did I deserve Miss Viola's love and devotion? Absolutely, you bet. But one small problem stood in our way. I was a dog, and there was no chance that she would ever marry me.

Sigh. What a bummer. Okay, back to Slim and his phone call.

Chapter Three: The First Ring

S
lim paced around the house like a caged coyote. He tugged on his chin, stared at the floor, waved a finger in the air, and muttered to himself.

“If I make this call, I'll be burning a bridge. It could change things forever, ‘cause I don't think I'll ever meet another woman like her.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Hank, I know I ain't worthy of such a lady, but…well, she seems to like me.”

Yes, it was hard to explain.

“If she thinks I'm good enough, maybe I am…or could be.” He began stalking around the room again. “I'm an honest man and a hard worker. I know I'm not wealthy…”

You're a pauper, but she doesn't seem to care.

“…but I'd try to give her the things she deserves.” He stopped pacing, scowled at the floor, then looked at me again. “Hank, what should I do?”

You know, I had figured something out. If Slim never saw Viola again,
neither would I
, and you know how I felt about her. She was the sweetest, kindest woman I'd ever known. She was a great cook, a true friend, and she liked dogs, especially me. The thought that I might never see her again forced me to take charge of this deal.

Through wags, growls, and facial expressions, I gave him some fatherly advice.

“Meathead! For years, she's waited for you to come to your senses. For years, everyone on this ranch has been telling you that you'd better latch onto that lady, but did you listen? Oh no! And do you know why? Because inside your head, where the brain's supposed to be, you've got a big rock.”

He gave me a peculiar look. “Are you growling at me?”

I plunged on, unable to control my emotions. “Yes, I'm growling at you, because you're worse than a meathead. You're a quitter! The lady is worth fighting for, so get off your tail, quit moping around like a sick calf, and act like a man. If you mess this up, pal, I will bite you every day for the rest of your life. I will howl all night long and you'll never get any sleep. I will chew your slippers and drag dead skunks into your yard.”

Boy, I gave him the full load. I can't say that he understood every bit of it, but the expression on his face began to change. A look of steel came into his eyes. He glanced around the room and straightened his back.

We'll never know if he would have made that phone call, because he didn't get the chance. At that very moment, we heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house.

“Huh. I wonder who that could be.” He walked to the window and peeked through the dusty, moldy curtains that had been there since the Civil War. His eyes popped wide open and he let out a gasp. “Good honk, it's Viola!”

He must have realized that he was walking around in pajamas, and you know how cowboys are: they want everyone to think that they get up every morning at four-thirty and do chores by the light of a kerosene lantern. I don't know why, but they're all that way, and the last thing they ever want is for someone to catch them flopping around the house in pajamas at eight o'clock in the morning.

And you talk about a stampede! Slim wasn't exactly an electric personality first thing in the morning, but seeing Viola's pickup built a fire under him. He stepped on Drover, tripped on me, knocked over a chair, and went flying down the hall to his bedroom, where he began tearing off pajamas and pulling on jeans and a shirt.

He even managed to run a brush through his hair. Good. Now he didn't look so much like a vampire.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Slim had just enough time to button two buttons on his shirt before he opened the door. Oh, and get this. I noticed that he'd put on his shirt wrong-side out.

He threw open the door and…my goodness, there she stood, wearing a shy smile on her lovely lips. Slim stared at her (so did I, so did Drover) until he was able to say, “Why, Viola! What are you doing here?”

“May I come in? I won't be long.”

“Well, sure, yes, come in. The house is kind of a mess, but…sit down.”

She stepped inside and gave her head a shake. “I can only stay a minute.”

“Is something wrong?”

She looked at him with clear blue eyes. “Slim, I don't know how to say this except to say it. I think we should call off the engagement.”

Wow. You talk about DEAD SILENCE. You could have heard a flea crawling over the carpet. Slim couldn't have been more shocked if he'd seen a Martian. At last he was able to croak, “How come?”

She pressed her lips together and squeezed up a brave smile. “I'm honored that you asked, I really am. It made me very happy, but I don't think it will work.” Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip. “Let's face it. I'm not much of a catch. Now I have to go.”

She whirled around and was on her way out the door when he grabbed her arm. “Wait, don't leave.”

She gave her head a vigorous shake. “If I don't leave, I'll cry.”

“That's okay, cry all you want.”

She came back inside, flopped down in a chair with two recent issues of
Livestock Weekly
in the seat, buried her face in her hands, and cried. Slim stood beside her and patted her on the shoulder. “Did you say that you're not a good catch?”

She nodded and peeked out from behind her hands. “Of course! I'm a silly old maid. I live with my parents and drive my daddy's ranch pickup. I'm not glamorous, fashionable, rich, or talented. For ten years every bachelor in the county has walked past me, even the ones that were older than Moses.”

“Well, my dogs sure like you.”

I couldn't believe he said that
. What a clod! I mean, it was true, but what a dumb thing to say to a lady! It sent her into another burst of crying and left him wondering what to say next. Me? I was ready to bite his pockets off.

He fidgeted and shifted his feet and ran his gaze around the room, and finally said, “Let me tell you something.” He told her about the phone call he had planned to make. “See, you got it all backwards. You're everything a man could want, and I'm just an old boot. It don't seem like a fair deal for you.”

She brushed a tear away and looked up him. “You were going to tell me
that
?”

“Yes ma'am, only I didn't quite get around to it.”

She broke into a laugh. “How funny! We've been engaged for a whole week, yet on the same day, each of us decided to call it off. That's funny.” She glanced around the room. “Well, where does that leave us?”

Bewildered, Slim made his way over to his easy chair and sat down. “I don't have any more idea than a rabbit. One minute, I'm so scared I can't sleep, and the next, I'm too excited to sleep.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everything—making a living, supporting a wife, changing my socks every day.”

“Don't you suppose that most men have those fears? When it's done right, marriage is a big change.”

“All I know is that you're causing me to lose a lot of sleep.”

“Well, it shouldn't be so painful. Maybe we should just call it off. We can still be friends.”

The steel returned to Slim's eyes and he leaned forward in his chair. “Yeah, but I don't want to be your friend. If I let you go, I'll be kicking myself for the rest of my life. I don't deserve a lady as fine as you, but if you'll have me, I'd sure like to be your…” He choked and coughed. “…husband.”

She smiled. “Is it that hard to say?”

“Yes ma'am, it's going to take some practice.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Here's an idea. You think about it all day. If you decide that we should do it, come for supper tonight at six. You can ask Daddy's permission.”

Slim's eyes bugged out. “Ask Woodrow? You'd better hide his gun or he'll shoot me.”

She laughed. “Oh fiddle, he will not. He's been trying to marry me off for years.”

“Well…I guess we'll find out.”

Viola's face grew solemn. “But remember,
you don't have to come
. If you don't, that will be your answer and I'll understand.” She reached into the pocket of her coat and handed him the lock washer. “Here's your ring back. If you come tonight, we'll start from scratch. If you don't come…well, you'll have an extra lock washer.”

“Does that mean you'll say yes?”

She gave her head a cute little toss. “I might. You won't know unless you show up.”

“I'll be there, you can bet on it. All I have to do is feed cows today. I might even have time to take a bath.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “You'd better!”

She got up to leave and he followed. At the door, he reached his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “When you're around, everything feels right.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest. “That's a good sign, don't you think?”

“Yes ma'am, I do.”

“Slim, you've
got
to stop calling me ‘ma'am.'”

“Yes ma'am.”

She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “If you decide to come, bring your banjo. We'll play for Mother and Daddy. And your shirt is wrong-side out.”

With that, she floated out into the cold morning air, leaving a hint of delicious perfume lingering in the room. It smelled a whole lot better than Slim's old boots.