Read Online The Case of the Hooking Bull by John R. Erickson - Free Book Online Page B

l-lately.”
    â€œLately? All right, maybe I’ve backslid a little and maybe I haven’t scrimped and saved as much I should have, but that don’t mean . . . son, I’m a-fixing to drown, buzzards wasn’t built for swimming!”
    â€œM-m-maybe our d-d-doggie f-f-friend will he-he-help you. H-hi, d-d-doggie.”
    I dipped my head at him. “How’s it going, Junior?”
    â€œOh f-f-f-fine, except P-p-pa’s f-fixing to, uh, d-d-drown to d-d-death in the w-w-w-w-w-w . . . stock t-t-tank.”
    â€œWell, I could probably help the old wretch, if he’d just show the courtesy of asking for it.”
    Wallace thrashed and sputtered. “Forget that, pooch! I ain’t a rich bird and I ain’t got much to show for all these years of toil and woe, but I’ve got my pride, yes I do, and I have never accepted help from my supper!”
    I shrugged. “In that case, I hope you enjoy drowning as much as I’ll enjoying letting you.”
    At this point you’re probably sitting on the edge of your chair, wondering if I actually let the old buzzard drown.
    Yes, I did.
    Or let’s put it this way. To find out if Wallace drowned, and if I was eaten by hungry cannibals, you’ll have to keep on reading and go to the next chapter.
    I’m out of room for this chapter, see.

Chapter Eleven: A Buzzard Family Feud

    O kay, we had one buzzard drowning in the stock tank and another buzzard perched on top of the windmill tower. Pretty exciting, huh?
    I lifted my head and spoke to Junior, up on the tower. “I’ve done all a dog can do, Junior. I guess you’re about to become an orphan.”
    â€œOh d-d-d-darn. H-he’s so s-s-s-stubborn. And g-g-g-greedy.”
    â€œHelp! Son, is that all you can say after all I’ve done for you, after all the wonderful times we’ve enjoyed together? Just think of all the many dead skunks we’ve shared.”
    â€œY-y-yeah, b-but y-you always g-g-g-g-got the s-s-skunk and I g-got the s-s-s-stink.”
    â€œNo, I never, sometimes you say the most hateful things, Junior, I cain’t imagine where you come up with ’em, but the point is that I am a-fixing to DROWN!”
    Junior didn’t say another word. Neither did I. We just watched as the old man thrashed and squawked and sputtered. His ugly bald head went under two times, and that second trip seemed to have made an impression on him.
    â€œSay there, neighbor, I don’t reckon you could spare the time to help a poor old buzzard who’s down on his luck, could you now?”
    â€œOh, I might. Do you suppose that poor old buzzard could say please?”
    â€œNO, I CERTAIN DON’T THINK . . .” His head went under again. “Yes, by crackies, I sure think we could . . . dog, would you please grab a-holt of me and spare me from this fate of drowning to death?”
    I dog-paddled out to where he was and offered him a paw. He took the paw AND the leg, climbed up on top of my head, pushed me underwater, and hopped up on the rim of the tank. When I came up, he was sitting there, dripping water and glaring at me and the rest of the world.

    â€œThat’s what you git for tryin’ to force manners on a buzzard. It ain’t natural.”
    â€œDoes that mean the same as ‘thank you’?”
    â€œNo, it sure don’t. I ain’t sayin’ thank you to no pot-lickin’ ranch dog, and in fact, I’m a-takin’ back the ‘please’ I just said.”
    Junior almost fell off the tower when he heard that. “Y-y-y-you c-c-can’t d-do th-that, P-p-p-pa. Y-you c-c-can’t t-t-take b-back p-p-pleases, once y-you’ve s-s-s-said ’em.”
    Wallace glared up at him. “Who says I cain’t? If I gave it, I can take it back. If I said it, I can un-say it. If I offered it in the spirit of brotherhood, I can unoffer it in the spirit of true Buzzard­hood.”
    â€œB-b-but P-pa,