The Mopwater Files by John R. Erickson Read Free Book Online

Beulah. Their eyes showed the terror of what was about to happen. They knew, just as I knew, that I was about to march into a Battle of No Return.
    It had to be done. I had talked my way into this deal and I couldn’t back down. It was rotten luck that my supply of root stimulator had lasted just long enough to get me into a world of trouble, but that was life.
    When you’re Head of Ranch Security, you don’t make excuses.
    I jumped up into the pickup. The effort of getting there left me drained. The sun was burning me up, wilting me, sucking the energy out of my muscles and bones.
    I lifted my head and looked Shark Face in the eyes. “Okay, Rufus, I guess it’s time.”
    His laugh sent shivers down my spine.

Chapter Eight: Higher Duty Calls Me to Battle

    Y ou probably think that I went into deadly com­bat against Rufus and got myself thrashed. Or maybe you think that I thrashed him—a long shot, I’ll admit, but strange things happen in this old world.
    Well, the truth is that neither happened. Rufus and I were in the Preliminary Growls Stage of the big fight when, much to my surprise and relief, Slim and Billy came walking out of the machine shed and saw us.
    â€œSay, Slim, you’d better get old Hank out of my pickup before Rufus eats him up.”
    Slim came at a run—okay, not exactly a run but maybe a trot. He reached over the tailgate, grabbed me by the tail, and began pulling me backward.
    I must admit that his sudden appearance had made me feel somewhat bolder. When he began pulling me backward, I locked down all four legs, leaned toward Rufus, and added a little volume to my growling. It had kind of a nice effect, the growling plus the screech of my claws on the floor of the pickup bed.
    â€œWell, it looks like they’ve saved you this time, Rufus. One more minute and they never would have pulled me off.”
    â€œHa! One more minute and they wouldn’t have found you, jerk, ’cause you’d have been sawdust.”
    â€œYou’re a big talker, Rufus, and we know you’re the champ at beating up widows and orphans, but one of these days . . .”
    His eyes lit up. “Yeah? One of these days . . . what? Come on, cowdog, don’t stutter. Name the day and time.”
    â€œWell, I . . .”
    â€œMeet me this afternoon on the hill above my place.”
    â€œToday? I’d have to, uh, check my . . .”
    â€œFour o’clock. That gives you two hours to get there.”
    â€œWell, I . . . that’s the hottest part of the day, and don’t you think . . .”
    â€œBe there. And if you ain’t there, you’re nothing but a yella chicken and I’ll be twice as mean to your girlfriend and it’ll be your fault.”
    By that time Slim had gotten a good grip on me and lifted me out of the pickup. Billy said good-bye and drove away. Rufus was sitting on his spare tire, looking like a king on his throne, while Beulah waved a sad good-bye and Plato squeezed himself deeper into his corner.

    When the sounds of the motor faded in the distance, Slim looked down at me and shook his head.
    â€œWell, you dodged a cannonball there, pooch. If I hadn’t come out just when I did, we’d be searching for your bodily parts right now.”
    Yes, I . . . uh . . . realized that, although . . .
    â€œIt ain’t smart to pick fights with the heavy­weight champion of the neighborhood, and some people would even say it’s dumb.” He reached down and scratched me behind the ears. “But just between us dogs, I’m kind of proud of you for thinkin’ about it. I never did care for that hateful thing. How about a little reward?”
    I perked up at that. Yes, a little reward would be nice. Or even a big reward.
    â€œI’d sure like to buy you a steak.”
    A steak? That might work.
    â€œOnly I ain’t got one, so how about doubles on dog food?”
    Plain old ordinary dry dog food? Gee, I