LITMIR.BIZ

      “Ten Chicken Marks.”

      I left him there, cringing behind the garbage container. What a weird little mutt. I’ve thought many times about laying him off, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It would break his mother’s heart if he got fired. I mean, she always thought he’d grow up to be a bum and the sad part is that he did.

      This gives you a little glimpse into the problems I face, running this ranch. The cowboys don’t listen to their dogs and my assistant in the Security Division is a little scaredy-cat who hides behind trash cans. And cold northers blow in without consulting me.

      Oh well, we trudge on.

      A horn blew outside the house. An unidentified vehicle had arrived and Slim came thundering out of the bedroom. Good, he was wearing more than his underwear this time, and was actually dressed in his Winter Outfit.

      I was just standing there, minding my own business, and he stampeded right over me. “Out of the way, dog, it’s Loper, and I’ve still got to saddle my horse!”

      Well, excuse me!

      He blundered his way into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed his Portable Breakfast, a boiled turkey neck. Back in the living room, he took a bite, pulled on his brush jacket, slapped on his felt hat, grabbed his chaps and a flashlight, and yelled, “Dogs, outside, chop chop! We’re burning daylight.”

      For his information, we were not burning daylight. There wasn’t any daylight to burn. It was still black dark, but I got his point. He wanted us out of the house. That must have been the hidden meaning behind “chop chop.” It meant “hurry up.” I guess. Who knows what these guys are trying to say?

      While he took another bite off the turkey neck, he held the door open and I slipped outside. Drover lollygagged behind and squirted through the opening. Out on the porch, he felt the wind and said, “Oh my gosh, it’s freezing out here!”

      He happened to be right. That was a nasty, cold, north wind, and it cut like hot butter through a wooden nickel.

      A pickup and stock trailer were parked in front of the house, the motor running and the lights on. Nobody had cleared this with me, so I rushed…okay, it was Loper, so I passed him through Security. I mean, he owned the ranch.

      Slim switched on his flashlight and headed toward the saddle shed. Loper got out of the pickup and followed. “You’re not saddled yet?”

      “No, I ain’t saddled yet, ‘cause you showed up thirty minutes early. You said to be ready at seven. It’s six-thirty. At seven o’clock, I’ll be saddled and ready.”

      “Well, you’re always thirty minutes late, so I came thirty minutes early.”

      “He told us to be there at daylight, seven-thirty. You can’t gather cattle in the dark. What’s the point of showing up early to a roundup?”

      “I’d rather be early than late.”

      “I know. You think it’s fun to show up early, so we can all stand around in the dark and talk about how dark it is.”

      Loper laughed. “Boy, you’re a bundle of joy in the morning. You must have missed your coffee.”

      “I did, ‘cause you pulled up in front of my house and started blowing your stinking horn—half an hour early.”

      “So no breakfast?”

      “I’m eating it right now.”

      “Probably bacon and eggs, grits, hash browns, and pancakes with maple syrup.”

      “Turkey neck. You want a bite?”

      “Ha. No. Hurry up.”

      They ducked their heads against the wind, held onto their hats, and headed for the saddle shed. I followed, just to make sure they didn’t mess anything up. I have to keep a close eye on those two.