LITMIR.BIZ

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of us who live with it day and night, tend to refer to things in heavy-duty technical terms.

      I mean, it’s just second nature to us, and I guess we forget that most of the world doesn’t understand big scientific words. I’ll try to keep it as simple as possible, but you must bear in mind that . . .

      All at once this seems a little boring.

      Okay, where were we? Yard gate, that’s where we were. I had just run an S.A. of the area around the yard gate, and, yes, it turned up positive for Little Alfred. The little stinkpot was running loose, and since I couldn’t hear him making the sounds of bulldozers or dynamite, I suspected that he was up to no good.

      I crept up the hill and checked it out. Ah yes, there he was, roping chickens in front of the machine shed. That was good clean entertain­ment for the boy. Roping cats might have been even better, but I noticed that Pete was nowhere in sight.

      Pete was no mountain of intelligence, but he had figgered out that rope business. The moment Little Alfred stepped out the door with a loaded rope in his hands, Kitty-Kitty tended to vanish.

      And somehow the world always seemed a better, brighter place when Pete disappeared.

      Well, the boy was busy and happy roping chickens, so I went back down to the yard gate to run a more thorough search for scraps. It was then that I heard Drover’s voice.

      “Hank, have you counted to four yet?”

      “Not yet, son. We’re at 3.5 and holding. Just be patient.”

      “I’ll try, but I sure could use some scraps.”

      “I understand, Drover, but we mustn’t jump the count. The entire universe is like a giant clock, with mathematics as its spring. If we ignore the numbers, there’s no telling what might happen.”

      “What?”

      “No!”

      I sniffed out the ground just outside the gate. Nothing, not a single trace of eggs, bacon, or even burned toast. For a moment I considered going through the gate into Forbidden Territory—into Sally May’s yard, in other words—but I was well aware that dogs weren’t allowed there. I was also very much aware of the consequences of getting . . .

      On the other hand, she was nowhere in sight, and Little Alfred just might have left a few juicy morsels of breakfast scraps within the fence, and rather than run the risk of letting Pete devour all the scraps, I decided to make a small penetration of the yard.

      My front paws crossed the line. I waited and watched. No sign of Sally May or her broom. I moved forward, causing my hind paws to cross into the Danger Zone. Still no sign of Sally May.

      Well, this could mean only one thing. She had softened her position on Dogs in the Yard and had finally realized that a yard with dogs is a safer yard.

      A happier yard. A better yard in every way. And it’s true. A yard without a dog is like a house without a home.

      Well, now that she had come to her senses on that score, I felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted off of my soldiers. Instead of creeping and cringing, cowering and crouching, flinching at every little sound for fear that I might be thrashed with a broom, I loosened up and began to enjoy my new freedom.

      I was SO proud of Sally May for working out a compromise on the yard business. I mean, even your bigger and tougher breeds of dog can admire a nice, well-kept yard, with its mowed grass, edged edges, neat little patches of flowers here and there, shrubbery . . .

      And speaking of shrubbery, I passed one of her shrubberies and noticed that it had never been marked. Can you imagine that? This poor little shrubbery had been on the ranch for . . . what? Two years? Three? A long time, and it had never been marked.

      The poor, lonely little shrubbery! Well, you know me. As long as I have an ounce of strength and an ounce of fluid left in my body, I’ll be glad to share it with a shrubbery, and I did. And just to be sure that Pete got the message, I gave it two coats.

      “LEAVE MY SHRUBS ALONE, YOU NASTY DOG!! SCAT!”

      Huh?

      The voice sounded a lot like Sally May’s, and when the first rock bounced off my ribs . . . OOF! . . . I was almost sure that it was . . . OOF! . . . Sally May speaking.

      You see, she kept a small pile of rocks beside the back door, almost as though she had planned all along to use them on, well, stray dogs or some­one who had penetrated the sanctimony of her precious yard.

      What we had here was a simple case of mistaken identity, and rather than run the risk of further confusion, I ran for my life and moved my business underneath the car, which was parked just beyond the yard gate.

      From this vantage point, I peeked out at the field of battle and noticed that . . . hmmm. Slim and Loper had joined her on the back porch.

      Slim was loaded down with suitcases. Loper was carrying Baby Molly, a diaper bag, and a fold-up high chair.

      It appeared that someone was leaving the ranch.

      Chapter Two: Code Name “Abilene”

      From my bunker position, I homed in on their voice frequencies and picked up these bits of information:

      1. Sally May and Loper were going to Abilene to attend the wedding of . . . someone. Two people. Two people were getting married—a man and a woman.

      2. One of the alleged persons-to-be-wed was Sally May’s cousin.

      3. It appeared that Loper had resisted the idea of attending the wedding, arguing that he had a month’s work to do on the ranch and no hope of getting caught up.

      4. To which Sally May replied: “If it was a team roping, a rodeo, or a dog fight, you’d be caught up in a New York minute, but when it comes to my kinfolks, you always seem to be snowed under!”

      5. Loper seemed to have no answer to that. He scowled up at the clouds and tugged at his necktie and mumbled, “This thing’s choking me to death. I’ll have brain damage before we reach Guthrie.”

      6. Slim wore his everyday cowboy clothes and a big smile. I got the feeling that he was enjoying all of this.

      7. Sally May pointed out that wearing a tie once or twice a year wouldn’t kill Loper, and even if it did, she “just might enjoy the insurance money”—whatever that meant.

      8. Slim laughed out loud. Loper glared at him and his lips formed words I couldn’t hear.

      So there you are. Those were the clues I amassed from my observation point beneath the car. Pretty impressive, huh? You bet it was.

      Oh yes, one last detail.

      All at once Baby Molly began to cry. Loper bounced her around in his arms, then handed her over to Sally May. “Here, Ma, your daughter’s calling you.”

      Sally May took the baby and got her settled down. Then she turned a pair of steely eyes on Slim. “Slim, I’ll be honest. I have some misgivings about leaving you in charge of my house and child.”

      He nodded. “Yes ma’am, I can understand that, sure can.”

      “You will feed my child something while I’m gone, won’t you?”

      “Oh yes ma’am.”

      “Vegetables?”

      “You bet, lots of vegetables.”

      “He needs to take a bath tonight and brush his teeth after every meal.”

      “You bet.”

      “At bedtime, I usually read him a story.”

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