The Case of the Wandering Goats. John R. Erickson

that you’re eating?”

      “Turkey neck. I buy ‘em ten pounds at a time and boil ‘em up. They’re better than you think. There’s three more in the ice box if you want one.”

      The deputy made a sour face. “No thanks.” He sat down in a chair and I went over to say hello. He rubbed me on the ears. “Morning, Hank.” He glanced around the room. “Boy, times have really changed.”

      “What is that supposed to mean?”

      “When I was a kid, going to the movies on Saturday, we never saw Roy and Gene dragging around the bunk house in their shorts. Back then, a cowboy was a hero, an example for the youth of America. It’s kind of sad, the way things have gone downhill.”

      Slim nibbled on his breakfast. “You know, I was thinking the same thing about law enforcement. Back when Marshall Dillon was in charge of things, average tax-paying citizens never had to worry about a deputy banging on the door at seven o’clock in the morning. Bobby, what are you doing here?”

      “I brought you a pot of greens. I thought you might be grateful.”

      “Bobby, what are you doing here? And you can skip the fluff.”

      The deputy’s eyes roamed the ceiling. “I had a little favor to ask.”

      “That’s what I figured. What?”

      “How much do you know about goats?”

      Slim gnawed the meat off another vertebra. “Hank, heads up.” He flipped it in my direction and we’re talking about a long shot, all the way across the room. I snagged it. Yes! Slim was pleased. “That dog ought to be playing college basketball. I don’t know anything about goats and it makes me a happy that I don’t. If I had to learn about goats, it would take brain space away from more important things. Why?”

      “There’s twelve head of ‘em running a-loose on the creek.”

      “How’d you know that?”

      “At 5:06 this morning, I got a call from your future daddy-in-law.”

      “Woodrow? Heh. He can’t sleep past five o’clock, so he calls people.”

      “He said he had a herd of goats in his yard and they were eating Rose Ella’s flowers. He and Viola tried to pen ‘em, but they scattered.”

      Slim stared at him. “Good honk. Who owns goats around here?”

      “The ag teacher bought ‘em for the FFA kids at school. Something spooked ‘em in the night. They tore down the pen and headed south. They’re worth some money. They’re show goats.”

      Slim gave that some thought. “I saw that movie when I was a kid, had some good songs in it. No, that was ‘Show Boat.’” Deputy Kile groaned and shook his head. “But the point is that I’ve got work to do on the ranch. Remember back when you had an honest job? You had to get things done and earn your wages.”

      “I’ve already cleared it with your boss. He said getting you off the ranch for a day will improve everything.”

      “Sounds like something he’d say.”

      “I’ll have to deputize you. Raise your right hand.” Slim’s right hand was holding the stub of a turkey neck and he didn’t raise it. “Do you solemnly swear?”

      “No.”

      “Too bad. You’re in the County Militia. Here’s your badge.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a plastic badge, and pitched it to Slim. He caught it with his left hand and looked at it.

      “Bobby, you ain’t funny. I’ve told you that before.”

      The deputy laughed. “It came out of a box of cereal, but here’s the deal. The school board wants the goats back and I need some help. And, frankly, you owe me.”

      “How do you figure that?”

      “That day in the winter when your wheat pasture steers showed up on the golf course. Remember that? Your dog stole a hamburger from a lady at the Dixie Dog drive-in and the dogcatcher was fixing to haul him to the pound. Who bailed you out of that deal?”

      “Maybe.”

      “And there’s another way of looking at it.” The deputy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We might have to rope some of those goats.”

      Slim’s eyebrows shot upward. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place!”

      “I’ve never tried to rope a goat, have you?”

      “No, but I never let ignorance get in my way. I’ll rope anything with hair. When do we start?”

      “Right away, but Slim, there’s one more thing.” The deputy’s face became very solemn. “You’ll have to put on some clothes. When you ride for the County, you have to set a good example for the children.”

      They both laughed. “Bobby, you run a good joke right into the ground.”

      The deputy rose. “I’ll go get my horse and meet you at headquarters at nine. Saddle your best roping horse and gather up all the pigging strings you can find.”

      Deputy Kile walked to the door and was about to leave, when Slim said, “Hey, Bobby?”

      “What?”

      “You’ve got chewing gum on the seat of your britches. It kind of tarnishes your image.”

      The deputy twisted around and looked. “Grandkids. I’ll be there at nine, don’t be late.”

      He left and Slim finished his breakfast. I, uh, sensed that he needed some help and sat down at his feet. See, I knew he still had some turkey bones sitting on the paper plate in his lap. Was there any chance…

      “Where’s Stub Tail? He might want some too. Drover?”

      Stub Tail was hiding under the bed and didn’t deserve any breakfast. I, on the other hand, had attended the entire meeting with Deputy Kile, and surely that was worth a bonus.

      I licked my chops and squeezed up a Groan of Desire. When Drover didn’t appear, Slim shrugged. “Well, the world is run by them that shows up. Here, pooch.”

      He set the plate on the floor in front of me. It contained the last two turkey vertebrae and I had big plans for them.

      But just then, Stub Tail came creeping out of the bedroom, and suddenly I faced a Moral Delemon. Would I share my stash of bones with him?