The Case of the Three Rings (8 page)

Chapter Eleven: The Second Ring

O
kay, maybe I cheated a little bit. See, I listed some awful things that could have happened, but not the one that did happen. Here's what actually happened.

Somebody was knocking on the door!

My eyes and Slim's eyes met. “Hank, don't let ‘em leave! Bark, let ‘em know we're in here!”

Aye aye, sir! I flew out of the…BONK…ran into the door frame, I mean, my back legs were moving so fast on the limoleun floor, I lost control there for a second, but I'm no quitter. I got things straightened out and headed for the front door. There, I fired off several blasts of barking that said, “Hey, we're trapped in here and have a man down, repeat, MAN DOWN!”

The knocking stopped. I cocked my ear and listened. The doorknob squeaked and began to turn, and you know, up until that very moment, I hadn't considered the possibility that whoever was out there might be…well, a burglar or even a Charlie Monster. Don't forget, those guys are clever beyond our wildest dreams and they use all kinds of disguises to…

The hinges gave an eerie squeak and the crack in the door widened, and all at once, there stood A MAN. Evening shadows concealed his face…or maybe he didn't have a face. You know, vampires can erase their faces and…huge fangs, dripping with fresh blood?

Fellers, my hair bristled up and I began…

“Where's Slim? Slim? Hey, what happened to the hood of my pickup?”

Holy smokes, it was Loper! Oh happy day! You thought he was a vampire, right? Ha ha. Even I was fooled there for a second. Boy, those shadows and a squeaky hinge will play tricks on your mind.

Slim's voice boomed from the back of the house. “I'm in here!”

Loper brushed past me and headed for the bathroom. In the doorway, he stopped and stared at the scene inside. “What in the world…”

“Loper, I'm in a mess and I'll tell you all about it later, but right now, go down to the shed. There's a hacksaw hanging on the wall. Bring it and that package of fresh blades too. You'll need a bunch of sharp blades.”

A smirkle ripped across Lippers lopes…Loper's liver…Liver's lips…phooey. A smirk rippled across Loper's lips, and he said, “Your toe's stuck in the spigot?”

“What do you think? Yes!
Get the saw and hurry!

Loper studied the situation for a moment, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes. Then he left the room. He came back with a squeeze bottle of liquid soap. “Before I tear up the plumbing and cut off your toe, let me try something else.”

“It won't work. Hurry up! I'm supposed to be somewhere and I'm an hour late.”

Loper removed his hat and brought a finger to his lips. “Shhh. We have a great mind at work in this house. Try to keep your big mouth shut and let me concentrate.” He leaned over the edge of the tub and squeezed soap up into the faucet. “Try it now.”

Slim tugged with his foot and shook his head. “It's swole up. Get the saw.”

Loper set the bottle on the floor and placed both hands on Slim's ankle. “Close your eyes and think about the first time you ate chocolate ice cream.”

“Uh uh! Loper, don't…” In a flash, Loper shoved down on the foot, hard and fast. There was a crunching sound and a big splash Slim squawled in pain. “OW! You tore it plumb off!”

He raised his foot out of the water, and by George, the toe was still attached, and it had a real pretty red ring around it.

Loper straightened up and shook his head. “You are such a baby. Now tell me how it happened.”

“I ain't talking. You'd just say it was stupid.”

“Oh, I will not. Scout's Honor.”

“Promise you won't tell anyone?”

“Slim, what goes on in your bathroom
stays
in your bathroom.”

“Well…” He blinked his eyes. “I just wondered if I could stick my toe in there.”

“That's it?” Loper cackled. “That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. I can't wait to tell Sally May. Ha ha ha!”

“Loper, you're a rat, but I don't have time to talk about it.”

Slim leaped out of the tub, wrapped himself in a towel, and dripped and hobbled into the bedroom, where he started jumping into his clothes.

Loper followed. “Where are you going in such a rush? It must be pretty important. I've never seen you move so fast.”

“I've got a date.”

“With a human being?”

“With Viola, if she's still there.”

Slim limped past Loper, gave him a glare, and went into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he raked his hair with a brush and started building a knot in his necktie.

Loper watched. “How's the toe?”

“It hurts, what do you think? You pret' near jerked it out by the roots.”

“What if you can't get your boot on?”

Slim hadn't thought of that. He stared at himself in the mirror. “I'll wear a house shoe.”

Loper shook his head and chuckled. “Are you going to tell her what happened?”

“Loper, just hush. I don't know what I'll tell her. I take life one wreck at a time.”

“Speaking of wrecks, what did you do to my pickup?”

Slim talked while he tossed his tie into a knot. “That ‘calf' Uncle Johnny told you about? It was a fifteen hundred pound buffalo bull, and he spent some time walking around on the hood of your pickup. Laugh about
that
.”

Loper's smile dropped like a dead bird.

Slim hobbled back into the bedroom and rummaged through the closet until he found his dress boots, a nice pair of black bull-hides that he wore to church and funerals. He pulled on the right one without much effort, but the left one didn't fit his swollen toe. He slipped his bad foot into a sheepskin slipper, pulled on his suit jacket, and showed himself to Loper.

“What do you think?”

Loper looked him over. “Ugly suit, crooked tie, old house shoe. Nice. Viola's a lucky woman.” He gave Slim a pat on the shoulder and left. As he went out the door, he yelled, “I'll send you a bill for the toe.”

Slim put me and Drover outside, grabbed his banjo case, closed up the house, and hurried to his pickup, limping on his bad foot.

We dogs sat on the porch and watched. Drover gave his head a shake. “What if Viola got mad and left?”

I had been worrying about that too. “Then Slim will lose the best thing that ever walked into his life.”

“I kind of wish we could go with him.”

“I agree. If there was ever a time when he needed the support of his dogs, this is it.”

Slim started the pickup and we heard the squeal come from under the hood. “Gosh, I think he just ran over a cat.”

“No, it's some problem with the motor and…why are you staring at me?”

“I just thought of something. If Slim needs our help, why don't we go with him?”

“Because…” I rose to my feet. “Good point. We'll have to jump into the back while the pickup's moving. Can you do it?”

Drover leaped to his feet and his eyes glowed with determination. “Oh yeah, I can do this!”

“Well, let's go!”

We dived off the porch and raced after the pickup. It was moving but hadn't gained much speed, and I noticed that Slim wasn't looking into his side mirror. Do you know why? Because Winkie Buffalo had removed it.

I went flying into the back as gracefully as a deer, then looked back to check on

Drover. He was falling behind. He slowed, stopped, waved goodbye, and went back to the porch.

Oh well, at least one of us from the Security Division would be there to help Slim through his time of greatest need.

But it was too soon to celebrate. Don't forget: We still didn't know if Viola would be there.

Chapter Twelve: The Third Ring

I
wasted no time moving myself to the front of the pickup bed, where I crouched down behind the cab. I didn't think there was much chance that Slim would check to see if he was hauling dogs, but a guy never knows. Just when you think he doesn't notice anything, he notices something.

It was a short three-mile drive down the Wolf Creek road to the old two-story house where Miss Viola stayed with her aging parents. When we pulled up in front of the house, the pickup was making even more noise than before, which is really saying something.

Here's how noisy it was. When we arrived at the house, Viola's two dogs, Black and Jack, came rushing out, barking their heads off and talking all kinds of trash, but when they heard the squeals and shrieks coming from the motor, they did a one-eighty and vanished into the chinaberry grove behind the house.

They didn't know what we had under the hood, and they wanted no part of it.

Or…wait, I just thought of this. Maybe they caught sight of ME in the back of the pickup and, you know, decided that they wanted no part of what I usually dish out to mouthy ranch mutts. That makes sense, doesn't it? You bet.

So, yes, they took one look at me and ran for their lives. I was tempted to chase them down and give them the thrashing they so richly deserved, but, well, Slim and I had important business and I decided to let it slide.

You might say that the squeal of the pickup motor announced our presence. By the time Slim had gotten out and limped his way to the house, the porch light snapped on, the door opened, and out stepped an elderly, stern-faced man with white hair and suspenders on his pants.

Woodrow, Viola's daddy.

He shaded his eyes with a hand and studied Slim with a suspicious look. “What's all the noise?”

“Evening, Woodrow, it's me.”

“Who's me? I can't see a thing.” He snapped on a flashlight and turned it on Slim's face. “Oh. How come you're dressed up? You going to a funeral?”

“I hope not. I came to see Viola.”

“Well, you're too late. She's gone.”

“Gone!”

“Yes sir, we'd just sat down for supper. She jumped out of her chair and left the house, crying. I don't know what got into her head.”

“Any idea where she might have gone?”

Woodrow gave his head a shake. “She took her mandolin. Maybe she ran off and joined the circus. What's wrong with your foot?”

“Horse stepped on it.”

“Well, if she ever comes back, I'll tell her you were here.” He went back into the house and closed the door.

Slim's shoulders sagged and he stood there for a long time, staring at the ground. Then I heard him say in a croaking voice, “I guess it wasn't meant to be.”

He started back to the pickup, walking like a crippled old man, but then he stopped and listened. He'd heard something. I'd heard it too. Music, some kind of instrument. It seemed to be coming from the barn.

Somebody was inside the barn, playing a mandolin!
Could it be…

Slim's face lit up. He reached into the pickup and brought out his banjo case, then headed for the barn, walking as fast as he could on his bad foot.

I slithered myself off the back of the pickup and followed along behind.

He peeked through the window, gave his head a nod, and went inside. When he'd gone, I took his place and looked through the window. There, I saw Miss Viola, sitting by herself on a bale of wheat straw, surrounded by an old John Deere tractor, an army surplus Jeep, and her daddy's Massy-Harris hay baler.

She was playing Slim's favorite song on the mandolin, “The Water Is Wide.” Oh, and I noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed, a sure sign that she'd been crying. I wanted to rush to her side and give her comfort, but didn't dare.

She was so absorbed in her playing, she didn't notice Slim. He opened up his banjo case, pulled out the instrument, sat down on a bale of straw, and began playing along with her. They did the whole song and it sure was nice. Viola had the sweetest soprano voice I'd ever heard.

When it was over, she lifted her gaze and stared at him. “I thought you weren't coming.”

“Viola, I had some trouble and got here as quick as I could. Honest.”

“But why didn't you call? Slim Chance, I've just spent the most miserable one hour of my entire life! And the whole time, I was thinking…I won't even tell you what I was thinking.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

She stared at the floor. “Mom and Daddy went ahead and ate. The supper's cold…everything's turned into a mess!”

“Well, not everything. I'm here and you're here, and I'm fixing to sing you a song.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You're going to sing me a song?”

He wasn't kidding. Remember that pretty song he'd done for us dogs earlier in the day? Well, he sang it for her, right there in the barn. “Viola's Song.” Should we listen to it? Let's do.

Viola's Song

I'm sitting here drinking my coffee.

It rained in the night and more's on the way.

The fog hugs the tops of the caprock.

This valley is looking like heaven today.

The horse pasture's covered with winecups.

They're purple and perfect and covered with dew.

What I see with my eyes are the flowers,

But Viola, I'm thinking of you.

That flat by the creek is a-blazing

With colors of orange and yellow and red.

It's the flower we call Indian Paintbrush.

There's a bunch of ‘em down by the saddle shed.

The air's filled with fragrance of grapevines,

Fresh grass and sagebrush and things that are new.

I'm amazed by the work of the Maker.

And Viola, I'm thinking of you.

God gave us this morning in Texas,

My spirit is nourished and blessed by the view.

There's only one thing I could ask for:

Viola, to share it with you.

What did I tell you? Not bad, huh? Who would have thought that a goof-off like Slim Chance could come up with a tender love song—and perform it in a barn! I mean, I'd heard plenty of his songs and they were about what you'd expect from a guy who drives around in a pickup and sings to his dogs. Not so great. Corny.

But this one revealed a side of him I hadn't seen before, and neither had Viola. She listened to every word, and even played along with him. By the end of the song, tears were sliding down her cheeks.

Silence filled the barn. As if on cue, they both put their instruments in their cases, met in the middle, wrapped their arms around each other, and swayed back and forth for a long time.

At last Viola said, “It's a beautiful song and it says so much about the good heart of the man who wrote it.”

Slim swallowed a lump in his throat. “Reckon you could marry him?”

She looked into his eyes. “Of course I will, you big lug! You're all I've ever wanted, but I thought you'd changed your mind.” She buried her face in his chest. “I'm so glad you didn't!”

“Me too, and I'm glad you didn't run off and join the circus.”

She wiped her eyes and looked at the slipper on his foot. “What happened to your foot?”

He heaved a sigh. He knew this was going to be a long story, so he told her to sit down. He joined her on a bale of straw and told her all about his day: Uncle Johnny, Winkie, the famous bronc ride through Aunt Marybelle's clothesline, and Winkie trampling the hood of the pickup.

She was astounded, laughing one minute and gasping the next. Then he got to the part about sticking his toe into the bathtub spigot. She listened in stunned silence, shaking her head. “There are things about cowboys that I might never understand.”

He rose from the bale of hay and held himself erect. “Me too. Well, let's go break the bad news to your folks.”

He offered his hand and helped her up. “Did you remember to bring the…well, the lock washer?”

Slim snapped his fingers and scowled. “Darn. I forgot it.”

“Slim! How could you forget the ring?”

He gave her a wink and a grin, and pulled a little box out of his pocket. He flipped it open and showed her a real, genuine engagement ring. So that's why he'd made the trip into town! The tiny diamond didn't have much sparkle, but her eyes made up for it. They lit up like the biggest, prettiest diamonds in the world.

Arm in arm, they left the barn and guess who was waiting outside. Me. I was prouder of Slim than I'd ever been in my whole life, and more in love with Viola than ever before, but I didn't throw myself into her arms or jump up on Slim's clean suit.

They were surprised to see me, and Slim couldn't resist grumbling about “disobedient dogs.” At the yard gate, he stopped. “This is as far as you go, pooch. Get in the pickup. If Woodrow goes for his gun, I'll be right out.”

Viola laughed and pulled Slim toward the house. “Come on, cowboy, this won't be as bad as you think.”

They went inside and left me alone. I jumped the fence, sprinted across the yard, and took up a position at one of the living room windows. I mean, how many times does a dog get to see something like this? Hey, I had the rest of my life to sit in the pickup and be a good dog.

Viola's parents sat on a big sofa, and Viola and Slim stood in front of them, holding hands. Through the window glass, I heard Slim's voice—his trembling voice. “Woodrow, I'm here to ask permission to marry your daughter.”

Viola's mother let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Woodrow looked as though he'd swallowed a pickle. Then he roared, “That is the dumbest thing I ever heard! How can you support a wife on cowboy wages?”

Slim straightened his back and raised his voice. “By grabs, I'll do it the same way you done it. I'll work hard and do whatever it takes, and I guarantee that she'll be cared for.”

The old man's eyes flicked back and forth from one to the other. “Viola, daughter, is this what you want, or did he fast-talk you into it?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Daddy, this is what I've wanted since the first day I met him, and I thought he'd never ask. Everything's going to be all right.”

Woodrow shook his head and muttered under his breath. Viola's mother started crying. Wow, things didn't look so great, but then Woodrow pushed himself up from the sofa, hugged his daughter, and offered Slim his hand. “Well, God looks after fools, and He'll sure stay busy looking after y'all two.”

Slim pulled out the engagement ring. “Viola, will you marry me?”

A sly twinkle came into her eyes. “Can I have a few months to think about it?”

“No ma'am, you sure can't.”

“In that case…YES, I WILL MARRY YOU, SLIM CHANCE!”

He slipped the ring on her finger and they flew into each other's arms. Old Woodrow was still shaking his head and Viola's mom was still crying, but maybe they were happy tears.