The Case of the Midnight Rustler Read Free

sounded like.
    The last gasps of a drowning victim? A diesel engine that needed some repair work?
    It appeared to be coming from the bed of the pickup, so I slipped around to the rear, went into a deep crouch position, leaped up into the back end, and landed right in the middle of something huge and hairy.
    Yikes, what was that thing? A huge fur coat? A dead horse? Whatever it was, it had a head, a BIG head, and it rose from the dead, so to speak, and revealed two sleepy eyes. For a long, tense moment, I stared at it and it stared back at me.
    At last I was able to fight back my feelings of shock and surprise and say, “I don’t know who you are, fella, but don’t get any smart ideas. We’ve got this place surrendered.” I stared at him. “Sur­rounded, I should say. Holy smokes, are you a horse or a dog?”
    I mean, this guy was HUGE!
    He grinned and yawned and spoke in a slow voice. “Howdy. Name’s Brewster. Where we at?”
    â€œYou’re in the back of someone’s pickup, Brewster, but also on my ranch. That’s the part that concerns me. I’m the Head of Ranch Security, you see.”
    â€œAw heck. Last thing I knew, we were in front of Uncle Johnny’s house. I guess I fell asleep.” He yawned again. “Takes a lot of sleep to keep this old body percolatin’.”
    â€œYes, that’s a large body, Brewster.”
    â€œThanks. Everybody says that. I don’t feel all that big, but I guess I am.”
    â€œYou are, believe me. I’d guess you’ve got some St. Bernard in you somewhere. I’m not the kind of guy who talks about other dogs having big feet, but those feet of yours are really something.”
    â€œYeah.” He stood up and stretched. “They always said that I got my big feet and gracefulness from the St. Bernard side, and my ferocious disposition from the German Shepherd side.”
    He grinned and yawned again. That made about three yawns in the space of three minutes. Then he lumbered over to the endgate of the pick­up, and in the process of doing that, he bumped into me and stepped on my foot.
    It felt like I’d been stepped on by an elephant and run over by a truck. I squalled.
    He gave me a sleepy look. “Oops, sorry. I’m a little awkward first thing in the morning. Takes me a while to wake up.”
    â€œHey Brewster, it’s not the first thing in the morning. It’s going on ten o’clock, and around here, we figger the day’s half over at ten o’clock.”
    â€œYep, and if a guy’s going to catch himself a nap, he ought to do it in the middle of the day.”
    He lumbered back to his spot at the front of the pickup, stepped on my foot again, and flopped down. The whole pickup shook when he bedded down. He crossed his paws in front of him and rested his chin on the paws. Then his eyes appeared to roll back in his head.
    â€œJust one moment, Brewster. I have some questions I’d like to . . .”
    â€œSkaw, snork, skrunk, zzzzzzzzzzz.”
    The window of opportunity had slammed shut. Brewster was asleep again.

Chapter Three: Chosen for a Dangerous Assignment

    S o there I was, looking down at a sleeping horse in dog’s clothing, and I still didn’t know what he was doing on my ranch. I wasn’t much inclined to wake him up again. I mean, this dog was obviously a threat to the health and safety of everyone around him. He could land a guy in the vet clinic just by walking across the room.
    Those were the biggest feet I’d ever seen, and boy, did they HURT when they stepped on you!
    I left him where he lay and returned to the machine shed, in hopes that I might be able to listen in on Uncle Johnny’s conversation and piece together a motive for his presence on my ranch.
    I knew there was a motive somewhere, had to be. For every action, there’s a reaction. For every auto, there’s a motive. Uncle Johnny’s auto was still