The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper by John R. Erickson Page B

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    Okay, let’s pause here a moment to . . . remem­ber Blue Heron’s intelligence report about four stray dogs crossing the road ? Well, I had been on the lookout for those scoundrels all night and had more or less expected them to show up at . . . well, any moment. And sure enough, here they were: Buster and Muggs and their gang of town thugs.
    Remember them? They were tough cookies. They loved to fight and tear things up and . . . hmmm.
    They were just as shocked to find us as we were to find them. We glared at each other for a long time, then Buster broke the silence.
    â€œSay, what is this? Who are these chumps?”
    Muggs was bouncing up and down. “It’s the jerk, Boss, the same jerk that was the same guy that got us shot at.”
    Buster grinned. “Oh yeah, the Head of Ranch Security.”
    â€œThat’s the guy, Boss, that’s him, he’s the jerk, and that’s him right there.”
    â€œI got it, Muggsie, I got it. Only this time he’s got two pals with him, don’t he?”
    Muggs was still bouncing around. “He sure does, Boss, ’cause I counted ’em myself, one-two, and the jerk makes . . .” Muggsie’s eyes went blank.
    â€œThree, Muggsie. One, two, three.”
    â€œThree. Okay, I counted four, but maybe it’s three.”
    â€œIt’s three. The question is, what are they doing out here?”
    â€œI don’t know, Boss, but I can ask him. You want that I should ask the jerk?” He whirled around and faced me. “Hey jerk, the boss wants to know what we’re doing . . . the boss wants to know how many jerks . . . I don’t know what he wants to know, jerk, but you’d better tell him real quick, you hear what I’m saying? Huh? Huh?”
    I pushed Muggs’s nose out of my face. “Hello again, Buster. What took you so long to get here? I thought we agreed to meet at midnight.”
    Buster narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you talking about, numbskull? We came back to chase your cows, and that’s what we’re fixing to do.”
    â€œOh. So you’ve decided to cancel the fight?” I turned to Rip and Snort. “I guess you were right, guys. They’ve chickened out. I thought we had a fight lined up, but it seems they’re scared.”
    Buster pushed himself right into my face. “Wait a minute, pal. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but me and my boys ain’t scared of nuthin’ or nobody, understand? And who was it that said we was chicken? I’d like to meet him before he, shall we say, loses his health.”
    Muggs got a big laugh out of that. “Oh, that was good, Boss. ‘Loses his health.’ Har, har, har. I liked that one.”
    â€œThanks, Muggsie. Now, speak to me, cowdog. Talk. Who said we was chicken?” I pointed to Rip and Snort, who were watching all of this with puzzled expressions. “Oh yeah? Those fleabags called us chickens? I think that’s very funny.”
    When nobody laughed, Buster whipped his head around and glared at his boys. Suddenly they filled the air with yucks and laughs. Buster turned his crooked grin back on me.
    â€œMe and the boys, we think it’s very funny that a couple of fleabags would think that we’re chicken.”
    â€œYeah? Well, that’s what they said. I heard them myself. But if I were you, Buster, I’d be careful what I called them. They’re very tough guys.”
    His eyes widened. “Are they now? Pretty tough, huh?” He swaggered over to Rip and Snort and looked them over. “Well, they smell tough. They stink. Can you smell these mutts, Muggsie?”
    â€œOh sure, Boss, I smell ’em all the way over here. And they stink, too.”
    â€œYeah? That’s what I thought. And Muggsie, do they look kind of scrawny to you?”
    Muggsie laughed. “Har, har. Yeah, Boss, they’re about the stinkingest scrawny fleabags I ever