THE CASE OF THE WATERMELON PATCH MYSTERY; CHAPTER 8: HANK AND BEULAH MEET, BUT IS IT A DREAM?

We pulled beside the watermelon patch and lurched to a stop. It was such a lurch, in fact, that I was thrown from my position on the spare tire into the cab of the pickup.

The cowboys do this all the time, slam on the brakes just to see if they can dislodge me from my seat on the spare tire. Why? Because they get some kind of cheap thrill out of watching me scramble and stumble around in the back.

This time, it might have been an accident, since Slim didn't laugh or make any cute remarks. That's OK. I can tolerate an accident every now and then, as long as they're not trying to be funny.

Slim got out and started unloading gear. He spread out his bedroll on the ground, built a little fire out of some old cedar posts, and put the coffee pot on to boil.

While he was doing that, I unloaded and made a quick pass through the watermelon patch, just to see if we'd had any visitors since morning. Everything appeared to be just as we'd left it. I returned to camp and sat down on the bedroll beside Slim.

And Drover? He remained in the back of the pickup, curled up and shivering in a little white ball. He's such a chicken.

Slim poured himself a cup of coffee and the waiting began. We stared at the fire for what must have been hours. It certainly seemed like hours. At first Slim responded to every sound by shining his flashlight into the darkness, but after a while, when nothing unusual showed up, he stopped.

He began to yawn. His body slumped lower and lower as it yielded to the powerful gravitational pull of the bed. I knew what was coming: a typical combat operation on this ranch. The cowboys fall asleep and leave all the dirty work for the dogs.

I tried to bring this to Slim's attention. I barked several times and gave my tail a vigorous wag. Did it do any good? Not a bit. The first time I barked, he said, "Dry up, pooch, you'll wake up the coons."

Very funny.

The second time, he stretched out on the bedroll and said, "Wake me up when we get to the good part."

And with that, he began to snore, leaving me with full responsiblity for the success of our mission. OK, fine. That's what I get paid for, doing my job and covering for everybody else around here -- those who fall asleep on guard duty, those with phantom leg injuries, and those who are just too lazy to take care of business.

I won't mention any names.

It was just me out there on the Front Lines, me in the pale yellow light of the moon, me guarding Sally May's precious melon crop.

You're probably asking yourself, "How did that heroic dog manage to stay awake when all his comrades were falling asleep?" Easy, and I can sum it up in two words: iron discipline. When all else fails .... zzzzzzzzzz.

I'll admit it. I fell asleep on the job. But don't forget that Slim and Drover did too, and Slim had been the very first to nod off.

Oh, and I also dreamed. Beulah? Was that the lovely Miss Beulah of the flaxen hair and the long collie nose, with the light of love shining in her soft brown eyes? Ah yes, 'twas her! She hadth come to find the one enduring love of her life.

I saw her. She saw me. Our eyes met and our gazes reached out and twined round each other in an embrace of timeless, boundless love.

"Oh Hank!" she gasped.

"Oh Beulah!"

"Oh Hank, oh!"

"Oh Beulah, oh!"

"We've waited so long for this moment."

"Yes, Beulah, and at last the moment has arrived. I am here and you are here, and here we are."

"Yes, Hank, here we are. Mere words can't express what I feel at this moment."

"Well, let's skip mere words and move on to a big old kiss."

I took a step toward her. She took a step toward me. In her eyes, I saw the stars and the moon and a whole new life for the two of us, because we were the only dogs in the world. I reached out and pulled her to me and...heard a strange voice?

I had just embraced someone, but it wasn't Beulah.

NEXT CHAPTER: Who in the world is Hank hugging?