THE CASE OF THE WATERMELON PATCH MYSTERY; CHAPTER SIX: MY INVESTIGATION INTO THE MURDERS BEGINS (PART 6 OF 14)

THE STORY SO FAR: Coons in the watermelon patch? That is the big news on the ranch. Worse yet, those pesky coons had ruined 37 of the watermelons that Sally May had wanted to sell to buy a new couch.

We reached the field and went bouncing across the edge of the alfalfa until we came to the spot where Slim and Loper had plowed up some ground and planted the watermelons. We all got out and walked to the scene of the crime.

I went right to work, sniffing for clues. It didn't take long. All the evidence was there: coon tracks, coon scent and a number of trashed watermelons.

Loper shook his head. "Dadgum coons. One more night of this and we can forget about Sally May's new couch."

Slim shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and squinted off into the distance. "I hate gettin' beat by a bunch of thieving coons. It kindly sours my whole attitude."

"So what do you reckon?"

"I reckon," Slim hitched up his pants, "that me and the dogs just might camp out here and do some coon patrol."

Loper shook his head. "You don't need to do that, Slim. This watermelon business is kind of a deal between me and Sally May."

"Yalp. But after that Headless Cowboy prank I pulled on her and the dogs, I need something to get back on her good side."

Loper chuckled. "Yeah, you kind of stepped into a bear trap there."

"I've always had a way with the women. Me and Hank." His eyes swung around to ... well, ME, you might say. "I can always depend on Hank to back me up in the goof-off department."

Loper went over to one of the melons that hadn't been damaged and thumped it several times. He listened to the sound made by each thump. "My guess is that they need to ripen for another day or two. What do you think?"

Slim thumped the melon and listened. "I think ... that I never could learn much by thumping a watermelon, but the insides of that one there," he pointed to one of the busted melons, "tells me that you might be right."

"Well," said Loper, "if you don't mind camping out, I know Sally May would appreciate it. Can you stay awake all night?"

Slim's gaze swung around to me. "Nope, I'm pretty sure I can't, but if these dogs will bark a warning to wake me up, I think we can make it work."

Loper frowned at me and grumbled something under his breath. I wagged my tail and gave him my most confident cowdog smile. Yes sir, they had picked the right dog for this mission. I couldn't make any promises for Drover, but I would be there in full battle dress wide awake and ready to teach the coons a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

"Well," said Loper, "a guy hates to trust his crop to those two clowns, but that's where we are."

I turned to Drover. "He just said something about two clowns. Have you seen any clowns running around here?"

"Well, let me think here." He wadded up his face in a look of great concentration. "I saw two chickens this morning."

"No, chickens won't work. He said clowns."

"Clowns. Let me think. Nope, I haven't seen any clowns."

"Hmmm, yes, same here. This is very strange, Drover."

"You don't reckon he was talking about ... us, do you?"

I glared at the runt. "Us? Clowns? You must be joking. We are the elite forces of the Security Division of this ranch."

"Yeah, but. ..."

"Let me finish. We're the dogs who protect this ranch from night monsters and hairy gorillas."

"Yeah, but. ..."

"And I don't think it's very respectful of you to suggest. ..."

But you know what? Drover was right. Our cowboy "friends" had in fact suggested that we were ... well, nothing but a couple of clowns. I know, because just then I noticed them grinning at us, and then Slim said, "Well, they're clowns, all right, but maybe they can bark if the coons attack. They seem to get a thrill out of barking all night when you're trying to sleep."

Clowns, huh? I had never been so insulted. Just for that, I beamed them Wounded Looks and switched my Tail Waggeration over to a little tapping routine we call "I Can't Believe You'd Say That About Your Loyal Dogs."

Did it help? No. They chuckled over their own stale jokes and told us to load up into the back of the pickup.

Sometimes I think they don't take my job as seriously as they ... oh well.

We hopped into the pickup and drove back to headquarters. And just a few hours later, the adventure at the watermelon patch began.

NEXT CHAPTER: Forget the chickens and clowns. Things get serious.