Never Trust a Cowboy

Del took his time riding the fence along the dirt road that separated two Flynn Ranch pastures. He knew he would find the wire down less than a mile off the blacktop, but along the way there was a chance he might run across Lila’s dog. He found himself hoping otherwise. This far from the house, it was bound to be a sad discovery.

A faint set of tire tracks in the dry ground led to the hole in the fence. Three loose strands of barbed wire curled away from the steel post in three different directions. A qualified lawman would be able to get a clue or two, and fixing the fence wouldn’t make too much difference. But it would make some. Not to Del, of course. He’d been a witness. Now he had to figure out where Frank fit in, and he knew better than to ask questions he didn’t know the answers to.

He fixed the wire, and then he followed the fence line until it took a right turn at the highway. There he saw the grass stir. It could’ve been a snake or a grouse, but it wasn’t. He knew before he reached the spot that he’d found the little black dog.

Not quite what he’d expected, but it was small and male and black. Who else could it be? And he was alive, which was a whole lot better news than he’d expected. Del whistled. The paper crinkled as he unveiled the chunk of cheddar.

“Got some cheese for you, Bingo. Come and get it, boy.” He sank to his knees, and the pup bounded through the grass and pounced on the cheese. Del’s left knee cracked in protest as he stood with his arms full of wiggly, scrawny, finger-licking dog. “I thought you’d be fuzzier. How’d you get this far from home on such short legs, huh?” The dog seemed a little young, but maybe that was because he was scared and hungry. He rooted around Del’s shirt, struggled to get his nose in Del’s scratching hand. “That’s all I’ve got, boy, sorry. We’ll go get you some more. Lila sure is gonna be happy to see you.”

But she wasn’t.

She petted the pup’s head, but she wouldn’t take him in her arms. “He’s cute enough, but he’s not my dog.”

“What do you mean, he’s not your dog?” Del put the dog on the ground, let him check out the furniture legs on Lila’s front porch. “I found him not three miles from here, nobody else around. He fits your description. He’s— You’re pullin’ my leg, right?” The dog sniffed Lila’s bare toes. “He likes you.”

Then he abandoned bare toes for black boot.

“Hee-yah!” Del ordered, and the dog looked up and cocked his head as though he needed a translation. And, of course, he did. Forgetting himself—more like forgetting his cover—Del had spoken in Lakota, his father’s first language. “No. Don’t you dare.”

The dog wagged and whined.

Lila laughed. “He likes you even more.”

“Only because I fed him. Hell, he loves cheese, just like you said.” He jerked his thumb toward the porch steps and told the dog, “Show her you know where to pee.”

Lila folded her arms imperiously. “He’s not Bingo. He’s too young, and he’s not even a terrier.”

“He’s a little black dog. Bingo?” The wagging speed doubled. Del had to reward such obvious name recognition by picking him up again. “Yeah, Bingo. She’s messin’ with me, ain’t she?”

“He’d wag his tail for you if you called him Stupid. He’s not my dog.”

“Damn.” Del lifted the dog’s muzzle and looked him in the eye. “You sure?”

“I’ve never seen him before. I’ll ask my kids’ parents when they drop them off, but my guess is, you’ve found yourself a dog.”

“What do you mean, myself? I’ve been looking all over hell for your dog.”

“He doesn’t have a collar. Either somebody dropped him off or...” Lila scratched the furry head. “Are you lost? Did you run away? Speak.”

“Ruff!”

“Aw.” Del put the pup down and offered a hand. “Shake.” Paw plopped into hand. Del flashed Lila a grin. “And you can just tell he’s housebroken, too.”

“Lucky for you,” she said. “Because I’m not looking for a dog. I’m looking for my dog. Unless somebody comes looking for him, the finders-keepers rule applies.”

“I like dogs, but there’s no way.”

“Yes, there is. I see the will in your eyes.” She glanced at the dog. “And thirst in his.” She retrieved a pan of water from the other end of the porch and set it down. They watched him go for it. “Bingo... When he comes back, Bingo will let him stay with you, but not with me. So you’ll have to take care of him, and you might as well start now.”

“No, I can’t...” Del slid the pup a sympathetic glance. “Somebody’s been teaching this dog tricks. That somebody’s looking for him as we speak.”

“And if that somebody comes to call, you’re in luck. Or out of it, which would be—” Lila levered an eyebrow and growled “—ruff.”

“I’m bettin’ somewhere there’s a kid crying over this dog.” The eyebrow arched again, and he groaned. “You got some food for him?”

“I have all kinds of stuff you’ll need for him. I’ll drop it off in the bunkhouse. And I have kids coming this afternoon. I promise I’ll ask about him.”

“They’ll love him.” And they’d all play with him, give him a name.

“If nobody comes looking for him, you’ll have to get him vaccinated before he can be around my day care kids.” She patted his arm. “I’m holding out for Bingo.”

“I looked all over, Lila. This little guy needs—”

“All over? You’ve only been here a couple of days. This place is a lot of all over.” She watched the pup for a moment, stepped back and shook her head. “It was an honest mistake. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

“You’re not. I was on my way to find Brad.” The little black dog was right behind Del when he left. He turned, looked down at the wagging tail, the expectancy in a pair of big brown eyes, and he chuckled. “Yeah, you can come along.”

“Wait!” she called after him. “I’m...” He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I’ll get you some dog food.”

“Leave it in the bunkhouse.”

Del walked away muttering, “The hell with her,” to the dog. If she was interested, the woman heard him. If she wasn’t, a little curse didn’t matter to her anyway. But he was pretty sure he still had her attention, pretty damn sure he was getting under her skin right now.

“And we both know there’s more’n one way to skin a cat,” he whispered to his new companion. “Ain’t that right?” Then he laughed at himself for conjuring an image of peeling Lila’s T-shirt over her head. “Skin the cat” was one of his dad’s crazy sayings.

“The hell with her” was not.

* * *

Del found Frank cleaning a saddle in the new barn. One wall of the tack room was lined with racks stocked with saddles and hooks heaped with bridles, all in beautiful condition. Frank was a true horseman.

“Brad back yet?”

“Haven’t seen him.” Frank tapped the lid on a can of saddle soap. “He took his pickup. I don’t think he was too serious about checking cows. Not from a pickup.”

“The fence was down about a mile off the highway on the cut-across. All three strands cut.”

Frank dropped the can into a rubber tub. “Could be kids.”

“There were tire tracks. I don’t know why kids would go to all that trouble, though. Not the best place for a party. Nothing left behind. No cans, no bottles, no butts.”

“Did you fix it?”

“For now. Should be replaced.”

“You rode the fence line on horseback?” The older man’s face lit up. “There’s wire out in the shop. We’ll load some up, drive over and do it right.”

“I can take care of it now. Just say the word.”