Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: BORED - Begins 1-11-18 / Ends 1-18-18 (01/11/18)
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TITLE: Happy Dance | Previous Challenge Entry
By Virgil Youngblood
01/17/18 -
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“Look who’s here,” he grunted; “a Buffalo soldier and the Lone Ranger.”
The taller of the two deputies was a burly white man with a sheriff’s badge pinned on his tan shirt. Kelly spoke. “Are you Harry Cloud?”
“That’s the name my father gave me seventy seasons ago. But call me Chief or H. Cloud. I never did like Hairy.” He lifted the glass of amber liquid swirling it around. “Hair of the dog,” he said, taking a sip and grimacing.
“Step outside Mr. Cloud. We have a complaint about you torturing a dog.”
The chief shuffled out, quickly pulling the door closed.
“You guys been talking to that old squaw that lives over yonder?” he asked. Chief pointed to a shanty hiding in a brush covered yard. “She’s crazy you know. She floated down the river a few times with my Pappy, but he never married her. Don’t pay attention to that hooty owl.”
“Thornton, read the complaint to Mr. Cloud.”
Deputy Thornton fished a folded paper from a pocket. “The caller didn’t give a name. Said a H. Cloud on Turkey Trail tortured a dog. She heard the poor thing crying all night and Cloud yelling and cursing. This morning a German Sheppard missing a tail limped out of Cloud’s house and disappeared in the woods.”
“Your name’s Cloud and you live on Turkey Trail,” Kelly said, glaring first at Chief then toward the towering pines nearby. “We take animal abuse seriously. Do you deny hurting that dog?”
“Last night,” Chief said, “me and Little Moonbeam – that’s my legal squaw ‘cept she’s not so little now, we were at our wit’s end. It’s been that way for weeks. Same old same old. The Redskins didn’t even make the playoffs and there ain’t a Potawatomi worth watching on TV. You know that, don’t you?”
“Well, Moonbeam bumped a stump when she brought me a cruddy glass of carrot juice to drink. Thought it might help our constitution or sum’pin. I lost my cool and threw Pappy’s tomahawk at the flat screen.” The chief took another sip of whatever was in the glass. “Thought you guys were from the cable company when you knocked.”
“Mr. Cloud, where is the dog’s tail? How about we come in and take a look around?”
“Nope! Moonbeam don’t wear clothes on hot days. You don’t want to intrude on that woman. Hell hath no fury or sum’pin like that. She’d hit the warpath a ‘running.”
Kelly reached behind his back and got a pair of handcuffs. “Turn around Mr. Cloud. We’re going to the station. It will give you something new to think about while we locate the woman that called us. We have her number and we can do that. Then you can confront your accuser. You want to get your moccasins on or go like you are?”
It was mid-afternoon when Thornton brought Chief home.
Moonbeam, wearing a gauzy red robe and a wide smile, greeted him at the door. “Well, great hunter, you weren’t content. You wanted change -- you got it.”
“Those deputies, they are dumber than a post,” Chief said. “They don’t know north from south.”
“Chief, haven’t I said your mouth would put you in the hoosegow? Why’d they let you go?”
“The lady they brought to the jail eyeballed me and yelled ‘You arrested the wrong man!’ A real princess she was. She had a grudge against her neighbor on the south end of Turkey Trail. Hickson Cloud’s poodle pooped in her yard one too many times. She’s cooling her heels in the slammer for filing a false report.”
“Mistaken identity,” Moonbeam said, grinning; “A new story to tell the grandkids.”
“While I was in a holding cell,” Chief said, “I picked up a Gideon Bible. “I read, Be content with such things as you have. You got any carrot juice left?”
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