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// Arc 1: Madame Moonshine's Curse 
// Story: Hank the Cowdog: The Case of the Displaced Dog 
// by KarmaSentinal 
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It’s me again, Hank the Cowdog and this ain't the ranch. I should know this because as Head of Ranch Security, it’s a must to know not only your ranch, but the surrounding terrain as well. That and after years of run ins with cannibals, one-eyed horses, snakes, losing Drover and all sorts of other unexplainable encounters you come to know the land very well. 

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes.. this is most definitely not the ranch, or anything close to it. In fact this isn’t any of the other neighboring ranches either. How do I know all of this you ask? Well besides the obvious lack of High Looper, Slim, the house, the gas tanks or my lazy assistant Drover- I certainly don’t remember any sort of rail tracks running smack dab through MY jurisdiction. I would never authorize such a massive waste of space running through the ranch and interfering with the daily lives of its residences.  

Even if that perfect example of a long haired collie named Beulah were to right now walk up to me and ask if she could lay these tracks in the middle of my pastures, I’ll puff out my chest and tell her no.. even if she stood there bashing those lovely brown eyes my way I’ll still tell her maybe.

I mean no. 

The point is there were never any tracks, especially train tracks on the ranch I didn’t know about. Personally, I’ve never seen train tracks before, but my good old mother use to tell me stories about my adventuring uncle Click-a-de-clack who would travel throughout Texas and sometimes as far as Kansas living his life unbound. Sure, he missed his family and would tell us this the rare few times he would turn up and visit, but he would quickly just as turn down the option to finally come back. The rails were his ranch and he wasn’t about to leave them behind. 

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious. Many times in my long life I have danced with the temptation to resign from my duties, but only through my sharp disciplinary standards and the thoughts of Drover taking my gummy sack for himself kept me on track. 

Haha, you get it? Track.. Rail Track? Because I’m following them and just finished a story about my train traveling uncle? 

I guess my advanced sense of humor is too much for the moment, moving on than. 


So, with that knowledge and the understanding that these iron logs always led to some sort of town and station, I made the logical choice and began walking alongside the tracks with high hopes I’ll be back in my gummy sack by nightfall.

That was two days ago and I still have yet to find a town, let alone another soul that could perhaps point me in the right direction. 

This heat wasn’t helping matters either- high in a perfect noon arc, the sun dominated the sky as it enacted its master plan to produce a heatwave so large that no creature except a snake could survive. Luckily, this diabolical plan was thwarted by yours truly because the sun failed to take into account my tried and tested skills. 

Besides, this sun wasn’t all that hot but in fact was as cool as a February afternoon. I have endured many July summer days in the past, most with little to no water to last me from lunchtime to my afternoon debriefings with Drover under the gas tanks. But sadly nothing is immune to fatigue and that includes my legendary endurance; everything has its limits and I was fast approaching mine.  

The pads of my very tender paws were split and cracked from all of the constant walking, but nonetheless I weathered thru the storm.. or was it stormed thru the weather? Whatever the saying is, I saddled up and pressed on knowing just beyond those far off hills is the town I seek. Clearly this was the logical conclusion since the last two or three hills failed to produce a town and so the hills on the horizon must have the town behind them. A concept so simple I’m continually surprised many of the ranch’s residents just can’t grasp it. 

Then again I am a very learned dog. 

Against all the negatives of my situation, I honestly found it kinda refreshing.The most recent time I can remember striking out on my own to do any sort of wondering like this was back when I had briefly became an outlaw.. I mean went undercover to stop a coyote invasion. Grueling stuff that was and certainly not for the faint of heart to stomach; luckily I’m a tough purebred cowdog and so by default I was the best choice to undertake such a mission. 

Real top secret stuff you know. So, naturally I can't release any specific details but let me tell you it was dangerous, exciting, age-mutton everywhere, but most of all dangerous! After, that mission things calmed down so quickly that I was mostly left with patrols, but in my kind of work it's a sign that meant you’re doing all right.

Just now during all of this talk about adventure and roaming, something very important just came to me. A realization so real and life changing that it could very well define not only my career as Head of Ranch Security but very possibly my life here onwards..

 I’m terribly thirsty. 

Yes, it's true sadly. Despite my dashing good looks and my near supernatural work ethic I am but a simple dog just like you. Well, perhaps not just like you if you’re a cow, horse, bird, raccoon, or a scaredy bird dog, but the point is we’re all mortal. We all raise with the sun, and lay down with the moon after a good old day’s work. 

With the hard true firmly established that I’m no super dog, but a normal dog it does kinda make my achievements all the more amazing doesn’t it? 

Oh yes, water. I really would like some water, not too much but just a sip or a gulp.. maybe two gulps for the road but nothing more than that. Even that sewage puddle Drover and I bathe in is sounding mighty all right. I’m so thirsty that even Madame Moonshine’s potent Moon Drink would hit the spot right now. 

But if I couldn’t have a drink than I needed to find some shade and fast; it's days like this that my coat became a hinderance but without any water or shade than I could nothing but force myself to bear the discomfort. Never before have I panted so hard and so much that my very mouth dried up like a desert lake in the middle of a Texas summer. I swear I could even taste the finely coarse dust every time I breathe!

Ok, so it turned out it was actual dust I was breathing in and I nearly coughed my lungs out but thanks to a breathing exercise I had learned, quickly managed to fix this problem. 

As soon as I was able to breath normally once more, I was wobbed with another gust of dirt which started the process all over again. I even got some in my eyes! This sudden sandstorm forced me to look away as I shielded my eyes with my left paw. How can a sandstorm just appear out thin air without a single gust of wind?

Under such a devastating display of mother nature, I had turned away from the annoying flying grains of dirt and sand making sure to keep my head low. With my sight momentarily hindered, I began emptying my mind of every distracting thought. Now, let me mention something first before you go and grab the pitchforks and water hoses; this is technique used by the coyotes but as long as it’s used by a professional such as myself than it isn’t dangerous. 

You see, living in the sometimes harsh and yet always unforgiven open prairie can at times leave an individual losing something important to their survival. The coyotes, while still uncivilized and just a mean old lot all around do have some pretty useful skills that many dogs like myself could use. This was one of a couple I was taught in my brief life among them. 

  Out in the wild, if you were to lose one your five senses than.. well let's just say you’re going to hit rock bottom very soon. Anyway, the coyotes had developed a way to fight this handicap by heightening the other senses to make up for the lost of another. 

Ingenious uh? I sure know how you feel but let me be your trustful first pawed source and say it's the real deal.

I started off by clearing the clutter in my mind and in a small way somewhat enjoyed the emptiness. The feeling of having this constant stress and worry just lifted off my back was refreshing, but I digress. By clearing the mind it's told the emptiness frees up the brian’s responsibilities to divert more time and energy to other functions, namely your senses. 

So, the theory is by clearing the mind when one of your senses is missing, you can supercharge the remaining scenes to make up for the lack of one. An interesting concept that made t acknowledge some of the coyote’s intelligence, but strictly speaking I can’t publicly disclose this for fear the masses may panic, but between us two I think we should be fine.

I had remained still as the mini ‘storm’ pelted my exhausted tail, but this was a necessary sacrifice. Because like all good things in this wonderful life, you have to wait for it. The effect wasn’t noticeable at first but soon I could feel this old world magic trick working, starting with the very ground I was standing on. The ground around me was still.. more like sleeping. it was strange and a bit scary even but the longer I stood there the more I began to “see.”

The darkness was extensive but every so often there was movement.. a ping? I’m not sure how but to my right I knew there’s a lizard hidden under a rock and that further behind me, off to my right there were dozens of these pings going off. So many in fact that I lost count before the high pitch ringing became too much for my ears. 

My entire “vision” collapsed that instant and the mild irritation from my eyes became unbearable once more. Quickly, I feel forward as I madly battled the microscopic invaders occupying my sight, and after a few good rubs I was able to see again. Granted, to say I could see was pushing it. My vision was blurred and watered down from the tears but nonetheless I could see well enough. 

Oh, and the aches and pains returned to remind this old dog he was still mortal. My survival training and rushed coyote lessons have kept me alive for these last couple of days, and to lay down now would be a discredit to my breed and profession. I knew what had to be done and with a soft grunt I turned about face.. only to find the sandstorm had vanished!

I swear by that old barnowl and her giant snake I will get them back.

Whatever she had mixed into that portion of hers has not only involved dark magic of the most scary kind, but it has left this cowdog lost. Not only have their actions left the ranch in peril but I’m so tired that my mind is started to play tricks on me; most of it I chalked up to simple exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and a mild onset of a little thing I like to call Droveritice. I’ll admit the name could be better but it’s sort of a play of words in a way. The joke is every time that runt steps into the sun, moments later he’s back in the shade and out like a light. 

The only difference here is I don’t have any shade to hide under and take a nap.

Right before I lost my concentration, I felt a cluster of pings a ways off ahead of me, almost following the very same tracks. Each ping was big. I know that now but other than being a herd of free-roaming cattle or horses I don’t exactly know what they were.

The thought of running up and through them, barking and howling as they ran and mooed put a smiled on my face but that was a short lived notion when I remembered the other times it wasn’t as fun. The sad part was I didn’t get any paid leave for my valiant service to the ranch!

 But that did bring up the most important fact about this revelation and that is a herd of some kind lives in this land and therefore must know where the watering holes are and if I’m lucky their ranch house is. So, it would make sense they might be heading to one right now, especially on a day like this.  

My sight was still a little weary but I could see straight enough to follow the tracks and with the sun egging me on I once more resumed my increasingly bleak journey. I never was good at betting, something I learned quickly in my youth but here I was putting my entire hand into this gamble by following these rail tracks to either help or an early retirement.