The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting (3 page)

Chapter Four: A Severe Double Bumblebee Sting

I
went to Full Reverse on all engines and backed my nose out of the pipe. It was beginning to sting and burn.

My nose, not the pipe. Pipes don't burn.

“Drover, I need to ask you a personal question.”

“Oh, okay. Ask me anything. I just hope I know the answer.”

I glanced over both shoulders and lowered my voice. “This conversation must be held in strictest confidence. I don't want it to be blabbed all over the ranch, in other words.”

“Sure, Hank. I'm no blabber.”

“Great. I was hoping you'd say that. Drover, do you see anything on my nose—such as a single red mark that might indicate the sting of a bumblebee?”

He twisted his head and studied the soft leathery portion of my nose. “Well, let's see here. Nope, I sure don't.”

“Hmmm. That's odd. I could have sworn that something stung me on the nose. In fact, I'm pretty sure something did, which would account for this burning sensation. But you don't see a red mark?”

“Nope, no red mark.”

“That's strange, even odd. Because you see, Drover, I feel a pulse pounding inside my nose, almost as though it were beginning to swell up.”

“I'll be derned. I don't feel a thing.”

“Yes, well, you wouldn't feel a thing, Drover. You see, if my nose were stung by a bumblebee, you wouldn't feel it.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I would feel it, but you wouldn't.”

“I've got it now.”

“And you don't see a red mark on my nose? Are you sure?”

He squinted at my nose. “No, I sure don't see a red mark.”

“Hmmmm. That's very strange, Drover, be­cause . . . something is happening to my nose.”

“No, I see
two
red marks, but not one.”

I stared at him. “What did you just say?”

“Me? I said . . . well, let me think here. I can't remember.”

“Did you say something about
two red marks
on the end of my nose?”

“Well, let's see. Yes, I might have said that, sure might, but that's not what we were looking for, so I didn't want to bring it up, I guess.” All at once his eyes widened. His ears jumped and his mouth fell open. “
Two red marks!
Oh my gosh, Hank, you don't reckon you were . . .”

“Hush! I know what you're fixing to say, and don't say it.” I cut my eyes from side to side. My data banks whirred and clicked. My nose throbbed. “Two red marks, Drover? Are you sure? Count them again.”

“Okay. Let's see. One. Two.”

“One more time, Drover, just to be sure. You might be seeing double. You might have miscounted. It happens all the time. And let me remind you that we're looking for the telltale signs of a bumblebee sting, which would be
one red mark on the nose.
”

“Okay, here I go. One . . . oh my gosh, Hank, there's another one . . . two! There's two little drops of blood on your nose, and you don't suppose . . .”

“Hush! We're not looking for drops of blood, you moron! Bumblebee stings don't draw blood. We're looking for one small inflamed red area, that's all. For the last time, do you see it?”

“Well, let me check it again . . . no, I don't see it.”

“Fine. Great. That means I was mistaken and nuffing hes heppened to may nothe.”

He stared at me and twisted his head around. “Gosh, you're sure talking funny all of a sudden.”

“Mo, you wong, Bovuh. I'm mot talking fummy. Thomething must be wong wiff you ee-uhs.”

“My what?”

“You ee-uhs.”

“My what?”

I put my nose in his face and raised my voice. “YOU EE-UHS! Those things om you het dat you use to heeuh wiff!”

“Oh my gosh, Hank, all at once I can't understand what you're saying, and I think your face is swelling up, and maybe that's why you're talking funny. And Hank, do you know what this might mean?”

“Yeth, of cose I thoo. It meanth that I wath sthung on the nothe by two bimblebeeth, not one.”

He rolled his eyes around. “Well, that's not what I was thinking.”

“I don watt to heeuh what you are tinkink, Bovuh, because there wath not a rittlesnake in the pipe. It wath two bimblebeeth, pewiod!”

“Well, okay, whatever you think. I can live with that if you can.”

“I wiss you wooden pudd it dat way.”

“What?”

“I thed, I wiss . . . I tink I bettuh go thee Thally May. Thumping's wong wiff my nothe.”

All at once I was feeling very strange—lightheaded, faint, woozy. That pounding pulse in my nose was getting stronger by the minute. And yes, Drover had been correct in thinking that my nose was beginning to swell just a bit.

Quite a lot, actually.

All at once I was seeing parts of my face that I'd never noticed before, and I seemed to be looking at them with eyes that were growing smaller and smaller, almost as though they were . . . well, swelling shut, so to speak.

The sting of a bumblebee will do that, cause a guy's face to swell up, and two stings in the same general area will increase the swelling by two or three times.

Yes sir, we had definitely taken two direct hits on the nose by an angry bumble . . . and yes, I had a strong feeling that Sally May should be informed that her Head of Ranch Security had . . .

See, some dogs are allergic to the sting of a bumblebee and that can cause even more swelling of the injured part than . . . obviously, I had a slight allergy to bumblebee poison and . . .

Staggering? As I made my way down to the yard gate, I found myself staggering. Walking sideways. That's one of the main symptoms of a bumblebee sting, makes a guy walk crooked, and that sure checked out. I was walking crooked.

And foaming at the mouth? Yes, it's common knowledge that bumblebee stings will cause a dog to, well, foam at the mouth. And that checked out too.

What we had here was a classic case of Severe Double Bubble . . . Severe Double Bumblebee Sting on the nose, and were you aware that bumblebees often build their nests in old abandoned pipes? Yes, it happens all the time. Very common.

Sally May had knelt down and was pulling some dandelions out of her yard. Pete lay in the grass beside her, purring like a little chainsaw, twitching the end of his tail, and getting fatter and lazier by the minute.

He heard me coming and opened his eyes. The longer he looked, the wider they grew. Then a smirk leaped across his mouth. Then he started laughing.

“Why, Hankie! Have you been chewing on the air hose? I think your face has been inflated. And oooo! Two little puncture wounds on the end of your nose! I told you there was a rattlesnake up there, didn't I?”

“Thut up, kett. It wath two bimblebeeth, and I haff nothing to thay to you. My bithnith ith wiff Thally May.”

Pete shook his head and sighed. “Well, now you've done it, Hankie. Next time, maybe you'll listen to what I tell you. I tried to warn you, but you're too stubborn to listen.”

I tried to think of a stinging reply, but all I could think about was the stinging in my nose. It was hurting and throbbing, don't you see, and all I could manage to say was, “Thut up, kett.”

I waited for Sally May to notice my condition, which seemed to be growing more serious by the moment. I mean, the thought had even occurred to me that we might need to make a little trip to town to see the veterinarian.

Double Bumblebee Syndrome can be very serious. Some dogs actually die from it.

I was no fan of the local vet or any other vet for that matter, and I sure wasn't the kind of dog who wanted to rush into town over the slightest little wound or sniffle, but hey, this thing was beginning to . . .

Drooling? Hmmm, it appeared that I was drooling from the, uh, mouth. Couldn't stop it. It was a little embarrassing, and of course, Drover noticed it right away.

“Oh my gosh, Hank, are you drooling?”

I glared at him through my rapidly shrinking eyeholes. “Of coss I'm dwoowing, you dunth! What do you espet fwom a seveeoo case of Dibble Bimble­bee Sting?”

“Well, I don't know. I just thought you'd want to know.”

“I did not went to know, and I'll think you not to make a mockawee out of my injuwee!”

At that very moment, I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I turned and saw Slim and Loper approaching from the south. No doubt, they had finished loading their horses and gear, and were ready to leave the ranch.

My serious medical condition would change all that, of course. I hated to ruin their plans. I knew how much they had been looking forward to this big week of roundups and branding, but what could I do?

I gave my tail a sorrowful wag and held my rapidly expanding face at an angle where they could . . .

Chapter Five: Sally May Rushes to My Rescue

H
uh?

They didn't even notice! I mean, they walked right past me, and Slim even stepped on my tail!

“Get out of the road, pooch.”

I couldn't believe my . . . how could he . . . I dragged my swollen, suffering body a full eight inches to the north and thus escaped being trampled by my so-called friend.

Loper leaned an elbow on the gate and spoke to his wife. “Well, I guess we're ready to leave, hon. I know everything will be fine, but if you have any problems, you can catch us at headquarters around dark. I left the phone number.”

“Well,” she stood up, “I hope you boys have a good time, and I hope you'll be careful with those horses. I worry about you.”

Loper removed his hat and pulled her into a hug. “Bye, sweet. Tell the kids their daddy loves 'em a whole bunch.”

“I will, and they'll miss . . .” She froze. Suddenly it appeared that her eyes had locked in on ME, in my miserable, wretched condition.

Shall we describe my miserable, wretched condition? My nose was throbbing, my entire face and head had swollen up like an inner tube, and it was hanging very low upon my neck. I was staring out at the world with wooden eyes that had almost swelled shut. And I was drooling.

I couldn't control the stupid drooling.

At last, someone had noticed, and it was about time.

Sally May let out a gasp. “My stars, look at your dog!”

All eyes turned to me. I whapped my tail and tried to smile, which wasn't very successful since my face had turned into a balloon. Instead of smiling I drooled a bit more.

Sally May was the first to find her voice. “What on earth has happened to that dog? He looks . . . deformed. And he's drooling!”

Slim and Loper traded glances. Loper rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned away. “Geemanee crickets! Of all the times to . . . Hank, you dumbbell!”

Dumbbell! Me? Well, I . . . how . . . what . . .

Slim shifted a toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “I'd say that Hank found himself a rattle­snake, is what I'd guess. Every ranch mutt finds one sooner or later.”

No, it was a bumblebee. Two bumblebees, actually.

Sally May's eyes went from Slim to Loper to me and back to Slim. “Is it serious? What do people do when their dog gets snakebitten?”

Slim shrugged. “Well, it depends. It makes 'em pretty sick. Usually an old ranch dog'll get over it on his own. He'll lay around in the shade for several days, foam at the mouth, and won't eat, and he'll get as gant as a coachwhip, but then he'll get over it.”

“You don't take them to the vet?”

“Well, some do and some don't, Sally May. See, a lot of times, you don't even know the old dog's been bit. He'll go off by himself and lay under a tree somewheres and he won't come back to the house until he's over it, is what usually happens.”

Sally May's eyes returned to me. “But that's not what Hank did. He came to me.”

“Yep. I guess he likes you, Sally May.”

“How could I be so lucky?” She stood there for a moment, shaking her head and moving her lips. “So! You boys are going off to a three-day roundup and your dog picks this very moment to get himself bitten by a rattlesnake.” She turned to Loper. “And what am I supposed to do now? Loper, this is YOUR dog.”

Loper had been deep in thought. Now he spoke. “Hon, I hope you understand that I didn't plan it this way.”

“I understand that, dearest.”

“We can't cancel this deal. Jimmy's planned his whole roundup around us. We've got to go, and pretty quick.”

Her eyes widened. “And leave me here with this . . . this drooling dog?”

Boy, that hurt. I couldn't help it that I was drooling.

Loper nodded. “I'm afraid so. I hate to do it, but when a man gives his word, he has to stand behind it. If we cancelled out over a sick dog . . . we just can't do that, hon.”

“Fine. I understand that. I agree. But what am supposed to do with your dog? I don't even like him!”

That one hurt too.

Loper thought it over. “Well, you could just leave him alone and let nature take its course. Just make sure he has plenty of fresh water. Chances are, he'll get over it.”

Sally May heaved a sigh. “Yes, and for the next three days, I'll have to look at the poor beast. And if he died, guess who would feel all the guilt and responsibility.”

Loper nodded. “Okay. Maybe you'd better load him up and take him to the vet.”

“Load THAT dog into MY clean car, and haul him to town with MY two children?”

“You can take Slim's pickup. It already stinks.”

Slim nodded on that. “You bet, that'll be fine, Sally May. You won't hurt that old thang. It's just right for haulin' dogs.”

“And my children?”

“Oh sure. They won't hurt it.”

“Slim, I'm not worried about IT. I'm worried about THEM!”

“Oh.”

“The last time I saw the inside of your pickup, I wanted to go get a smallpox booster.”

“Naw, I've cleaned it up since then, Sally May. It ain't bad, really.”

“I'll bet. I've seen your cleaning jobs before, Slim Chance. You shovel out the dead rats and call that clean.”

“Yes ma'am.”

She whirled around and faced Loper. She was wearing a crazy smile on her face. “Well! After ten years of marriage, I can't believe you're doing this to me.”

“I know, hon, and I feel bad about it.”

“This,” she shook a finger in his face, “will cost you. I want the floor fixed in the utility room.” Loper nodded. “I want the screen door patched.” He nodded. “I want a new faucet for the kitchen sink.”

“I'm putty in your hands, hon.”

“I want two wheelbarrow-loads of manure spread on my flowerbeds.”

Loper swallowed hard. “That's a pretty expensive dog.”

“And you'll tend to those jobs the very day you get back, right?”

“I guess you've got us pretty well roped and tied.”

“All right, I'll take your dog to town.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You're sweet, and you win the Pioneer Mother Award.”

“I'll win the Angry Ranch Wife Award if you don't keep your end of the deal.”

“It will be done—not joyfully, but it will be done.” Loper turned a glare on me. “Well, I guess we've set a market price for you, Hank. You're worth two loads of manure.”

Yes, well, two loads were better than . . . uh, one.

Loper and Slim said their good-byes, tramped down to the pickup, and drove off, pulling the gooseneck trailer with two saddled horses in the back. Sally May watched them and waved until they drove out of sight. Then she looked down at me.

I, uh, felt very uncomfortable all at once, and found myself looking away from . . . she had a fairly icy expression in her eyes, don't you see, and . . . well, she and I had this long history of misunderstandings, and now here we were, to­gether and alone, our destinies more or less . . .

“Why couldn't you have done this yesterday or last week or any day but today?”

I, uh, didn't have an answer to that, and my nose was throbbing, and I felt rotten.

She looked down at me for a long time. Her eyes began to soften. She came over and knelt down beside me and took my inflated face in her hands. She stroked me on top of the head and rubbed my ears.

“Poor Hank. How can I be mad at you when you look so pitiful? Let me get the children dressed and we'll go to town—in Slim's garbage-can pickup. You stay right here.”

Yes, ma'am. I sure didn't have any better plans.

She went into the house. Moments later, I heard bulldozers and dynamite, an indication that Little Alfred was awake. Somehow, the thought of riding all the way into town with his noise and motion didn't make me feel better, so I tried to think of a song that would express the misery of my condition. Here's how it went.

I Was Bitten on the Nose by a Rattlesnake

I was searching for a bunny in a joint of rusted pipe.

I stuck my nose inside it and prepared to take a bite.

I loosened up my jaws, unleashed a deadly growl . . .

But something stung me on the nose and caused me to howl.

At first I thought the cottontail had done this awful thing,

But bunnies do not have the means to cause a painful sting.

So common sense prevailed and soon I came to see

It couldn't be a bunny but perhaps a bumblebee? No.

I was bitten on the nose by a rattlesnake,

A rattlesnake, a rattlesnake.

I was bitten on the nose by a rattlesnake.

And now I'm swollen up like a poisoned pup.

Now, why would a rattlesnake take refuge in a pipe?

I've known these guys forever and they're really not the type

To be lurking in a junkyard in the middle of the day,

But this one hadn't read the book on where he's supposed to stay!

I guess I woke him up in the middle of his nap.

He didn't even rattle but gave my nose a snap.

There's a moral to this song, in case you'd like to use it!

Don't stick your nose into a pipe unless you want to lose it!

I was bitten on the nose by a rattlesnake,

A rattlesnake, a rattlesnake.

I was bitten on the nose by a rattlesnake.

And now I'm swollen up like a poisoned pup.