Part 2
The Stolen Heffer
As they drove closer, they saw that the Sheriff was at Clarence Huffsteader's place. Woody turned off the paved road, and headed to where the Sheriff was parked. In the flashing light, they could see Sheriff Muletrain and deputy Goofer talking to Clarence Huffsteader, and his two sons Bert and Morton Huffsteader. Goofer looked back over his shoulder when the Boggs pickup approached. "Sheriff!" Goofer exclaimed, "It's those pesky Boggs kids again!"
Sheriff Muletrain looked in the same direction, as the twins and Buford got out of the pickup. "Well, my grits and gravy. So it is!"
"What's up Sheriff?" asked Woody
"Something broke into the Huffsteader stockade last night, and made off with one of his heffers. I called some animal control men to take care of it, 'an we're supposed to meet 'em here."
"Yep." said Clarence Huffsteader. "somethin' big. Took out one of my year old heffers an' dragged 'im off clean as whistle."
"What do ya reckon it was?" Cindy Mae asked.
"Well, from the looks of them tracks," Bert Huffsteader said. "I reckon it had to be the work of a panther!"
"A panther!" Woody exclaimed, shocked. "No way!"
"Panther?" echoed Buford, his long purple ears going straight up.
"Yep!" confirmed Clarence. "'An there's only one swamp panther could make paw prints like them. Old Woundfoot!"
"Who?" asked Cindy Mae.
"Woundfoot. The biggest, meanest ornriest swamp panther in Fenokee!"
"Well, by now I think he's probably the only swamp panther in Fenokee." replied Cindy Mae. She knew of course, that years ago, there had been many swamp panthers in Florida. But now, after bounty hunters had nearly whipped them out, they were very few. The notion that one had raided the Huffsteader stockade left her skeptical.
"Anything we can do to help?" Woody asked.
Clarence looked about to answer, but the Sheriff beat him to it. "Now you Boggs kids keep your noses out of this, ya, hear?" Muletrain said. "I've already got this whole entire situation under control!"
"Yep. that's right!" joined in Goofer. "The Sheriff just hired the best conservation officers in the state. Well, glory be! There they are now."
Everyone's eyes turned toward the Huffsteader's gravel drive, where a huge, dark green van was driving, its headlights slicing through the night. As the van pulled up, they could see the white letters on the side which read Florida Department of Conservation and Animal Control.
The van parked, and two young men in conservation uniform got out. One man had reddish hair, and wore an orange bill cap. The other was darker haired, with a mustach. "Howdy folks." one man said. "Hear you might have some kind of situation? I'm Steve Tarkins of the Florida Department of Conservation, and this is my brother Bill."
"Please to meet ya, and welcome to Fenokee County." the Sheriff said, pumping Steve Tarkins' hand. "I think you might be able to help us. Mr. Huffsteader here swears a panther broke into his stockade and made off with a heffer, reckon he's right?"
"Well, let's have us a look see." Bill Tarkins said.
"Wait, hold it." Cindy Mae said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to look at those tracks too."
The Sheriff shrugged. "Suit yourself. But like I told you kids, I already have this situation under control."
"That's right." said Goofer. "You kids better listen to the Sheriff! He knows exactly what he's talking about. He's the one knows how to deal with differcult situations like this. Just like the last time when-"
"Shut up Goofer!" snorted the Sheriif quickly, before Goofer could say more. "Don't remind me!"
"Oops, sorry, Sheriff." ammended Goofer, as all of them followed Clarence, Bert and Morton around to the back of the barn. It certainly looked like something had broken in, all right. Half the barn door was splintered, and hanging on its hinges.
"Yep, think you're right, Mr. Huffsteader." Steve Takrins said "Those do look like puma tracks."
"Well, Gol-lee, Sheriff!" said Goofer, bending over to look at them. "They look peculiar small panther tracks to me! Recken he's a mighty small feller."
"Let me look!" said Muletrain, bending over to look himself. The Sheriff shook his head in mild disgust. "You mellonhead, Goofer. Can't you tell panther tracks from swamp rat tracks!"
But Buford already had his nose to the ground, flashing bright red as he examined the prints.The scent left by the prowler was not that of a swamprat-and neither were the prints. It was definitely that of opossum, and Buford, who had lived all his life in Fenokee, knew it well. "Them's not swamp rat tracks!" he announced sleepily.
"What was that, Buford?" Cindy Mae asked. Buford was always unintelligible to her.
"He says they ain't swamp rat tracks!" said Woody, to whom Buford was always perfectly clear.
"He's right." Cindy Mae, as she examined them closely "Them's 'possum tracks!"
"Oh," said the Sheriff. "Right. I knew that."
Cindy Mae noticed Bill and Steve Tarkins exchanged worried glances, at mention of the possum tracks. This struck her as odd, especially since there was what appeared to be a genuine set of puma tracks-and big ones leading in and out of the bar, with the drag-marks of what could only be the stolen heffer carcass.
"Well, no blamed 'possum made off with my heffer!" said Clarence. "that was a panther for certain, an' my boys are gittn' the hounds togather to go git 'im come sunrise! You kids and yer dog are welcome to join us if ya like." he said to the Boggs twins.
"No you won't, Mr. Huffsteader." said Bill Tarkins. "If this here's a genuine swamp panther, and I'd say it is, then it's an endangered species. And if it's really a black puma,like you say, it could be a unique specimen."
"So the Sheriff told you, eh?" said Clarence. "Well, Woundfoot happens to be black as midnight! My pa seen him hisself a few years back. Got 'is name from the bullet someone put in 'is right paw, 'bout four years ago. I don't think he's ever shown up in this part of the swamp before, though. He used to live South of here-over the county line. But I swear it's him! He's come back to raid all the livestock in Fenokee!"
"Now don't be like that!" said Tarkins. "often when animals get older, they take to killin' livestock. That cat's paw does look wounded. But don't fret. We'll take care of your panther problem. Just leave things to us."
"By the way", said Steve "We already know about your local panther legend. We did some checking with the locals herebouts, and an old lady name of Jenna Crowley told us all about him. Swears it's a true story. She told us how to catch him and everything."
"Jenna Crowley?" asked Cindy Mae. "You mean-"
"Yep. said she's the sister of a fellow lives round these parts name of Jebedia Crowley."
"Jeb Crowley has a sister?" asked Woody "I never did know that!"
"Yep. Keeps her a secret pretty much, so she says. Think the familys' ashamed of her of somethin', sos you might not have heard of her. We met her at the Community center when we came in, and told us she wanted to help. Says she lives out in the swamp,and makes her living telling fortunes and stuff. If you kids want to know more about Woundfoot yourself, I think you should look her up. You'll find her 'bout five miles from here, just make a right turn at Moccassin Hollow, then head due east into the deepest blackest part of this here swamp."
Buford was eyeing the two officers with suspician. Humans didn't pay him much attention,so they didn't notice, but there was definitely something false about the man's story, and it caused a growl to rise in his throat. He didn't know what it was, but somehow he didn't trust these two men.
"Well, I'll be a horney toad, Sheriff, I never did know that either, said Goofer.
"Neither did I, Goofer." admitted the sheriff. "But these guys must know what they're talking about."
"What are you going to do?" Cindy Mae asked.
"Why, we're gonna set a baited trap for him, where he's sure to look. Them we'll set him loose in a wildlife santuary. 'Preciate your concern, kids. Let's go Bill. We've got us a panther to catch."
The two officers got into the van and drove off.
"Ya know, there's somethin' mighty peculiar about those two officers.I'm not sure they're from the wildlife department at all!" said Cindy Mae.
"What makes you say that?" asked Woody.
Cindy Mae shrugged. "Well, if Jeb Crowley has a sister, how come they found out about her, and we never even heard of her! And we've lived in Fenokee all our lives! You sure you trust them, Sheriff?"
Sheriff Muletrain almost jumped. "Trust them? Now look here, Cindy Mae. I hired those two myself!"
"But--"
"No buts! I happen to be an excellent judge of character!"
Buford groaned, and wagged his head in disgust when he heard this . "Sheesh!" he mumbled. Sometimes he couldn't believe Muletrain's arrogance.
"Well, Goofer." said the Sheriff. "let's get a move on. We've got important work to do."
"Yessir, Sheriff." As the sheriff and Goofer were getting in their car, the others jumped as they heard the sound of Goofers pistol go off by accident. This time the bullet had punctured the the oil tank, and a jet of dark oil gushed out onto the drive.
"GOOFER!!" roared the Sheriff. The twins, Buford, and the Huffsteaders could hear the commotion from where they were. Finally, the Sheriff's car drove off, leaving a trail of fresh oil in its wake.
"Do you mind if we take a look around the barn, Mr. Huffsteader?"
"Can if you want, kids." said Clarence. "But ya ain't goin to find nothun' though."
"We'll see." said Cindy Mae. "let's go Woody."
Buford was already well ahead of them. His ears were up like radars, and his nose was blinking as he sniffed around othe perimete of the door.His eyes googled as he noticed something peculiar about the door. It had been splintered into, but the hinges looked like they had already been loosened, with a hammer maybe, or a crowbar. He tapped the door with his paw and it gave slightly. He was right. there was definitely something amiss here. He them turned his attention to the panther tracks. Yes, they did carry the scent of some kind of cat, only magnified several times over. "Something strange is going on here!" he muttered.
"Buford says something strange is going on." said Woody.
"Yeah, he's right." said Cindy Mae. "These hinges- they look like they've been pried off!"
"By Golly, they do! But how could that be, if an animal broke in here?"
"I don't know. But ya know what? I think we should investigate that Jenna Crowley."
"Do you think she could tell us who or what did this?"
"Not really. But I'm curious to see if she's really who she says she is! And now that I think about it, it seems I know those two Tarkins characters somewhere before."
Meanwhile, Buford had lain down to rest. All at once, his nose picked up another scent...his eyes snapped open. It was a sharp pungent se smell The lanky hound got to his feet, as his every sense went rigid. He knew by instinct that he had stumbled upon yet another clue. He began to follow the scent.
"Hey, Buford's on to something again!"
"He shore is! What's up, Buford?"
Buford was poised straight forward, red nose flashing like a traffic signal. "What's this?" he mumbled lethargically.
Woody bent down and picked it up. It appeared to be a cloth of some kind. "It's just an old hankerchief. One of them conservation guys must have lost it."
"It smells like paint." Buford pointed out.
"Buford says it smells like paint."
Cindy Mae took the cloth,and looked it over. "It is paint. Spray paint of some kind. Looks like black enamel."
"What do you make of it, Sis?"
"I'm not sure. But we'll keep it as evidence. Right now, let's take the swamp buggy out to Moccassin Hollow. I've a hunch we'll find more clues out there."
"Sure we need to?" Woody asked shakily. Mocassin hollow was a dangerous place fill ed with sinkholes, quicksand and gators-not to mention some eerie legends, of folks who had vanished in the swamp without a trace. Perhaps someone could have remained hidden out there.
"You guys ain't scared are you?" Cindy Mae asked, giving them each a stern look.
"Scared?" snorted Buford "Humph!", even though a shiver rippled up his spine.
"How 'bout you, Woody?"
"Scared? Er, no! But what about the play?" asked Woody.
"We can still see it later. Our tickets are good all week. Right now we've got a mystery to solve."
All at once, a low, keening sound wafted over the swamp, through the cyrpess trees. But it was very faint, and at first, only Buford heard it. His right ear sprung up like a radar, cupped itself, and pointed due east in direction the weird sound had issued. Buford listened intently, waiting for the sound to come again. For what seemed a long while there was only the sighing wind through the drifts of Spanish moss. And then....
AAAAIIIIIIOOOOWWW!!!
The cry sounded eerily over the swamplands, at last dying away into the moaning of the wind. Lavender goosebumps sprouted crazily all over Buford's hide. He fell into a crouch, holding his paws over his eyes, and shuddering, his ears no tucked securely beneath him.
Woody and Cindy Mae had heard it too this time. "Glory be!" exclaimed Woody, once he had found his breath. Shivers were racing up and down his spine. "That ain't no bobcat, that's a panther for sure!"
"Well, it's something, that's for sure!" admitted Cindy Mae. "C'mon, ya guys."