Part 7
Trouble at Jenkins'
Sheriff Muletrain and Deputy Goofer sat at the kitchen table in Jenkins farm house scarfing down syrup-covered flapjacks. "My-my Ms. Jenkins" ,said Goofer, licking slurping the stickiness off his mouth. "Yah shore do make the finest flapjacks this side of Pike road."
"Why thank ya kindly, Goofer." Said Marlete Jenkins."Care for another plate?"
"Ah shore would, Ms. Jenkins", Goofer said, as he tightened his bib. "This shore brings back some mighty fond memories."
"Don't ferget we're on business, Goofer," Muletrain snapped, as he stuffed his mouth with another syrup-rich forkful.
Just then the telephone rang. "Hmm." Said the sheriff "that could be for us. Answer it Goofer."
Goofer answered. "Well it shore is, sheriff, he said after a minute. "It's the Boggs boy."
"Oh, those pesky kids" grumbled the sheriff, as he got up and took the phone. "Hello? Woody? What's goin' on."
"Sheriff!" said Woody's voice. "I think we found some stuff you might be interested in."
"Where you at?" asked the sheriff.
"I'm callin' from a payphone outside the Drummond caffee. The dispacther said you were at the Tom Jenkins' place."
"That's right," said the sheriff "It ain't too far from where you are. Tell you what. You kids meet us at the Jenkins farm. I think I got some stuff you'd be interested in too!"
The sheriff hung up and returned to the table. "The Boggs kids are goin' to meet us here.",he said.
"What'd they find, sheriff?"
"I figure we'll know soon enough, Goofer. When the Tarkins boys git here, maybe we can finally start to sort all this stuff out."
It wasn't long before a pair of intensely white headlights cut trough the night outside the kitchen. The sheriff, deputy, and Tom Jenkins went outside to see the Tarkins' van pull up the drive. Bill and Steve Tarkins got out.
"Well, we got 'im." Steve Tarkins announced.
"Ya, did, huh?" said Muletrain, with a slight note of suspicion in his voice.
"Yup." Said Bill. "Care to take a gander at 'im."
"Don't mind if we do, sir." Said Steve. He unlocked the back of the van and slid open the door. There, right enough was a full-grown swamp puma, pacing nervously in his cage. The animal's fur was black as night.
"Well glory be!" Goofer exclaimed "A fer-real black panther! Ah never seen in these here parts before!"
"Humph!" said the sheriff. "Well, looks like you boys been right all along. I must admit I was having some doubts. But looks like yah got 'im."
"Told ya we'd take care of him for you, sheriff." Steve said. "No more worrys, Mr. Jenkins. This here cat won't be breaking into your stock no more. Now all's we got to do is set him free in a wildlife refuge far from here. Take it easy, sheriff." Steve and Bill were about to get into their van and drive off when another set of headlights came up the road. They all looked to see the Boggs' pickup come up the drive.
"What's up, sheriff?" asked Woody.
"What's up? These two guys got the panther, that's what."
"Yeah, that's right kids." Said Goofer. "An' he's one mean-looking rascal, too!"
The kids and Buford went up to the cage and examined the panther. "See for yerselves, kids." Said Steve.
"Well, shore looks like yah got 'im." said Woody. "So thet there's 'ol Woundfoot hisself!"
Buford, however, was far from convinced. He had had a run-in with Woundfoot, and this didn't look like the same cat at all. He was smaller for one thing. And not only was his scent different, there was another, stronger scent about him that did not smell like anything natural. But he couldn't quite place what it was. When Steve Tarkins' saw the hound's nose flash red, he quickly shut the doors.
"Well, thank ya much fer yer concern, kids. Time we this animal to where he belongs." The Tarkins got in their van and drove off.
And suddenly Buford realized what the smell was, and where he'd smelled it before. "Paint!" he exclaimed "Ah smelled paint!"
"Paint!" exclaimed Woody "You mean on the cat?"
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"
"Well, I'll be hogtied!" exclaimed Woody.
"Ya'all know what this means, don't ya?" asked Cindy Mae.
"Ah think so, Sis."
"What do you mean?" demanded the sheriff.
"Ah mean," said Cindy Mae. "That their cat ain't the real Woundfoot!"
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, we found the Tarkins boat parked not far from here, on an island. 'An the panthers prints were there too. But they were smaller than the ones at Huffsteader's. And now Buford says he smells paint on the cat. I reckon it's the same paint he found back at the Huffsteader place."
She took out the rag one of the Tarkins boys had left at Huffsteader's. "Sniff this, Buford."
Buford sniffed at it, and his ears went straight up. "Yup!" he said.
"Well I'll be!" said the sheriff. "You reckon that cat's not fer real?"
"Ah do, sheriff." said Cindy Mae. "I think them scalywags spraypainted an ordinary panther, to use as a distraction, while they try to catch the real one. C'mon, ya guys." She said to Buford and Woody. "It's time to make sense of this mystery. I reckon we'll find some more clues 'round this farm."
They began by searching around the Jenkins hog shed. Cindy Mae examined the hinges. Sure enough, they appeared to have been loosened, just as with the Huffsteader barn. There were the tracks of the puma, with the expected drag-marks of his kill. But there were no possum tracks this time. Buford sniffed around and detected no sign of Slyface. The cat's scent, while faint, was not that of Woundfoot, and appeared to be like that of the cat the Tarkins officers had supposedly captured.
"Let's see where the tracks lead, Woody," Cindy Mae said. They followed the puma's tracks up the dirt path from the shed, to where they became lost in the wide, grassy field which spread out east of the Jenkins place. Buford however, quickly discovered the cat's scent. His lanky legs tilted forward, nose beeping, his tail forming an arrow that pointed straight ahead.
"Buford says he went that way". said Woody. "C'mon."
The twins followed the hound through the tall, dew-wet grass, Buford shuffling along with his nose to the ground beeping loudly, still hot on the panther's trail. He led them across the field, and into the thick trees on the other side. They knew the woods on this side of Jenkins' field eventually merged into Fenokee Swamp. It wasn't far from the island where they had found the men's tracks. Buford continued following the trail until it led them to a thick screen of vegetation. Buford looked up, suddenly confused by a new scent. "What's goin' on" he mumbled. Then he realized. It was the scent of the Tarkins van!
He squeezed in and under the branches, and the twins followed him. "Look!" said Cindy Mae, switching on her flashlight.The paw prints ended here, and the booted prints of the three men were visible in loamy soil as well. But what astonished them all the most were the broad set of tire tracks.
"By glory, Sis!" said Woody. "Yore right! I think someone staged that raid on Jenkins' hog farm. I'll betcha it's the Tarkins' van."
"Let's where they went."
Buford sniffed the tire tracks, and they followed him through the woods, and out to a road.
"Wow!" said Cindy Mae. "Let's head back to the farm and tell the sheriff."
They circled back to Jenkins place, but by then, the sheriff and Goofer were gone. The twins and Buford got back in their pickup, and headed back towards Boggs' landing. "Ah think we've got this mystery 'bout sown up, Cindy Mae." Said Woody. "If we can just find a way to prove them Tarkins characters are phonies. They may be longone by now".
"Ah don't think so, Woody." replied Cindy Mae. "They're staging these attacks on the Fenokee farms for a reason. 'An since they shorely aren't really conservation guys, I think they could be locals."
"You think maybe they're really trying to catch the real panther."
"I sure do. But there's some things that don't make since. Like Jenna Crowely, 'an those cards Buford found at her house. How does she fit into this?"
"Wish ah knew, Sis. I think we should take another look at that swamp."
"We'll take the swamp buggy once we get back home. If we could have followed that third man's tracks before Buford started chasing that raccoon he's always after-"
"Wait! What's that up ahead?"
They were nearing the Fenokee fairgrounds. In the field which served as the parking lot, a number of cars, vans, and one large semi were parked. The lights were on, and field blazed with light. They could also see a number of people moving about.
"Glory be! What's gonin' on."
"Let's find out."
Woody drove closer, and to his astonishment recognized one of the cars-a long, white limosine. "Holy mackeral!" Woody exclaimed. "Ain't thet Duchess' car?"
"Why I do believe it is, Woody!" exclaimed Cindy Mae. "But what's it doin' here? I thought Duchess was in New York!"
In the back of the truck, Buford's sensitive ears shot straight up. "Duchess?" he exclaimed. Duchess was a famous showdog Buford had fallen in love with ever since the first time he'd seen her photograph. She had visited Fenokee two times before, once during a movie shoot, and another time for a guest appearance at a circus. Both times Buford had come to her aide against crooks.The first time, he'd helped Duchess escape from dognappers. At the circus, Buford had risked his life to capture the criminals who had stolen her diamond-studded collar. Duchess was very grateful, and had returned Buford's love. Buford and Duchess had remained penpals ever since, and every once in a while Buford would receive an autographed movie photo of her. But it always saddened him that Duchess had to be away most of the time.
But Buford was terribly excited by the suggestion that she might be right here in Fenokee, at this very minute. At once, all thoughts of the current mystery evaportated for him. Just the thought of her caused Buford to feel woozy with love. He scrambled madly to his feet, and hung his paws over the front of the Boggs' truck.
"Duchess? She's here?" he asked, excitedly.
"Ah think she might be, Buford." Woody said. "And we're gonna find out!"