As Bud sidled outside into the brisk night air, a brown-furred shape uncurled and spring up from its napping spot behind the bar. It padded quietly out into the night behind Bud.
Byeju watched it, no, him, he could see now, leave. In most ways, the creature seemed like a nondescript large dog, with coarse fur in a dusty, drab brown. Byeju got a glimpse of an eye sparkling green like seawater, flecked with Prussian blue. Two coral-red nubs poked through its scalp, the barest beginning of horns. Wait, what? Horns, on a dog? The robot's vision sharpened as he refocused on this new strangeness.
Byeju had picked up the creature’s heat signature when he’d first shuffled into the bar behind Tyra. He’s assumed it—no, he—was a dog, but clearly he’d been wrong. Byeju hastily reassessed, thumbing through his onboard encyclopedia just as fast as his circuit boards would allow. He found nothing. No reference to any animals with canine builds, all-green eyes with no irises, and coral,,, horns? The robot was truly baffled. Maybe he just didn't have complete biological documentation... he was built for dealing with humans after all. Or, and this was a scary thought, his Creators hadn't known as much as they led their creations to believe. Perhaps this not-dog was a species unknown to them.
Byeju stared after the mystery beast until its brown tail swished through the door. He’d never looked back at the robot once. Byeju would’ve pinched himself to self-soothe, but he lacked skin to pinch and a nervous system to calm.
No one in the bar let on that they'd noticed the oversized, horned coyote. If anyone else had seen him leave, they knew something the machine didn’t and weren’t commenting.
Barbarossa slunk into the night, away from the noisy crowd, the smelly floor, and Tyra’s nosy new robot. Barbarossa shook his head and chuffed, wondering what hare-brained scheme Tyra was cooking up now.
He put his nose down and followed Bud who strode down the dusty road. Barbarossa accelerated and caught up with the man quickly, nudging his leg and making him stumble just a bit.
Bud slowed a tad and looked down at the shape lurking next to him among the dark road’s shadows. “Hey Barb,” Bud smiled. “Up for a night of tracking?”
Barbarossa rocked his head back and forth, drawing a noncommittal circle in the air with his snout.
“Yeah, I know,” Bud grimaced, “I’d rather be out there,” he waved vaguely at the desert hills resting under the night sky, "or in there," he pointed back down the road at the still-open door to the Prospector's Paradise, now a wan rectangle of amber light, “but we gotta take care of this for Tyra.”
Barbarossa swished his tail dismissively, and rolled his green eyes plaintively.
Bud sighed back at his grumpy companion, “Yes, yes, but this important. And Tyra doesn’t ask for much.”
Barbarossa made a lewd humping gesture and stuck out his tongue at Bud.
“That’s rude ya bastard,” the man grumbled, blushing a bit, “you’re just jealous she found the robot.”
Barbarossa’s tail curled between his legs. It was true, damn it! Tyra had upstaged him again. She was supposed to be a cop. He and Bud were the treasure hunters.
The odd pair, man and not-dog, had left town behind now, and Bud gestured toward a thin game trail peeling off from the road into the under brush. “We gotta rustle up the Mayor,” the man remarked with glum matter-of-factness.
The not-dog’s fur bristled, and he whined to make his reluctance clear, but he nevertheless took the lead and led Bud down the game trail, further into the quiet desert night.