The Warrior Sheep Go West by Christopher Russell

Stanley on the shoulder.
    â€œExcuse me. I need to stop,” he said. “For a pee.”
    The Professor slowed the car. “Can’t you wait?”
    â€œNo. I’m desperate.”
    The Professor sighed and pulled up. “Well go on then.”
    Tod struggled with the door, pretending he couldn’t open it.
    â€œHelp,” he pleaded, turning to the Professor, “I’m really desperate.”
    Stanley got out, paced to the rear door, and pulled it open. Tod hopped out. The Professor glanced fretfully at his wrist computer.
    â€œOne hundred and seventy-eight thousand, seven hundred and ten seconds and counting…” he muttered to himself. “So much still to do…” Then he saw the old lady tapping at his cell phone. “Hey!” he shouted, and dived into the car and snatched it from her. He turned angrily to Tod. “Get back!” he ordered.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Gran demanded as Tod ran back to be with her. She’d wriggled out of the car now. “What’s your real name? Where are our sheep? Where’s the conference?”
    â€œAnd where are you taking us?” added Tod.
    â€œI really have no idea where your sheep are,” replied the Professor spitefully. “There is no conference. And I’m taking you to Back of Beyond Ranch. So you’re out of circulation till after B-Day.”
    Tod and Gran simply gaped.
    â€œAt least I was .” Stanley got back behind the wheel and slammed his door. “But I’ve had enough. You can walk.” He pointed into the darkening desert. “It’s that way!”
    The car window slid up silently, and Tod and Gran could only watch, still gaping, as the sleek black car disappeared into the gathering dusk. The sound of its engine faded to nothing.
    â€œD’you think he’ll come back?” asked Tod.
    â€œNo,” said Gran definitely.
    Tod stared around at the desert stretching away in all directions.
    â€œWell,” he said. “We’d better see if we can find this Back of Beyond Ranch before it gets completely dark.”
    â€œIf it exists,” grunted Gran, and she delved in her bag for her trusty head lamp.
    ***
    Back of Beyond Ranch did exist. They reached it half an hour later. The faded name, just visible in the light of Gran’s head lamp, was scratched on a boulder at the side of the road. Beyond the boulder was a broken wooden fence that had long since given up surrounding a patch of baked earth covered in weedy weeds. In the middle of the baked earth was the ranch house. It had four stone walls but no roof. The windows had tattered curtains but no glass. A notice nailed to the front door read: GONE AWAY.
    Tod pushed the door open and peeped in. A cockroach scuttled across the dirt floor. Then there was silence.
    â€œAt least we’ve got some shelter,” said Tod. “I can’t believe how cold it’s getting now the sun’s gone down.” He dragged in an old bench from outside and put it against the wall. “Sit here, Gran. I’ll see if I can find anything useful, like a phone.”
    There was no phone, but in the yard outside he found a well, covered with a plank of wood, with a rusty tin bucket beside it.
    â€œDrink this, Gran!” he said, returning and offering her an equally rusty mug full of water. “You’ll have to imagine the tea bag.”
    Gran drank. “Best I’ve ever tasted,” she said. “And look what I’ve found for supper.”
    Dumped in the corner of the room was a pile of plastic carrier bags full of tinned food: salmon, baked beans, soup.
    â€œLooks like Rhubarb was telling the truth,” Gran said. “He was planning to bring us here.”
    â€œBut why do they want us out of the way?” asked Tod, shaking his head. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he thought about the flock. “And what do you think they’ve done with