I rode up to Dewey's place as the sun began to set over the hills in the distance. It had been another long hot day, and I was tired. I had done my usual work, but somehow that seemed to be getting easier. At first I had hated working what had once been my own land, but now I didn't mind so much. Maybe it was because I knew I was getting paid a hell of a lot more than Mr. Howard thought I was. Or maybe it was because somewhere in the back of my mind, I actually thought it could be my land again someday. Mr. Howard was never here, and Amy clearly didn't like it here. It was obvious enough to me that Mr. Howard had bought this place for Casey. So maybe one day it could all be hers, and mine, together.
But that was far off, and there was no point thinking about it. All that mattered was I was enjoying working the land again. I never minded the actual work. That was what I had been raised to do. Hell, it was what I had been born to do. I was working the same land that my daddy and granddaddy had worked before me. Selling that land to a rich city slicker was what had irked me. But if he had stolen my land, then I had stolen his wife and daughter. Either way, I had come to terms with the way things were, at least as far as the land went. I still wanted more from Casey though. She knew it, and everyone else was slowly getting wise to it as well. It was certainly no longer a secret that I was running around with Ms. Casey Howard.
I tied my horse to a post, and walked up the rickety steps of Dewey's porch. I knocked twice, and waited. There was no answer, but I could hear a TV on inside. I knocked again, louder, but there was still no answer.
"Hey, Dewey!" I shouted at the house. "You in there?" I heard the TV shut off, and then a bit of a racket coming from inside.
"Who's there?" I heard Dewey's voice call out.
"It's me, Jim," I called back. "Open up." I heard a loud crash, and then footsteps, and a moment later the door opened. Dewey had a big dumb grin on his face, and he happily beckoned me in.
"Hey there Jim," Dewey said cheerfully as he led me through his disheveled house and into his rather filthy living room. He had the Cubs game on the TV, and he went to fetch two beers as I sat down on the dirty brown couch. I had to wipe a good deal of crumbs off before I sat. Dewey returned a second later, and handed me a nice cold beer. "What brings you out here?" He said as he sat down, taking a big sip of his own beer.
"Well, I was sort of wondering if you could help me with something," I said, sipping my beer as well.
"Sure thing," Dewey said happily, "What do you need?" I knew he would be eager to help. Dewey was something of a town basket case, slash mascot. His granddad had once owned even more land than my granddad. But Dewey's father had always been a mean drunk, and his mom had been addicted to the crank. They had sold off their land one parcel at a time, and what they didn't drink, they shot up. By the time Dewey was born, his dad was in and out of prison, and his mom was a junkie mess.
He had gone to live with an aunt down in Georgia as a kid, and then moved back home when he was eighteen. He still owned about thirty of the once thousands of acres, and there was still the house, with no one left to live in it but him. Now Dewey was twenty-six, and everyone in town liked him. We all knew his story, and thought he was doing just fine considering what his parents had been. Some people thought he was a bit sad and lonely, though he never really seemed that way to me. Dewey was already balding, had a full beer gut, and had a cockeye that he had been born with, on account of his mother's negligence during her pregnancy. I guess I understand why some people thought he was sad, but he always seemed happy as a pig in shit to me. He reminded me of a big golden lab retriever. Dumb and happy, and always looking to be with people.
"Well," I began, sipping my beer again and watching the Pirates ground into a double play. "I was hoping you could help me find someone. You know the Gaines family? They're one of them rich city families that moved to town."
"Walter Gaines?" Dewey asked, "the lawyer from Chicago?"
"I think so," I nodded, thinking it unlikely that there were more than one Gaines family that had moved here. "I don't know about any Walter. I'm lookin' for his kids. A guy named Derrick, and a girl named Amanda."
"Sure," Dewey nodded, already finishing off his beer. "I've seen that guy Derrick in town a few times. He's always wearing those fancy shirts that rich folk like. You know, the golf lookin' ones."
"Ya, that's him," I nodded, remembering the bright collared shirt Derrick had been wearing the only time I had seen him.
"I tried to talk to him at the bar, but he weren't too friendly," Dewey said with a frown. I could tell that Derrick had said something mean to Dewey, but he didn't want to tell me about it. "He seemed pretty mean," Dewey added sullenly. "What do you want with him?"
"Well, actually its more his sister I'm lookin' for right now," I said, and Dewey's frown quickly turned into a big dumb grin again.
"Oh, well I haven't talked to her myself," Dewey's face turned bright red as he spoke about Amanda, "but she seems mighty fine. Real perty," he added excitedly. "A bit like that Casey girl you've been carryin' on with."
"I aint been carryin' on with her," I said, shaking my head. Even Dewey knew I wanted Casey. My secrecy really was for shit.
"That aint what Jasper told me," Dewey said with an even bigger grin, and then broke into a loud burst of guffawing laughter at the frown I gave him.
"Alright you big dumby," I said after letting him bellow for a minute. "Quit talkin' about me and Casey. And tell Jasper to quit talkin' about us too."
"I thought there weren't nothin' to talk about," Dewey teased. "I aint been carryin' on with that girl." Dewey's voice went low and he cocked his head back and forth as he mocked me.
"Get me another beer Dewey," I said, finishing off the one I had. Dewey jumped up, and came back a moment later with two more beers. He popped them open, and handed me one. "Now what do you know about this Amanda Gaines?"
"She's real perty, like I said," Dewey said seriously. "She likes to go to the bar most nights. And ol' Alan lets her in even though she aint twenty one, on account'a how perty she is. He says he figures havin' ladies like that around'll make fellas buy more beer, on account'a it'll lower their inhibitions, and maybe they'll go and talk to her."
"Ya, I bet ol' Alan's right about that," I said, and Dewey nodded his head as he drank his beer. "So when you've seen her there, does she ever leave with anybody, or does she blow everybody off?"
"She blows most of the fellas off," Dewey said. "I've seen her do it. But one night she left with Chuckie."
"Chuckie," I said, wondering if it was who I was thinking of. "Chuckie Winston? John Winston's boy?"
"Yep," Dewey nodded. "I doubt Chuckie ever had a girl like that before." That made me feel a little more confident. Chuckie Winston was a tall skinny nerd with freckles and glasses. If Amanda had gone home with him, I could probably get her myself. It still felt weird plotting on how to win over a girl when I felt like I already had a girl. But this was all Casey's idea in the first place.
