I doubted that Joree lived in that particular trailer, and also that she was in the one surrounded by the fighting cocks, so the process of elimination indicated that I should try the trailer on the far side of the clearing; the one sitting by itself, with a small porch sheltering the front door. I pulled on my hat, turned my collar up against the rain, and stepped down from my truck.

Crossing the muddy yard, I climbed the two steps of the porch and knocked on the door. I could hear a television, the sound blaring loudly, inside. Then the noise of the television went silent, but no one came to the door. The person, or persons, inside had frozen. I knocked again and then stepped back as far as I could on the porch, to give whoever was there a chance to get a good look at me. Hopefully, I didn’t look like a bill collector or someone serving a warrant.

After what seemed like a full minute, the door opened a few inches and a man’s face appeared, his body remaining hidden behind the door frame. He was bearded, and from what I could see he wore a yellowed and dingy T-shirt stretched tight over a swollen beer belly. His puffy eyes flitted from my face to my truck, and then back across the clearing, before coming to my face again and eyeing me with suspicion.

I started to introduce myself, “My name is...”

But he cut me off with a slurred, “What d’you want?”

“I’m looking for Joree,” I replied as I gave the man a close look.

He cast a glance across the clearing and lifted a hand, extending it out the door and pointing a finger.

“Over there, in that one,” he said, indicating the trailer with the new truck and boat.

“Thanks,” I said woodenly as the door closed in my face. I slogged through the rain, back across the mire of the yard, but when near the other trailer, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the man watching me from the corner of a window. I expected him to step away from view but he held his place of observation and continued to watch me with what could only be called disinterested interest. Turning again, I proceeded to the trailer he had pointed to as being Joree’s.

There was no porch at the door, only some steps made of loosely stacked concrete blocks. I stepped carefully to the top of the blocks, and with rain sluicing from the brim of my hat, knocked on the door.