What happened was simple, really. Dewey did it again. Dewey is our local hard-luck case. Things just happen to Dewey.
Like turning over a grease truck on the interstate, or getting his father's pickup truck in the only mudhole in the county during a two-year drought.
Let's put it this way; if a kid in the next state were to throw a rock at a tree, it would probably hit Dewey in the head, all the way back here. This little cloud hanging over him kept local businesses from giving Dewey jobs that might include machinery, money, food and sharp objects, which pretty much wipes out the local job market.
It was Doc who came up with the new idea for Dewey. He suggested that Dewey get his dad's old truck running, then deliver manure to people's yards from the dairy and the feedlot.
This seemed to do the trick. After all, Dewey was providing a service that was worth paying him for, he was doing the dairy and the feedlot a favor by cleaning the corrals, and he was transporting goods that were worth exactly nothing.
The problem this time had to do with the latch on the main gate at the feed lot. It was worn on one side, and unless you put it all the way down, disaster loomed. That's why Dewey blew into a full-grown panic as he was shoveling up some new product from the pens out there and looked up to see about 60 head of steers sauntering out onto the interstate.
It was embarrassing to Dewey, of course, but still, he should've called someone for help. Rounding up five-dozen steers over four lanes of traffic going in two directions is more than a one-man job.
Then, too, when you drive a pickup full of manure going the wrong way on the interstate, honking your horn at already panicked cattle, well ... It took six hours to get everyone back in the pens and two more days to get Dewey calmed down. No cattle were hit, no cars were damaged, and the only real loss was an estimated 600 pounds of prime beef removed by unplanned exercise.
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