Talking with Dallas

Darrel and Sodapop gave me several locations where I might find Dallas Winston. I methodically checked them all and found him at none.

I felt a raging dissappointment but tried to ignore it. This kid was the key, though. He knew where they were, he had been with them that night. I decided to check the locations again, and on my second go round I was lucky. I found him in a pool hall.

Darrel and Sodapop had described him fairly well so I knew what to look for. Very blond hair with no grease, tall, tough looking. I knew it was him as I watched him squint at the pool ball, line up the shot, and sink it neatly.

"Dallas Winston?" I said. He looked up for a moment, then lined up his next shot.

"Yeah?" His tone was not quite suspicious.

"My name is D.K. Williams, I'm a lawyer from"

"So?" He said it quick and just short of hostile.

"Well, I heard about the incident at the par"

"Look, pal, I don't know nothin'," He sunk the next shot.

I glanced around, taking in the dim light, the whiskey bottles lined up behind the bar, the grizzled old man staring into a drink.

It was a matter of trust. He didn't trust me, of course.

"I think I can help Johnny and Ponyboy. I think I can defend them,"

He paused. I saw it. Then he turned to get another angle, and with his back to me he spoke again.

"Doesn't matter. They're not here," I sighed. The one note refrain. It is hard to defend clients on the lam.

"Dallas, listen to me. They killed a kid. A rich kid, a," I scrambled for the word Sodapop used, what did he call them?

"A soc. They killed a soc. Where there is money there is power. They'll find them. Sooner or later, they'll find them,"

He missed his shot, the cue ball ricocheting off the other balls and the side. He looked up at me through a shock of white blond hair.

"They won't find 'em," There was something deadly in his voice, and I had trouble believing he was only 17 years old.

"They're looking in Texas, they must have some leads. But cops don't publicize every place they look, fugitives can read papers, too. There's a train that runs through here quite close to that park. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that they check around the stops of that train,"

I struck a nerve. Dallas flinched slightly. He went over to the bar. After a moment I followed. He ordered a beer and fiddled with his fake I.D.

"Look," I said, easing myself onto the stool next to him, "I think you know where they are. And I think I can help them,"

The bartender set the beer in front of him and he eyed it, then took a long swallow.

"Suppose I tell you where they are? Then what?"

Heading to Windrixville

Dallas was a hard nut to crack, but on our way up to Windrixville I got him to tell me what he knows.

"Tell me about that night. What happened?"

"We went to the nightly double and I tried to pick up this chick, Cherry something or other," I jotted this down. Cherry. I let him drive so I could write while he talked, but he drove a bit fast.

"There was another girl with her, another soc. And Johnny told me to leave Cherry alone. I swear to you, if it had been anyone other than Johnny he woulda lost teeth. But it was Johnny, man. What could I do? So I left,"

"Why? You do what Johnny says?" Follow every lead.

"No, it ain't that. He don't usually say nothing. It's just that I can't hit him,"

The scenery was a blur and we took corners almost on two wheels. We'd be in jail for reckless driving before we even reach the hide out.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, man. It's just that you can't hit Johnny, he gets enough of that at home," Aha. This could be an angle. He gets hit at home. I already checked both Johnny and Ponyboy for a police record and neither have one. That was good. And the more the Cade kid is hit at home the better.

"So like what? Beatings or just hit?"

I see Dallas grip the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turn white. The signs are good.

"Beatings," he says through gritted teeth. I decide not to push it. But it's a good start.