Armadillo Trackers

Armadillo Trackers

By J.A. Sprouls

Published by J.A. Sprouls at Smashwords

Copyright J.A. Sprouls 2021

Cover Design Copyright J.A. Sprouls 2021

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http://jasprouls.blogspot.com/

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Dedicated to my Mother, Sister/Editor,

Amazing Grace

For always being there!

Also in memory of Zane for his unconditional love and companionship!

~~~~~~

Table of Contents

My Summer of ‘EN’

Amen Chapter

Bench Chapter

Centennial Chapter

Density Chapter

Entrance Chapter

Fragment Chapter

Garden Chapter

Hen Chapter

Inclement Chapter

Juvenile Chapter

Kuchen Chapter

Legend Chapter

Memento Chapter

Nonentity Chapter

Octogenarian Chapter

Potentate Chapter

Quicken Chapter

Renaissance Man Chapter

Senile Chapter

Tenderfoot Chapter

Umpteen Chapter

Vendetta Chapter

Wiener Chapter

Xenophobia Chapter

Yen Chapter

Zen Chapter

Epilogue

About the Author

My Summer of 'EN'

It was the summer I turned eleven. I thought it would be just like any other summer: days filled with endless bicycle riding, baseball, hopscotch, and barbeque, and only the dread of summer ending creeping up unceremoniously into our thoughts as the days waned. In other words, just this side of heaven, at least for a kid. But there was more to this summer than met the eye. It was the small things that turned into big adventures and super fun and allowed me to earn enough Armadillo Tracker Plates to get one step closer to becoming an Armadillo Knight. But as I look back, I realize that it could be summed up in a group of words. It was then that I realized that each word had something in common. They all contained the letters 'en.' So this was my summer of 'en.'

~~~~~~

Amen Chapter

My family wasn't the most religious family in town. My father felt that if he managed to make it through a week without cursing then he had paid homage to the good Lord. So why bother going to church to do so? Granted, there were very few weeks when he actually managed it. But he said his attempt to do so was just as good as actually succeeding. I was all for that belief system. It beat going to church and being constantly shushed by the little old ladies in the pews around us. I have to admit, it was more my brother's fault than mine but to be perfectly honest I did contribute my fair share of giggles. Besides, since my mother would skin me alive if I cursed in front of her, it was a religious practice I could actually succeed at. I also made it a point not to curse - in front of my mother.

That's not to say they aren't proper worshippers. We do occasionally attend a service, like Easter and Christmas services. And Mother makes Dad tithe to make up for his absence. We also help out with the yearly garage and bake sales. I think my Mom believes that in doing so, she is in some small way saving Dad's cursing soul.

So when our church's minister came to the house for a visit it took everyone by surprise. My father failed in paying homage to the good Lord the moment he peeked through the blinds and realized just who was at the door. As the minister took his seat in our living room Mother fussed about trying to hide a slight layer of dust from our holy visitor.

I do hope there isn't anything seriously wrong, Reverend, my mother said, sitting down finally.

No, not at all, my dear. I simply wanted to ask a small favor and nothing more. It's a very small favor but it does have great ramifications for our church. You see, our parking lot has been deemed truly religious. It's so holey that if a person walked through it, it could result in a self-baptism. Mrs. Burch swears a good-sized man could receive a full submersion baptism in the pothole next to the entrance drive, the good Reverend began.

I'm an accountant. I have no idea how to resurface a parking lot. A no-fault bankruptcy, you bet. But not an asphalt topsy, my father mumbled. I noticed he never looked the Reverend in the eye.

Oh, and I have no intention of asking you to do so. My goodness, no! We have received an estimate from a qualified business and they even gave us a good discount due to our being a 'saver of souls.' What we need is to earn the necessary funds to cover the cost. Brother Mulligan came up with a rather inventive idea. We are trying to put together a good old-fashioned revival. Only we need a good deal of space in order to accommodate the expected audience. We know you happen to own the acreage of land on the outskirts of town. We thought, if you were willing, to donate the use of the land for this revival we would consider that your yearly tithing. We would also make sure that the land was cared for and left in the manner in which we received it, the Reverend finished up.

"Um, just what would this entail?' my father asked. My mother gave him her infamous glare. The one that said 'we just got out of having to tithe and you're rocking the boat' glare.

We simply need a place to pitch the tent where the actual revival will take place, parking, and of course, the necessary accruements for profit-to-the-poor, such as a t-shirts and accessories tent, food stalls, and the penance and forgiveness charity booths. Mrs. Burch suggested a ring of fire and brimstone toss for the kiddos, he chuckled. So nothing that would damage the land once all the tents are removed.

My father just kept staring at the Reverend not saying anything. Mother finally broke the silence, That sounds like it would be a wonderful way to help the church, community, and the good citizens of this town. I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to do so.

Excellent, my dear, and as promised I will see to it that when the revival is finished then the land will be right back the way it was. I know the parishioners will appreciate your charitable contribution and assistance in helping our parking lot, or at least their cars will, anyway, he chuckled as he stood up. My father stood and shook the Reverend's hand and led him to the door.

My brother and I were sent to the store to get some candy, compliments of my father. I knew the verbal free-for-all that was about to take place was going to be a doozy otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to get us out of the house. It's not that my parents fight a lot. On the contrary, they very seldom do. This means on the rare occasions when they do they are usually making up for lost time, so to speak. But my brother and I didn't mind. We were getting free candy and when we got home, our parents would be bending over backward to be nice to everyone. So it was a win-win situation.

What the heck is a revival? I asked my brother. He was the oldest by three years and somewhat of a know-it-all.

They pitch this big white tent and then they have people come in from all over. And I'm not talking about just from all over town. Grandfather told me about a revival his church once had and they came from as far away as Dallas. So there will be all sorts of strangers in town. They all come to hear the word of God, he explained.

But how is that different from us going to church every Sunday? I asked.

He thought about it for a minute or two and finally kicked a rock down the street before answering, Well, since there are all these sinners coming from all over then it's like a sinfest. Or I guess it would be more appropriate to say a confessionfest. They all come and confess their sins and are forgiven and then they all join hands and celebrate their cleansing from sin. Once adults are saved they feel the need to celebrate and that's just what they do, celebrate by singing hymns and shouting out to the good Lord. So it makes our community a forgiving town and one in which a fellow Christian traveler can find refuge and comfort. And that's always good for the tourist industry.

We don't have a tourist industry and no attractions, like that giant pecan over in the next county. I still don't see why it's any different or why it's gonna be a big deal. I also wondered just what they were going to be saved from. Was there some type of danger involved in a revival that required the necessity of saving a person’s life?

They have all sorts of games and food and it's like the fair, only no cool rides, and games for the kids. But the food issupposed to be good and it's supposed to be good family fun. And since we ain't got a tourist industry then we need to develop one in order to take money from vacationers and help out our economy, he replied.

So why doesn't Dad want them to do it on his land? I inquired.

Because, then the land becomes sanctified, and that's bound to drop the value of the land right there. I mean, what if an unrepentant sinner was to come to town and want a good deal of land to buy? Well, he just might not want to buy Dad's because of this. Or, worse, he might expect the price to drop because of it. It's like how Mom expects a price reduction for the bananas that have turned brown as opposed to the ones that are still green, he explained.

So why did Mom agree to it if it would devalue the land?

Because it got them out of tithing for a whole year. Mom's been wanting a proper vacation for who knows how long and with the money they save she just might convince Dad to do it, he said hopefully.

What do you mean a proper vacation? We always go on a vacation, I said.

No, we don't. We go to Gran's place and set up a tent in the back portion of her acreage. We aren't going camping, not really. Camping means no bathrooms and no stoves and at Gran's, we have both. So Mom wants a proper vacation, with room service, museums to go to and stores to shop at. She doesn't want a camping vacation but a proper vacation like the Howeys go on each year. And it can't be within a hundred miles of our house, he said.

That just sounds like a lot of hooey. Who wants to go to the museum? Museums are stupid, I retorted.

Museums can be cool. You just think all museums are like the town's museum and they're not. I realize that the piece of rock that could have been used by a caveman, if we actually had any caves around here, is pretty interesting but big museums are really, really cool. Some museums have actual bones of dinosaurs that are put back together like a puzzle and on display. They even take up a whole room. And they have cool stuff like dead animals that have been stuffed and bugs of all kinds, he said excitedly.

I don't think bugs and stuffed animals are that cool. If you want to see a stuffed animal all you have to do is pull out your teddy bear and there you go. You don't have to spend any money on that. And as far as the bugs go, just go over to the diner's dumpster and you'll find bugs galore, I informed him.

Naw, these stuffed animals are ugly formerly living animals and not some cute ones. Teddy bears aren't even indigenous to America or even Texas. And the same goes for the bugs. They have some that are as big as your hand. You can only see those things in a museum. Unless you travel around the world just to go see them in their proper habitat. And that's something that is really going to cost some money to do. So the museum vacation is the cheapest way to see all those things and not shell out a lot of dough.

Oh, I suppose so, but I like going to Gran's place and camping, I sighed.

We had finally made it to the store. It seemed like it took forever. Why couldn't we have ridden our bikes? I whined.

Because Mom and Dad didn't want us back too soon. This way we won't get there and have to hear them yelling at each other, he explained.

I guess he was right but we could have gone over to the park and eaten our candy and then ridden around the town until it was time for supper. We could have avoided the yelling that way too. We eventually ended up at the park anyway. We sat under a tree eating our candy, and discussing the upcoming revival.

By the time the revival was planned and the tents and booths set up, the town was really buzzing with excitement. I wondered if we would be going. Dad answered that question by making sure we got up nice and early on the first morning of the revival. Apparently, Dad wanted to find out just what they did to his land. According to my brother that was the only reason we were going. Apparently, we weren't gonna be saved. From what, I still didn't know. I just hoped it wasn't from big bugs. I've had nightmares ever since learning that there are bugs as big as my hand in this world.

Mom and Dad made sure we had a good breakfast and then we headed to the revival. I was surprised to learn that it took more than one day to have a revival. It apparently took a whole week. So I guess that was the main difference between church and revival. Dad really wouldn't go if it took up a whole week to manage it, though I guess if it just happened once a year then he might be able to squeeze it in.

The place looked a little deserted when we got there. It certainly didn't look like a fair. There were tents and I could smell the food cooking but there certainly weren't the crowds that the fair brings.

"Where are all the people?' I asked.

The service doesn't start for another hour. We should be long gone by then, Dad answered.

Can we try some of the food? I asked hopefully.

You bet, we didn't come here for nothing, Dad said smiling.

We came to hear a good proper sermon, not to eat, Mom said scowling.

But we've got to feed our tummies too, not just our souls, Dad quipped.

My brother and I looked at each other and could read each other's thoughts. We were both wondering if there was going to be any hollering here at the revival. Hey, maybe that was where the saving part came in and we would be saved from being embarrassed in front of the whole town.

Brother Gwinn, it's good to see you and the family too. Say, you haven't seen the Reverend. He said he would here first thing in the morning and I haven't seen hide nor hair of him, Mr. Parkson asked.

We just got here ourselves. Have you checked inside the big tent? He might have been double-checking everything to insure it goes well today. After all, it's not just the town that's here. Mrs. Fergason says her bed and breakfast was full as were the motels in town, my dad replied.

Good idea, I'll go and check it out. Say, kids, you want an honest to goodness behind the scene look at what all is going to happen today? We've got a regular rock show of religion that's gonna be happening, Mr. Parkson asked.

We didn't really think a sermon could possibly be as interesting as a rock show but mother gave us one of her looks so we knew we had to be polite and accept his invitation.

As we entered the tent I realized that it was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. There were rows and rows of folding chairs and the interior was bigger than our church's sanctuary.

My brother bent down and whispered, Wouldn't it be cool if they had trapeze artists and tightrope walkers.

I looked up in the hope that would be the case but was sadly disappointed. There was no rigging so I guess this wouldn't be as entertaining as it could have been if they had allowed my brother to plan it.

My parents were busy talking to Mr. Parkson so they weren't paying particular attention to their surroundings. My brother was the first one to see it and he nudged me and jerked his head in the direction of the pulpit.

There was the baptism pool, sitting on a platform, and floating face down right smack dab in the middle of it was the Reverend. I stood there open mouth and my brother grabbed my sleeve and was pulling me towards the baptismal stand. I didn't want to get anywhere near a dead body and it was more than obvious that he was dead. You don't float face down in the water without coming up for air if you're alive.

We moved closer and I struggled more. I was about to say something when my brother clamped his hand over my mouth.

Shh, I want to get a good look at this, he whispered.

Come off it, Levi, I don't want to look at a dead person, I whined.

When will we ever be able to look at a real live dead body?

If he were alive then he wouldn't be a dead body, would he? I snapped. Besides we went to Uncle Raymond's funeral and saw him lying in the casket. So we've seen a dead person before.

We haven't seen a dead person who was murdered. And you don't look like that, he said, pointing to the baptismal. If you died a natural death. Hey, wouldn't it be cool if we found out who did it?

No, that would mean we would be dealing with a killer. If he killed one then what would stop him from killing a couple of kids trying to catch him, I pointed out. Besides, you don't know he was murdered, you're just saying that to spook me.

No, I'm not. And I know he was murdered because of the sacred goblet lying on the ground beside the platform, with blood on it. And if you look at his head you'd see his blood is all over it and in the water too, he said smugly.

That got my attention so I looked closer at the floating body. It didn't seem like it was the Reverend anymore. He just seemed more like a prop in a play. As we inched closer, Levi was busy looking around at the floor.

What are you doing? I asked impatiently.

I'm looking for clues. Do you see that dirt on the floor? That isn't the type of dirt seen on this land. The dirt here is more like a light caliche and that dirt is nice and dark. So whoever killed him tracked it in from wherever they came from. So that's a clue. Do you see anything out of sorts, it could be a clue, he replied. Look at that, that’s a gum wrapper. Looks like spearmint flavored one. Why would there be a gum wrapper over here? He turned around looking at the ground to make sure he didn’t miss anything else on the floor. Once he had finished looking at the ground he started to look inside the baptismal tub. Hey, look it, that’s the cross from the sanctuary at our church. What’s it doing in the water? Do you see anything else, Jackie?

Well, he isn't wearing any of his sacramental robes and he always wears them when he goes up to the pulpit. So he was killed before he had time to prepare for his sermon. Does that mean anything? I whispered.

Who knows? Anything could be important. Just take a good look before Mom and Dad realize he's dead. They'll yank us out here before you know it, he said.

We were about to walk around to the backside when mother screamed. The jig was up.

I felt mother grab my arm and squeeze so hard I thought it might pop off. We were out of the tent faster than a cat on a can of tuna.

I want you two to stay out here and I'll deal with you later, Mother hissed.

Levi promised we wouldn't go inside the tent again. With that out of the way, Mother went back inside. As soon as the tent flapped shut he grabbed my sleeve again and pulled me to the side of the tent.

Where are we going? You promised Mom we would stay there, I said, envisioning the whipping we'd get when we got home that evening.

I said we'd not go inside the tent again. That doesn't mean we can't go eavesdropping from the side. Just so long as we don't go inside we’re okay, he said as he snuck off around to the side where the baptismal was located. Once we got to the point where we could hear voices coming from inside the tent we squatted down and tried to listen in on all that was said.

I’ve called the police, they should be here any minute, Mr. Parkson said.

We shouldn’t touch anything or else we could disturb important evidence, I could hear Dad saying.

I’m worried about Levi and Jackie. They saw his dead body. This could scar them for the rest of their lives, Mother whined.

Levi is a strong boy and Jackie isn’t a sissy girl, so you can relax about this scarring them. I think they can handle what they’ve seen just fine. We can get one of the other pastors to talk to them if that would make you feel better, Dad replied.

I don’t think anything will make me feel better what with the Reverend having been murdered, Mother retorted. That means a killer is running about town. You know how the kids are always going out and riding their bikes and playing with the other kids? The killer could target one of them next, Mom pointed out.

I think whoever killed the Reverend was after him and not our kids, so relax. Right now we have to wait for the police to get here and let them take charge of the investigation, Dad soothed.

It was about this time that we heard a rustling coming from behind the tent. Levi and I looked at each other and then we moved around a mesquite tree to hide ourselves a little better. Unfortunately, in doing that we could no longer hear what was being said. The siren of the police cruiser was getting louder by the second. Then suddenly out of nowhere flames shot up from the back of the tent. Mother screamed and Dad yelled that we needed buckets to douse the fire with.

Mother came running out of the tent and started yelling for us. My brother grabbed my hand and yanked me towards our Mother. She grabbed us and pulled us towards the parking lot.

I thought I told you two to stay put, she scolded.

No, you just told us not to go back into the tent. So we decided to have a look around the revival and see what was going on, my brother replied.

Mother gave him a look that pretty much shut him up after that. I tried to see what was going on but the adults who had gathered in the parking lot were blocking my view. Sometimes being a kid sucked lemons. My brother was standing on tippy toes trying to see around the adults but apparently, that wasn’t getting him anywhere.

A man came over to my Mother and asked what was going on.

The Reverend was murdered. Drowned in the baptismal and then someone set the tent on fire, Mother explained.

Great gargantuan spiders, who’d do such a thing? You don’t kill a man of the cloth. I mean, really, that’s like a major no-no. It’s probably in the Bible and all. Jeesh, that person must have been possessed by the devil himself, the man said in shock and horror.

I know. And the Reverend was such a nice man. Who would want him dead? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a negative word against the man, Mother replied.

Um, yeah, I suppose so, but really, what is to become of the revival now? I mean, we purchased a lot of food for our food trailer and now it looks like it was all in vain, he mumbled.

I would think you should be more concerned about a murderer running amuck than about the loss of revenue, Mother snapped.

The man looked embarrassed and turned away from Mother. It was about this time that Dad came up and said, The police want us to stick around and fill him in on what all we saw. The firefighters said the tent was totaled and that the only thing that kept the Reverend’s body from being burned was the water in the baptismal. He also said that the Reverend was slightly boiled as a result.

That’s horrible. I hope his wife doesn’t have to identify the body under these circumstances, Mother sighed.

I looked over at Levi and then whispered to him, What do you think a boiled body looks like?

Don’t know. I’ve seen a boiled crab and it was really red so maybe the Reverend’s body is really red looking, he answered.

Gosh, you don’t think it’s gonna be like a boiled egg and they have to peel him to get to the old person? I asked, horrified at the thought.

Naw, bodies don’t have a shell. So I doubt if that’s gonna be the case. But whatever the case may be, I’d hate to be the one doing the autopsy on him. I bet he’s gonna smell horrible.

Mother asked one of the ladies from the church auxiliary to take us home and told us we were to go inside the house and stay there. There was to be no leaving the house for any reason other than the house being set on fire. She also made a point to say that if either one of us set the house on fire then we would regret it for the rest of our short lives. Too bad Mother knew us too well and had covered all the necessary bases to keep us at home. I don’t think even my brother could figure out a way around those orders.

The revival was shut down due to the investigation and so no one had their souls saved. I wondered about all the people