This is episode thirty-three of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise
. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.
Purity of Thought
The door to the stockade opened. A burst of sunlight lit the room much brighter than the light that was cast through the cell windows. A stern-faced captain unlocked the cell doors.
He stepped out of the stockade and waved for Trace, Sage, and Coyote to come out. “Come on you guys. Everybody out.”
A heart-stopping thought flashed through Trace’s mind. ‘I’ve never been searched once. What if they decide to pat me down? Zero.’ He relaxed. ‘This is really a slipshod outfit. I bet they don’t even cinch their saddle before heading out to check on their herd.’
He made sure his shirt hung loose, so it would be hard to detect the pistol tucked away under his shirt.
They walked out of the stockade. The captain looked at them as if he never wanted to forget their faces. “Funny,” he said, “you looked a lot more dangerous in the night.”
“There’s lots of ladies who look prettier at night,” Coyote smiled. “Then ya get ‘em out into the sunlight. No offense, but they kinda look like you.”
The guard held his lips straight.
“I’m sorry,” Coyote said. “This is a religious community, and I thought it was a little funny. I just wanted to break the ice and find some common ground. You know, women. That is of course—never mind. I’m just getting myself in deeper.”
“You are going to meet Me’Ached,” the guard said. “Your thoughts should be pure.”
“Oh they are,” Coyote assured. “I’m Baptists. We can change on a dime.”
The guard held his stoic face. “Follow me.”
They walked to a building that seemed out of place with the rest of the buildings. It had two concrete steps leading to a stone porch held by four Roman columns. In the middle, double doors stood wide open.
As they approached the door, the guard told them to remove their shoes. They did so and sat them aside. The guard did the same.
“Only Me'Ached may enter with shoes on,” the guard said.
They walked into a large room. It had a cathedral ceiling, perhaps forty feet high. The carpet, walls, and ceiling were white. A center aisle divided two rows of dark wooden pews trimmed in gold. Two full-width steps led to a stage. A white lectern trimmed in gold stood in the middle of the stage. To the right, a white leather high-back chair sat against the white stage wall.
The guard led them down the aisle between the pews. He pointed to a space short of the steps to the stage. “Stand there,” he said. “Me’Ached will give you time to purify your thoughts.”
“Can you give us a suggestion on how to do that?” Trace asked.
“Think of the most beautiful scene you have ever looked upon,” the guard suggested.
“What if it’s a blue-eyed blonde?” Sage asked.
The man glowered at him.
“She’s got clothes on and there’s no cleavage,” Sage said.
The guard responded as if the odor of a dead animal had passed under his nose.
“Geez,” Coyote said, “I was thinking’ about a herd of cattle settled in that green pasture in that little dip of land to the north of Perro Creek. Now I got that Betty Jean waitress at the truck stop in my head.”
Trace noticed the displeasing expression on the guard’s face. “Look,” Trace said, “we’re all a bit nervous. My friends don’t mean any disrespect. I think they’re just trying to calm their nerves with humor.”
“This is not a time for humor,” the guard said.
“You might have to give us some time,” Sage said.
“Yeah,” Coyote said, “I’m a married man and the thing with Betty Jean is her eyes—well she looks pretty good otherwise too.”
The guard slowly closed his eyes as if trying not to see the words Coyote spoke.
“Man,” Coyote said, “I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know when to shut up. But really, those cattle in that pasture puts you in a place hard to put into words. When you hear the wind and the sound of a redwing blackbird, in a good way, tears come to your eyes. Then you make a slight adjustment in the saddle. Have you ever heard the sound of leather when it’s rubbed against? It ain’t strings from heaven to most, but to me it is. Then there’s the smell of the meadow. It’s like the high note of a song and you tilt your head down and catch the smell of the leather saddle. Not a new saddle, but a saddle that has experienced a few summers of sun-blistering heat, blistering cold, blistering sand storms, and a blistered backside.”
Coyote stared into the guard’s eyes. “Have you ever seen that or felt that?”
The guard’s face appeared as if a Roman statue.
“I hate to say this to ya, my friend,” Coyote said, “if you can’t see or feel that, you’ve never seen God. This place, these islands are beautiful but they don’t touch my soul. I bet your soul has never been touched.”
“I’ll leave you men alone,” the guard said. “You may sit and reflect if you wish.”
The guard walked away.
“I know that place you were describing,” Trace said.
“You ought to,” Coyote said. “Your dad owns it. He lets me graze there. He says it’s his gift to me. I tried to buy it. He said if he sold it to me, it would no longer be a gift. Only me and him understand that.”
“That Betty Jean you were talking about, is that the Hopkins’ girl?” Trace asked.
“That’s the one,” Sage said.
“She’s even too young for us,” Trace said.
“Well, look at it this way,” Sage said, “when we’re forty, she’ll be twenty-eight. With each passing year, it gets better.”
“If Me’Ached comes out now and reads your thoughts, we’ll all be beheaded,” Trace said,
“Do they do that?” Coyote said.
“No,” Trace said. “Least none has been reported.”
“Ya know something,” Sage said, “I don’t think that Me’Ached is waiting for our thoughts to be purified; he’s making us sweat a little.”
“I’m sitting,” Coyote said. “He said it was okay.”
They sat together in the front pew.
“Churches sort of make me feel uncomfortable,” Sage said.
“This isn’t a church,” Trace said. “But it’s still made to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Coyote squinted at the symbol on the wall behind the lectern. “Is that some sort of new-age symbol?”
“It’s called a decagram,” Sage said, “a ten-pointed star.”
“What does it mean?” Coyote said.
“Didn’t you read any of the literature in the box?” Sage said.
“Yes,” Coyote said. “It means unity of opposites, divine wisdom, and Me’Ached has one that was given to him by some guy who visited him from a distance galaxy.”
“If you knew that, why did you ask?” Sage asked.
“Just testing you,” Coyote said. “And I wanted something to talk about too.”
Trace rapped his fingers on the seat of the pew and whispered without moving his lips. “In the middle of the star is a camera. There is a wire running beneath us. They’re watching and listening.”
“Will you stop that, Trace,” Sage said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Yeah,” Coyote said, “it’s annoying. How can we think pure thoughts when all I can think about is bustin’ your knuckles.”
“Sorry,” Trace said, “just nervous, that’s all.”
“During the whole thing, have you ever wondered,” Coyote asked, “what if they are right?”
“I think it would be closed-minded of us if the thought didn’t at least cross our minds,” Adam said.
“You ever think that maybe we did them a favor by getting those two off the island?” Sage said. “If they were still here, they’d just be malcontents and might poison others. It’s only a thought.”
“That reminds me that there was this Catholic priest on ole South 32,” Sage said. “Had a flat tire and no spare. I took the tire off for him and drove him to the nearest service station. They repaired it. I drove him back and put the tire on for him. He tried to give me money. I refused, but he gave me a blessing.”
“So you think we are going to get a blessing?” Trace said.
“Maybe so,” Coyote said. “Expect a miracle.”
A few more minutes passed with nothing said.
The guard returned. “You have had plenty of time to purify your thoughts. Stand.”
They stood.
“When I was in the fifth grade, I was in the principal’s office,” Coyote said. “They told me to think for a while about what I did wrong. The principal came back with a paddle and gave me a spankin’. Is that what’s about to happen here?”
The guard remained stoic. “Return to where you stood.,” he ordered.
They returned to standing in front of the steps. Trace stood on the right, Sage on the left, and Coyote in the middle.
“Maybe we should stand according to height,” Coyote said.
“Which way?” Trace asked.
“Now that’s getting complicated,” Sage said. “I think we’re fine.”
A young man with blonde hair in a white robe trimmed in black walked through an opening on the left side of the stage. He stationed himself in front of Trace, Coyote, and Sage. “Me’Ached has arrived!”
