Dragon and Mask

Nature?

I remember concerning you the devotion of your youth, the love of your betrothals your following after Me in the wilderness, through a land not sown.

---Jeremiah 2:2 NASB

Buster slowly climbed down from his old tractor, letting his foot touch the ground with a light touch, hoping it wouldn’t swallow him. Otherwise, he’d simply disappear, never to be found. Just like his grandfather.

Buster trembled as he watched the soil quiver. A loud roar like a lion slapped his ears. The earth fell from beneath his feet, he ran for his life to higher ground.  He turned around. To his surprise the flat field remained solid, and his tractor remained in the same spot, mocking him for his fear.

Again Buster felt the ground tremble and shudder; he staggered a bit. Still, it didn’t fall away. Instead, a shadow darkened the soil. He looked up unprepared for what he saw.

A scaly reptilian creature with giant yellow-green eyes stared down at him. A red liquid flowed from its maw which resembled a giant cavern.  It writhed its long neck in front of Buster and dropped the blood-soaked body of a Limousin bull at Buster’s feet, in the same manner as a cat offers a dead mouse.

The sheer shock of seeing such an abomination kept Buster glued to the ground where he stood. Was this real? The logic of a monstrous dragon staring at him escaped his thinking.

Even though Buster hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in his four years of military service, he did learn to stand firm in the face of the enemy. Problem was, he never faced an enemy such as this before. He wanted to run. He stood still for it would make no difference.  The neck of the beast would simply reach out and spear him.

He shuddered with loathing at the disemboweled animal at his feet. The cattleman’s brand on the bovine’s rear was the brand of Garrett Boseley, Buster’s neighbor. He’d paid Garrett a sizable stud fee to inseminate his cattle with this bull. This dead animal was no apparition.

The ugly thing winked at him with a mocking smile. He could do nothing but stand there and hope the creature would go away and leave him alive. He had no weapon or defense against this monster.

The creature stepped closer creating the sound and feel of an earthquake. The wind from his nostrils nearly burned Buster’s fair skin. Even with a farmer’s tan, his face often suffered painful sunburn.

The copper smell of a busy slaughterhouse on a hot summer day overcame Buster. He gagged and tasted the bile rising from his stomach. He swallowed it and stood straight, staring directly into the creature’s eye. He may not have a defense, but he would not give this hideous creature the satisfaction of seeing him become sick and weakened by the encounter, even though he was both.

A large stream of saliva dripped from the creature’s mouth, quickly pooling around Buster’s feet. Even though Buster was fairly tall, the rising drool puddle engulfed his ankles. With the dexterity of a stealth athlete, he backed up to higher ground. The creature either didn’t notice Buster’s movement or didn’t care.

Shaking with fear, Buster determined to remain steadfast and firm in the face of absolute destruction. With the creature watching his every move, he did the only thing he could do: he prayed.

Buster remembered the disappearance of his grandfather and the long-lasting effect it had on his father. The townspeople spread rumors about his disappearance until the vile lies were accepted as truth. Buster knew he too was about to disappear without a trace, and he prayed his children would not endure the same treatment.

When Buster opened his eyes, the creature was gone, but the disturbed soil revealed where the creature had been. The evidence of the encounter was verified by the dead bull and saliva puddle left by the animal.

He stood in the middle of his field alone and shouted to relieve the tension in his body, What was that?

The View on the Road

Lift up your eyes to the bare heights and see; where have you not been violated? By the roads you have sat for them like an Arab in the desert, and you have polluted a land with your harlotry and with your wickedness.

- Jeremiah 3:2

Barbara Troye gasped. Her brothers stopped arguing.

What’s wrong, sis? Rance asked.

It’s okay, boys. Just look. She pointed out the front window toward the sky.

Wow! both boys said as they climbed out. They sat upon the hood and stared at the sky. The three snuggled close to each other for warmth and they watched the beauty of the plains play out on the clear sky in the form of a reverse mirage.

Too soon, the vision began to fade. The three didn’t move for a few seconds. Finally, Rance spoke up and said, Great show.

What causes that? Zay asked.

Zay, the likable, silent twin, would usually only speak up after pondering things in his head. Even as a thirteen-year-old boy, he expected a full answer.

I’m not sure, Barbara said. But it has something to do with the flat land and the warm and cool air. They continued to stare at the fading phenomenon as long as possible.

We gotta go, Barbara finally said. I’m going to be late by the time I deliver you.

Sis, look! Zay exclaimed as he pointed south toward their farm home. What's that?

Barbara glanced over toward the other side of the road and saw a huge dirt devil in one of the fields.

You think that’s at our place?

Can’t be, piped Rance, We can’t see our farm, it’s five miles away. It has to be on Overstreet’s place.

The three stared into the distance at the second strange sight of the morning.

It almost looks like it has wings, Rance said.

Yeah, Barbara and Zay agreed.

Again Barbara had to bring them back to reality. Come on guys, I really need to get on the road. She hurried them back into the car. Zay and Rance turned and watched the swirl of dirt.

Strange, it’s not moving, Rance said.

It’s just a big dirt devil—-another strange thing that happens out here on the plains.

That sounds good for the explanation of the dirt. But I want to know how you can explain the big snake in the middle of it, Zay said.

Barbara shuddered at the word snake, and if Rance had said it, she would have laughed, thinking he was making a joke. Zay didn’t waste words; he wouldn’t say it unless there was something to it. She had to turn and look.

Suddenly, the car jerked and made a kerthump noise. Barbara quickly hit the brakes and pulled over.

What was that? Rance asked.

Once the car stopped the three of them searched the highway. There in a curled up clump of scales lay the dying body of the largest rattlesnake any of them had ever seen. Barbara shrank back and shuddered in revulsion but at the same time she couldn’t take her eyes off the creature. He was so big and…he started twisting and wiggling on the highway on this cool September morning. It didn’t make sense. Snakes don’t like cool weather.

Don’t get close, she warned her younger brothers. He’s not dead. He can still strike. In fact, let’s get moving.

They all took one last look at the snake. To their horror and surprise, it raised its head, flicked its tongue, and coiled up. It shook a thick tail and made a loud noise with ample rattlers.

Get out of here! Zay screamed.

The three of them were silent for the remainder of the trip.

When Barbara reached the junior high building, she turned to the boys. You guys okay? she asked.

They both nodded but hesitated to get out of the car.

Sorry, guys, you gotta go. I only have a few minutes to get to the high school. I am probably going to be late now.

They reluctantly got out of the car and half-waved at her, Bye, sis.

Barbara parked in the far west parking lot on the opposite side of the school office; now ten minutes late to first hour. She hated being late. Her thoughts about the evil-looking snake wouldn’t leave her alone. She desperately wanted to talk to someone—anyone—about her morning experiences.

As she entered the building, the click of her shoes echoed with each step. She made the trip to the school office to get a tardy slip. At least someone in the office would hear her explanation. It didn’t work out that way. The office was empty except for Mrs. Paul, the school secretary, who sat behind her desk with a tissue in her hand and her head bowed.

Mrs. Paul, Barbara said softly.

Mrs. Paul wiped her eyes and turned toward Barbara. Yes.

I need a tardy slip.

It’s okay, go on to class, the secretary answered.

This was a disappointing turn of events. Barbara wanted to explain why she was late, but instead she was given a free pass with the wave of Mrs. Paul’s hand.

Is something wrong? she ventured to ask.

Yes, we received word that a carrier ship suffered a huge fire.

This news should have some significance, instead it was merely another piece of war news that flooded the television airwaves every day. An active part of her life since the first U.S. troops joined the Vietnam skirmish in 1965. To Barbara, Vietnam was nothing more than a news clip. She prayed it would end before her brothers were drafted into the horrible battles the family witnessed on the television screen.

Mrs. Paul looked at her blank stare and continued, It was the USS Forrestal.

Barbara wished she had been keeping up with the events in Vietnam better. I’m sorry, Mrs. Paul, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.

It's the ship on which Barry Lawson was assigned.

Now the news made more sense. Barry Lawson was a favorite son of Church Creek Falls. He joined the air force soon after graduation. That was all Barbara knew, other than the tidbits of gossip about Barry and his girlfriend. Today’s news didn’t fall in the category of whispered gossip. This very real loss of life affected the Lawson family and would send repercussions of grief throughout the whole community.

Barbara ducked her head and held her books tighter to her body. She let out a deep mournful sigh. This was the first casualty of the war from her hometown. She prayed it would be the last. She didn’t say anything more but left the office and headed for her first-hour math class on the other side of the building.

Exploring the Roots

Then I said, how I would set you among My sons and give you a pleasant land, the most beautiful inheritance of the nations! And I said, how shall call Me, My Father, and not turn away from following Me… A voice is heard on the bare heights, the weeping and the supplications of the sons of Israel; Because they have perverted their way, they have forgotten the LORD their God.

—Jeremiah 3:19, 21

Buster wouldn’t breathe easy until he reached the other end of the field. But the end meant turning the tractor around and heading back to his starting point. Normally, the mundane work of plowing a field suited him. He enjoyed the time to think and pray. Even this old tractor was so much better than the horse and plow he had to work as a young boy.

As he neared the spot where he first saw the creature, his heart pounded hard in his chest. He thought he could see a transparent outline of the creature. He had to be hallucinating, which made him question his sanity. The plowing continued until lunch. Never had Buster been so happy to head home for lunch. Except this time, he needed to decide how much of his morning adventure he could share with his wife, Merilee.

Returning to the field in the afternoon was not an option today. Buster wanted information and he needed it now. He pondered about where one would go to find information about a dragon in the field. Buster was a farmer, not a student. Only one person he could trust with this—Barbara, his seventeen-year-old daughter. School would dismiss in a few more hours. He would ask her about it when she arrived home.

When he opened the back door, Merilee looked up from preparing lunch for him, Hello, handsome.

He gave her a weak smile and hoped she didn’t detect his inner terror still lingering from the morning’s event. She must not have noticed; she continued to hum as she prepared lunch plates for the two of them.

Buster loved lunchtime. It allowed him to come in from the hot sun, but mostly, he enjoyed spending time alone with Merilee. Then an idea hit him.  Merilee always wanted them to do something together.  After washing the dirt from his hands and face and removing his straw hat, he walked over to her and gave her a squeeze from behind and a peck on the cheek.

She let out a little giggle and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

How about a little adventure today? he asked.

She stopped and turned to look him in the face. Buster Troye, do you really want to go out in the middle of the day? she said. Then she furrowed her brow, What’s going on?

Buster sat down at the dinner table and took a big gulp of iced tea. He loved the feel of the ice-cold liquid trickling down his dirt-parched throat and cooling him from the inside out. He set the glass down. I’m not sure, but I had a strange experience this morning. I thought I was over a sinkhole. It started me thinking and I was wondering if there had been any sinkholes in our area before. The sinkhole had been Buster’s original thought until the…creature appeared. Maybe that would be a good place to start. Whatever that thing was, it was occupying a large hole in the ground.

Merilee set his plate of food in front of him and sat down at the table with her own plate. She took a couple bites. Where do you go for that kind of information? she asked.

Not sure, Buster responded.

Maybe the library, Merilee said.

Silence engulfed the table for a few minutes, then Merilee dropped her fork as if the realization just hit her. What do you mean you think you saw a sinkhole? Were you in danger of falling into one?

I thought I was, but it turned out to be a huge dirt devil instead. It made me wonder what’s under our ground. I really want to know more about this land we’re farming.

Why? It’s been good to us, Merilee responded.

We inherited the land and started farming. We don’t know anything about the history of this place or the geologic makeup, Buster responded.

Humm, I guess we took it for granted, having lived here all our lives, Merilee said, and then her eyes lit up. There’s a new museum in town. Barbara’s history teacher is the curator. She’s retiring at the end of the year to work it full-time, but until then she opens at 1:00 p.m. when she finishes her school schedule.

Sounds like the perfect place to find some history of our home territory.

The museum parking lot was empty. Merilee and Buster wondered if the museum was open. Merilee turned the knob and the door opened. A disembodied voice responded to the tinkling of the overhead bell.

Be there in a minute, the voice said.

Merilee, look at this, Buster said, pointing to a glass case.

What is it? Merilee looked at the map.

It’s a map of the Ogallala.

What’s that?

It’s the water reservoir below us; it’s where we get our irrigation water.

Oh.

Buster thought that might mean Merilee did not understand the significance of the maps, If what I experienced was a sinkhole, this would be the reason why, Buster started to explain. He looked at the blank expression on Merilee’s face.

I don’t understand. Are you saying that you would have fallen into that water? Merilee was interested.

Sort of. A sinkhole is created when part of the underground is hollowed out, usually by water. We don’t hear about them often because there's plenty of water in them, and so the ground is stable.

"So if the ground is stable, why are you afraid of falling into one?’ Merilee asked him. Buster wasn’t sure what he was going to say next. Fortunately, a woman came around the corner giving him some time to think about his answer.

Hello, the woman behind the voice entered the room, sweeping dust from the front of her apron. Sorry, I was up on a ladder and it takes me a little longer to get down than it used to. Mrs. Wallace’s face lit up when she saw Merilee.

Merilee Troye, it's so good to see you. What brings you here today? Mrs. Wallace put her arm around Merilee and gave her a big hug. How can I help you?

Merilee introduced Buster. After the niceties were finished, Mrs. Wallace said, You look as though you have questions?

You are indeed a teacher, Buster said with a good-natured smile. He already liked this woman.

I had a bit of a scare this morning, Buster said. Thought I was about to fall into a sinkhole."

A good scare and he decides to take me out. I like it when he gets scared. Merilee chuckled as she grabbed his arm and gave it a body hug.

Thanks, but she is right, Buster continued. Obviously I didn’t have a sinkhole and I didn’t fall in, but it scared me, made me curious about our land.

So you come to the museum? Mrs. Wallace asked with a bit of skepticism.

Buster nodded with a downward glance, as it sounded rather silly now. Why would one come to a museum if they were scared of sinkholes? He couldn’t tell anyone the truth' that he'd been scared out of his wits by a huge dragon with a dead bull. How could anything in a museum give insight to a mythical creature in his field?

I see you found the Ogallala map, Mrs. Wallace said, interrupting Buster’s thought. That's a good start to understand the theory behind a sinkhole, but truthfully, I don’t know that we have ever experienced one in the entire county. Did you actually see one? Mrs. Wallace asked.

No, I heard a loud roar.

Oh. Mrs. Wallace ducked her head.

But since we are here, can you show us around? It’s the first time I have been in the museum, and maybe it will help take my mind off my near-death experience this morning, Buster said with a forced laugh.

I would love to show you around. I actually don’t get many visitors. I have become more of a collection center for people cleaning out their closets and finding things they can’t throw away but no longer want to keep.

Merilee looked around. The museum was quite orderly and interesting, even if the objects were fairly new.

We are not a very old community. The original founder, Phillip Donnigan, came here in the late 1800s after the Civil War and settled the area. So there isn’t any history before that era.

Buster picked up a book and thumbed through it. It had a lot of pictures. Is this Donnigan?

Mrs. Wallace took the book and looked at the picture. Yes, it is.

He was a good-looking man, Buster said as he thumbed through the pictures.

Well, on the outside.

What do you mean?

History proved him to have a black heart and evil spirit. Probably came from his time in Andersonville POW camp during the Civil War.

Just because he was a POW doesn’t make a bad man.

No, he started life as a street urchin after his family came to America during the Irish potato famine. Apparently, he raised himself on the streets, became quite a con-artist and manipulator. He didn’t have any allegiances to either side of the Civil War. He was one of many street urchins that joined the army for free food. Mrs. Wallace smiled at Buster.

So, how did he end up out here in Texas?

He came to fight the Indians with General Mackenzie. He was recruited from Andersonville to participate in the Texas Indian wars, Mrs.