Turmoil to Redemption

Part 1

Prologue

The story is about Averal Saunders, a seventy plus RV traveler that has pet problems, family problems and relationship problems and continually looks for unique solutions that often get him in trouble. The plot includes crime, revenge, investigation, police interrogation and public service.

This novel was originally published in the form of three short stories at Amazon.com. The short stories are:

RV Park Avenger

Road to Montana

Redemption

The novel includes some updates and improvements, but is essentially the same story as the three short stories combined.

Chapter One

Roq is dead. I came out of my trailer, headed to the store for milk, bread and cheese and saw Roq lying by the steps. I knew immediately something was wrong. His front legs were stretched out away from his body and above his head -- Roq never sleeps that way. I called, Roq. Panicky, I spoke louder, Roq! I knelt to feel him and he was warm. His eyes were glazed, but showed no response to my touch. I went into full panic mode. I could feel my heart racing and felt stunned and looked around for help. I needed someone to tell me what to do, but no one was in sight. I forced myself to calm down and think, though I knew I needed help.

I picked Roq up to put him in my pickup. He was heavy – I have not lifted him in years. I carried him to the passenger side, opened the door and slid him toward the center of the seat. I got in and moved his head into my lap as I headed for Pet Palace, a pet grooming service. I thought maybe they had a vet and I did not know where else to go. Thankfully, Pet Palace is located near the RV park. I raced out of the park, ignoring the 10 mph speed limit. It took me about ten minutes to get to Pet Palace, most of the way at 70 mph. I kept shaking Roq's head trying to rouse him or at least let him know I was there with him, if he still felt anything. I felt no movement and heard no sound from him.

I braked hard and slid into the Pet Palace parking lot. I stopped the truck in front of the door, grabbed Roq and went in, bumping the man that opened the door out of my way. He was pulling on the leash of a sheltie, trying to get it away from the white poodle resting on the floor by the chair just inside the door. I rushed to the counter and said, My dog is dying, please help me.

The receptionist looked past me and I turned to see the man I had bumped at the door glaring at me. I ignored him. Louder this time I said, Lady. I need help. She looked at me, looked at Roq then rushed out of the reception area, I assume to find the vet. A few seconds later a boy about seventeen came out the door from the pet grooming area in the back, took Roq from me and returned through the same door. No one said anything to me so I followed him.

He laid Roq on a table, looked at Roq's eyes, and then got a stethoscope from a drawer to check for a heartbeat. After a few seconds looked at me and said, Sir, your dog is dead.

I said Where is the vet. Don't you have a vet here?

He replied We don’t have a vet. A vet won't help. Your dog is dead.

I felt drained. I knew Roq was dead, but I didn't want it to be true. I thought a vet may have a miracle that the kid did not know about. I leaned against the wall and the metal cabinet hanging above the small table they used for paperwork. All I could mumble is, Are you sure?

The young man said, I am sure.

I asked, Do you know why he died?

The lad replied, I don't know, but we can arrange for a necropsy. It may take a few weeks. Is that what you want?

I nodded yes. I put my hand down on Roq's stomach, my mind pleading for a reaction. Of course there was none. I asked, What do I need to do?

He told me to leave my name and phone number with the receptionist. So I went back into the lobby to make arrangements.

The gentleman with the sheltie was still standing by the open door tugging on the leash. He glowered at me. I walked over to him, held out my hand to shake and said, I'm sorry. My dog was dying and I didn't intend to be rude. He ignored my hand and stomped out, yanking the sheltie with him. The poodle tried to follow, but the heavy set lady wearing an emerald green business suit held firm to the leash on the poodle and pulled it closer to her chair. She never looked up from her magazine. She ignored me, she ignored the gentleman with the sheltie and she ignored the sheltie. She kept her eyes focused on the magazine, but I am sure she wasn't reading.

I bet the gruff guy with the sheltie was really aggravated when he had to squeeze between the awning post and my pickup truck. In my rush to get in, I had blocked the walkway to the door.

I watched him drive out of the parking lot. Then I told the receptionist I needed to move my truck and then I would come back in to make arrangements for Roq's autopsy. I couldn't remember what the kid called it. I moved my truck and went back inside for the paperwork. The receptionist told me to go back through the door to the grooming rooms and go to the counter around the corner to the left. The young lady behind the counter looked about fourteen. She handed me a clipboard and pen and said, Fill out these forms and bring them back to me while I makes copies of your driver's license and insurance cards.

I gave her my driver's license and explained I didn't have insurance for Roq. She asked how I was going to pay and I told her I would pay by check. I went into the lobby, as told, to fill out the forms. I completed the assignment and turned in the forms, retrieved my driver’s license and got in my truck to return to my trailer.

I was lost. I was having trouble facing the fact that Roq was dead. Roq is short for Roquefort. I named him after a cartoon I remembered as a kid. I think the character was called Little Roquefort. I can't remember if it was a dog, a cat or a rat. I just remembered the name and liked it so I used it.

He was so strong I could not hold him back with a leash. He dragged me to where he wanted to go. Twenty-five years ago, I might have been able to hold him, but not lately. I always held the leash on my fingers so I could release it without breaking a finger. My 250 pound bulk and his strength caused too much force for me. I am not as agile as I used to be.

I thought of him as Roquefort the Brave, but he didn't have a pedigree for that kind of naming. Roquefort was a mixed Australian Shepherd and Siberian Husky, mostly red with some white around the neck and left front paw. He was brave to the point of foolishness. I saw him chase a herd of cows in Kerrville, Texas and coyotes in Twenty Nine Palms, California. I saw him make a second pass at a porcupine just outside of Nacogdoches in the piney woods of east Texas. He had quills in his face after the first pass, but went back for more. He chased a bear away when we were boondocking in the woods south of Kalispell, Montana. A lot of fond memories, but they did not stop the ache in my stomach.

Roq was a strong, husky dog and there was no sign of any illness or distress before he died. I had taken him to the pet area in the RV park about six thirty a.m., which was our normal time to be out. We walked back to the trailer. I fed Roq a mixture of canned cat food and dried dog food, with just a little water. This was his favorite food and what I gave him most of the time.

The cat food still amuses me. I found out he liked cat food the first year I had him. We were at the Riverside RV and Trailer Park in Tillamook, Oregon. I lived next door to two ladies that were retired college professors from Oregon State University. They both had similar body shapes and I did not know them other than to say hello. One had gray hair and the other had flaming red hair. That was the way I told them apart. They lived in an A-Frame trailer and had a calico cat, a tabby cat, two parakeets and a German shepherd. I never understood how they all fit inside the A-Frame.

One morning I let Roq out while I went back in to find his leash. When I got outside he was eating out of one of the neighbor's pet food bowls. None of the neighbor's animals were around. I assumed it was canned dog food, but later I saw the lady with gray hair pouring dry dog food in a dark blue bowl for the dog and canned food into two bowls for the cats. One bowl was bright yellow and the other dull yellow. I assumed the cats knew which was their own. Roq had eaten out of the bright yellow bowl.

Now, Roq is dead.

Chapter Two

I am Averal Saunders. I used to be a family man, but that all changed about ten years ago. I often miss the family relationships I had, but I guess I have mostly adjusted to the change. Sometimes it is lonely. Roq was good company. I am not a social person – not anti-social, just not social. I do consider myself a friendly person. I speak to my neighbors when I see them outside, but I usually do not see them socially. I do not mind conversation, but I do not do anything to encourage it. I have lived with just Roq and myself for many years and most of the time I feel like I am happy with whom I am. (Whom often feels awkward to me, but I do try it occasionally.) I amuse myself reading, browsing the internet, working number or word puzzles and walking in the woods with Roq, when woods are available. I guess the walks are over now. I hate walking just to walk I will probably do less of that now.

I have always preferred pleasingly plump to fat, so I call myself plump. I am not sure what other people see or say about me, because they never say it to me. I am near six feet tall and weigh about two hundred fifty pounds. I will let you decide if that is fat.

I have a simple wardrobe. I always wear black shorts with four pockets and pullover shirts with a collar and one pocket. I always wear slip-on shoes. My preference is Crocs because of the air holes and roominess. They let my feet breathe. My feet and legs seem to stay too warm all the time, which is why I migrated to the clothing I wear. I wear suspenders to keep my pants up. Belts make my stomach and side hurt. I have one laundry bag, which Roq used for a bed. When the bag is full I use a coin laundromat and wash everything together in one load. I prefer to wash my clothes on Sunday night between one and three a.m. I never have competition for washing machines or dryers. Unfortunately a lot of laundromats lock the doors at ten p.m. In those instances I wash Sunday at eight p.m. A few times that causes me to go home with damp towels. When that happens, I change to a different laundromat and never go back to the one with inefficient equipment.

About eight years ago my youngest son, Sammy invited me over for dinner. I went to his apartment and found Sammy outside. He was watching the dog that became Roq race around the apartment complex. I asked, When did you get a dog? He told me a friend from work gave the dog to him.

One lap through, Sammy grabbed him and tied a rope around his neck, handed the rope to me and asked me to take him for a walk. I asked, Sammy, don’t you have a leash?

He replied, No, I don’t have a leash. He won’t be around long. Besides I used a fixed knot and a loop large enough that it slips right over his head and back off. I never choke him, because when he runs, I run.

My response was, Well I hope you know I can’t run and keep up with him. Not only did I not like using the rope, I did not like the idea of walking his dog at all. I have not been around dogs since I was a kid. I remember having a cocker spaniel named Blackie when I was in the first grade. I remember seeing Blackie’s name listed with my family on a Christmas card, but I have no memory of Blackie and me together. Anyway back to Sammy and his dog. I inquired, What is his name?

He responded, He doesn’t have a name yet.

I complied with Sammy’s request to take his dog for a walk. The dog nearly yanked my arm out of the socket. After watching the dog mark spots in half a dozen places around the apartments, I was worn out. I decided to take charge and return to Sammy’s apartment. I wrapped the rope around my wrist and hand and used my weight as an anchor to drag the dog back home. I had to be cautious to keep the loop from slipping off his head.

When we got back to Sammy’s apartment, he put the dog inside and told me to get into his truck so we could go eat. I was surprised, but should not have been, when Sammy pulled into a strip mall parking lot. I asked, You invited me to dinner at a fast food Mexican restaurant?

Sure. You know how I live.

He was right. I did know how he lived. Sammy has been independent and isolated most of his life by choice. Not a lot different than the way I grew up myself.

I ordered two beef burritos and two crispy tacos. Sammy had four bean tacos and a chalupa. While eating Sammy said, Dad, I need you to take the dog home with you. I’m not strong enough to hold him and I work too many hours to leave him alone inside my apartment. Besides you need a friend.

I was flabbergasted. I really did not want a new friend. Why me? Don’t you have someone you could give him to that likes dogs?

His answer was typical. I wouldn’t burden them with a dog either. They are all as busy as I am. You are the least busy person I know and besides, you do need some companionship.

Not to belabor the point, after dinner, I owned a dog that I named Roquefort and my son got to work whatever hours he desired. Since then I have had a friend and companion and I miss him already. Roq thought he and I were a team and I guess I did too.

I retired from an oil company in Texas after thirty five years of service, so I have a modest retirement income and some money in the bank, but it is dwindling. I am not sure if I am cost-conscious because of my limited funds or because I am naturally frugal. Either way, I live a modest life and I have no complaints about that.

I have lived in RV parks for the better part of thirty years. We always found RV parks cheaper than owning a house and had it certainly made vacations easy. I currently pull an eighteen foot light weight trailer. It has no visible manufacturers name or model on it. I bought it when I could no longer afford to travel in my motorhome. Routine maintenance on my motorhome was more outlay than available in my financial circumstance. I needed a place to live and the idea of being tied to one place left me long ago. I also needed something I could afford to buy and afford to tow with the pickup truck I already owned.

I found the trailer when I was on the Oregon coast. It had been foggy and overcast every minute of the day for two weeks and a bright sun-shiny day forced Roq and me outside. I was not particularly looking for a replacement for my motorhome at the time, but in the back of my mind, I knew I was going to have to find a way to change my financial situation soon. I was cruising the beaches around Lincoln City and passed the trailer parked in the driveway of a house on a hill overlooking the beach. I drove past it while my mind was on the waves in the ocean and clouds in the sky.

I got to the stop sign at the end of the street and had to wait for a family to cross on the way to the beach. A young man in a bathing suit about twenty five and a wife who looked thirteen had two children. One child was in a stroller and the other was a boy about five years old. I may be wrong about their ages, because almost everyone I see looks like a child to me. Anyway, the boy was wearing a bathing suit and one sandal. He was hollering and jumping on one foot. I assume something was hurting his bare foot. Dad had to go back and pick up the boy, then backtrack across the intersection to pick up the sandal lying in the sand beside the road.

My mind went back to the trailer while I waited. I remember a for sale sign on the trailer. I thought it could not hurt to ask about it. When the pedestrian traffic cleared, I took a left and went around the block to get another look. I got back to the house with the trailer and got out of my truck to read the phone number on the sign. Not only did it have a phone number it had a message.

AS IS – CHEAP

I was off the side of the road, not blocking traffic, so I used my cell phone to call the number.

A man answered, Hello.

I said, I am interested in the trailer in front of the house near the beach, how much are you asking?

He replied, I found it abandoned on the beach two years ago and no one has claimed it, so I'll take $500 to get it off my driveway. Remember it has to be sold as is.

I thought even if it was gutted of furniture, it was worth that much, so I said, If you'll take a check I'll take it right now. I had a hitch on my truck for a boat I pulled occasionally for a friend who liked to fish on Lake Georgetown, north of Austin, Texas. I figured the trailer did not weigh much more than the boat.

He agreed to the check, so I got my new home without even looking inside. I pulled it to a local casino parking lot and went inside the trailer to evaluate what it would cost me to fix it where it was livable. It was dirty inside, mostly sand, grime and lack of attention. I went to a dollar store and bought a broom, a dust pan, a mop, some powdered laundry detergent, shop towels,