I want to give a huge Thank You to anyone who has ordered my book on Amazon. If you read it an honest review (on Amazon) would be greatly appreciated.
I have a few ideas for future work. Below is a preview of story that has been percolating in my brain for a little while...
The Curious Life of Ardell Broward
IntroductionArdell Broward came squalling into the world sometime in the middle of the 1950s, in a little red-dirt town called Leeds, Alabama. Leeds wasn’t much to look at back then—just a handful of brick storefronts, a factory that made pants, and a church for every flavor of sinner. Ardell grew up there, somewhere between the train tracks and the better neighborhoods, never quite fitting neatly into either side.
He wasn’t what folks would call “book smart,” though he always ended up sitting beside the bright kids—the ones whose daddies sold insurance or owned grocery stores. Maybe it was luck, or maybe Ardell just had a way of looking like he belonged, even when he didn’t.
Adventurous by nature and restless by design, Ardell’s life would swing like a church bell on a Sunday morning—one moment he’d be singing in the choir, freshly baptized and full of holy conviction; the next, he’d be barefoot in somebody’s pasture, puffing on a joint and talking about cosmic energy and “the meaning of it all.”
Some folks said Ardell never could decide which side of the fence he was on. Truth is, he didn’t see much of a fence at all—just a long, winding road filled with odd detours, questionable companions, and stories that only a man like him could live through.
And so begins the tale of Ardell Broward—equal parts saint and sinner, philosopher and fool—making his way through life one misadventure at a time.
Chapter One
Ardell started off being a wanderer early on, always itching to see new things and just get “out there.” He had a sister, Janey, who was three hundred and fifty-four days younger, and the two of them were practically inseparable.
Janey had already met death once, having drowned in the bathtub when she was only two. If not for a neighbor who performed artificial respiration, her short life would have ended right then and there. But that experience changed her. At two years old, she had already faced the one thing most people fear the most—and come through it different somehow. Fearless. Bold. A little wild.
Five-year-old Ardell and four-year-old Janey made the perfect pair of explorers. They would often slip away from home to explore “the world”—which, to them, meant the few dusty blocks surrounding their house. Their mother loved them deeply, but she wasn’t the kind to keep an eagle eye on their every move. And so, Ardell and Janey roamed.
Sometimes they’d wander down to Jimmy Moore’s Grocery, where they’d shake the soft drink machine until loose change fell into the coin return. Other times, they’d wriggle their skinny arms inside and fish out a bottle of Coke. They only got caught once, and Jimmy Moore didn’t even tell their mother. Instead, he laughed, bought them each a soda, and told them not to make a habit of it. For Ardell and Janey, that felt more like a reward than a punishment.
When they weren’t at Jimmy Moore’s, the two could be found poking around the alleys behind Magdalene’s Beauty Shop or climbing the old wooden cooling tower just to reach the roof. From there, they could see the town of Leeds stretched out like a patchwork quilt—their kingdom, for the moment.
Later, when the family moved to Midland City, Alabama, their wandering ways didn’t stop. They’d ride their bicycles blocks from home, climbing into the hayloft at the local feed store or sneaking into the Baptist church to swim in the baptismal. Pastor Waters caught them more than once, giving a stern lecture about respect and holiness—but he never told their parents. And in the end, that only made Ardell and Janey bolder.
For such young kids, they were fearless. They rode their bikes all over the little town of Midland City, with no sense of danger and no idea how far was too far. Janey’s bike still had its training wheels, but that didn’t stop her from following Ardell wherever he went, sometimes riding a mile or two from home.
One warm afternoon, when adventure was calling louder than usual, they decided to pedal all the way to the other side of town. There they met a grown man who invited them into his workshop. And just as innocent children might, they went right in—two little kids sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, watching the man tinker with his tools while he told them stories. They stayed for the better part of an hour, completely at ease.
Looking back, it’s the kind of thing that seems almost unimaginable today. But back then, in that small-town world where everyone knew everyone else—or thought they did—trust came easy. Maybe too easy.
Ardell never could remember much about that man, only that he smelled faintly of oil and sawdust, and that his hands were rough, like someone who worked hard for a living. The man told them stories about building birdhouses and fixing up old tractors. He even gave Janey a peppermint from a jar on the workbench. When the sun started dipping low, he told them they’d better get on home before their mama worried.
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