We need heroes. We always have. One
of my favorite songs of all time is Bonnie Tyler’s I NEED A HERO. ‘Holding out
for a hero…’. I swear that song sends a thrill to my heart every time I hear
it. I am not ashamed to say that its lyrics have fueled more than one of the
plotlines of my books.
Every person has a different idea
of what makes a hero. Some think Superman, Batman, or Captain America fits the
bill. Others have real-life heroes like soldiers or first responders – and
that’s a good thing – we all should hold those men and women in high esteem.
Throughout history, different
groups of people have created their own heroes. When life is hard and the work
you do to survive is even harder, people spin inspirational stories of someone
who excels at that task and makes it look easy. These heroes are relatable, a
figure they can look up to and imagine them solving all of the problems they
face day to day. Examples of this type of hero is Paul Bunyan, the great
lumberjack, or Big John, the miner whose heart was as big as his muscles.
Cowboy country came up with its own hero, Pecos Bill. *(I wish he were this
cute in all of his portrayals. Here, he could be a McCoy.)
Pecos Bill was born around the
campfires of cattle drives, growing from the imaginings of cowboys who told
tales at the end of long days spent herding cattle. Personifying the frontier
spirit, Bill exhibited traits the cowboys valued – strength, courage, and a
distinctive sense of humor.
According to legend, this superhero
was born to Texas pioneers in the 1830’s, the youngest of 18 children. He was
tough from the beginning, using a bowie knife as a teething ring and making
friends with every wild animal he came across. The story goes that he fell out
of his parent’s wagon as they crossed the Pecos River and was swept away by a
strong current. Coyotes found Bill and raised him as their own. His family
didn’t stop looking for him, however. Years later when his brother finally
found him, he had to convince Pecos Bill he wasn’t a coyote but a human being.
When he returned to civilization, Pecos
Bill quickly fit right in, becoming a cowboy’s cowboy. He invented the branding,
iron, the lasso, and taught gophers how to dig postholes. He could also perform
extraordinary feats – rope a whole herd of cattle with one fell swoop, use a
rattlesnake as a whip, harness the Rio Grande River to irrigate his ranch, even
ride a mountain lion. Of course, this made Widow-Maker, his favorite horse
jealous. To appease the animal, Bill would give the horse his favorite treat –
a few sticks of dynamite.
Love didn’t elude Pecos Bill
either; one day he found a worthy woman as she rode a catfish as large as a
whale down the Rio Grande River. This lovely creature captured Bill’s heart and
he tried to impress her by shooting all the stars from the sky except one – the
Lone Star of Texas.
Yes, Pecos Bill accomplished many
phenomenal things, but the one that always stuck with me was the story of how
he lassoed a tornado and rode it like a bucking bull. Talk about a visual!
I used to imagine that scene as a
kid growing up in Southeast Texas and Louisiana where hurricanes are just a
fact of life. Now, I live in what is known as Tornado Alley. In this part of
the world, we not only have tornadoes, we have flash floods. I’ve witnessed a
little of all of it in my time. I’ll never forget hurricanes Katrina or Rita or
Ike. They were devastating and life-altering storms. But a hurricane is a storm
you can prepare for. You might not know the exact path, but it’s forecasted for
days, even weeks ahead of time. A tornado is different, those suckers seem to
come out of nowhere. What appears to be a regular thunderstorm can suddenly
turn deadly. Plus, like storms from the sea which can vary from tropical storms
to full flown Category 5’s, the tornado can be thin and rope like or a horrendous
mile wide wedge of destruction.
Where I live now, there is a town
close to me that suffered a mammoth tornado in May of 1997. I remember it well.
The town’s name is Jarrell and it’s located just forty miles north of Austin on
Interstate 35. The Jarrell tornado was not a normal storm, defying logic, not
behaving as it should. On May 27th of 1997 the conditions weren’t
right for a tornado. The wind shear and rotation seemed too low and slow in the
beginning to create more than just a thunderstorm. What was there – in
abundance – was atmospheric instability, or CAPE value. A regular thunderstorm
has a CAPE of 500, the Jarrell storm had a mind-boggling CAPE of 7500. Plus,
the direction the storm took was not normal, they usually move southwest to
northeast or west to east. The Jarrell tornado moved from north to southwest.
Clearly, something unique was afoot.
On that day, this surprise storm
cell spawned twenty-four separate tornados in Central Texas. One hit in
Lakeway, just across Lake Travis from where I live, and one hit in Cedar Park,
just up the road from me. But the biggest, the monster, was the one that hit
the small town of Jarrell.
Courtesy of Public Domain –
Wikimedia Commons
The tornado started out pencil
thin, but gradually grew into a ¾ of a mile-wide behemoth with F5 300 mile per
hour winds. What made it extremely dangerous was how slow it moved. Most
tornados travel at about 30 miles an hour, the Jarrell tornado moved an
agonizingly slow 9 miles an hour, which could put it over one spot for as much
as three minutes. 300 mile per hour winds for 3 minutes is a hellishly long
time. Nothing survives a force like that.
For seven and a half miles, the
tornado wreaked havoc, tearing the earth from the ground to a depth of 18
inches. The asphalt was sucked off the roads. All the houses in the Double
Creek Estate were obliterated, killing 27 residents who happened to be at home.
300 head of cattle were killed, some skinned, and some torn to bits so small it
couldn’t be identified as man or beast. Sadly, the people who were killed
suffered the same fate. Identifying their remains was next to impossible. To
illustrate the tornado’s power, it dug up a tree in one field and replanted it
in another. Vehicles were tossed a half mile, so mangled that they could barely
be recognized as parts of trucks and cars.
They say lightning never strikes in
the same place twice, but Jarrell has attracted two huge tornadoes in just
eight years, a prior one hitting in 1989. Luckily, only one person lost their
life in that storm, but the 1997 tornado was much more deadly. A whole
neighborhood was obliterated, killing the twenty-seven people and leaving only
the concrete foundations of 38 homes.
Courtesy of Public Domain –
Wikimedia Commons
I recently visited Jarrell to do
some research for a book and I visited the park built as a memorial to the
victims who lost their lives on that fateful day. In 1997, there were very few
homes built with storm cellars in Jarrell. Now, there are many. Hopefully,
nothing like this will ever happen to them again.
Attribution: Larry D. Moore
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jarrell_Memorial_Park_2020.jpg
I’m making this devastating tornado
a key, hero-molding event in my novel THE STORM YOU CHASE. The hero, Clint
Wilder, saves his family from the Jarrell storm when he is young, then returns
to live there when he’s grown, discovering a life-changing secret buried in the
ruins.
Here is part of the blurb:
Storms are a
force of nature. Like a woman. Beautiful. Nurturing. Dangerous.
Storms are inevitable – it’s not a matter of
if they’ll come, only a matter of when.
Clint Wilder knew this to be gospel
truth. In some weird way, he felt he attracted them – for every major,
life-shaking storm in his life was always accompanied by a rip-roaring weather
event. Like the day his father left home for the last time. Or the day he
signed up to play professional football. Hell, the day he found out he was
related to the McCoy’s, the bottom fell out of the sky.
That was also true on the day he met…her. Jensen
Mistretta.
Talk about a storm! From the moment they met the
sparks began to fly. Thunder. Lightning. No woman ever touched him the way
Jensen did. Just one kiss and he was hooked. Addicted.
Now…if he could just make her feel the same way.
From Jensen’s standpoint – the man is trouble –
pure trouble. She’d weathered enough storms in her life to know better than to
walk headfirst into a hurricane. And that was what Clint reminded her of – he
was big, powerful, and nothing could stop him once he set his course. Too bad
they rubbed one another the wrong way.
When fate threw them together at a wilderness
rescue program, some thought they’d kill one another before it was over. One
thing for certain, they have to learn to trust and depend on each other – or
else.
This love story is fraught with excitement,
emotion, and enough heat to shame the sun. Clint and Jensen learn that not all
storms should be avoided – there are definitely some worth chasing.
***
Unlike Clint, I don’t chase storm,
but I am fascinated by them. I love to watch it rain. Thunder and lightning
excite me. Some storms can be nurturing, bringing life-giving rain to parched
landscapes. Other, unfortunately, can be deadly. One day – maybe – we’ll find a
way to curb these monsters, maybe even harness their energy for good.
Until then, there are days when we still
need old Pecos Bill around.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
by Maroonbeard
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pecos_Bill_Lassos_A_Tornado.jpg
Thank you
Sable Hunter
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