The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

They were not the only ones buried in this plot. Standing at graveside in the soft mist Micah looked around at the ranger stars, military headstones, decorative memorial markers and simple crosses that all shared one common bond, the last name of Templar. In this ground was the final resting place for many of his kin over the past hundred and fifty years. Not too far away on a solitary low rise stood a weathered stone that read ‘Blackstone Templar,’ his dates for living and dying and a simple inscription that read ‘Land worth dying for.’

Blackstone was the first Templar who had come to Texas, at a time when it was called Tejas and under Spanish rule. There were stories still told about him around campfires and in the history books, and he set a high mark for those descendants bearing his last name. Each one in turn remained true to those same qualities, and many carried them to faraway places and into events that Blackstone himself might never have envisioned. But when their time came, one by one they returned here to take their place alongside him.

Micah’s father, Jeremiah, rested close by, waiting with the others for the sound of that final trumpet. His was a stone inscribed with the Marine Corps emblem and the likeness of a pair of gal leg spurs.

Tio Zeke was the latest. Of course, there was no real body to be buried, just a small jar of ashes emplaced inside a casket. It had to be that way, as his body had been part of a hazardous materials operation without parallel. What could be recovered was systematically incinerated and reduced to ashes to avoid any possible contamination.

The rest burned at the scene, other than those fragmentary remains gathered up while being mixed in with Texas Hill Country dirt, sand and rock. There were many who might have been bothered by this, who in this situation probably wanted more to place in that freshly dug grave. But Ezekiel Templar would have understood, and Micah and the rest of his family knew that what was left was more than enough.

Faith ran strong in the Templar blood. Each one in his own way or another had realized that no man, no matter how proud or self-reliant, ever stood so tall as when on bended knee before His Maker. Some of them, like Jeremiah, had ridden a dark trail and suffered great loss to get to that realization. Then there were those like Gideon Hood Templar, whom no one was really sure about except maybe for himself.

In his own faith Micah learned the body of a man is only a temporary shell in which the spirit resides. His father had taught him that early on and as he grew older, Micah held fast to that belief for all the years of his adulthood. He knew he would see Tio Zeke again, same as he would see Max Grephardt, Amos A. Johnson, Enrique ‘Chapo’ Gonzales and so many others who had meant so much to him during his life’s journey on this earth.

Because each in their individual walks shared that same core system of beliefs, so much so that in the end they proved willing to die for them. A man wasn’t just a lump of soil and clay that went away when his body returned to whence it came. He was far more than that, especially a good man and he lived on in ways that stretched on through the eternities. That was the way it was, you either believed or you didn’t.

As those who had come to pay their last respects gathered round, Micah and the other pall bearers took their places behind the hearse. Once the casket was put in place at graveside, he made his way to where his immediate family waited. His two sons, both in their Marine blues, stood on either side of Abby adorned in a black dress. Behind them were Solomon and Kate Zacatecas, with Jamie Zacatecas beside his mother in his midshipman’s winter uniform. Other family members, both close and distant, flanked out into the swirling mist.

The aged Baptist preacher had spoken over Templars before and had known Tio Zeke for most of his life. His words were simple and direct, reflecting the intimate knowledge of a man whom he both respected as well as admired. Micah reflected that when his time came, he hoped that whoever spoke over him was as knowledgeable on the subject. Be they words good or bad, a man deserved honest ones when this chapter of living was done.

After the pastor was finished there was a short pause. The honor guard was called to attention and three crisp volleys of rifle fire echoed out toward the Nueces. Seconds later the slow, sad notes of Taps filled the air. The mournful lament of the lone bugle carried something that ventured far beyond what words alone could ever convey. Micah had heard those same melancholy notes too many times before. As he grew older, they only seemed to grip harder down deep inside.

Following the woeful tune, the Air Force honor guard stepped forward and folded the American flag draped over the casket. With practiced care, the officer in charge came up to Micah and presented the triangled colors. As Micah accepted the proffered symbol, the young first lieutenant spoke softly. “On behalf of the President of the United States, the Department of the Air Force, and a grateful nation, we offer this flag for the faithful and dedicated service of Colonel Ezekiel J. Templar.”

The Air Force officer took one step back, then saluted slowly and reverently.  Doing a smart about face he joined his detail and they quietly marched away, the only