The “Welcome to Jordan’s Bend” sign at the edge of town has seen better days, just like its namesake. Population 16,720. Misleading at best. An outright lie at worst.

Residents have come and gone during the decades, but at its core, Jordan’s Bend owes its very existence to a group of families who settled in the area and never left.

Among these families sprang the town grocer, banker, barber, mayor, sheriff, teacher, and preacher. One person no one understood was the town vagrant, Cloyd Caple. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Happy, but sad. Old, but young. Friendly, but fearsome. His dog Charlie always at his side. A little runt of a dog that hadn’t seen the inside of a washtub since the day he was born. The people of Jordan’s Bend always knew when Charlie was around. The aroma he carried of dirt, dried mud and possibly rolling around in manure preceded him. Or, perhaps it was the tinkling sound of the tiny bell on his collar that flicked back and forth as his little legs kept pace with Cloyd.

From small town with a future, to boon and back to bust, the stories of Jordan’s Bend are anything but ordinary.

And waiting to be told.

(To be continued)