CHAPTER 2
THE COUGH
Alan got up at the crack of dawn as he had every day of his life. Stumbling out of his room, he descended the narrow stairs to the living room. Barely awake, he found some leftover stew in the pot, still warm from last night's embers. Filling himself a bowl, he had breakfast and started out to the forge. Since the house was his father's he had his carpentry shop abutted right against it. Alan's forge was placed in a nearby building that was at an angle from his father's house, making a L shape. He was very proud of his shop, having spent most of his money since his apprenticeship on tools. And on ore to make the tools that he lacked. People came throughout town to buy his goods, and his work was known for its quality and excellence of craftsmanship.
As he walked, he spotted the sleeping form of Stormy near the side of her house. Really a shed, he remembered the summer that his father and him had put it up. They had offered here a bigger building, but she had declined, preferring the simplicity that a smaller building provided. Striding over to her, he poked her shoulder with his finger to wake her. Startled awake, she turned her head to him and smiled. "Good morning, Master." She yawned, stretching her arms high. "Rise and shine Stormy, another day and more work for us I wager." Alan replied, stepping back as she got up first on her front legs then on her back legs. "Will we be going back to the work crews today?" Stormy asked curiously as she finished stretching. Alan thought for a few minutes. Will we be going back today? He asked himself. He could think of no clear answer, which bothered him slightly. He liked things to fit into neatly and was often uneasy when they weren't. Still, he had to give an answer so he gave the first thing that came to his mind. "If they ask again we will go, but for now I think we will be much more help here in the forge. We are going to need buckets of nails, fittings, piping and the like." Stormy nodded in reply and together they headed for the forge.
In the forge, Alan decided to start with making the nails that were going to be needed. Collecting the ore and his molds, he started checking the molds for wear and making sure that they were going to work while Stormy used the bellows to begin heating the metal. When the metal was the proper temperature, the set it on the bottom mold and placed the top mold above. Pounding with the hammer, they forced the metal to form the right shape and so had the mold ready to go. As he predicted, people began showing up with damaged tools and demanding they be fixed. Alan worked steadily on the tools, his mind focused on the rhythm needed in forge work. Heat the metal, pound the metal, heat the metal, pound the metal, this rhythm went on and on throughout the day. His sisters came in now and then. Sabrina went to one of the side forges with Storm and continued the nails while Alan stayed with damaged tools that came in. Mr. Addam's hammer had come off the shaft and needed to be re-attached; Mrs. Osterhouse's pots were damaged in the storm and needed to be repaired. The tide of people just kept coming. Alan lost himself in the work.
He was startled to feel his younger sister's hand on his shoulder. Looking up from his anvil where he was making a new chisel head for Mr. O'Leary, he was surprised to see Stormy banking the coals on the forge and the darkening sky of twilight upon the yard. "It's time for dinner." Mary said. "All right," said Alan. "Let me just put Mr. Colby's chisel over here. I'm pretty much done with it anyway, I just need to put the edge on it." Mary just nodded listlessly. Alan frowned in concern. 'That's not like her' he thought. "Are you feeling all right Mary?" He asked. She glanced back at him, startled, "Yes, why do you ask?" "Oh, nothing, I just noticed you seemed a little down. That's All." "That's sweet, but there's nothing wrong, really. I'm just a little tired that's all." Mary turned and skipped back down the lane. Alan just let her go, feeling a little uneasy about something, but not really sure about what. 'I'll just have a little talk with Jasmine, the town healer, tomorrow,' he thought. 'I don't want Mary coming down sick with something.' He then turned back to the chore of putting all the tools away that he had got out.
After tidying up the shop, he stepped outside the forge into evening. As he looked at the full moon that shone down on him that night, he thought about all the work that they had done that day. 'I owe a lot to Stormy', he mused, 'She's a good worker, never complains about her position, and can swing a hammer like no one else's business.' Stormy came up beside him as he stood there, the heavy clop of her hooves occasionally ringing as they kicked the rocks of the packed earth, stopping and throwing her head back to look at the stars with him. "The stars are sure bright tonight, Master" she ventured. Alan snorted as he was jolted out of his thoughts. He turned and saw the concern in her eyes. Mustering a smile to her questioning glance, he buried the thought and began heading for the warm lights of the house with Stormy by his side. Heading to the large door in the back, He entered first with her close on his heels. His mother had a nice dinner of warm wheat bread and turnips from the cellar already on the table. Smiling at his mother, he went to the basin and started washing up for dinner.
Dinner was a quiet affair, broken only by the klink of plates and the scrape of silverware in tribute to their mother's excellent cooking. When dinner was finished, his father leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe. Alan watched Mary as she sat pushing the food around her plate. "You need to eat sis," he said, deliberately keeping his tone light, "or one might think you are trying to catch someone's eye." His sister stuck her tongue out at him, making him feel a bit better, but mentally he firmed up his resolution to seek out Jasmine the town healer tomorrow and question her about his sister's health. His father meanwhile, took a puff of his pipe and then spoke slowly, "With things being this bad I wonder if we will still have a Halloween fest this year." Alan shook his head in amazement. A year without the Halloween festival, it was unheard of. "Father," asked Mary, "When did Halloween festival start?" Alan looked up interested. He himself did not know either. "I don't know hun," said his father, puffing contentedly on his pipe. Some say Halloween started before the Dark Times, and others say it is a recent thing. All I know is that Sandytown, Bayer's Rock, Montytown and Saldazar all celebrate Halloween, and have celebrated it for centuries."
Mary, Storm and Sabrina started chatting excitedly, wondering how the great holiday once started. Alan grinned wryly. Girls talked about the funniest things sometimes. He knew he never would understand women. Perhaps he could ask his friend Thomas. No one in town knew women better. He was always getting into trouble for wooing one girl or another. His father called him a natural born troublemaker when, for a joke, Thomas had swapped the head of his hammer for pound cake Sally had made. Paul had taken one swing and the pound cake had come off the head and splattered the far wall. Once, Thomas, Tobias and him had snitched one of Momma's pies off the sill where it was cooling. She had caught them later with an empty pie plate, and after walloping them soundly with it, had dragged Alan home and refused to back any more pies for a month. They had never stolen another pie since. Yes, Thomas would be the natural one to ask for advice about women. With his handsome face, winning smile and good humor, girls all seemed to flock to him. He must know something about women after all!
Alan leaned back in his chair and began reading The Account of Henry Baskerville, one of his favorite books. The faraway places, exotic people, and excitement captivated him every time. He liked the part immensely where, when surrounded by the Gleed police, his back against the wall, Henry Baskerville had found a loose brick that, when tapped, had caused a door to appear. The door led to a dark tunnel that had carried him through the city and outside the dome into a fetid marshland where he had made good his escape.
After reading, he put out his reading light, kissed his mother good night, bid his sisters, Stormy and his father pleasant dreams, and went up the stairs to his room. After taking off his boots, trousers, shirt and socks, he slid into the nightshirt his mother had made him last winter. Returning down the stairs, he went to the basin and pumped water onto his toothbrush. Using some homemade toothpaste, he brushed his teeth, replaced his toothbrush and went to bed.
In the morning when he got up and dressed, he remembered that he had wanted to see Jasmine, the town healer. However, a glance outside convinced him otherwise, as he saw Stormy already at work setting up the forge with a line of people already at his door. With a heartfelt groan he hurriedly made his way to the forge. There he saw Sam Colby, a rotund, weasel faced man with a mean streak a mile wide haranguing Stormy over a large chisel that had clearly been broken at the edge. "This chisel was supposed to be fixed yesterday and here it is, still a mess. I don't care what excuses you have, you miserable nag. Get it Fixed, do ya hear me?! Fixed! Fixed! Fixed!" he screamed, spraying her with spit as she tried to reason with him. "I am going to lodge a complaint and if you know what's good for you you'll finish my tool and…" Alan felt his anger bubble up and decided to break in right there. "Mr. Colby!" Alan shouted, causing the folk in line to stare. Alan never shouted. "I was the one who was working on that chisel. As I recall, I had not finished it last night when I was closing the forge. I still needed to put the edge on the blade. How is it that you have it now, when I had not given it to you yet?" He wilted under Alan's angry glare and started sputtering excuses. "Well, you see Alan, I knew I would need it when I got up this morning, so I went round to your place when I got home last night, but you had already gone off to bed, and there was my chisel lying there on the shelf. Well, I figured you were already done with it, so I just grabbed my chisel and…and left." he gulped, his pale face sweating under the accusing glare. "That's called stealing, Mr. Colby." Alan accused. "No!" cried Colby,"You don't understand…", but Alan went inexorably on. "You entered MY forge without permission, took a tool that, while it did belonged to you, was not yet finished, and then come in here and start yelling at my assistant for no good reason. I have half in mind to tell Mr. Moody!" at this Colby turned paler than milk. The village law was very clear on thieving. Colby would be lucky to escape in one piece. "I won't do that however, if you pay me for the work I have already done on that chisel, plus the work that I now have to redo, and give Stormy here a full apology." Colby flushed, but really didn't have much of a choice if he desired to remain in the village. Turning towards Stormy, his face red and his eyes angry, he muttered an apology and turned back to Alan without waiting to see if she would accept it. Alan saw the slight and thought about making him wait, but decided against incurring more of Colby's wrath. Colby was merely contemptible, but his brothers were another matter. Known troublemakers and antagonists, they were often more than ready to start a feud, even if their cause was hopeless. Many people went out of their way to avoid the family. Most of them had died out save the three brothers and their sister, Maybelle. Maybelle was the cook at the inn, and ran a tight ship in her kitchen and home. "And Sam, don't come back here without an invitation from me. If I catch you around here again, you'd wish Moody had you." Alan snarled as he accepted the chisel. Trying to affect an air of wounded dignity, Colby turned to go. He glanced back at the forge and saw the look on Alan's face. He began to move a little faster, and when he hit the road he was practically running. Alan angrily watched him go and then turned his gaze on the assembled crowd, who shrank back from his glare. Alan was a bit shocked at how he treated Sam Colby. Sam was a jerk, but that didn't mean he needed to be treated like that. He was supposed to be the calm one, hard to anger. While he was figuring out what was wrong with him, Sabrina came running out of the house and quickly stood by her brother. "What happened?" she asked, not even breathing hard. Alan looked at her a moment, trying to keep his emotions in check so that he could speak coherently. "Sam Colby was in here a moment ago," he started, "I threw him out." Sabrina raised her left eyebrow in surprise. "Alan, I've never known you to lose your temper before. What happened?" "It's not his fault," Josh Parbrook shouted, "Sam was yelling at Stormy something awful." "He stole his chisel out of the forge." Someone else shouted from the back. "He should have thrown him out harder!" came another voice from the crowd. There was a general rumbling of agreement. Sabrina's lips had pursed at the information. She then looked right at Alan and lightly smacked his arm. "No don't you be feeling bad for being mean on that rat Alan Eagleheart! You had every right to throw him off our property with a good thumping! If I had caught him, that's exactly what I would have done! Now you get right back in the forge Alan Eagleheart while I handle the customers." She gave him a look that said that they will talk more later. The crowd, meanwhile, was politely looking anywhere but at the scene. Alan flushed to the roots of his hair and all but bolted into the forge while Sabrina stood rooted to the front of the forge as an old oak stands in the forest. The crowd began moving up with their precious bundles that needed fixing while she took names and the problems and assured them that their bundles would be ready soon.
Alan moved about his forge, flustered still from the scene in the entryway. He spotted Stormy at the workbench against the far wall. Though her posture was relaxed, Alan had known her long enough to pick out the subtle clues that showed how upset she really was. Her swishing tail and the aggressiveness which she attacked the offending chisel were all the indications he needed. Moving towards her, he hesitated. He wasn't sure exactly what to say, but he knew he had to say something to her. Awkwardly, he reached out to her soft back and laid his hand where horse met human. She started violently, the chisel piece flying. "Oh!" she said. She flushed slightly in embarrassment. "Look, don't let Sam Colby's words upset you, Stormy. He's always been like that. As long as I've known him that man has been talking people down or whining that other people are out to get him. He's just full of hot air." Alan said firmly. Stormy still looked unconvinced, though the set of her ears convinced him that she was still listening to him. Alan began rubbing her flank as he spoke, trying to sooth her. "What happened out there was not your fault, it was mine. I was working on that chisel, and I should have had it done. I would have had it done if he hadn't come around and taken it without asking. I'll probably be seeing Mr. Moody here in a little bit to explain what happened, as I have no doubt Sam is going to be trying to tell him his side of the story." She looked up in alarm. "Everyone knows what kind of a man Sam is, so I shouldn't have a problem." She just continued to look at him with that scared look in her eyes that so disturbed him. "Really, Sam has always been a grouch, and if he gets to be more of a problem, I'll tell Marybelle, and that will be the end of it. I promise." Vaguely, Alan realized he was babbling like a fool, and tried to reign in his instinct to talk. Taking a shallow breath and releasing it, he patted her flank. "We'll talk more at dinner. Let's just finish up today's work okay?" Stormy suddenly turned round and gave him a bone crushing hug. Gasping, Alan returned the hug. "What was that for?" he asked. "For being you." She replied mysteriously and quickly turned back to her work. Really confused now, he returned to his anvil and began collecting his hammers from the shelf. 'I really don't understand women' was his thought.
After dusk, he went inside the house for dinner. Inside the house he found the others were already sitting down at the table getting ready to eat. Alan sat at his usual spot and ate slowly, listening to the ebb and flow of the conversation around him as his family discussed things that needed to be done. "Mary needs a new dress and Sabrina needs some new shoes, Papa." His mother said firmly. Paul nodded, "Agreed, but I need some planer tools when the caravan comes through town in the new month." He stipulated. "I also need some leather gloves so I can continue helping you in the wood shop, Papa." Sabrina interrupted. Paul Eagleheart nodded with a smile for his daughter. "I know sweety. And believe me, there is plenty of work that needs to be done. I've promised Big Al to help him with his house. He wants to be able to live in there before the week is out. And Mr. Johnson needs a new door." Alan just sat back and listened as his father went on about what needed to be done. With the terrible storm, there was a lot of damage that needed to be fixed if they were going to bring the village back to life. "That reminds me," his mother said suddenly, causing everyone to look at her. "The women of the village and I are going to make some food for the folks that have suffered most from this storm." Alan frowned, "That begs the question about the holiday this Sunday. Is the town still going to celebrate it?" There was some discussion about that around the table, with no clear consensus about that.
Suddenly, his youngest sister gave a dry, racking cough. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her with concern. She looked up sheepishly. "I'm sorry", she muttered. She then went back to her rather full plate. "Why, Mary, you've barely touched your food!" mama cried. She began fussing around Mary like mothers are wont to do. She watched her like a hawk as Mary cleared her plate. Mary quickly asked if she could go, and when her mother said she could, she beat a hasty retreat.
Alan watched her bolt from the room, feeling slightly concerned. He would go to Jasmine tomorrow. 'Should I say something to Momma?' he wondered. He decided against it. He didn't want to worry her. He would tell Stormy tomorrow, and they would go together. After bidding his family good-night, he turned in for the evening.
He woke up late in the night to the sound of heavy coughing in the other room. Swinging out of bed, he dressed quickly and ran down the hall to his sister's room. He could see his mother rushing up the stairs down the hall. They turned the corner to Mary and Sabrina's room and found the door closed. Opening, they found Sabrina kneeling beside Mary's bed, a look of concern on her face. She looked up as they entered. "I was just about to go get you mom." She whispered, "Mary started coughing about an hour ago. She's soaked her sheets from sweating so much. I couldn't get her to wake up." Worry cracked her voice. Kathleen quickly placed her hand on Mary's head. "She's burning up." She exclaimed.  Leaning over the bed, she began to gently shake Mary. When she got no response, she shook harder. Mary's head just flopped around limply on her shoulders. That was enough to frighten Alan. He felt fear tighten his chest and turn his hands clammy. "I'm going to go for the healer." He said. He bolted for the door.