Blaze (The High-Born Epic) (2 page)

Chapter 1

              “Harold!” she shouted from outside the barn.  “Harold!”

             
“Just a minute!” he replied.

             
Harold unhitched the plow from the mule and lightly coughed.  He swatted at the dusty, hay-filled air and spit.  Then he picked up a pail and poured water into the mule’s trough.  Sunshine wasted no time and quickly began drinking.  Harold then picked up a charge of hay and tossed it in her stable and threw her five ears of dried corn.  He dusted off his hands as he walked to the door.

             
“Harold, I need you to deliver this message to Phil,” the brunette woman said.  “This deal should feed us for a while.”

             
“Can’t you get Cooper or Ollie to do it, Aunt Nean?  I need to-”

             
“-deliver this message to Phil because I’ve got supper on the stove and Cooper and Ollie took Scape to the woods and they are all checking your trap line and hooks.  Besides, Phil has a ham hock he wants to barter with.”

             
“A ham hock?” he smiled.  “What’s he want for that?”

             
“A dress for Maggie’s birthday,” Aunt Nean replied. 

             
“Oh, okay,” Harold thought as he looked up at the sky. “She’ll be four this time, right?”

             
“Yep, and growin’ like fireweed.”

             
“I’m glad you can sew, Aunt Nean,” Harold said.

             
“Me too.  Now go on.”

             
“Yes, ma’am,” Harold said as he took the envelope and moved towards the cabin.  

             
As he passed through the back door, the scent of sizzling cornbread and turnips caused his mouth to water.  He could smell bacon too, but that was probably only
grease from this morning used to flavor the greens.  He passed through the front door and walked down the walkway towards the main road.  He looked to the right
,
and the only cabin there
belonged to Henry.  Up the road to his left was the main road, and there were dozens of houses lining the road.  Henry’s house and the dozens to his left were almost mirror images of each other.

             
He had heard that Colonel Foxx had chosen the wheel design of the village because it was an efficient use of land.  When Harold thought about the design, it reminded him of a clock.  Just off the twelve main roads were the cabins and houses, and the roads themselves all led to a central hub where the shops were located. 

             
As he walked, Harold thought about the message he was delivering and saw that the envelope was not sealed, so he opened it:

Dear Nean,

             
Can you believe that Maggie’s fourth birthday is in a couple of weeks?  She’s growing so fast.  Anyhow, I figure that a nice ham hock is worth a new dress if I provide the cloth.  Will you do this for me?

             
Phil

              Since paper was scarce in Foxx Hole, Aunt Nean had written her reply just below Phil’s request.

Dear Phillip,

              I would be happy to make Maggie a new dress for the ham hock and a pork shoulder.  She can also have the dress Ollie has outgrown for two sacks of corn meal.  The dresses will last much longer than the meal and meat.  You make out like a bandit in this deal.  Sign if you agree.

              Nean

              Harold refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.  He smiled.  Phil could not argue much about that, but he probably would. 

             
As he walked down the dirt road, he looked from side to side.  Many young children were out in the yards playing with rag dolls while others played tag or hide and seek.  The older children were mostly doing chores like hanging clothes, nailing wooden planks on the side of houses, and some were even helping their fathers on the roofs.  Other children were helping their mother wash clothes on scrubbing boards in foot tubs full of water.  Harold noticed that sometimes the foot tubs had bubbles in them, but most did not.

             
The scenery changed very little for the fifteen minute walk to the town circle.  The circle was fairly busy, but he had seen it busier. People were moving back and forth, sauntering in and out of the various shops and talking to one another.  As he moved deeper into the hub of the village, he looked at the small pyramid at the exact center of town.

             
There was a small platform that jutted out from all sides of the pyramid so that Colonel Foxx could walk around it and see all of the villagers during his weekly speeches.  Harold glanced at the top of the pyramid at the Kristall.  The sparkling orb was just sitting there, slowly spinning.  Above it, Colonel Foxx’s faded, transparent, twenty-foot high image hovered and rotated in sync with the Kristall.  The colonel’s arms were outstretched as if to embrace the entire town in a hug.  As Harold regarded the colonel’s likeness, he thought about the Kristall’s main function.  Once a month, it would project the mandatory history review known as the Vista.  After the Vista, Colonel Foxx always gave food and toys to the kids to show the High-Born’s kindness.

             
Harold looked away from the Kristall and moved to his right toward what would have been the two o’clock road and quickened his pace.  Phil’s was only the fourth house on the right down that way.  He stopped and turned back to his left and looked at the western edge of the town circle.

             
“I’ve got a little bit of time,” he smiled and moved towards the shops on that side of town.

             
As he stepped into the blacksmith’s shop, the bell above the door chimed, but he saw no one behind the counter. 

             
“Just a minute,” a female voice called.

             
Soon, he heard steps coming from the back, and he took off his hat.  When she rounded the corner, he smiled.  Her straight, dark hair was bound in a pony tail that reached almost the center of her back.  She returned a playful smile, stopped, and put her hand on her hip and half-cocked her head.

             
“What do you want?” she said as she adjusted her heavy smith apron.

             
“Some more nails,” he said.

             
“You have to have buckets of those things by now,” she replied as she rolled her hazel eyes.  “I’m starting to think that you just like coming here.”

             
“I’m a poor hammer man,” he smiled.  “I keep breaking them because I don’t hit them squarely.”

             
“Are you insulting mine and my father’s work, Harold Knight?” she countered.

             
“Of course not, I’ve already said that my aim is poor, Sarah Smithee,” he said.

             
“Of course it is,” she shook her head and put her hands on her hips.  “Our nails are the best.”

             
“And that is why I stop by so often,” he nodded.

             
“Hmph,” she pouted and cocked her eyebrow.  “Well, how many do you need?” she asked as she pulled out a pencil and small piece of wood.

             
“Three dozen,” he said.

             
“Everyone has been buying them left and right, and we only have two dozen right now, but if you come back at lunch tomorrow, we’ll have plenty.”

             
“Alrighty then,” he smiled as he put on his hat.  “See you tomorrow.”

             
“Uh, huh,” she said as she scribbled on the wood, and he walked out.

             
In just a few more minutes, he was at Phil’s house. 

             
A dark-haired little girl was in the front yard.  She had a stick in her hand and was using it to poke a mound of dirt that she was squatting beside.  She was rather dirty but looked fairly healthy.  She was wearing only a pair of over-sized underwear that were also marked with dirt.  Her blue eyes shot up and looked at him.  She ran onto the front porch and shouted with an adorable lisp.

             
“Daddy, a man ith here!”

             
Harold could not help but smiling at how her lisp made the word “here” sound.  Soon, Phil walked onto the porch and motioned for Harold to come closer.  Like Harold, Phil was only wearing a pair of dirty overalls.  Harold walked to him and handed him the message.

             
Phil opened it and began looking over it.  While he was reading, Harold looked at the little girl who was now hugging her father’s leg, and halfway hiding behind him.  Harold squinted at her and winked.  She smiled and tried to wink back, but instead of winking she ended up closing and opening both eyes.  Harold chuckled.

             
“Hmmm...” Phil said as he stroked his thin beard and thought a few moments.  “Well, I don’t have a pork shoulder, but I do have a slab of smoked ribs, and I only have two bags of corn meal in storage.  I’ll give you one bag of corn meal.”

             
“It’s a deal,” Harold said as he looked at the little girl.

             
“Thank you,” Phil said.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

             
As Phil walked inside, Harold asked Maggie, “What have you been doing today?”

             
“Pwayin’ wif ants,” she said.

             
“And can you tell me anything about them?” Harold smiled.

             
“Dey has white eggs, and dey don’t ‘ike it when you poke dem wif ‘ticks,” she said and showed Harold her dirty feet.  “See, dey bited me,” she said, pointing at the red welts on her feet.

             
“I guess they don’t like it when you stir them up, huh?” Harold laughed.

             
“No, dey don’t.”  She grinned at him and her locks of hair bounced as she cocked her head to the side.

             
Phil was coming back down the hall with a handful of paper, a full burlap sack, and some worn burlap.

             
“Here you go,” he said.  “The meat has been smoked and it’s in the paper.”

             
“Thanks, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Harold replied.

             
“Alrighty then,” said Phil. “The corn meal is in this sack, and these two empty sacks are the material for Maggie’s dress.”

             
“Alright, Phil.”

             
Harold laid the loose burlap on his shoulder and slung the corn meal on top of it.  Then he tucked the meat under his left arm.

             
“We’ll see you later, Phil,” he said.

             
“Thanks, Harold,” Phil replied.

             
He then turned and quickly walked back to the town circle.  He stood for a moment, thinking.  Then he walked toward the blacksmith shop. 

             
Before the door closed behind him, Sarah was rounding the corner.

             
“What do you want this time?” Sarah asked.

             
“Well,” he squinted as he put the corn meal on the floor.  “I need your help with something.  I just made a deal with Phil.  Aunt Nean probably won’t be too happy about it.”

             
“Harold,” Sarah sighed.  “Not again.”

             
“Yes, again,” he smiled.

             
“Well, what is it this time?” Sarah asked.

             
Harold explained about Phil and Maggie.

             
“Ohhh,” she said as she sighed.  “You are such a softie.”

             
Sarah thought for a moment, “Well, I guess I can use the burlap to patch things, so give it here, and I’ll give you some decent cloth.  You’ll just have to owe me for the extra bag of corn meal.”

             
“Fair enough,” Harold said.

             
“Well, since Millie passed away, ole Phil has had it rough trying to raise that little girl by himself,” she said.

             
“Yeah,” Harold replied. “I’m glad that everyone in town helps him with her.”

             
“She’s such a cute little thing.  And everyone in town loves her... I’ll be right back.”