In 1881, after a controlled plunge into a river, young Todd Tellier awakes from a lightning-induced coma, and is offered an opportunity to travel around Texas with his Uncle Steve, a part-time peddler of goods to ranchers. In his short sojourn, he is forced to mature quickly by the events of a stay in Dallas and encounters with different types of people. He meets his future business partners, his future wife, and discovers an amazing gift that will make his fortune.
LIKE A BOLT
By HOWARD D'SPAIN SARA D'SPAINAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Howard & Sara D'spain
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4772-4403-6Chapter One
Todd Tellier loved pounding hot metal after removing it from his forge. Ignoring the heavy humidity that accompanied the East Texas spring in 1881, Todd took aim with his ten-pound hammer, his target the glowing axe head lying on his anvil. This is when he anticipated the satisfaction that comes from a job well done, and it was the one place where the young man knew he controlled the outcome.
Just as he raised the hammer above his head, a bolt of raw electricity split the heedless clouds. One moment Todd stood over six feet tall, his arm raised for a mighty blow. The next moment, with a ground-shaking thunderclap, lightning laid him out cold.
Not two minutes earlier an unexpected breeze had coaxed his intent expression into a smile as it lifted the hair brushing his neck. He had hoped the skittering clouds would slow down to build a few thunderheads; rain would be a welcome break from this sweltering heat. The flaming red of the axe head indicated its readiness for his attention. With a pair of wood-handle tongs Todd had carefully placed the hot steel on the anvil. Then, using his hammer, he brushed slag off the end of the fiery steel and adjusted his balance before raising the hammer. His arm went up, a lightning bolt flashed, and his world went black.
Sam Tellier, cutting timber at the edge of the Caddo swamp, heard the sudden thunder and smelled sulfur. He felt, rather than saw, a bolt hit something near his home. Without another thought for his own axe lodged in a cypress tree, Sam headed toward the house five-hundred yards away, as fast as his legs would move.
There, his wife and younger son, Jeb, knelt in the misting rain next to Todd's motionless form. Though she heard her husband's approach, Mary's eyes didn't leave Todd's face. Jeb, too, never moved his gaze from his big brother's closed eyes.
"Todd's unconscious, Sam. He's breathing, but I can't rouse him!"
Sam looked at Todd's right hand, wisps of smoke rising from the blackened thumb. He knew instantly that his older son had taken the impact of that lightning bolt.
Controlling his fear, he quietly issued instructions. "Mary bring cold water from the house. Jeb, go fetch the bucket of pig fat in the lean-to. And grab a batch of the Spanish moss."
Sam swallowed the lump gathering in his throat. He couldn't allow himself to imagine his strong, tall son crippled and unable to work as a blacksmith. He knelt next to Todd as Mary and Jeb returned.
"Mary, dress his hand. Careful there. I'll pour water over him. Jeb, take his boots off so we can see if his feet are burned. Slowly now."
Jeb cautiously pulled off Todd's boots. No burns showed on his feet. Only then did Sam notice that all the copper rivets from Todd's overalls were scattered on the floor around the anvil. The axe head lay where Todd had placed it. Tongs and hammer had fallen on the raised floor.
"If we hadn't built this floor above the damp ground, that lightning would have killed him." Sam didn't realize he spoke aloud until he saw his wife's look of horror.
Calming her with a light touch he instructed, "Mary, try to rouse him again."
Kneeling beside his shoulder, Mary brushed the hair from her son's forehead.
"Todd."
He didn't respond.
Tenderly, yet firmly, Mary tapped his cheeks with her fingers and called a little louder, "Todd!"
"I'll get a plank and we'll carry him inside." Sam moved quickly to the lean-to, returning with a wide board.
"You and Jeb roll him onto his side and I'll slide this plank under him. Then I'll pick up the end with his head and you and Jeb lift the other end. Mary, stick his burned hand inside his overalls." The three moved into position. "Ready? Lift."
Mary and Jeb struggled with the weight of their end as Sam shuffled backwards toward the house. "Am I close to the stairs?" Before Jeb could answer, Sam's heel hit the riser, "There it is, up we go."
As Sam took that first step, his unconscious son began sliding, feet-first, down the plank.
"Whoa there!" Sam stepped down and the trio paused. "We won't get him up the stairs this way. Mary, you and Jeb go up first. When you get to the top set your end down. Then come help me shove this end onto the porch."
Mary and Jeb complied silently. As they climbed backwards, Sam raised his end of the plank to keep it level. "Hurry now, I'm losing my grip!" Sam's tone remained steady.
Placing their end on the porch, the two hurried to help him. Together they grabbed the plank as it continued to slip from Sam's fingers. All three then pushed their burden across the front porch floor.
Pausing on the top step to catch her breath, Mary turned to look at Todd lying next to her. Loudly she called his name. He remained silent and still, his normally wry grin absent.
Sam looked at Todd and swatted at the gathering insects, ever on the lookout for a warm bite. "We can't leave him here for the flies and mosquitoes to mess with. Let's get him into the house."
Inside, they tipped Todd onto the nearest bed. Sam leaned the plank against the bedroom wall. Todd's family stood motionless. For a moment, the silence in Sam and Mary's bedroom was louder than the insects' evening conversation.
Sam looked at Jeb, his ten-year old son. Still interested in catching frogs and whittling wood, this would be a sudden way for him to grow up if Todd didn't make it. Well, to keep that from happening, Jeb would simply have to assume a man's responsibilities now.
"Jeb, you hightail it into Jefferson. Find Doc Erwin, tell him what happened and bring him back here."
Mary's eyes widened but she didn't speak. She headed toward the kitchen.
"Okay, Pa." Jeb ran to the corral to bridle one of the mules.
Sam understood his wife was not only concerned about Jeb riding alone into town, but also about paying the doctor. He knew he could get a good price for the logs drying in the field. That would cover the cost of the doctor. About the other, well she would just have to trust him.
As Jeb started across the front yard for the five-mile ride to Jefferson, Mary stepped out, motioning him to stop. Handing up a sandwich and a tied bundle she reminded, "If you drink from Herman's Creek, watch out for water moccasins. Take this poncho in case it rains, and here's some money just in case." She folded his small fingers around a few coins.
"I'll be careful," he promised as he pocketed the cash. Jeb loved his family; especially his big brother who always took time to answer his questions and show him how to do things. Todd still and quiet frightened Jeb more than he cared to think about. Still, he refused to release the unshed tears that had been building behind his eyes.
He took a deep breath, kicked the mule in the ribs, and headed out at a steady trot. Mary watched him until he was lost in the dusty haze of the afternoon heat.
Sam came out of the house. "Nothing more I can do for the boy, Mary. I need to get back to that cypress. You ring the dinner bell if Todd wakes up or you need me for anything else." His hand lightly grazed her shoulders as he stepped off the porch.
Mary nodded, more to herself than anything, and watched Sam walk back to the swamp. She picked up a bucket and made herself move. She had always considered their cold-water spring a blessing - and never more so than this day.
Hoping the cool water would awaken her son, Mary removed Todd's charred clothes to bathe him. When she rolled him on his side, he moaned, but still did not awaken. She...
