"John Payne, a pleasure sir. What's your name then?" he responds emphatically. "Sheriff did you say? Deputies? I hope there's not trouble in these parts." he says in a bit lower tone.
Henry had mentioned his name during the initial introduction, but Mister Payne may have not heard it for some reason. Even now the wagon master seemed nervous about impending trouble. The woods must have truly shaken him and his lot. Interesting.
Extending his hand to the driver, "Henry Richardson. As in every town, we have to be vigilant and protect. Just doing our duty by the townsfolk, Mister Payne."
Looking back at the other wagons and group of newcomers, Henry adds, "Now, let us make our way to the tavern and Cole can serve up some hot coffee and breakfast -- finest grub in these parts."
Henry looked pointedly at Cole and turned to lead them all down the road. They could settle their wagons by the Smithy and then follow him to the Crusty Cup.
Cole nods, and turns to head back to the Cup. he goes inside and puts on his apron again, awaiting the incoming arrivals. He announces when he enters.
The arriving cravan is looking for woodsmen. Be on yer toes boys.
Suddenly the Crusty Cup is awash with carpenters. Food is ordered in large quantities, coffee flows like the Toxaway, and if he can keep them satisfied, Cole sees himself getting rich over the next few days.
Payne quickly forgets all the business outside and begins interviews with excited woodsmen over a cup of something much too alcoholic for this time of day. They end up all circled around a large table near the back, swapping stories of Greenville and the tiny town of Devil's Fork. It gets quite loud, but with all the gossip going on, no one seems to mind. A few men remain outside at the Smithy, tending to the horses and guarding the merchant wagon.
Cole sees to his customers, running to and fro, but consistently staying on his employees to keep up the serving pace.
He steps to Richardson.
As you can see, the Cup is busy, but let me know if'n ya need me to continue our work. I'll leave the shop in the hands of my workers.
he immediately heads back to work.
"I need you, Cole. Get one of the boys to cover for you. It's time we hear from Thistle. He didn't answer my question earlier, before the caravan came into town."
Cole takes off his apron, nods to Richardson, and approaches his oldest, most reliable, employee.
Tommy, here's my apron. Yer in charge of the Cup. I've got some work with the Sheriff to attend. Keep yer eyes peeled, and no skimmin' or I'll have yer hide. Get busy, now.
Cole adjusts his armor and checks his short sword in it's sheathe.
Ready, Henry, let's get to it.
"Since the Crusty Cup is full up this morning, best we reconvene our meeting at the church. It should be empty at this time of day."
Walking over to Smith, Doc and Thistle, he gestures for them to get ready to leave. "We are meeting at the church now."
Henry remembers something he wanted to ask the wagon leader and he makes his way over to Mister Payne. The man was animated and a little inebriated but Henry had to ask him about the woods. "Mister Payne, I have one last question before I leave. You mentioned something about how spooky our woods are. What did you mean by that? What occurred when you travelled through the woods? Tell me everything you remember."
"Well, ya know, just howlin' winds and scamperin' feet. Probably got some wolves 'round these parts I figure. But nothing ate us, so I'm sure it was just the trees. Brought some salt in case though." He says as he pulls some salt from a pouch in his belt, throws it over his shoulder, and winks at Richardson.
If it was nothing, then why the superstitious salt throwing...Payne is being elusive. "Thank you for your brief account, Mister Payne."
Turning his focus to a familiar woodsman he had spoken to once or twice during his time in Devil's Fork, Henry enquired, "Have you or the other woodsmen come across anything unusual in the woods this past month or so? Any strange smells and noises, an eerie presence, a change in behaviour of the animals and so forth?"
"Aye, been some skitterin' 'cross the Toxaway. We don't cross it no more. Says rumors there's some kinda witch moved in thataway. Can't say I believe it, but I stayed out near the river late few nights back, heard me some whispers. Sounds spooky, but I ain't dead. Prob'ly just the trees." the hunter turns out his hand, suggesting that's all he knows.
Doc hunched over his coffee at the bar periodically nodding off. The inexplicable disease clung to his mind as he drifted from conscious to unconscious thought. The solution was there. He just couldn't see it yet.
He nodded as Smith refilled his cup and watched the incoming stampede of people through bleary eyes. Half listening, his mind still worked on the problem of the infection, but rising noise level intruded into his thoughts.
With relief he eased out of the bar stool as Richardson mentioned moving to the church. He nodded to Cole's replacement behind the bar for a refill and started to head outside, but stopped as Richardson reentered the bar.
He followed the sheriff to the rowdy group in back and took a cursory look at the others for any signs of infection in their eyes, movement, posture, etc.
Thistle watches the men for a while, trying to commit to memory their faces, not things about their posture, their mannerisms. He skirts the edges of the bar, only catching snipits of whatever conversation passes among them.
While Henry questions the new man, Payne, he tries to feel out the general attitude of those present...are they taking this witch story seriously, or perhaps do they take it with a grain of salt as Payne seems to do...
Thinking back to the books he used to read as a child, he remembers one in particular about an old woman you trapped two lost children in her house made of baked goods. This causes him to suppress a chuckle.
Then putting the appropriate amount of coins on the bar, he has one last shot before following the others back to the church for Henry's meeting.
"Appreciate the information", nodding his head to the woodsman. "Good day."
Done with his questions for the time being, Henry motioned the others outside. It would be quieter and more private in the church. Henry wanted to ask his men what they made of the story of a witch or any other rumour or gossip they had overheard in the Crusty Cup.
Smith watched the new arrivals make their way to the Crusty Cup. They didn't even stop for breakfast? He shook his head, Not a lot of sand in these folks if the whole lot of 'em are spooked by the woods like a group of school girls.
"We are meeting at the church now."
He acknowledged the sheriff with a nod and started to make his way toward the church. As he passed the wagons, he cast sidelong glances inside of them. And what did these folks bring with 'em?
Doc nodded to crowd offering medical services to any who may need them while in town then followed the others outside. His thoughts moved to the missing children as he made his way to the church. How long could they survive out there alone?
On the way to the church Smith greeted several townsfolk, even to stopping to chat with them, much to everyone's surprise. The most acknowledgement he usually gave to anyone was a nod to the men and a tip of the hat to the women. But Smith's curiosity had overcome his usual misanthropy. He wanted to know if anyone knew of this Abendroth.
Once in the church, Henry sits down on one of the dusty pews and waits until all the men are seated.
"Did any of you learn anything of import? From what little answers I received, it seems our local woodsmen believe a witch has moved in along the Toxaway. I suppose we have to go into the woods to investigate this and the supposed whispers and scampering."
I learned nothin' more.
"Witch? Some poor old widow, probably. Still we should check it out before some damn fool starts blaming his rheumatism on her 'evil eye'." He started stuffing more tobacco into his pipe. "Don't know anything about this Abendroth. Ain't met anyone who does."
Doc sits heavy in the pew, thankful for a rest and a distraction from frustrating disease.
"I'm afraid I've learned nothing particularly useful. The newcomers appear to be unafflicted by the disease, so hopefully the spread is still contained to the caves. But superstition aside, the appearance of a stranger labeled as a 'witch' just as the children go missing has me concerned. It may well be just a misunderstanding, but I for one would like to know for sure."
Thistle strode slowly into the church, as if looking at it from a new perspective. He seemed taken with every creak of the floorboards, every splinter of wood sticking out of the walls. He paused at the staircase for a moment, and look up it unblinkingly. Then he put his hands in his pockets and sighed once, before joining the others at the table in the other room.
Standing at the doorway just inside the room, he directed his speech at Henry;
"I didn't learn much other than what I overheard you and that Payne fellow discuss."
Thistle frowned a bit and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, it seemed they were constantly slipping.
In softer tones, mostly to himself;
"I can't figure out that dream for the life of me..."
Well, then, what are our choices? I guess a forest trek is in order?
Hearing Thistle's mumbling, Henry stared at him with keen brown eyes, "What dream?"
At Cole's question, Henry nods his head. "It looks like we go into the woods and investigate this so-called witch or solitary woman. As Doc said, it could all be a misunderstanding, but it is best we know one way or another. I can't have woodsmen and general citizens spreading rumour of the evil eye and curses. There is enough unrest with the missing McCornin and Hewitt clan."
"We'd best get movin' if we want to get there and back before dark. I'll gather my kit and meet ya'll out front." Smith drew deeply on the last bit of tobacco in his pipe, then picked up his hat and headed out the door.
"Um. Smith."
Thistle clears his throat and rubs his nose with the back of his hand.
"If you need help carrying anything...well. As you know, I don't have much of my own. I'd be happy to help any way I can."
Smith hesitated. He wasn't completely comfortable around his former charge. There was something still "off" about him that he couldn't quite figure out. Still, he seemed sincere in his desire to help them.
"Sure," he tapped out his pipe on the door frame, "We'll pack some grub and gear on the mule in case we end up stayin' out longer than need be. How are you at hostling mules?"
Doc quickly drank the rest of the coffee in his mug and rubbed his tired eyes. Sifting through his satchel he looked for something to help him keep alert and settled on a few mint leaves. He hoped chewing them would keep his mind as well as his body distracted.
"Yes, I'd prefer to beat the sun there if at all possible."
Henry stared down Smith. He was the Sheriff afterall, and he gave the word when they would head out.
"Get your provisions and weapons in order and we meet back at the Crusty Cup in thirty minutes. It will still gives us enough time to hit the woods and back before dark. Pack a bedroll just in case, however. And bring some oil lanterns in case we need to see in the dark."
As the party arrives in late morning, the far side of the Toxaway seems generally abandoned by panners, hunters, fishers, woodsmen, and any other rabble from Devil's Fork. A few paths seem to wander off through the brush before disappearing, none of them going very far. Nothing seems to indicate any signs of a long-term resident, witch or otherwise.
I saw a crossbow at the old Hewitt residence that I may want t'be usin', Henry. Did ya grab up all of those things, or is it still there?
"I took all the vital possessions from the Hewitt house. I do have a heavy crossbow, a shortbow and a well-made powder, silvered-inlay rifle among the items. Is it only the crossbow you seek, Cole? I can bring it with me once I collect my belongings from my place."
Thistle nods to Smith and helps with the gear,and makes very little noise. He is quite helpful, being attentive and responsive to any instruction, but seems a bit lost. At the apparent tension that cropped up between Henry and Frank, he only looked away. "Better to let things sort themselves out here" he mumbled to himself.
When they arrived at the spot and Henry was going over the goods taken from the Hewitt house, he spoke up for the fist time out loud that morning.
"If noone else objects, I'd feel safer with a gun. If noone objects, of course."
Henry pondered Thistle's words on "Otherworldly" going ons. He made a mental note to ask him to elaborate once they had finished their business in the woods.
At Thistle's inquiry over the gun, Henry cocks a brow and looks deeply at the once mad man.
"Do you know how to handle a musket, Thistle?"
I think that I'd like to have that Crossbow, Henry.
"The crossbow is yours, Cole." Henry hands over the weapon to Cole but waits to hear from Thistle before considering giving him Hewitt's gun.
Turning his gaze from man to man, Henry asks, "Any objections to Thistle carrying a gun?"