Something was wrong; her old bones never lied. Bending to his level, Effie placed a loving hand on her grandson’s trembling shoulders. “Now calm yo’self and tell ol’ granny whut put yo’ tail in a spin?”
His eyes bulged with fear. “Men in blue uniforms are comin’ over de hill, yellin’ t’ scar’t Satan himself!”
“Oh Lawdy!” Effie blessed herself and ran from the room telling her grandson to warn the others in the field to run and hide, if they hadn’t already. She screamed, “Massa, Massa, hurry! Thea’ soldiers a comin’!” Her heart was beating wildly, sweat dripped from her brow.
Darrell heard the commotion before the servant charged into the study. He had been lighting his pipe by the window when he first saw riders coming down the hill. As the cook flew into the room, he went running past her with his rifle in hand.
“Why all the screaming? What’s happening?” His wife cried as she ran down the stairs. She clutched her throat appearing frightened by his urgency and sporting his weapon. When he didn’t answer, she followed as he ran to the front door.
“Where are the girls?” he asked. Cocking his rifle he heard the panic in his own voice.
Mary‘s face paled as she cried, “I don’t know.” She shook her head trying to recall.
8
“Daphne, I think is still in the barn. Oh God! We don’t have time to get her,” she groaned.
Darrell saw fear darkened her brown eyes. “I hope she has enough sense to hide herself,” he said. He’d protect his loved ones with his life and he prayed it wouldn’t come to that. “Where’s Melissa?”
The cook, now caught up in the conversation cried, “She’s in de devil’s pit.”
“Oh, I had forgotten our daughter was in the cellar.”
He grabbed his wife’s trembling hands. “You two get yourself down to that root cellar and lock the door behind you!” he ordered them seeing fear etched on their face.
As he heard horses nearing, he readied himself to fight for his family and he raised the rifle, preparing for the worst. What was going to happen to his family and what were those soldiers doing so far south? Since the war started, he and his wife prayed they wouldn’t be caught up in it.
A moment of indecision passed as Mary clutched her stomach, her body quaking. She
held onto her servant for support, but the cook was shaking more than she was. “God, help us,” she prayed, and Effie said amen.
“Go!” Darrell shouted over his shoulder.
Mary ran to the cellar door, taking the big brass key from the lock. “Get down there with her,” she ordered Effie, but the servant refused to budge.
“Ah’s not goin’ down thea’. Ways Ah sees it, if Ah mus’ meet de Lord, Ah do it fightin’ dem Yankees. No, ma’am.” She shook her head so wildly, her jowls quivered.
No time to argue, Mary believed Melissa hadn’t heard the commotion and not aware of the danger. If she were she’d come up and fight off the soldiers with her bare hands. Quickly, Mary shut the door and locked it, then dropped the key into her pocket. Running into the study, past Sam, who was hard of hearing and oblivious to what was happening, she plucked the other rifle from the wall. Hurriedly, she snatched shells from the desk drawer and joined her husband in the yard that was doing his best to ward off the Yankees.
“Mary!” Darrell yelled over the gun fire, “Get back into the house.” He fired another shot, hitting one of the men. There were still five soldiers left.
9
Mary saw another soldier charging; he came up from the rear, shouting and waving frantically. His uniformed sleeve bore more strips than the other men. She was not able to make any sense out of it, but she took aim and fired.
Darrell squeezed her hand. “I know where Melissa got all her spunk. You’re a special person Mary. Our life had been happy and prosperous. There would be no regrets and I pray that our children will escape this horror by some miracle. Mary, please go inside.” Her husband tried
once more to convince her through a hail of bullets. “No!” She shook her head adamantly. “We build this place together. I’ll not go it alone; we stand together.”
Her eyes watered remembering all the love they shared. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. He was still holding it as a bullet took his life. “Darrell?!” she shrieked, sobbing over his lifeless body. Incensed with rage, she grabbed her rifle and charged at the men. Her long skirt wrapped around her ankles nearly made her stumble but she managed to get off a wild shot.
Effie looked out the window in time to see the bullet hit Mrs. St Andrew’s between her beautiful eyes. Effie’s husband Sam was behind the door with a smoking pistol in his trembling hands. The soldier didn’t live to boast, his bullet struck the man in the stomach, tumbling him to the ground to die a slow and painful death.
It had taken a while for her to make Sam understand her babbling. There were three soldiers left and she knew her husband wasn’t any match for them. He quickly bolted the front door and grabbed Effie, practically dragging her to the back door. Petrified, she stood rooted to the floor.
“Stop yo’ tuggin’, yo’ ol’ fool!” she hollered but Sam didn’t hear her and she didn’t want to go. Where would she go anyway? Her beautiful Mary was murdered by the Union devils and what about Melissa and Daphne? If they escaped this nightmare, they needed their Effie to care for them. She wouldn’t leave, even under threat of death. Sam continued to pull at her. By the time her mate dragged her through the back door, a bullet was waiting for him and she realized that one of the soldiers circled the house, expecting someone to escape.
Sam grabbed his wounded shoulder, falling to the back porch wooden floor. Effie stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks. Then something snapped and she ran back into the
10
house when the soldier leaped from his horse. She grabbed her broom and waited for him to come through the screen door. A few whacks on the head stunned the soldier.
Like a fish out of water, the uniformed man flapped his arms to defend himself calling her a crazy old lady. Ear blistering curses spewed from his mouth as he snatched at the broom, yanking it from her hands. With weapon in hand, he pointed it at her, and snarled, “Cause any more trouble, you old bag, I’ll shoot you.” Her outraged gasp didn’t faze him and the soldier cursed. “Son-of-a bitch!” he waved his bayonet threateningly at her as two other men ran into the room.
“Well, Smitty, what do we have here?” snickered another soldier.
She eyed them feeling panic, but she would not show fear.
“This old bat tried to knock my brains out with her broom, Joe.” replied the one call Smithy, removing his slosh hat and rubbing his sore noggin.
“What brains?” Joe snickered.
“Very funny Joe,” Smitty spat raising his fists as the last soldier entered the kitchen.
“Okay, you two, cut it out! I am thoroughly disgusted with all that happened. The sergeant is dead, and so are our comrades.”
“Well since it appears as if you’re taking over as our leader, what are we going to do with this one, Boyd?” asked Joe, pointing to Effie.
The man said, “I think we’ll have her dish us up that delicious meal I smell cooking.”
Joe sniffed and rubbed his bot belly.
Effie heard the declaration and folded her arms over her large bosom; a stance that showed the enemy that she’d not obliged. But, Smitty threatened her with the blade of his weapon, demonstrating to her that he also meant he’d take no argument from a mere slave. She did as ordered and prayed they’d all choke on the meal that was meant for her beloved family.
11
FOUR
Gun fire startled Melissa on her decent down the rickety wooden stairs. Losing her concentration, she misjudged her footing and stumbled down the last step, turning her ankle.
“Damnation!” she gripped when she landed hard on her rump. She sat there for a dazed moment before she massaged her sore ankle. She didn’t think it was broken but it smarted fo
r a while. Another shot rang out and she frowned, and then shrugged assuming that her father was target shooting again. Melissa now regretted that she had come down here; she wanted to be practicing with him. She was a good marksman.
Though her mother protested constantly, her father believed it was a good idea that his daughters knew how to handle a rifle in order to protect them as well as him and Jason. But Daphne would not touch a gun. The first day Melissa picked up a riffle, her shoulder smarted from the bruise she received because she jerked the trigger instead of squeezing. It didn’t take her long to hit the tin cans with the first shot. Her father clamed she was a natural.
There she sat rubbing the soreness for awhile, waiting for the pain to subside. If she were wearing her brother’s field boots, instead of those soft shoes, this wouldn’t have happened. When she finally stood, she put her weight on the foot lightly until she was able to balance herself without falling. It was quiet now, except for a sudden creak at the top of the stairs. Engrossed in
picking the best potatoes, she thought she heard the cellar door closed and locked.
Melissa gathered all the potatoes in the apron she’d put on before descending and retrieved the lantern she had hung halfway down the steps. At the top of the stairs, she reached for the knob only to find the door locked. Thinking it may be stuck, she tried again. When it wouldn’t open, she frowned, wondering why someone would lock it. Laying the potatoes on the steps, she took the knob in both hands, shaking vigorously. It still wouldn’t budge. Panic welled inside her, not able to believe why anyone would forget she was down there. The door was never locked during the day.
12
Puzzled, she rapped lightly, and then placed her ear against it to hear any sounds. It was quiet at first, and then she heard Effie screaming something. She pressed her ear hard against the thick door then jumped hearing a gun shot. What was happening? She pounded on the door, pleading for someone to open it; no one came. She continued to pound until her hands were sore. Eventually, she became exhausted and crumpled to the steps, sobbing until she cried herself to sleep. When she opened her swollen eyes, it was quiet. Again, she pressed her head against the door to listen for sounds.
Moments passed. The stale, damp air assaulted her nose; she wanted out of that dingy hole. She was beginning to think like Effie, looking about fearing creepy crawling things. Nervously, she rubbed her arms, wishing she hadn’t gone down there alone. A gun shot rang out! It was close by. She gasped, fear choking her breath. Dear Lord, what was happening? Then she heard Effie shout and a strange man’s voice swore.
Panic gripped her heart. Icy fingers seemed to tickle up and down her spine. Her eyes
squeezed shut, she wondered what happened; common sense told her to be quiet. She listened to different voices, and then there was evil laughter. Bile rose in her throat. What was going on? Where were her parents? Where was Daphne? Oh God! She gulped in a long shaky breath trying to be calm as the damp brick walls seemed to be closing in on her. Claustrophobia was only in the mind, she tried convincing herself.
Time ticked by slowly, the lantern would soon go out for lack of fuel and she wasn’t looking forward of being there in the pitch blackness of the cellar. Just the though made her breathing laborious. Drawing herself from her dark fear, she repeated over and over, to convince her petrified senses. Claustrophobia, only in the mind, only in the mind.
“That was a delicious meal, Blacky,” Smitty stated after a loud belch.
Effie, acting braver than she was put her pudgy hands on her hips and barked, “Y’all have yo’ bellies full, now why doan yo’ leave?”
Smithy laughed. “And leave all this southern hospitality?”
Joe got up, opened his shirt and scratched his furry chest. “Think I’ll look around. It’s mighty quiet and I’m sure there are more darkies hiding somewhere.”
13
“There’re long gone from here,” Smitty declared with a loud yawn. “Saw a bunch of them hightailed into the woods as we rode in; they won’t be coming back. You and Boyd stay here, see if you can find some whiskey. And tie her up.” He nodded toward Effie before he went out the back door. Now, if those Yankees thought she’d be trusted up willingly, they didn’t know Effie.
The leader Boyd saw her give him the evil eye and he only laughed. “Don’t think you can scare me with your voodoo, Blackie. Now be a good slave and sit here.” He nodded to a kitchen chair with his head.
She folded her thick arms over her large breasts and harrumphed.
Smitty hooted, “Looks as if you got yourself a lot of woman there, Boyd.”
Boyd did not appear very impressed by his friend’s banter and snorted. “Hold your gun on her while I tie her up.”
Apparently these spawn’s of Satan thought that it was easier said than done to push her around. When Boyd tried to shove Effie into the chair she wouldn’t budge. Smitty continued to hoot, not making Boyd’s disposition any better. The move he shoved, the more she resisted and his friend roared. Finally, the annoyed soldier had enough and snatched the weapon out of Smitty’s hand and pointed it between her large breasts.
“Now, if you want to keep you man happy, I suggest you sit, and pronto!” He finally secured her to the chair. She knew she would be no help if shot.
Outside, Joe noticed small spots of blood where once laid an injured man. Thinking he ran to the woods, he shrugged then walked away. Entering the barn, he squinted into the dimness not seeing the cat nursing her kittens. He stepped on her tail and a painful meow made him step aside. The mother cat leaped to her feet with one kitten refusing to let go of her nipple as others scrambled after their dinner.
“Damn cat,” Joe groused. He looked around, noticed the stalls were empty and figured
the horses were probably taken by the Confederate army. They’ll not be able to get fresh mounts before leaving. He was about to turn and join his friends when his eye caught a piece of bright pink material peeking from around a stack of hay. Slowly, he approached and saw a small pink, satin slipper under the fabric.
14
“Well, what do we have here?” He grinned, swooping down on the frightened girl. The pretty little thing didn’t fight him, but lay limp in his arms. When he entered through the front door, he found his friends in the parlor.
“What the hell?” Not too steady on his feet, Boyd stood. Joe assumed he had found liquor and already finished half a bottle.
“What dooo we have here?” asked Smitty, his speech slurred. “Let’s seee what you got.”
Joe dumped the girl carelessly on the settee. She looked at them with a glassy stare, and then huddled into a ball.
“She’s just a kid,” stated Boyd, who sauntered on wobbly legs over to the girl and studied her for a moment.
“Yeah, but a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” declared Smitty, nudging Boyd in his ribs.
“I’ll drink to that,” replied Joe grabbing the bottle from Boyd’s hand and took a swig. He looked at the half empty bottle, raised his cattail brows, and groused, “Seems you boys couldn’t wait for me. So since you were the first to liquor up, I’ll be the first to get to know this little filly.” His two friends looked at each other with stupid grins on their faces and shrugged.
Boyd grabbed his bottle back from Joe and raised it to salute him. “Have a good time, Joe. Smitty and me are in no hurry.” He collapsed on a chair with his bottle.
Joe picked up his tiny bundle. She kicked and squirmed in his arms making him curse her. “Hold still or I’ll knock you out. You don’t have to be conscience for what I have in mind,” he said, and then spat.
Daphne didn’t know who these men were but they smelled as bad as the one who carried her. When she first heard the gun shots she ran to the barn door and looked out. Upon seeing Union soldiers enter the yard, she froze behind the door watching men fire on the house. Petrified, she peeked through a crack and saw her father and mother gunned down. When the men disappeared into the house, Daphne double over, clutching
her belly and the contents of her stomach spewed into the hay. Her breath came in spurts as she tried to swallow the horror she had just witnessed. Completely dazed, she crawled over behind the haystack to cry. Disoriented, she lay still trying to make sense of all the jumbled pictures that raced through her head. She
15
refused to acknowledge this nightmare was real. This was her birthday. Bad things shouldn’t happen on her special day. She closed her eyes against the images until they were gone and only darkness covered her memory.
Without warning, a stranger grabbed her and she lay trapped in his arms. He smelled awful and he placed his dirty hand over her mouth making her gag. When the man carried her out of the barn, she noticed the dead bodies in the dirt and wondered who they were. One was a lady with blood all over her face. When Daphne opened her eyes, she discovered that she was in her home. The smell of fresh bread and apple pie made her happy; that’s all the reality her mind would let in. But, she continued to fight until she was slapped hard and she went still.
Just as Joe reached the staircase he was snatched by the seat of his pants. He stumbled off the first step and fell against a large bulk and he turned to see the cook. He struggled but she managed to hold him up by grabbing him around the waist. He loosened his grip on the girl and she slipped from his hold onto the floor. The black servant swung him around and slugged his nose making him stagger back.
Enraged, she pounded on him relentlessly. “Yo’ let de chil’ be! She’s an innocent babe.” She continued her assault until the butt of a gun knocked her out.
“What took you so long?” croaked Joe. “I thought that old bat would kill me. Damn, she came at me like a bull.”
Smitty laughed. “Aw, we thought you were having a good time.”
“Yep,” agreed Boyd, taking a mouthful of the liquor.
Blue Thunder Page 2