Blue Thunder Read online

  BLUE THUNDER

  Thérèse Kraemer

  Copyright Therese Kramer 2013

  Published by Spangaloo at Smashwords

  Spangaloo Edition

  http://spangaloo.com

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  Dedication to my husband Bill

  If it weren’t for his years of proof reading my Romance Novels, I’d never have been able to put them out for my friends, family and public to read. He had gone beyond the call of duty suffering through my terrible English, not to mention the graphic sex scenes.

  Chapter One …………………………….Page 1

  Chapter Two……………………………..Page 3

  Chapter Three………………………….. Page 8

  Chapter Four…………………………….Page 12

  Chapter Five……………………………..Page 19

  Chapter Six………………………………Page 22

  Chapter Seven………………………….. Page 24

  Chapter Eight……………………………Page 32

  Chapter Nine…………………………… Page 37

  Chapter Ten…………………………….. Page 41

  Chapter Eleven…………………………..Page 44

  Chapter Twelve………………………….Page 46

  Chapter Thirteen……………………….. Page 50

  Chapter Fourteen………………………..Page 56

  Chapter Fifteen…………………………..Page 61

  Chapter Sixteen………………………….Page 69

  Chapter Seventeen……………………….Page 76

  Chapter Eighteen……………………….. Page 82

  Chapter Nineteen……………………….. Page 88

  Chapter Twenty………………………….Page 93

  Chapter Twenty-One…………………… Page 98

  Chapter Twenty-Two…………………… Page 101

  Chapter Twenty-Three…………………..Page 107

  Chapter Twenty-Four……………………Page 115

  Chapter Twenty-Five…………………….Page 123

  Chapter Twenty-Six…………………….. Page 129

  Chapter Twenty-Seven………………….. Page 131

  Chapter Twenty-Eight……………………Page 137

  Chapter Twenty-Nine…………………… Page 144

  Chapter Thirty…………………………….Page 149

  Chapter Thirty-One………………………Page 158

  Chapter Thirty-Two………………………Page 167

  Chapter Thirty-Three…………………….Page 171

  Chapter Thirty-Four…………………….. Page 172

  Chapter Thirty-Five………………………Page 176

  Chapter Thirty-Six………………………..Page 178

  Chapter Thirty-Seven…………………….Page 180

  Chapter Thirty-Eight……………………..Page 185

  Chapter Thirty-Nine…………………….. Page 189

  Epilogue………………………………....... Page 195

  ONE

  “Sergeant, Sir! The men are tired and hungry.” A young soldier in a blue uniform spoke from behind Sergeant Brant Bergeron as he wiped his sweaty brow. He knew he could never adapt to the hot, humid southern climate in Georgia. He and his men were separated from their unit two days ago when the rebels attacked and they had been lost and unsure of where they were heading. He had six soldiers with him, not much older than himself. He didn’t want this war to be his war anymore than the others, but he was here and had to make the best of it.

  The men were grumbling. They all had that look in their eyes after seeing friends cut down. It was a look that sent shivers down ones spine. Revenge! Even though he couldn’t get used to all that bloodshed he had to try to keep his men together. He moved slightly in the saddle, trying to get the kinks out of his tired and sore backside. His muscles screamed for attention but he ignored them. Would he find their way back to the main column? He didn’t know this countryside and feared he and his men had wandered too far from the front. This was a quiet place where his detachment sat in the shade. Because horses were scarce, three of the men were on foot but two days ago they fought near a small town, taking the enemy’s soldier’s mounts, the spoils of war. Out here in the countryside the fighting hadn’t arrived, yet. In time, these beautiful fields would be covered with bodies, and the smell of gun power and the stench of blood. Burnout homes will mar the lands. This damn war was taking its toll, not only on people, but on the green land. Man is the only animal in the universe that can cause such destruction; and we call ourselves the civil world. Disgusted and hungry, he turned to his unit.

  “We’ll ride a little further. Maybe we’ll come to some sign of life soon. If not, we’ll make camp and hunt for our meals.” The men grumbled to themselves, but they continued until late that morning, when one of the soldiers called, “Look Sarge! Smoke’s coming over that ridge.”

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  Brant grabbed his spy glasses to get a better look. “Smitty,” he said, “go and check the area, it may be Rebs.” The private gave a sloppy salute, “Yes, Sir.” His men made themselves comfortable and stretched out, closing their eyes for a short nap. He sat and continued to look through the spy glass until he saw Smithy galloping back. Most of the men had started this war on foot, but they managed to get themselves a mount one way or another and he never asked. The private dismounted and grinned. “It’s a cotton plantation, Sarge. The smoke is coming from a chimney. My guess,” Smitty licked his dry lips, “someone’s cooking.”

  “Okay, we’ll go peacefully,” Brant suggested. “With any luck, they’ll be just plain folks and---”

  “Sure Sarge, just like the Rebs that ambushed us, killing most of the men,” snarled, Smitty. “Me, I’m not waiting to be cordially invited to dine.” Refusing to hear his objection, Smithy jumped on his mount, slapped the horse on its withers, and spurred away. Taken by surprise, Brant tried to call him back, but his orders fell on deaf ears. He was not happy about the feeling in his gut that his men were looking to even the score. The rest of the unit jumped on

  their mounts and followed Smitty, also ignoring his pleas to remain civil. But his men were out of control. He knew they were trouble from day one, believing they were intending to desert the first opportunity. He kicked his horse forward and prayed.

  2

  TWO

  Dawn broke peacefully. Melissa St. Andrew started her day as she did all the others on her father’s plantation. From the bedroom window, she was aware of the beautiful warm day ahead of her. The commotion downstairs made her smile because she knew the cook, Effie, was busy preparing for Daphne, her younger sister’s sweet sixteen birthday party.

  Melissa thought her sibling had grown into a lovely, sweet girl. She loved Daphne and her brother, Jason with all her heart. He was the middle child who claimed he was like a book with two sisters as bookends. Only seventeen years of age and he was almost as tall as their father and very handsome with eyes the color of dark sage. A stranger would never guess them to be related. Unlike her, her sibling’s coloring was darker, taking after their parents. She was often teased that she was probably left in the field by a moon creature, since her hair was as pale as the moon. She remembered how her father had always reminded his two children
that their sister had his grandmother’s fair coloring and that she was indeed their blood relation.

  Melissa dressed and thought about Jason and how much she missed him since he went off to that awful war. How she and her parents had tried to persuade him not to go. Her mother, Mary wept saying that he was still her baby but Jason took offense to her statement and declared that men younger than him were defending their beloved south. He could not sit by with a clear

  conscience and not do anything. Melissa also put in her two cents, but he was adamant. So with teary eyes from all, off he went one morning. The skies had opened up that day and they seemed to be crying for her brother. It gave her the creeps and a forbearing chill ran up her arms. Silently, she prayed for his safe return. Daphne’s party wouldn’t be the same without him.

  But nothing had been the same for a long time. The war had taken so much from every- one. In fact, the Confederacy gave the government the right to destroy any cotton that might fall into the hands of the union army. Some of her neighbors, who were devoted southerners, burned their own cotton to keep it out of the enemy hands. Her father, Darrel loved the south but loved

  3

  his family more, discovered the Union agents were willing to pay the highest price in over half a century for cotton. Melissa agreed to his selling of their cotton because it kept her family from starving.

  Once again she let out a frustrated breath thinking that when the price of foodstuff reached astronomical heights, Confederate currency would become worthless. She herself was tempted to smuggle cotton out of the south as did the women who’s husbands have been killed or are still fighting have been doing. She knew this because her best friend’s mother is one of the women partaking in this smuggling. Making a face at herself in the mirror, seeing her pretty gown was threadbare, she forced herself to become more cheerful, for her sister’s sake. When the war was over, she’d.... Stop wool gathering, she chastised herself, and then snorted at her reflection. C’mon, times a wasting.

  Descending the spiral staircase with buoyancy in her step, she gave a cheerful hello to Sam, the stern-faced butler who was polishing what was left of the family silver. He didn’t smile

  much and kept to himself most of the time, but the softness in his dark eyes gave away his true nature. Although the kitchen was separated from the house by a breezeway, the aroma of something boiling on the wood burning stove filled the huge house with a tempting smell. She looked in and saw vegetables from her mother’s garden and meat she assumed was a critter the cook’s grandson snared in one of his homemade traps. She dared not ask what it was.

  “Mmmm, everything smells so good.” Melissa gave her usual warm smile at the black woman whose fleshy arms were covered with flour dust. The servant was kneading the bread that would soon be placed in the oven to send another delectable fragrance through the house.

  Though Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1st, 1863, most of her father’s trusted and loyal servants remained. Melissa was glad Sam and Effie were family to her; she loved them both dearly. Anyway, it’s been over two years now, how much longer could the war go on? She prayed for it to end so her brother could come home.

  “Lordy, chil’ don’ yo’ look purty fahn. Ah happy fo’ de propah dress. Yes’m, sho betta den dem pants yo’ likes to weah. Yo’ pappy gonna be mighty proud t’ sees ‘al dressed up. Yes’m,” stated Effie.

  She loved the way Effie’s dark eyes crinkled with merriment when she laughed. The most

  4

  prominent thing about the cook was her kindness, though Effie tried in earnest to appear stern and unbending. Melissa didn’t mind all the scolding Effie gave, trying to make her the lady she should be.

  Effie clicked her tongue, wondering if there was any hope for the pretty seventeen year old girl. That child had a mind of her own and although, she was indeed a lady and attended the

  finest schools, Melissa didn’t like spending time on needlepoint, sewing, or any other refined arts. She had spirit and loved to race across the landscape on her chestnut horse, before the soldiers confiscated it. The poor child cried for days, more than when her brother joined the Confederates. Melissa wasn’t like her sister, all frills, and the way a girl was expected to be. Heaving a sigh, Effie wondered if nature might have made a mistake. If the girl weren’t so beautiful with her pale hair and her eyes, the color of raw honey, she might have been happier being a boy. Effie shook her head thinking the good Lord must have been in a very generous mood when He made Melissa.

  There was something special about her. She was kind and not afraid of a little hard work, Effie mused. Melissa had pestered her many times to help cook and she had relented out of sheer frustration from the persistence. But, Melissa made her proud; the golden haired beauty had learned well. She couldn’t have loved the girl more if she was her own and as she loved all the St. Andrew children. And on occasions, that sweet child stayed with Doctor Olsen to help care for the wounded. She came home the other day and announced she had helped remove a bullet and stitched the man’s wound by herself. This information caused her mother, Mistress Mary to pale but her father, Master Darrell St. Andrew beamed with pride.

  Melissa asked, “Where’s the birthday girl?”

  Effie snapped out of her thoughts and replied, “Daphne is in de barn playin’ with the new kittens.”

  Just then her master stepped through the back door and seeing Melissa, smiled the way a proud father smiles at a cherished daughter. His light, gray eyes were clear and always smiling.

  His brown hair was silver along his temples and through his thick sideburns. Effie could see he was glad Melissa had on a pretty dress for a change, but he knew better than to mention it, so he just placed a loving kiss on his daughter’s glowing cheek. The child looked like her mother

  5

  and her master could not hide the proud gleam in his eyes. Except for the coloring, Melisa and her sister Daphne were identical in looks.

  Effie recalled how he claimed to be married to the prettiest lady in the whole state. She marveled how her master and mistress of more than twenty years still aroused passion in their hearts. The lady of the house was a tiny woman, only coming up to Melissa’s shoulder and the child was of average height.

  Mary St Andrew’s owned twin dimples, a characteristic feature she passed down to her children. Her dark brown hair, slightly graying, shone with golden highlights, matched by two finely shaped brows. Her light brown eyes sparkled with flecks of gold; she was a patient and understanding woman and Effie loved working for the family.

  Melissa was thinking about her father, how at forty nine, he was still a handsome man. She was proud to walk with him knowing this man of vitality was her father. Many times she wondered whether she’d fall in love with a man who was even half as good looking as her father. Her parents shared deep love, never hiding their affection. The love that shone in their eyes was always there as far back as she could remember. She wanted a marriage like that and would settle for nothing less. She hadn’t yet to meet a man who stirred her passion.

  Upon realizing she was wool gathering, she cleared her throat. “Papa, remember to wash

  up early. We’ll be attending Daphne’s birthday party this afternoon. Don’t forget we want you here on time.” She tried to put an edge to her voice to show authority but he merely scratched his chin and the grin she knew was forthcoming slowly appeared.

  “How could I forget the day my youngest treasure came into the world? I couldn’t forget if I wanted to. Your sister had been hinting since last month for the beautiful fabric she saw in the dressmaker’s shop. By the way, where is the birthday girl?” And as an afterthought, he asked, “And where is my lovely wife?”

  “Daphne’s in the barn with the kittens and....” Melissa wrinkled her smooth brow, “I haven’t seen mother’s smiling face this morning.”

  “She’s pickin’ flowers, massa.” Effie wiped the white dust from her hands onto her apron. “Ah be getting’ her if�
��n’ yo’ needs her.”

  6

  “No, no,” her father replied. “She’s happiest when she’s tending her garden. Leave her be, I’ll wait for her in the study.”

  Her father left tweaking Melissa’s nose and her mother walked in with an arm load of freshly picked flowers. She inhaled the sweet scent. “Good morning Melissa.” Her mother dimpled and kissed her face. Melissa took her flowers, from her, placing them in a vase. “How long before we can dine, Effie?” inquired her mother.

  “As soon as Ah peel de potatoes, an’ cooks ‘em, suppa will be served.” The cook waddled her large frame over to Melissa, saying, “Chil’ be a lamb an’ go to de cellar fo’ Effie. Yo’ knows dat spooky place gives me de hebee jeebees.” She placed her dark hand over her ample breasts, dramatically. “De last time, somethin’ run over mah feet, mah ol’ black face

  turned white. Po’ me frighten out o’ mah wits. Ah do mah best not t’ faint, but Ah didn’t stay t’ see what dat waz.”

  Her mother laughed at the serious frown on the servant’s face and her foolishness. Melissa suspected it was only a small field mouse, but she agreed to go down into the devil’s hole, as Effie called it.

  7

  THREE

  Jacob spotted the Union soldiers riding over the hill. He blinked for a moment, not believing his small eyes. His heart leaped into his throat as he dropped the hoe and ran as if the devil were after him. By the time he reached the main house, his hands burned and bled from the falls. He was breathless. The back door slammed after he ran into his grandma’s large frame.

  “Land sakes, honey chil’. Jacob, what’s de mattah?” she asked. “Sumpin’ gotten into yo’?”

  It was a statement and question and Jacob swallowed, gasping for breath. “M-men… comin’!”