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Authors: Cathy Marie Hake
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fuzzy moss made a shawl to block out the chill. Wind moaned in the trees as the storm roared on. She did not know how long she lay there in the dark, begging le bon Dieu to let the storm end.
Bone-jarring shivers set in as Josée recalled her anger at Edouard. Tonight she had not let him explain himself, but when had she ever let him speak? She always wanted him to listen. She realized she needed to apologize. She huddled down in the pirogue to find relief from the storm’s chill.
The wind and rain lessened, and Josée sat up again and squinted through the darkness. She would never tell a scary tale to the younger LeBlancs again, should she ever get the chance to tell them another story.
A rustling, close at the edge of the bayou made her freeze, yet her pulse hammered in her throat.
Edouard held the lantern aloft and his rifle over his shoulder. Papa and even Jacques tromped along farther down the bayou and called out for Josée. But the rushing water and occasional clap of thunder covered up the sound of their voices.
He would find her. Not Papa, and especially not Jacques.
Josée was probably frightened, cold, and unsure of where she was. Edouard refused to think of the water claiming her like it had claimed a child one spring. He would not imagine a gator dragging her under in the dark. That had happened to him before, and even with daylight shining into the muddy waters, Edouard had felt like he was dying. He had been strong enough to fight the animal off and get away. Josée was not.
Le bon Dieu would take care of her. Edouard refused to believe that God would turn his life upside down with a wife only to rip her away from him when he learned to love her. The darkness did not scare him, because he knew this bayou well.
Then Edouard stopped a dozen paces or so from the bayou’s edge. Shallow water from the brimming bayou swirled over his boot tops. He thought he heard a scream.
“Josée!” He ran, spraying up water that sparkled in the lantern’s light.
Edouard saw her inside a pirogue tilted against the stump of a cypress. A gator growled, mere footsteps away from her, likely disturbed by the water and a pirogue drifting into his shallows.
“Edouard!” She squinted at him where she hunched in the pirogue, just beyond the circle of the yellow light. Then she glanced into the shadows. He saw her reaching for a broken-off cypress branch, thick as a man’s leg and just as long.
“Don’t move!”
She grasped the branch with both hands, not taking her gaze off the gator. The animal’s tail started to curl. Edouard took a step toward them.
“Ooo-eee! Brother Gator!” He moved the lantern in an arc, hoping the gator would turn this way. “I am here! Come, fight me! It will be more to your liking.”
“No, Edouard!” Josée crept from the pirogue as the gator turned to face him. The gator’s head cocked to one side, as if it were unsure of whom to approach first.
Edouard set the lantern down on the nearest patch of grass that peeked over the water. “Josée, don’t move.” He readied his rifle. When he moved his foot, he kicked something solid. He glanced down. The lantern had fallen onto its side.
In a flash, the gator came for him. Josée screamed like a wild woman. Edouard fell onto the mud. The gator whipped its tail around and clubbed him with it. Gasping for breath, Edouard reached for his gun. He glimpsed Josée, hitting the gator with her cypress branch as if she were beating a rug.
The gator whipped its tail again, knocking Josée to the ground, before the beast fled to the water and disappeared.
Edouard crawled to Josée, who had rolled onto her side. “We were more than he wanted to fight with tonight.”
She nodded, her normally sun-browned skin pale by lantern light. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her waist. Tears streamed down her cheeks along with the rain.
“Mon amour , I am so sorry.” He reached for Josée, pulled her onto his lap, and held her while she
Bone-jarring shivers set in as Josée recalled her anger at Edouard. Tonight she had not let him explain himself, but when had she ever let him speak? She always wanted him to listen. She realized she needed to apologize. She huddled down in the pirogue to find relief from the storm’s chill.
The wind and rain lessened, and Josée sat up again and squinted through the darkness. She would never tell a scary tale to the younger LeBlancs again, should she ever get the chance to tell them another story.
A rustling, close at the edge of the bayou made her freeze, yet her pulse hammered in her throat.
Edouard held the lantern aloft and his rifle over his shoulder. Papa and even Jacques tromped along farther down the bayou and called out for Josée. But the rushing water and occasional clap of thunder covered up the sound of their voices.
He would find her. Not Papa, and especially not Jacques.
Josée was probably frightened, cold, and unsure of where she was. Edouard refused to think of the water claiming her like it had claimed a child one spring. He would not imagine a gator dragging her under in the dark. That had happened to him before, and even with daylight shining into the muddy waters, Edouard had felt like he was dying. He had been strong enough to fight the animal off and get away. Josée was not.
Le bon Dieu would take care of her. Edouard refused to believe that God would turn his life upside down with a wife only to rip her away from him when he learned to love her. The darkness did not scare him, because he knew this bayou well.
Then Edouard stopped a dozen paces or so from the bayou’s edge. Shallow water from the brimming bayou swirled over his boot tops. He thought he heard a scream.
“Josée!” He ran, spraying up water that sparkled in the lantern’s light.
Edouard saw her inside a pirogue tilted against the stump of a cypress. A gator growled, mere footsteps away from her, likely disturbed by the water and a pirogue drifting into his shallows.
“Edouard!” She squinted at him where she hunched in the pirogue, just beyond the circle of the yellow light. Then she glanced into the shadows. He saw her reaching for a broken-off cypress branch, thick as a man’s leg and just as long.
“Don’t move!”
She grasped the branch with both hands, not taking her gaze off the gator. The animal’s tail started to curl. Edouard took a step toward them.
“Ooo-eee! Brother Gator!” He moved the lantern in an arc, hoping the gator would turn this way. “I am here! Come, fight me! It will be more to your liking.”
“No, Edouard!” Josée crept from the pirogue as the gator turned to face him. The gator’s head cocked to one side, as if it were unsure of whom to approach first.
Edouard set the lantern down on the nearest patch of grass that peeked over the water. “Josée, don’t move.” He readied his rifle. When he moved his foot, he kicked something solid. He glanced down. The lantern had fallen onto its side.
In a flash, the gator came for him. Josée screamed like a wild woman. Edouard fell onto the mud. The gator whipped its tail around and clubbed him with it. Gasping for breath, Edouard reached for his gun. He glimpsed Josée, hitting the gator with her cypress branch as if she were beating a rug.
The gator whipped its tail again, knocking Josée to the ground, before the beast fled to the water and disappeared.
Edouard crawled to Josée, who had rolled onto her side. “We were more than he wanted to fight with tonight.”
She nodded, her normally sun-browned skin pale by lantern light. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her waist. Tears streamed down her cheeks along with the rain.
“Mon amour , I am so sorry.” He reached for Josée, pulled her onto his lap, and held her while she
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