Creole Moon: The Betrayal

By Suzon Tropez-Holmes

Explore the world of fantasy in the Louisiana swamp during the 1800s. Join our hero, George Genois, as he uncovers a dark side of love and marriage. George returns to his hometown to celebrate the wedding of his twin brother, Gerald. George is not the marrying kind but strange events throw him in the path of

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Summit House
• Release date: Jul 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781649453938

Book preview

Creole Moon

The Betrayal

S.T. Holmes

Copyright © S.T. Holmes.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-64945-393-8 (E-book Edition)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

Phone Number: 347-901-4929 or 347-901-4920

Email: [e-mail]

Global Summit House

www.globalsummithouse.com

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty - One

Chapter Twenty - Two

Chapter Twenty - Three

Chapter Twenty - Four

Chapter Twenty - Five

Chapter Twenty - Six

Chapter Twenty - Seven

Chapter Twenty - Eight

Chapter Twenty - Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty - One

Chapter Thirty - Two

Chapter Thirty - Three

Chapter Thirty - Four

Chapter Thirty - Five

Chapter Thirty - Six

Chapter Thirty - Seven

Chapter 1

Dedicated to

Amanice Barefield, Susanne Sims,

Leslie Holmes and Kate Kearns_

Your input and support helped make this book possible.

Thank you.

Chapter One

"I bind this man for the love of mine.

The spell can’t be broken until I am thine.

Death and time shall keep us apart.

Until I am thine and I give you my heart."

Time –Louisiana, 1800s

The laughter was loud and infectious. Everyone in the bar took turns poking and jeering at the newlywed to be, but no one was more vocal than Gerald’s twin brother, George. The never-ending stream of alcohol only added fuel to the boisterous and rowdy bunch. Everyone in the bar was having a good time; even the other patrons that were not a part of the wedding party took turns making fun of the groom t o be.

Poor bastard, a voice yelled out.

Yeah, you’ll be tied to those skirt tails the rest of your life, said another.

George added, Well bro, this is the last time we’ll see you this free and easygoing for a long time to come. As they say, ‘first comes love, then marriage, and then comes babies.’ I think love comes and the rest of your life is over as you know it. He took a big gulp of whiskey from the small glass and then coughed violently as the bittersweet liquid ran down his throat. His body jerked from the sweet, scorching sensation that sent an aromatic licorice scent up through his nostrils. A sneeze forced its way out. But in mid-explosion, a vigorous cough erupted and alcohol-tainted spittle flew out of his mouth across the bar table and landed in the bartender’s face and hands. Gerald was leaning on the bar next to his brother when George began a strangling cough. He backed away just in time to escape the liquor-tainted shower. With a hard slap on the back, he helped George regain control of his bodily functions. George nodded his head in appreciation and to communicate that he had it under control. He looked at his brother and thought this would be the last night they would spend together like this; free men of the world.

George was a career military man with no aspirations for settling down. Rumor had it that he was in line for a promotion to rank of captain. Excited about the pending promotion but not wanting to steal the thunder from his brother’s big day, he kept it to himself waiting for the proper time to tell the family. There was so much more excitement in leading your own squad into battle, telling war stories and building them up bigger and better than life itself. It was like playing cowboys and Indians all over again but for real this time. What drives a man to intentionally get hitched to one woman for the rest of his life? He shouted out more like a slur. He couldn’t understand what twisted demented hold on a man’s sanity would make him resort to giving up his freedom. FOREVER, came after a brief pause, and he picked up his glass to finish off the last drop that lingered in the bottom. Might as well stand before a firing squad and get it over with quick. That thought ran through is mind, too, but he didn’t verbalize it. He decided to keep those thoughts to himself and play the responsible role assigned to him; that role was to take care of his brother and to make sure he showed up at the ceremony on time.

You’re too young to be that cynical boy, an older man in the bar said.

Yeah, Gerald said with a slurred speech. We all take that road sooner or later.

Not me, big brother, not me; I’m not the marrying kind. There’ll be no rustling of skirt tails or screaming babies trailing behind me- not where I’m going. He proudly stuck his chest out while he was thinking of his pending promotion and the possibility of heading into battle.

Yeah, your life is so perfect right? Every man wants to have bullets flying around his head and cannons exploding all around him - real safe. Gerald said sarcastically.

I’d rather be dodging bullets than little yappers running round with dirty faces and soiled diapers and a nagging wife to boot. George’s speech was still slurred but he was sober enough to paint a very vivid picture of what he thought his brother’s future would hold.

Oh yeah, nice picture - that’ll make you want to dodge something for sure, another man shouted.

His escape from married life will be limited to Saturday shopping trips and back home before dark.

Yeah, or after church service luncheons on Sunday with the in-laws less he risk being hunted down and called out in public, said another stranger from the crowd. More laughter erupted as one man acted out the part of the wife and another played the part of the husband as they walked between the narrow tables in the saloon.

For sure, she will come looking for you if you aren’t home by curfew. The man grimaced as he said the last word. Another one of the groomsmen took out his kerchief and began to wave it in the air and dab at his eyes pretending to be his distraught wife seeking her husband. In a drunken scruffy falsetto voice, he began roaming around the room stopping at the various tables, lifting up the faces that had fallen on the tabletops, allowing the dim light to shine on them while looking for her pretend husband.

Snookums, when you coming home? Your dinner is getting cold. Voices from the crowd yelled out as the groomsman began to swish his hips from side to side. As he walked past another table, someone stuck out an old scoffed up boot and the bogus woman tripped and fell face down onto the floor. The laughter from the crowd in the bar roared even louder. They became so rowdy that outside passersby skirted quickly past the door to avoid being hit by potential flying objects or knocked over by a staggering drunkard leaving the establishment. The saloon girls gave up trying to entice anyone to spend time with them and went off into a different corner to create their own entertainment. However, they were not unnoticed by everyone. Although most of the men were drunk, one gentleman kept an inconspicuous eye on the girls and was aware of their every movement.

George shrugged his shoulders a bit as he watched the girls walk to the opposite side of the bar and out of his sight. He had a fondness for one of them and usually spent an evening with her while he was in town. But tonight was special. It was not about him. It was all about his brother. He turned his focus back to the merriment in the bar, to his brother standing beside him and the other groomsmen.

Well, brother, all I can say is, better you than me. He ordered another round of drinks for the house as they continued their joking well into the night. One by one the older customers began to dwindle out leaving the late night frivolity to the young bucks. The girls came out of hiding from the corner where they had spent most of the evening in hopes of scoring some time and money with one of the remaining young men. But the men were too drunk and totally uninterested. Disgusted that there was no action for them this night and purses a little lighter than usual, the women went home.

Finally, the bartender yelled last call for the night, and George quickly motioned another round for the house before they were booted out. The crowd remaining in the bar was down to George and Gerald, the last two of the wedding party, a handful of the local diehard drinkers and others no one recognized but probably visitors with no particular place to go. After wiping down the counter and stowing the bottles on the shelf behind him, the bartender began to walk around the room snuffing the lights out and picking up empty glasses from the less than sober patrons left behind. George got the hint and gulped down the last of his drink. Before Gerald could swallow what was left of his drink, George grabbed the glass from his hand and finished it. Gerald was too wasted to be upset by his brother’s actions. He was ready to leave hours ago but George wasn’t ready to call it a night. So, he was forced to hang around until his brother was ready to leave or they were both kicked out. Much to Gerald’s disappointment, it looked like the latter won out.

Sheepishly smiling at Gerald and trying to guess what his brother was thinking he said, I wouldn’t want you to be totally wasted on your wedding night. He stood up on two very wobbly legs and had to grab a hold of the counter for support. Although his legs were not the steadiest between the two of them, he was more coherent than Gerald. When he felt confident that he could stand without assistance from the bar top, he was able to help his brother to his feet and both staggered out into the street propping each other up. The air was cool and crisp for late July. When the days were hot as fire and the nights cooled off almost like a winter evening, the locals called it the Indian Summer. He didn’t know where that came from but it was as good of an explanation as any other, he thought. A thick fog started rolling in and silently blanketing the ground. This was not normal for this time of year. The night was supposed to be just as hot as the day with only a small breeze blowing every now and then just enough to cool the sticky feeling on the skin. He sensed a bad summer storm was brewing but mumblings from the slaves suggested something else.

A cold shiver ran up George’s spine. It was not from the cool breeze but something strange and very powerful that ran through his entire body. An odd feeling came over him. He felt the hackles rise at the back of his neck. He looked from side to side in search of the cause of his uneasy feeling. The motion made him feel even more lightheaded and in turn caused his stomach to lurch. Everything around him looked normal with the exception of the thick fog, but something didn’t feel quite right.

The few slaves that huddled together outside near the corner of the saloon were frightened as they watched the thick mist float up from the direction of the bayou. It was unnatural for this time of year and it was rolling in fast and quickly covering the ground. George overheard the slaves whisper something about the actions of a priest or someone called a chicken man from the swamp. None of it made any sense to him but in his current state, it made even less sense. The slaves were very superstitious and always afraid of something. Usually, that fear amounted to nothing more than coincidence but even they appeared to be more worked up than normal. He paused a little longer to look at the men as they stood petrified staring at the rolling fog. He thought he heard the faint sound of drums some distance away. But, then he thought, it could be his heart pounding in his ears, too. One thing was for sure, there was something unnatural about all of this even to him. George shrugged his shoulders just a little and decided to ignore what he heard. He brushed off the eerie feeling as a result of too much liquor. He readjusted Gerald’s arm over his shoulder to give them both better stability and continued on his mission.

The change in the weather didn’t seem to affect his brother. Gerald was barely conscious of his surroundings and didn’t hear the slave’s comments. George reached under his brother’s other arm as they walked to the buggy tied up at the end of the building. As the best man, it was his duty to stay with the groom and see that he made it to the ceremony safely if not sober. He would do all in his power to make sure he got to that altar.

Once they both were settled into the seat, his brother’s head fell backwards with his face lifted to the stars and his mouth wide open. George glanced over at his brother and wondered how his wife-to-be would feel gazing at that site. The thought flew out of his mind just as quickly as it had come. He took hold of the reigns, popped them across the horse’s backside and made a clicking sound with his mouth. The horse responded to the stimulus and slowly trotted along the quiet street down to the hotel. He kept a room in town for this very reason. When he was too drunk to find his way home, he had a place to sleep it off. And when he needed some private, intimate and physically stimulating entertainment, he was far enough away from the meddling busy bodies of his family. They would rest at his place for the night and ride out to the ranch in the morning for the ceremony. He had to show his family he was dependable when it came to family matters. They could trust him to take care of his brother with a boy’s night out on the town and still return him to the house for the ceremonial hanging called a wedding the next morning. After all, he had to secure a place with the women of the family in order to be invited to future family dinners and social gatherings.

At the boarding house, he struggled to pull himself out of the buggy before he hitched the horse’s reigns to a post. It took him twice as long as usual to stagger around the horse and reach the porch steps. With his feet spread wide apart for stability, he reached over to pull his brother from the buggy and tossed him head first over his shoulder. His brother didn’t stir a muscle but remained passed out. George carried Gerald up the stairs to his room. The room was extremely dark. George felt his way to the bed using the toe of his boots and his knees as his guide. He dropped Gerald across the small bed, and a whoosh of air escaped his lips as he hit the firm mattress. No longer burdened from his brother’s weight, George slumped down to the floor right where he was standing. From some place deep in his foggy mind, he recollected that he was somewhere between the chair next to the bed and the foot of the bed. He managed to hit the floor before all consciousness slipped away and he was enveloped in sweet, deep sleep.

That next morning, he woke with the sunlight streaming through the narrow slit in the curtains. George got up first, arched his back and stretched his legs like a cat waking from a nap. His brother was still unconscious sprawled across the bed. He always took up most the bed when he slept. Even as a child he would stretch out over most of the bed leaving only a corner for George to find comfort. George smiled inwardly at the memories and thought this behavior would be a challenge for his brother’s new wife. He jolted from his reverie at the thought of the word wife.

The wedding he let escape from his lips. He bent over, grabbed his brother’s hair and pulled hard. He hated to wake him from his beauty rest, but they had a wedding to attend.

Chapter Two

The smell of country ham frying and Mazie’s homemade biscuits filled the air as they drew nearer to the ranch house. The brothers’ stomachs began to growl as the aroma filled their senses. They had only consumed liquids the night before so they were ready for something hearty and tasty. They no longer thought about the wedding. Satisfying the primordial ache in their stomachs became their main focus. They needed food and wanted a lot o f it.

From the porch, old Joe saw them coming from a long ways off. The boys were riding up to the house with a cloud of dust kicking up behind them. He was always glad to see the boys no matter what the occasion. He went into the house to announce the arrival to the rest of the family then returned to the foyer to wait for them. Facing the open door with arms out stretched he was ready to welcome the boys home. Horses barely hitched to the post, the boys ran into the house heading straight for the dining room. They rushed right past Joe without saying a word. First one then the other, Joe grabbed each boy by the shirttails and pulled them back just like when they were young. He chuckled and shook his head.

Some things never change. Ya’ll betta go wash up ‘fo’ Miss Emma sees ya, he said as the boys turned to see what kept them from their intended destination.

I can’t believe you did that! Gerald exclaimed. We’re not young boys anymore, George said. Old Joe dropped the shirttails, shook his head and pointed to the wash room. Then don’t act like it, was all he said as his face followed the direction of his extended finger. The boys looked at one another in surprise that Joe could still control them like he had when they were children. They felt humiliated but knew better than to ignore him, even at their age. Joe had the full support of their father when it came to scolding them as boys. They didn’t figure much had changed now that they were men and neither one was ready to test the theory. So, they slowly walked in the direction of the pointing finger minding not to get too close just in case a smack next to the back of the head was forthcoming. Joe was old but he was still quick and they had never figured out how to get the best of him and this was not the time to do that either.

They cleaned up well. No one could tell just by looking at the pair that they had hangovers as big as the Mississippi River was wide. In fact, all of the groomsmen now present posed a striking appearance of harnessed wild power trapped in heavy starched shirts and unforgiving snug trousers. They looked like untamed mustangs enclosed in a barbed wire patch, anxious to bolt at the slightest chance. There was enough good