by Miss Raye PROLOGUE Part 1 Louise paused for what seemed to be the hundreth time. 'I swear my arms are going to be a foot longer by the time I get there.' She pushed her hair back away from her face; the winds had taken her hair ribbon hours ago and all she wanted now was a bed and a bath. As she picked up her trunks again, the door beside her opened. The most amazing scent swept passed her nose. 'Freshly baked bread.' There was no mistaking the smell. Instantly her mouth began to water and her legs started to wobble beneath her. Leaving her trunks where they were Louise sank into a metal chair just beside the door. She dug into her pockets and shook her head, "Seventy four cents!" Her spirits fell lower than the cobbles in the street, "That won't get me anywhere... I have to save this," She rubbed her lips together as a drop of rain touched them. The water was a welcome change. Giving up any thought of filling her empty stomach she started to stand and felt her legs and the over taxed muscles in her back tense in protest. The door swung open again, "Excuse moi?" Louise colored like a thief caught red-handed. "I'm sorry... I was just leaving." She turned and went to her trunks, clenching and unclenching her hands to get the feelin' back in her fingers. "I didn't mean to take up your tables." The woman who'd found her laughed and ran out into the street after her, "Oh non- No, my dear! Come back! No need to run away!" Happy for any excuse to let go of the stiff handles, Louise turned back. "Please, come inside and sit." She waved her hands, "No....No. I can't.. I haven't any-" Both women stopped talking as Louise's stomach protested. The loud grumble in her belly made them both laugh. "Money? Is that the problem?" Louise was forced to nod. It was only the truth, it couldn't hurt anymore than the ache in her belly. "I'm going to my father's house, but I've never been to Paris." "You are lost too? Est-ce que c'est exact?" She laughed at the puzzled look on the young girl's face and translated "Is that right?" Without waiting for an answer she linked her arm and pulled the girl with her. "But my trunks?" Her benefactor threw open the door, "Barnette?" A man, wearing a heavy cotton apron appeared in the doorway. "Yes Madame Rachelle?" "Ses joncteurs réseau, her trunks. Bring them inside. Rapidement. Hurry Barnette! It will soon be raining!" When he rushed to do her biding she looked down into the little heart shaped face beside her, "I'll have breakfast on the table for both of you."
Part 2 "That's right... another two kills, all mine!" Sliding back the canopy of his plane, James Butler stood and waved to the mechanics rushin' at him. They cheered and reached up. He tossed his helmet down and called out to the young man weaving through the crowd, "Rafe? Rafe Ashburn! Who put the bee in your bonnet? I know you wanna congratulate me but, but Geez Louise boy!" "Hickok.. Hickok! You got new orders!" 'Me'? He mouthed. The question seemed a joke. James grabbed the edge of the cockpit and swung one leg over the edge. The mechanics rushed to get the ladder in place beneath his feet. In a moment he was back on good ole 'Terra Firma'. Hands reached out again and again to cuff him on the shoulder, "Good Fightin' Hickock," was called again and again, almost like a chant. The young American beamed with pleasure. The RAF was a tough racket all by its lonesome, but an American in their ranks? He'd been given flak forever and a day. It was only through his skill as a fighter pilot that he had earned the admiration of the other pilots and his commanders. He walked behind Rafe as they headed back to the hanger, with one hand he was undoin' his flight suit. The other was turnin' the letter over and over again. Rafe tugged on the neck of his jacket, "Why don't you give me that and I'll hang it up for you." Before he got an answer Rafe pulled it down his arms. With a mumbled thank you James sat down on a stool near the door. He slid his finger under the edge of the envelope and ripped it open. The edge of the envelope cut his finger, but the pain was insignificant and quickly forgotten. Squadron Leader James Butler - You have been reassigned to a special unit. You will reveal nothing of the inclosed information to your fellow officers. Below are the details of your new post. Please read and destroy this paper. You will be required to report in two days. Good Luck and Godspeed. His eyes continued on through the length of the paper, commiting the rest to memory as he felt his heart skip a beat. A challenge... things couldn't get any better.
Part 3 In the middle of the quiet street you couldn't miss the outburst of the young lieutenent. He shredded the paper in his hands with short and deliberate hand movements. He threw the remains in a nearby trash bin and mounted his Harley Davidson cycle. Shifting the weight beneath him he deftly kicked the stand up and set his balance. He dropped his weight on the kick start pedal and felt it shudder beneath him. The only sound it made was a weak sputter. He looked back and rubbed the dust of his back plate, the letters KT stood out in vivid blue against the white background. "Come on Girl." Kid felt his frustration building, "They've got no right to reassign me!" Standing agian, he reset the pedal and landed his weight again. If he'd been listening to his cycle he'd have heard the warning signs in her second refusal. "I'm good at what I do... Where I am!" His blue eyes flashed in the darkening light. Lt. Kid Wyatt stared up at the low hanging clouds and muttered a final oath, "I'll go, but I ain't gonna like it." With the grim set of his jaw he reset the pedal. Determined to turn over the engine this time he reached around to the side of the gas tank and set the petcock down. Now anyone that 'knows' the young lieutenant, 'knows' that he loves that Harley; so you'd think that he would be payin' more attention. He'd set the pedal to the wrong stroke, so when he hit the throttle for the third time KT kicked back. Kid went sailin' over the handlebars and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes and the cycle fell on it's side in the street. "What did you go and do that for?" The motorcycle stared back at him, it's headlight on the same level as his face. There was a dull ache across his chest. Cobble stones where rounded but still unforgiving. He hoisted himself up on his elbows and then to his knees. In a few moments he had righted the motorcycle. While he checked the chassis he slowly reined in his frustrations, "You tryin' to tell me somethin' girl?" A silly smile found its way to his lips and he patted the gas tank, "Like how to treat my best girl?" Kid slowly stood, stretching out his allready tense muscles. Mounting up again, he tuned into his bike and started KT without a problem. As he rode away down the narrow streets he set his mind to the task at hand, new orders.
Part 4 Wednesday April 3, 1940 It's been months since i've seen any color. The trees are all dying even though spring is coming. There is no warmth in the air, at least nothing like home. Why did I ever agree to come here? Buck set aside his journal and turned the radio up. It seemed that music was the only thing that could lift his spirits these days. There was a live broadcast at everyday around this time and there was something about the beat of those drums that echoed in his memories. There's a dance pavilion in the rain He stretched back in his chair, propping one foot and then another on his desk. Leaning back against the wall he stared out the window and watch the rain slip down across the pane of glass. The soft patter of rain drummed to the music, soothing his memories and thoughts of home. Buck cracked open the window and felt the chill of a single breeze sweep in. His papers rustled on the desk like dried leaves disturbed by a single breath. Once more his eyes swept the confines of his quarters. The room he occupied was small, but enough. He hadn't brought much with him to France, just his favorite books, a journal and the medicine pouch he kept hidden under his shirt. The edge of the papers fanned up again, whipped to attention by the building storm outside. Buck pulled out the paper on the bottom, turning it over in his hand so that he could re-read his new orders. He didn't feel any degree of sorrow at leaving, he had no close friendships with the other soldiers. Possessed by a new thought, he righted his chair and opened his journal: I think my new assignment is exactly what I need. A change of scenery -I just have a feeling that there's something out there. Something I'm missing. Buck pulled his medicine pouch out through the neck of his shirt and held it in his hand. He felt the familiar shapes moving under his fingers and let the soothing sounds settle his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the singer start the last verse and he let himself be drawn back into the music. I never dreamed with you, Any fall could come in view
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