Journey to the Green Bucket

I sat in my cell wondering how I might escape what surely will be a most unpleasant outcome. Until my Mother's death, I had not truly feared the world or anyone in it.

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My Mother had warned me towards her end that things were not always as they seemed. She wept and apologized and said she wished it was not so. She found enough strength to wipe my tears, pat my hand, then she was gone.

With her last breathe she whispered, "run."

Hearing Mother say "run," I panicked. Did she mean do it now? Or to just remember to do it when it was time? But how would I know when it was time? My twelve year old self was feeling crushed with grief and fear.

Mother had coached me many times there would come a day that we must run. There was a rucksack for each of us in the pantry. It held a few changes of clothes and first aid. Filling the extra pockets of our packs with pantry goods, we were to drop down through the trap door in the pantry to the crawl space under the house. There was a grate that would let us out into a thicket that would shield us. From there we were to make our way to the tree line and then head for the stream. Once we made it to the stream we were to head north. Full speed. No stopping. To throw off tracker dogs, we were to wade in the stream and crisscross to mask our scent. In three to four days travel, we should find a cabin on the bank. We were not to approach it until we see a green bucket on the porch. We were to take a packet from the green bucket and continue running.

My mind turning, I decided Mother meant now. I ran to the pantry. Both rucksacks were there. I wondered if I should take both? I didn't need Mother's clothes but her first aid supplies would be good to have. My hands were shaking hard. I filled the pockets of my rucksack with dried meats, nuts, and hard rolls. And a hunk of cheese. I shoved a tin cup and small knife in also. Lifting the trap door, I dropped under the house. Crawling quickly, I got to the grate, pushed it aside and climbed out into the thicket.

Though it was thick and spiny and impenetrable from the outside, a tunnel had been cut through it tall enough for me to stand. It must have taken Mother endless hours to do this. She would have had to double over to get through here. Then it hit me. This tunnel was never about her. It was for me. She had coached me so hard because she knew she wouldn't be with me.

As I stepped in and began to run through the tunnel my Mother had so lovingly and painstakingly created for me, I heard horses pounding down our lane. They were coming. I didn't even know who "they" were, but I knew from Mother I couldn't let them get me. I ran even harder.

The ground was fairly smooth. I wondered about that only briefly as I ran through the tunnel. My cap kept any straggling branches overhead from catching in my hair. In barely half hour from Mother's last breath to now, I was at the stream. I turned north and kept running.

A slight breeze carried the faint smell of smoke. Looking back toward the home I had just fled, I saw a plume of smoke. There was now nowhere to return to. Going forward was all I had. I ran faster.

After several hours of running, I sat huddled in the dark at the base of a tree. I nibbled a few bites of my cheese, nuts, and a whole roll. I had crisscrossed the stream several times along the way and walked up the middle for a while. I didn't want to worry about dogs easily trailing me. The sounds of the stream and night creatures soothed me to sleep.

The first streaks of sunlight were peeking out when I awakened. I noshed on a pear from my pack while I awaited enough light to see my way forward. I traveled quickly crossing back and forth and up the middle of the stream like before. The water was cool and the day was muggy and hot so I didn't mind being wet.

As another day of traveling drew to a close, I looked around at the openness of my present location. There hadn't been trees for a while now. I didn't relish laying exposed out in the open. I spied a squatty cedar and saw there was enough room for me to crawl under it. If I hugged myself close to its trunk, I could rise up inside it and be concealed by its evergreen needles. I felt a bit like a human Christmas tree. Greatly fatigued from the day's journey, I dozed off quickly.

A horse neighing softly awakened me with a start. It was still dark but the full moon above cast a soft glow in the field. I saw a young person leading a dark horse murmuring words I couldn't hear. As they got near the tree, I held my breath fearing I might be heard.

"Come on Shade. We can rest here by this tree. We're not too far from where we're going. Maybe tomorrow or the next day." A figure not much larger than myself tied the horse to a branch of my hiding place. Oddly, the horse lay down and the person nestled into the creature's belly.

I wiggled ever so slightly so as not to make a sound but in effort to see the person better. All I could really see was the clothing was dungarees and shirt similar to mine. A dark hat pulled down concealed facial features.

Worry set in as I realized once morning came, I would be unable to avoid detection. Even if my hiding spot was not revealed by the rising sun, I would not be able to travel in the open field without being seen. There was no choice but to leave now while the rider slept. With the moonlight I would be able to ease my way through the darkness.

After nearly half an hour of inching my way out from under the cedar tree on the far side away from the rider and horse, I belly crawled for a time through the knee high grass. The glow of the moon provided enough light for me to make my way back to the stream and travel swiftly away. I had been navigating the river for several hours and was again surrounded by trees and rocky embankments. It was easier to walk in the water's edge than to attempt to walk on land.

As the sun began to inch its way up to mid morning, I heard the gallop of a horse and the splash of water as it raced through the stream. Scrambling onto the bank I hid behind a rocky craig. Watching from my hiding place, the rider from the night before came into view. It was a girl similar in age and size to myself. Dressed alike, we could easily have passed for one another. I dared not expose myself to her and stayed out of sight.

Once she and her mount were well out of sight, I slipped from behind the craig and returned to the water's edge to make my way onward. Ever ready to scramble into hiding, I eased down to the stream. Being on alert, my pace was slower than before, but even so, by day's end I had traveled a fair distance. I curled up in a space between two rocks for a night's rest. Surely tomorrow I would find the cabin my mother had told me I would find. Then I had only to watch for the green bucket.

It was just shy of about ten in the morning when I caught sight of what must be the cabin my mother had told me to seek out. As I slinked along the far bank of the stream going from rock to rock to get closer but remain concealed, my heart froze as I saw several horses tethered in front. I was puzzled all the more as I saw the green bucket I was supposed to look for was different than I had thought. This cabin bore a sign swinging beside its door painted a bright green with white letters that said "The Green Bucket." So, it wasn't a bucket that was green I was to find on the porch but rather a sign for a Tavern or Inn.

My heart was thudding in my chest and my mouth went dry. I couldn't help but remember the sound of horses pounding down the lane of my house and then the plumes of smoke as I ran like mother had told me. What if these horses were those riders? And now, what of the packet I was to take from the Green Bucket? I decided I should peek into the windows before making an entry.

Sidling around the side, I eased myself into position to peer into the window. I could see four men lounging about finishing up breakfast of pancakes and sausage washed down with coffee. My stomach growled. Dropping low, fearing to be heard or seen, I contemplated what to do next. I decided to appease my stomach with some food from my pack and wait it out a while to see if the four men would leave.

After about an hour, the men exited the inn and mounted their horses. They continued up stream. Pieces of conversation drifted on the wind, "If she's already been here and gone, she can't be too far ahead of us." "How do you know she's been here?" "We don't...." "Damn Discomodious Beings." And then the riders were around the bend in the stream and out of sight.

It was time to go inside The Green Bucket to find out about my packet.

Part 2 here:

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Reeder to Reader: I'm pantsing on this series. Just bobbing along figuring it out as I go. My grandkids and I do this quite a lot and we come up with some doozies. I hope you'll hang along with me as we see where this story goes.

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