April 16, 1918 (9 years old)
I ran to the well, metal clasped, wooden bucket in one hand, Buck's hand in the other. Buck grabbed the bucket and tied it to the spindly, threaded rope.
"Buck, can I lower the bucket?" I whined, wrinkling my nose.
"Fine. But if ya' fall in, I ain't gettin' ya' out."
"Kay'." I replied, scrambling towards the well. I lowered the bucket, moving the rope around. I pulled the bucket up, grabbing it and getting out. We ran home, barreling down the rubble road, craggy pebbles sticking into our feet. "Boys! Come inside!" Ma yelled. "Comin' Mama. Just a second." Buck yelled, adjusting his cap.
"Okay. What do you want for dinner?" Ma stepped out, the sunset glowing on her face. "Chicken, please." We said, as I handed her the bucket. "It's a nice day, go out and play."
Buck ran down the fork in the road we came down, which leaded to a small swampy clearing. "What are we doing?" I asked as Buck started taking off his overalls. "We're gonna go for a swim." He said, jumping into the lake
YOU ARE READING
Bonnie & Clyde
Historical FictionClyde Barrow had it all. But there was a way he got it, that might be the downfall of him and the love of his life
