Creative Commons – The Plainsrunner – Chapter Twenty-Six

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass does get to drive a truck. And he meets a day runner.

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Chapter Twenty-Six – The Picnic

They let Tallgrass drive the truck after they’d been on the road for a while. He watched Street drive for the first few kilometers, so he could see what he was supposed to do, then they let him take over. They were still on the hard, stony part of the road, so it was smooth going. The road was nice and wide, and Street kept the speed down, so all the weaving back and forth wasn’t a problem.

“You’re overcorrecting a little, Tallgrass,” said Street as he put his hand on the steering wheel to show him. “The trick is to let the truck do most of the steering itself while you just do little corrections. See?” He took his hand off the wheel and the weaving started up again, only much reduced. “There,” he said, “better already. It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

“No,” said Tallgrass, the tip of his tongue showing in the corner of his mouth, and his rigid arms jerking the wheel back and forth.

“Once you’ve been doing it for a while, most of it becomes automatic,” said Street. “You get so you make all the little corrections without even realizing it.” He helped get the truck on track, then helped keep it there while Tallgrass got a sense of it. This time when he let go, the weaving was almost gone, so he let the boy drive on his own for a few kilometers.

They were in one of the bigger trucks of its class. There was plenty of room on its open deck for their gear and all five of them. Tiny was along for that extra bit of protection just in case, and he was trying in his inarticulate way to apologize to Sage. Digger had turned discreetly away, hanging his head over the rail and watching the scenery go by.

Tiny was saying, “I’m really sorry, Missus.” His face was bunched up in concerned wrinkles. “About before, I mean.” He waved a big arm in the direction of their destination. “When we met before.” His shoulders slumped as he sensed he was failing to make himself understood.

Sage smiled gently. “Did Street put you up to this?” she asked.

“No Missus!” he said, his face now in earnest wrinkles. “Well, after we met the first time,” his big arm swung again, “he did lay into me a bit.” His gaze went back. “Quite a bit. But he didn’t say anything today, Missus. It’s me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was stupid and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

Her smile was for pleasure now. He was making an important gesture, and it made her want to do the same. She said, “Thank you, Tiny, but it wasn’t all your fault. I didn’t have to react the way I did.” She held up a hand to stop his protests. “Nothing would have happened if I had just taken what you said in a better humor.” She held out her hand, and as he looked at it she said, “I accept your apology and I hope you will accept mine.”

His face showed that he didn’t believe he deserved it, but he took her hand and accepted her apology anyway, so as not to insult her. “Yes Missus,” he said.

“And you don’t need to call me Missus,” she said. “You can call me Sage.” When she saw how uncomfortable that made him, she said, “Or Miss Sage, if you prefer.”

Relief lit up Tiny’s face. “Yes Missus,” he began, and covered quickly with, “Miss Sage.” After a while he remembered to let go of her hand, lost as it was in his big, meaty one.

There was a small jolt as the truck left the smooth surface for the packed dirt. As the steering wheel started to dance in Tallgrass’s hands, Street took over, but not before telling the boy what a good job he’d done. As he pushed the speed back up, his apprentice turned to his mother and said, “Did you see, Mom? I was driving.” As he walked proudly back to her, he said, “I’m going to be a good driver when I grow up.” He looked back at Street. “Aren’t I, Street? You said I did a good job, didn’t you?”

“Darn good job,” said Street, glancing over his shoulder. “The boy’s a natural.”

When her son turned his bright face back to her, she said, “Yes, I watched you. You looked really grown up there.”

“Uncle Digger, did you see? Did you see me driving?”

Digger brought his head in and leaned on the rail. “I sure did,” he said, “but you were driving so well that I just relaxed and watched the scenery go by.”

Tallgrass looked like he might burst, and if he’d been out on the grass instead of in a truck, he might have run around a bit.

When they pulled up at the hut, Tallgrass jumped down from the truck so quickly that no one could stop him. Sage called out to him while she and Digger jumped down, followed quickly by Tiny, who left the truck rocking. Street was right behind them after he hastily parked and secured the truck.

Tallgrass had the hut door open and was inside before anyone caught up to him. Digger had a quick look around for dangers while Sage went to her son. She said, “Don’t ever do that! Don’t you ever run off on your own like that.”

The delight of discovery vanishing from his face, Tallgrass said, “But you said it was safe. In your stories you said that the hut was the first place you felt safe since you left the village.” His expression was ready to collapse into tears.

As Tiny loomed in the doorway, blocking most of their light, Sage said, “Okay, you’re right. I did.” She patted his neck. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but don’t do it again, okay? Being out here has brought it all back for me, and it makes me scared for you. Do you understand?”

He might not have understood all the nuances of it, but he did see that she was scared, and that scared him. He knew how he could make her feel better, and himself too. He said, “Yes, Mom. I understand.”

She smiled her gratitude and kissed him. Digger patted him on the shoulder and said, “Good lad.” Tiny finally noticed Street trying to see around him and moved, letting a little more light into the hut. Sage looked around, memories popping up at every turn, and said, “Let’s bring in the provisions, then.”

They made a few trips back and forth, Tallgrass struggling stoically with his loads, and Sage directing where everything should go. As she hung up the last towel – you can never have too many towels, she’d said as they packed – she said, “Good. I think that’s got it. Now up the hill for the picnic.”

“Oh boy!” said Tallgrass as he ran out the door. He ran back in saying, “Your necklace. You have to get your necklace.” Then he ran out to the truck to get it. As he labored back with the bag, he was saying, “And your spear. Your spear.”

They got her decked out, loaded Tiny up with the picnic supplies, and began the trek up the sloping path. Tallgrass led the way, with Digger alert at his side. Tiny followed with Sage’s panniers, adjusted for his girth, hanging at his sides. Street walked with Sage at the rear. He said, “Seeing you like that brings back memories.”

“For me too,” she said. “A lot of them.”

“That was quite a sight to see,” he said. “Coming to the top here and seeing a wild girl yelling at a day runner.”

She had to laugh. She rattled her spear and laughed again. “I was so sick of eating them,” she said.

“I can imagine,” he said. After a moment’s silence he said, “I looked into it. The Moonshadow thing.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. I asked around and there are stories of a group of traders taking a girl from her village.”

“Kidnapping?”

“No. The girl apparently wanted to go. She was bored with village life, or something.” Street’s jaw bulged, and he gritted out, “They took her all right, but it wasn’t …”

“They abused her,” guessed Sage.

“Yes,” said Street. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “They kept her all the way to the city, where they abandoned her. She was lucky Digger found her almost right away, or she would have been easy prey.”

Sage felt short of breath and she noticed her hands were shaking. Anger almost took her voice, but she managed to say, “Where are they now?”

“I know how to find them,” he said. “Tiny and I are going to have a talk with them when we get back.”

“A talk? Then what?”

“That will depend on how the talk goes.” He had a look in his predator eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It chilled her. “However it goes, they won’t be doing it again. Tiny doesn’t like people who pick on the helpless ones. And I don’t like people who give traders a bad name.”

Sage decided she didn’t have to hear any more. She would be able to tell Moonshadow that her abusers were punished and wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. It wouldn’t make it all right, but it would have to do.

They crested the hill and Tallgrass had stopped, his head thrown back as he looked at the sentinel tree. Digger was at his side scanning for danger. Tiny pulled up on his other side and began to remove the panniers. Street and Sage stepped up to give him a hand.

Putting her pannier down, Sage asked Tallgrass, “Well, what do you think?”

He looked at her, then back at the tree. “It’s bigger than you said,” he said. “Way bigger.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you think of the grass?”

He looked down and ventured out into it. “It’s brown. And long.” He trotted this way and that, getting a feel for it. Digger stayed close and Tiny went to post himself between the boy and the tree.

“You have a good run,” she said, “but stay close. And listen to Uncle Digger and Tiny. Street and I are going to set up the picnic.”

Tallgrass didn’t need to be told twice. He took off through the grass at a full gallop, with Digger trotting along beside him and Tiny moving to stay between them and the tree. Tallgrass could feel that the ground was a little harder and drier than it was back at the university, and the grass was crisper as well as taller. While he ran he could feel it brushing his legs and his ribs, and he could hear it swishing and crunching.

He turned sharply and swung back the other way, making Digger laugh as he tried to keep up. He ended up running a route that closely matched the one he did back home. Digger adjusted his route to stay on the side opposite the tree, and Tiny just moved back and forth guarding that side. Tallgrass felt safe, but he also felt a thrill of the unknown. This was where his mother had faced dangers, and he kept his eyes open, hoping to see a day runner or a day flier.

After a few circuits he heard Tiny call out in a quiet but firm voice, “Day runner.”

Tallgrass stopped dead and stared. He felt Digger move in close, and he took a step forward to keep his view. On the other side of Tiny, coming out from under the branches, was a scary looking animal. He could see the power in its six legs, and the muscles bunching under its gleaming scales, but it was the head and its huge mouth full of teeth that held his eye. He shivered as a primal fear washed through him. It was staring at him with all four of its eyes.

He saw that Digger had his knife in his hand beside him, and Tiny had his out too, as he warily faced the animal. Then he heard a rattle as his mother trotted forward. She went straight at the day runner, shaking her spear in front of her. It stared at her, uncertain, then it turned and scuttled back into the shadows.

Sage turned and trotted over to him, lifting her spear as she came. Under her gentle mother look, he saw a ferocity he had never seen before. He knew it was to protect him, and he had never felt so proud in his life.

They had their picnic then, standing around a portable table. Tallgrass had his date bars, then he had another run. He went up the little incline to have a closer look at the tree, his mother on one side, her spear point in front, and Digger on the other, his knife in his hand. Once he was satisfied with that, they went back down to the hut and the truck.

Tallgrass had a day he would never forget and, with visions of his mother and the day runner in his mind, he dropped off to sleep on the deck of the truck as it jostled over the dirt road.