For a while when I was a kid my parents owned a 500 acre tobacco farm in Kentucky.  The farmhouse sat atop a high point half a mile off a county road.  The entire acreage was fenced in and cattle pretty much had the run of all of it except our garden and front yard.  A long lane covered in white gravel ran from the main gate up to the house where another gate was always kept closed.  It was a lovely place, with large wooded areas, two ponds and a handsome barn replete with a tack room, stalls and a huge hayloft.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon I accepted an invitation to a home Bible study group meeting about a mile away. I had read every book we owned, television was just in the embryonic  stage and one of my friends from church was going to be there…at last, something to do, somewhere to go.  I was 12 years old so a chance, any chance, to get out and do something really appealed to me.

Dad was working out of town and had our only car so I walked to the meeting.  As I passed through the pasture I noticed the bull my dad had rented to run with our cows for the summer.  I paid him little attention and proceeded on down the road.

It was late afternoon when we stopped chatting and got down to the business of reading Bible passages and debating the meaning of them.  The sun had set when we took a break and suddenly realized we’d all be walking home in the dark.  We were from an area of scattered farms so all of us had to walk a long way.  Because I was the youngest the hostess was concerned for my welfare.  She said her son would be happy to accompany me home.  Dad had once hired that son to grub stumps out of a field and I was always uncomfortable around him.   To ask him now to walk me home would be like asking a fox to guard the hen house.  I assured her I was not at all dreading the walk alone.  I couldn’t call my mother because we didn’t own a telephone.

I walked the block or so to the county road, then followed it for about a quarter of a mile and opened the gate to our long driveway.  There was NO moon to guide me but I could make out the white gravel from the green grass.  I could see about as far as my feet then all was black.  I was terrified.  I closed the gate as quietly as I could, hoping to not arouse any critters that might be lurking in the pasture.  My sandals made very little noise as I made my way up the road to home.  I stopped briefly to adjust one of the straps on a shoe and thought I heard some muffled breathing behind me.  I listened and, sure enough, there WAS breathing and it was not mine.  I walked faster.   Whatever was following me also increased speed.  I couldn’t remove my sandals because of the sharp-edged gravel, so I awkwardly ran, clutching my Bible. Behind me was the steady thump, thump of feet hitting the ground.  It suddenly occurred to me that it had to be that darned rented bull.

I finally came to the stone-bottomed creek bed (now dry) which was the half-way mark to our house.  I thought for just a moment that I’d climb one of the trees that grew along the edge of the seasonal  creek but as I couldn’t even see them I soon decided that was an idea coming from terror and not good sense.

Past the creek bed the road got steeper, but at least I was within a couple hundred yards of the last gate.   By now the bull, or whatever, was huffing and puffing as hard as I was.  I assumed bulls are able to see in the dark as they roam the pasture all night.   Tough luck for me, my follower was one up on me.

I hit the gate at full speed, tossed the Bible over first and shakily followed it.  I had no sooner touched down on the other side when something hit the fence with a great crash.  I had no time to react before I heard a voice say “damn” and was greatly relieved  ’cause bulls don’t talk.  I screamed and a person atop the gate said “Al, is that  you?” and I realized it was my 11 year old brother, John.  “You scared me to death!” he gasped.  “I was walking along when I heard breathing and thought someone or something was following me. I ran faster to outrun whatever it was but you made it to this gate before I did.”  Both of us were near tears but would never have admitted it.

Ever the big sister I inquired “Where have  you been this late?”

“Playing cards with some friends,” he laughed.

I picked up my Bible and headed for the house. I didn’t ask him any more questions.  The next day he would face an inquisition from our mother; he didn’t need one from me, too.

As for Bible study, I decided to do it solo.  I was neither brave enough nor fast enough to run with the bulls ever again.

EPILOGUE:  I told this story to one of my grandsons and he used it in a grade school writing project.  Here, in its entirety, is his condensed version.

Nana tells me stories about when she was young.  My favorite story is when she is going through a barn and in the barn is a bull.  She heard footsteps and ran!  The footsteps ran even faster!  When she was out she found out it was her uncle.