Oh Suzannah, Don't You Cry For Me

Chapter Thirty-Four: Sisters in Arms

In the little flashback, Bucky and Steve are 5 and 4 (preschool/kindergarten age), respectively.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Sisters in Arms

Brooklyn 1922

On his hands and knees, Steve crawled into the stony shelter of a cave opening to escape the rain. The surrounding forest of the middle of nowhere stayed quiet, hushed from the torrent of rain splashing onto the muddy ground and washing everything downward. All the animals hunkered down in their little dens to escape the chilly bite of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky pressed his larger form into the small cave, his nose sniffing the air. "It's too rainy to go hunting," Bucky said, stating the obvious.

"But I'm hungry," Steve protested. "And we haven't eaten anything in daaayyys!"

"We should ask Papa what to do," Bucky suggested. When Steve didn't counter, Bucky slunk out of the cave and trotted over to where Pa sat on top of a boulder under the large oak tree. Steve joined him shortly after, ignoring the rain soaking into his skin.

"Papa, Steve's hungry. We should go hunting," Bucky said.

Papa turned his head from where he watched the moon hide behind the clouds. "We know where the deer are hiding. If you don't mind the rain, we could go hunting there, catch a deer or two."

"Where's the deer?" Bucky asked.

"In the valley," Papa said. He extended a limb to point in the direction of the valley tucked in the center of a forest-covered ring of mountains.

"Let's go!" Steve said, his stomach growling.

The trio took off, hurrying down the mountainside, around the lake, and to the meadow where the deer stood in a large herd underneath the smattering of trees. Bucky and Steve huddled next to Papa, who told them to stay silent while they stalked their prey.

Just before Papa gave the signal to pounce, a voice cut through their watch: "Supper's ready! Go wash up."

"Awwww!" Bucky protested. He plopped down onto his rear and stuck his legs straight out in a pout while folding his chubby arms over his little chest. "We were gonna get a deer."

The rainy valley faded into the well-lit living room of the Barnes household where no deer stood huddled under trees. The trio of wolves who were stalking their prey reverted into plain, boring, human Bucky, Steve, and Mr. Barnes.

Mrs. Barnes peered around the wall separating the living room from the kitchen and placed her hands on her hips. "Don't give me that look," she warned, pointing a ladle at Bucky. "You're too old for pouting."

"I'm not pouting," Bucky said while clearly doing so. His round cheeks turned downward as he stuck out his bottom lip.

Mr. Barnes watched the exchange, an amused smile on his face. His brown eyes gleamed with mischievousness as he wrapped his arms around Bucky and Steve's shoulders to bring them close to his sides. "Boys, I think we've got a hunter trying to ruin our fun. Whattya say we wolves take her down so we can go get some deer?"

"George...," Mrs. Barnes warned and fixed her husband with a stern look. A surprised yelp wiped away the stern, motherly expression as Bucky and Steve lunged for her legs. She landed on her bottom, the ladle flying from her grasp and clattering onto the wooden floor of the kitchen.

Mr. Barnes chuckled and joined the boys in pinning Mrs. Barnes onto the floor. He locked an arm around her waist while Bucky and Steve pretended to claw at her. "Play along, darling," Mr. Barnes said into his wife's ear.