Paint the Wind (9 page)

Maya nodded to him. She brought the horse to a jog, gave the leg cue, and made the sound of a kiss. The transition felt gentler his time. She stayed on.

“Now ride!” yelled Aunt Vi. “Ride like someone is trying to catch you. Ride!”

Maya looked ahead through Seltzer's ears and held the reins in front of the horn. She kept her arms still and close to her body, her legs positioned with heels down, and stayed centered. The horse's hooves pounded out a tempo like the sequential thrumming of fingers. Maya flew down the dirt track and through the turn, the breeze amusing her cheeks. She rode, giving Seltzer more leg, and he picked up speed. The perfect metrical beat of the horse's stride became the rhythm of her own breathing.
Hoosh, hoosh, hoosh
. In those moments, nothing that had happened before, or might happen after, mattered. She was flooded with an unfamiliar yet lucid happiness. She wanted to lope and lope and lope forever.

When Maya dismounted, she was breathless and her face felt flushed.

Aunt Vi dashed forward and Maya smiled, expecting
congratulations. Instead, Aunt Vi took Seltzer's reins. “Payton! Maya! Change into shorts and an undershirt and meet me at the river.” She turned away, leading the horse toward the corral.

Maya stared after her. “Didn't I do it right?”

“Yeah. You did fine,” said Payton. “She's probably going to make us scrub river rocks. She made me do that once when I talked back to her.”

A
UNT
V
I STRODE TOWARD THEM WITH TOWELS IN ONE
hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other. She wore her cowboy boots and a bathing suit with a long work shirt as a cover-up, which was as long as a dress on her short body. “This way!” she said, and took off toward the willows, walking as if she were about to miss a bus.

Maya and Payton trudged after her, trying to keep up. They followed along the bank of the river until they reached a grassy overlook, elevated a few feet above a pool in the river.

Aunt Vi stopped and tossed towels at Maya and Payton. “You're both getting a little ripe.” She nodded toward the river. “Payton, don't you think it's time Maya
had a camp baptism? Maya, there's nothing better than the soft water of the Sweetwater.”

“Yes!” said Payton. He dropped to the ground, pulled off his boots and socks, and jumped from the bank. A giant splash followed.

Maya stared at Aunt Vi, puzzled. They weren't going to wash river rocks?

“Can you swim?” asked Aunt Vi, taking off her shirt and starting on her boots.

Maya looked down at her filthy arm. She had wondered if she was ever going to take a bath again. Since she'd arrived there'd been nothing more than a daily washing over a bowl of water and a swipe here and there with a washcloth. “Yes, I can swim,” she said, then added with a nervous laugh, “but … I don't know about
this.…” Maya dropped to the grass anyway, tugging on her boots and releasing her hair from the ponytail.

Aunt Vi scuttled down the embankment and into the water.

“Come on!” yelled Payton. “It's easier than falling off a horse.” He dove under.

Maya took timid steps on the bank. “I can't believe I'm doing this. I really can't believe I'm doing this.” She stood shivering on the bank, held her nose with one hand, closed her eyes, and jumped. She plunged into the clear water and then sprang back up, screaming at its coldness.

Payton laughed.

Maya laughed, too, as surprised by the sound of her own giggling voice as she was by the icy river.

Aunt Vi grinned and tossed her the shampoo.

Maya treaded water and then swam to a shallow spot on a sandbar. She sat down and squirted the shampoo on her head. When it was foamy, she squished it from her hair and massaged it all over her body, then dipped under, again and again, until the soap disappeared. I'm taking a bath in a river, she thought, and couldn't help but wonder what Grandmother would think. But Maya didn't care. She had never been so dirty or felt so clean.

Maya followed Aunt Vi out of the river. They spread their towels on the bank, side by side, and sat on them. The warm breeze dried their bodies.

Payton scaled up the bank and jumped back into the river, displacing a fair amount of water. When he sprang up, he waved.

Aunt Vi waved back and continued to watch him. “You know, Maya, when Payton's at home, his three brothers tease him to distraction. On top of that, they're all star athletes. They're good riders, too, but Payton outshines them in competitions. I try to coach him as much as I can so he has one thing he's better at than they are. He's usually a more settled soul out here than he is at home.” Aunt Vi leaned over and nudged Maya with her elbow. “But I think you threw a monkey wrench in his summer. Don't worry, he'll adjust. Wide-open space does that to people. Slows them down and gives them time and legroom to sort out their thoughts and put them in the right order.”

Maya watched Payton swim toward a deeper pool farther upstream. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have three older brothers who tormented her.

“He's a good swimmer,” said Maya.

“He's good at a lot of things. At home, he just gets a little lost in the shuffle. Where did you learn to swim?” asked Aunt Vi.

“I had swimming lessons at one of my schools.”

Aunt Vi turned her head to look at Maya. “Is that the truth?”

Maya nodded, her eyes large and sincere. “One of my schools offered lessons and Grandmother allowed it because swimming is related to safety. She always worried that I might drown in the bathtub or a puddle or that there might be a flood. She … she worried about so many dreadful things.”

“She must have loved you very much,” said Aunt Vi.

Maya gave her a curious look.

“She wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to protect you if she hadn't cared about you,” said Aunt Vi.

It had never occurred to Maya that Grandmother's behavior was a form of love. “But she acted so mean … and she hated my mother. I wasn't even allowed to say her name or I'd get in trouble. Grandmother got rid of all of my mother's pictures, except for one that I kept hidden, and she said … she said that my mother took her son away from her … and killed him.”

A tiny frown crowded Aunt Vi's forehead. “I had no idea, Maya. All I can say is that she must have needed somebody to blame for your father's death. Probably made it easier for her. In a way, sadness is proof of how much you cared for the person who died, so it's hard to move away from it. Some people get stuck in their
sorrow and grab on much too tight to what they have left. The lawyer told Moose that your grandmother closed herself off from the entire world and tried to do the same to you. That makes me think she was just sad and afraid. I have to feel sorry for someone like that.”

“Was Moose ever sad and afraid when my mother died?”

“Sure. We all were. But we had each other to lean on and to share the sadness. We dragged each other out of the wallow so it was easier to get on with laughing and loving … and singing.”

“He still seems sad,” said Maya.

“Oh, that's because Moose wears his heart on his sleeve. Know what that means?”

Maya shook her head.

“It means he wears his feelings on the outside instead
of covered up on the inside. He gets emotional when he's sad
and
when he's happy. And during a beautiful sunset. Or at the drop of a hat.” Aunt Vi smiled.

“His wife died, too, right? My other grandmother?” said Maya.

“Yes, we lost Moose's wife many years ago when your mother was just a baby.”

“So … my mother didn't have a mother, either … just like me.”

“Yes and no. Back then, I was a young woman just out of grad school, teaching art history at a university in the East. When Moose's wife died, I came home to help raise Ellie. She was my niece, and she needed me. I never regretted it. Secretly, I had missed my family and my horses but was too proud to admit it to anyone. Fig joined us when he became a widower, but even when he
didn't live at the ranch, he and his family were around all the time. We all played a part in raising Ellie. I guess I filled in as her mother.”

Aunt Vi sat up, leaned her elbows on her knees, and stared downstream, where Payton stood on the bank, skipping rocks into the river.

Maya followed her gaze, thinking about how much Aunt Vi, Uncle Fig, and Moose must have loved her mother, too.

“Your mother used to say that the Sweetwater wore a hole in her heart that she could never fill up with contentment from anywhere else. This spot was one of her favorite places, Maya. Here, and being out with the wild horses. You'll see why tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I'm taking you and Payton to see a harem band I've
been watching. I keep track of several of the smaller harems so that when I take groups out, I'll know where they are. We'll probably see one or two of the stallions your father painted. He was a talented artist. You must have known that.”

Maya shook her head. “Grandmother said she destroyed everything. The only painting of his I've ever seen is the one in the living room at the ranch.”

Aunt Vi's mouth set in a straight line and she shook her head. “All his beautiful paintings … well … I can at least show you what inspired him, and if we're lucky, you'll see the brown-and-white Paint your mother once rode.”

“That's … that's the picture I have.… She's on a brown-and-white horse!”

“The horse's name is Artemisia,” said Aunt Vi. “She
was a yearling who was separated from her mother during a gather and taken to auction.”

“What's a gather?”

“It's a polite word for a roundup. I bought Artemisia and trained her for three years. She was a four-year-old, just like you, that last summer you and your mom visited. Ellie adored that horse and rode her the entire time she was here. She was my horse, Maya, but Artemisia and your mother had a connection like I've never seen before. When Ellie left, Artemisia pined for days. Later that summer, I moved Artemisia out here to the Sweetwater because I needed more remuda horses to outfit and guide a pack trip for a group of photographers. I let someone else ride Artemisia. That was my mistake.”

“Why?”

“We had been out all day, tracking a band of wild horses,” said Aunt Vi. “When we set up camp for the night, I was busy putting up a portable corral, and the photographers were taking off their horses' tack. The woman riding Artemisia forgot to half-hitch a halter around Artemisia's neck before she removed the bridle. About that time, a stallion with his harem came over a ridge almost in our laps. All those photographers went crazy, grabbing their cameras and shooting pictures. After it was all said and done, the woman noticed Artemisia had wandered off. By then, the stallion was already circling and posturing. He came up from behind and snaked Artemisia away, right out from under our noses. I was heartsick until I was able to see how well
she adapted back to the wild. I spotted her a few weeks ago, right after she foaled. She has a new colt. I named him Klee.”

“Klee,” repeated Maya. “That's a funny name.”

“I name the horses after famous painters.”

“How come?”

Aunt Vi leaned back on her elbows, and her eyes turned wistful, like when she sang around the campfire. “Look around. Out here in all this bigness, every single thing matters and stands out. When the horses run against the wind with their manes and tails flying, I think they look like fleeting brushstrokes of color. I consider them the artists on this enormous outdoor canvas, making it more beautiful. So I name them so. The male horses get last names and the females get first names just so we can keep the genders straight. I'm
partial to painters of the American Southwest. Others are favorites whose lives I admire or artists I teach in my classes.”

Payton emerged from the bushes on the edge of the clearing. “Look what I found!” He ran toward them, a skinny black snake dangling from his hands.

“Payton …?” warned Aunt Vi.

He veered away and released the snake beneath an outlying willow bush. Aunt Vi shook her head and smiled at Maya. “A few days ago that might have ended up in your tent. There might be hope for that boy yet.”

As Maya dressed, she said, “Aunt Vi, I … I did unlatch the gate … on purpose.”

Aunt Vi nodded and pulled on her boots. “I know. Thank you for owning up. And Maya, I was a little hard on you today … on purpose. I didn't expect you to fall,
though. You gave me a scare. But you did good anyway. You're a natural, just like a Limner.”

As Maya followed Aunt Vi back to camp, she hugged her towel. She couldn't stop thinking about everything Aunt Vi had said. About her mother and the river and the wild horses. And about being a Limner. Her face pinked from the afternoon sun, but she beamed as much on the inside as she did on the out.