Read The Devil's Paintbox Online

Authors: Victoria McKernan

The Devil's Paintbox (12 page)

BOOK: The Devil's Paintbox
12.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Come on.”

Aiden grasped Tupic's forearm, stuck a foot in the stirrup and flung one leg up toward the horse. Somehow he managed a clumsy mount and sat behind the saddle. He barely had time to grab hold of Tupic before the horse broke into a wild gallop. Soon the prairie was a blur beneath him.

ut how do you know they're friendly Indians?” Maddy pressed Jackson. “How do you know they aren't kidnapping him?”

“They're Nez Perce,” he said. “Always been on good terms with whites. It was Nez Perce helped out Lewis and Clark. You heard of them?”

“Lewis and Clark are historical! They came by in ancient times! Before even you were born! Those Indians could have all kinds of grievances by now!”

“But what would they want with your brother?” he scoffed.

“They might want to cut his heart out for their gods, like the Aztecs!”

“They ain't Aztecs.”

“Ransom, then!” Maddy said doggedly.

“If that's the case I'll gladly offer up the dollar or two he's sure to be worth. Now we need to get mov—”

“Why did you make him swim out there all alone anyway?” she interrupted.

“I didn't make him!” Jackson said defensively. “He volunteered! Someone had to go.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “And if you don't want all that work of his to be for nothing, you'll back off with the stink-eye there and let us get rolling. If we get halfway to the crossing before dark and
start early tomorrow, we might get over the river by tomorrow night.”

“Come on, little miss.” Reverend True put a firm hand on Maddy's shoulder. “Aiden's got some wits about him, he'll be all right.”

Aiden grabbed hold of Tupic and hung on for dear life. He had never moved so fast. The wind stung his face and whipped his hair. He could feel the horse's hoofbeats thudding deep inside his chest. He bounced hopelessly up and down until he thought his teeth might come loose. It was exhilarating and terrifying.

“Hold with your legs here—” Tupic slapped his own knees. “Make your body easy. Feel balance here.” He pressed on his abdomen. “Keep center.”

Gradually Aiden began to feel the rhythm of the horse and relaxed his grip on Tupic. After a while, the horse eased down to a trot and finally a walk. Aiden turned and saw the others far behind them.

“This horse is young and likes to run,” Tupic explained. Aiden suspected it was Tupic who really liked to run. Tupic reached into a leather saddlebag and passed Aiden a handful of dried berries to eat. They were sweet and sour at the same time, filling his mouth with flavor.

“Thank you,” Aiden said. He was suddenly famished.

“Where do you come from?” Tupic asked.

“Kansas,” Aiden replied. “Before that, Virginia, where I was born.”

“Ah, Virginia—George Washington is born there!”

“Yes. Where is your home?”

“In the land north and west—the places you call Idaho and Oregon and Washington.”

“You've come a long way,” Aiden said. “What are you doing out here?”

Tupic shrugged. “It is the season to travel. We visit and trade. Do you have peppermint? In your wagon?”

“Someone probably does,” Aiden said.

“I learned spelling for peppermint. Ask me any word.”

Aiden wasn't sure he would know whether a word was spelled right or not.

“You speak very good English,” he said. “Do all your people go to missionary school?”

“No. I was sent to learn your ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clever Crow says we must find a way how to live with white people. He says I will go to school.”

“Is he your chief?”

“He is elder—seer.”

“Seer of what? The future?”

Tupic hesitated. “He is what you call godfather to me. One who receives the dreams for a boy and guides him until he has his own vision quest. His spirit power is very strong.”

“What's a vision quest?”

“It is—” Tupic shrugged. “It is too much explaining for a short ride!”

“Did you like school?”

“Some. I am glad to learn reading, and to speak English. And I am glad for peppermint candy in the spelling bee. But after that, much is—boring. Mostly they say here—read the Bible, read the agriculture book how to plow and grow food. This we always think silly because there is food everywhere.
Then, here, read Christopher Columbus and George Washington. But mostly read the Bible. Too much Bible. I like Jonah and the whale, I like Noah's ark—we have stories of the Flood too. But the Ten Commandments—you know that story?”

“Moses, you mean?”

“Yes. I was excited at first to read it. Your God calls Moses to the mountaintop and sends thunderclouds to bring the commandments. You see, our spirits talk to us this way, through the fire, or the wind, sometimes through coyote or bird, or even mouse. So I think, finally I will understand your God. But all he says is don't kill and don't steal and so on.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing, but that is not what a Spirit comes to tell you! That is what a child learns from his family and the tribe. Why would a god call you up a mountain with thunder just to tell simple rules?”

Aiden wasn't religious, but still felt a twinge of offense. “Well, what would your God tell you?” he said.

“Not tell so much, but to give a vision—signs to find your path. To show each man what he should do with his life besides hunt and eat and dance and make war and have children; about how to find his way—his place—in the world and to complete his journey with honor. About how to live well and how to listen to the spirits.”

“Does your religion have a lot of spirits?”

Tupic turned and looked at him with a puzzled expression. “The
world
has a lot of spirits.”

They rode on beneath the perfect blue sky, the sun warm and the air sweet with new prairie grass. Months later, in the
darkest of dark times that were to come, Aiden would think back on this day and remember it as one of the best of his life. For the first time since he'd been a small child, he had no work or responsibilities. He carried nothing and had no decisions to make. He was entirely at the mercy of these strangers. Whatever was going to happen would happen. Meanwhile, he was riding through the sunshine on a beautiful horse with his mind free to think about God and spirits or nothing at all or everything at once.

The world was an entirely different place from the back of a horse. Walking across the rough prairie, you always had to look down so as not to trip. After a day of walking, Aiden's neck would ache and his eyes saw ripples around everything. But now, on horseback, he could just watch the wind move through the tall grass in shimmering waves. Gone was the cloud of dust that constantly choked the wagons. Tomorrow would bring back the clatter of the group, with their quarrels and burdens and slow, plodding hope, but right now everything was just easy and light. He looked at the three Indians, with their good ponies and small loads. Maybe he could just ride off with them, leave the rest to the dusty trail with their dreary cattle and lumbering wagons. He could live forever on a bag of dried berries and a skin of water, riding lightly across the plains like an Indian.

It was about ten miles to the crossing place, and the afternoon was still young when they got there. The river here had indeed spilled over its banks, quite dramatically. Whole sections of the original riverbank had been crumbled in the force of the water, leaving tall chunks standing like ruined castle walls. The river had originally been thirty feet across and twenty feet deep. Now it was at least a hundred feet
across, but shallow enough that Aiden could see grass through the water. Little islands poked up throughout. It would be easy to get all the wagons and cattle across here. The water level had already dropped a few feet since the peak flood, and the bank was littered with sticks and branches. They could make a nice fire tonight.

“Much snow—mountain—winter,” Clever Crow explained, waving toward the north. “Now all snow—” He searched for the word. “Gone. With sun?”

“Melted?” Aiden asked.

“Yes. Morning—we look—”

Clever Crow's English stalled, and Tupic explained, “We will ride across on the ponies and make sure there are no holes or trees underwater.”

“Yes,” Aiden said. “Thank you.”

The three Nez Perce took their saddles and bags off the horses, led them to the river to drink, then pulled up hand-fuls of grass and wiped the sweating animals clean. They talked to the horses in low voices, sweetly, Aiden thought, like a grandmother to a favored child. As Tupic rubbed his pony's coat to gleaming, the horse nuzzled and nipped at his hair.

Once the horses were tended to, the Indians lay down in the grass and promptly fell asleep. Aiden sat by the river, the afternoon sun warm on his bare back. He had met Indians before but had never spent time with them. Whenever Indians had come around the homestead, his family had kept a wary distance. His parents had never called them savages, as many of the other settlers had, but they would certainly never have just invited them in to have tea as they would have white visitors. The Indians brought small game to trade
for biscuits or corn bread. Once an Indian woman traded a basket for a knitted baby bonnet, and soon those bonnets became very sought-after items. Aiden's sister Ada was happy to knit them and give them away but when an Indian woman wanted Ada to teach her how to knit, Ada didn't want to. She was afraid to sit close to her.

“She smells bad,” Ada complained. “And her dress is greasy.”

How did people get to be so different? Aiden wondered. All the people in the
Atlas of the World,
and all the different ways to live—how did that happen? He lay down in the warm grass to think about it, shifting a little to mash the itchy bits down, but the afternoon was so nice and warm he soon fell asleep himself.

iden woke to the sound of an arrow whooshing past his ear. It was so close he felt the feathers brush his cheek. He sprang up and whirled around, a sting of panic shooting through his whole body, sharpening his senses so the very air burned his skin. Silent Wolf stood just a few yards away, his bow drawn, another arrow fitted and ready to shoot. They both froze. Aiden could see the Indian's fingers creased red against the bowstring. A rivulet of sweat ran down the scar on his cheek and dripped onto his broad chest. Aiden saw the man's pulse throbbing in his neck. He felt his own heart pounding in his chest, heavy and big as a planet. Aiden did not have his own bow; he did not even have shoes to run away in. He could only hope Silent Wolf's arrow was sharp and his aim good, for he did not want to die slowly.

BOOK: The Devil's Paintbox
12.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

God Told Me To by C. K. Chandler
Salem Charm: Book 3 of Colson Brothers Series by Madison, Reese, Lynne Foster
Day of the False King by Brad Geagley
A Soldier's Heart by Sherrill Bodine
Song of the Gargoyle by Zilpha Keatley Snyder
More Than Scars by Sarah Brocious
At Lady Molly's by Anthony Powell