Read The Devil's Paintbox Online

Authors: Victoria McKernan

The Devil's Paintbox (3 page)

BOOK: The Devil's Paintbox
7.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“What will it take to join with your wagon train?” Aiden pressed. He felt dizzy and urgent, like the earth had stopped spinning for a minute just to give him one more chance. A wagon train would be safe for Maddy Someone would surely need a girl to help with chores and children. They might even keep her hired on at the other end.

“Boy, I ain't talking about a buggy ride to Sunday school. We're walking two thousand miles across some of the roughest country in the world.”

“You been all around the world?” Maddy asked eagerly. “What's it like?”

Jackson squeezed his eyes in exasperation. When he got back to town, he was going to smack hell out of the man who told him there were three or four grown men out here.

“Costs money to travel that far. You got any money?”

“No.”

“Got any livestock?”

Aiden shook his head.

“Mule?”

“No.”

“We ate it,” Maddy said. “Boiled.”

“What about the hide?” Jackson looked around hopefully.

“Wasn't so good. Real hard to chew.”

Jackson sighed. He didn't need a couple of starving orphans, and he certainly didn't want penniless ones.

“You got any tools?”

“Yeah, we got tools,” Aiden said. “Plow. Shovel, axe, some hoes.”

“Don't have handles, though,” Maddy added unhelpfully. “We burned them in the stove over the winter after the furniture was gone.”

“Got a stove,” Aiden pressed. “We could sell that.”

Jackson laughed.

“It's a good stove.”

“Boy, there's fifty stoves sitting out here, left behind by busted homesteaders. There's stoves took root out here and
growing
by now. What you got is called scrap metal.”

“Handles are easy enough,” Aiden said. “All I need is some wood.”

“So you got nothing. What you're telling me—you got nothing.”

“I can sell the land. It ain't a homestead—we bought it clear.”

“No one's buying land out here, son. God himself wouldn't buy this land now.”

“I can teach you all the foreign countries of the world,” Maddy offered.

“Well, I ain't moving to any foreign country any time soon,” Jackson said wearily.

“I can doctor some,” Maddy said.

“So you said.”

“I can get a fishhook out of you,” she said. “There's a trick to it.” She paused, looked down in serious thought. “Well, I
will
tell you, because sometime you might need to know when I'm not around.”

“I know how to get a fishhook out,” Jackson said. “Don't need any doctoring.” What he needed was to get back to town and ease this damn mess in a drink of whiskey.
“Here's what I got,” he said, rushing the offer before he had a chance to get his sense back. “Timber company outside of Seattle will pay me one hundred dollars for every man I bring in.” He looked the skinny boy over again and hoped he wasn't going to regret this. “Once there, you're bound to work it off. It's hard work. Rough living. Plus cost of your passage owed to me. That's another hundred dollars. Each. It takes most men a year to work it off and you got her to keep, so figure two.”

“I can work too,” Maddy said.

“No decent women in the camps or anywhere nearby. Men do the cooking, and there's Chinamen for the laundry.” He looked her over more closely. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen. Nearly.”

“Thirteen, eh? Old enough by the time we get there. There's a mighty lack of women up there, so men'll marry the ugly ones. Fatten up some and learn to keep your mouth shut and someone'll take you. Maybe even pay off your passage.” He turned back to Aiden. “You understand my deal?”

“Yes.” Aiden burned with the insult to his sister but worked to keep his temper. “You'll take us to Seattle. I'll work off our passage. Might take two years.”

“Lot of people don't make it. There's a hundred ways to die on this journey.”

“Well,” Aiden said, “I do appreciate some novelty.”

Jackson almost smiled. “All right,” he said. “You've lived hard enough so far; you might do for something yet. If you want to come, I'll take you. But if one of you dies, the other still owes me their keep, got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I ain't a charity-type man. But I'm fair. I'll figure it out to the day” Jackson went on somberly. “You die halfway for instance, it's only fifty dollars. But you will owe it—whoever's left. The hundred dollars is for your food and travel only. Anything extra you need, clothes, boots and such, I'll put on your account.”

He looked at their bare feet.

“You got any boots?”

“I do,” Aiden said. “And I'll buy her some, on my account.”

“All right, then.” Jefferson J. Jackson was starting to respect this proud kid. “Let's get moving. Bring them books along. I ain't read nothing new for a while, and I'm partial to Shakespeare.”

he town had an official name, Sweetwater, but no one ever used it, few even remembered it and the water had never been sweet anyway. The prairie soil out here was alkaline, and even the springs and deep wells had a bitter taste. Most of the homesteaders had simply called it “town” or “The Wood,” after the grove of precious cottonwood trees that grew around the spring.

It never had been much of a town, with only a dozen buildings, but now it was grim and crumbling. Last time Aiden had come, soon after the fire in November, the last shopkeeper was packing up to leave. Outside the empty dry-goods store had been a box of ribbon scraps and bits of lace with a note that said
Free. Sorry. Good luck.

They heard fiddle music as they approached.

“They're having a party,” Jackson said. “We've been ten days traveling since we started in Independence. Good grass and water here, so we're taking a day to graze the cattle, shore up the wagons and lighten the loads. Folks always start out with too much. And had a cripple-legged calf born yesterday, so might as well cook that up while it's still fresh and plenty of wood around for a fire.” The rich aroma of the roasting meat made Aiden feel slightly insane.

It was late afternoon, and the sun cast deep golden shadows across the ground. As they got closer, they could see the swirl of dresses as people danced beneath the trees.
Aiden remembered the dancing eight years ago, the night before they'd left Virginia. All the other servants, and some of the slaves from miles around, had gathered in a barn for a grand party. He remembered the giddy whirl of the reels and the fierce stomping of jigs. His mother's cheeks were flushed, and his father, twice her size, danced so wildly he lifted her off the floor. His older brothers, who were thirteen and fourteen then, swung little Maddy around until she screamed with laughter. How excited and hopeful they had all been. They would leave in the morning and start the journey west. They would work in the coal mines for a year or two and save some money, then go to the frontier and build a home where land could be had for pennies an acre. But the land hadn't cared about their hard work and grand hopes. The land had claimed them, one by one.

Aiden helped Maddy off the horse. She was trembling. For all her bold chatter back at the farm, he knew how terrified she must be right now. He was feeling pretty much the same way, though he would not show it. He took her hand. It was like a little bundle of twigs. She was all he had left of his family, all he had left in the world.

“Are they all going with us?” Maddy asked Jackson in an awed whisper. “All these people?”

“Reckon so,” Jackson said.

“There must be a hundred!”

“One hundred and eight,” Jackson replied. “Counting you two. There's probably five or six thousand going west this season, maybe more with the war being over.”

“All on the same trail?” Aiden asked.

“Mostly. But I take a small wagon train, specially for livestock. People are willing to pay for less aggravation, more grass and water. I know the side routes, and we keep off the main trail for as much as we can, until we get to the Continental Divide.”

“Where do they come from?” Maddy asked.

“All over.”

“Why?”

“All kinds of reasons, I suppose. I don't ask. As long as they have the money to pay me and supply themselves for the journey, and don't seem too loco, I'll take ‘em. My job's just to get ‘em there.”

The emigrants had taken tables and empty barrels out of the abandoned shops and set them up under the cottonwood trees. Women were putting out bowls of apples and radishes and pickles, plates of corn bread and kettles of beans. Most of the people didn't seem to notice Aiden and Maddy, but some stared at the raggedy pair as they followed Jackson to the well. Two young men leaned on the back of one wagon. They looked like brothers, tall, with fair blond hair, square jaws, blue eyes and good teeth. They were in their early twenties, Aiden guessed, and looked prosperous. It wasn't just the new store-bought clothes and good boots, but the way they held themselves, confident and easy.

“We do what you say, Herr Jackson.” One of them lifted a large pewter mug as they passed. “We lighten the load like you say!” He pointed to a small beer cask on the tailgate of the adjoining wagon. “It is very good brew, dis one! Come haf some!”

“Germans,” Jackson said by way of explanation. “From
Wisconsin. They think they're taking fifteen fancy milk cows to Oregon. Look at ‘em.” He nodded toward a small herd. “Girly cows. Be lucky if they make it there with five.” Aiden saw Jackson look longingly at the beer but then turn back to his horse. The tired animal stood quietly as Jackson pulled off the saddlebags. Aiden and Maddy's meager possessions barely filled one; the books took up all of the other.

“You're welcome to keep them with you to read,” Maddy offered. “Except, if you don't mind, for the
Atlas of the World.
We read from that one every night.”

“Thank you, miss.” Jackson smiled the first easy smile she had seen. “I'm looking forward to Mr. Shakespeare.”

“Some of
Aesop's Fables
you can still read too,” she offered. “We know them by heart and can fill in the parts around the mouse holes.”

“I'll keep that in mind if I feel in need of a moral.”

Aiden drew water from the well, marveling at how easy it was to get a full bucket of clear water. Despite the bitter taste, they all drank thirstily, then poured the rest into a trough for the horse. Jackson unfastened the girth and slid the saddle off. Aiden picked up a rag to help wipe down the sweating horse, but Jackson waved them off.

“Go on, get yourselves something to eat.”

“Can we really?” Maddy asked, her voice trembling as she stared at all the food. The music had stopped and everyone was crowding around the tables.

“It's a party, ain't it? Looks like plenty enough.” He didn't seem to be in much hurry to join in himself, though he did glance back to see that the Germans and their beer were still waiting. “Just watch you don't make yourselves sick.”

Maddy took their two tin plates, mugs and spoons out of
their sack. Aiden pulled up another bucket of water and they washed their hands and faces. There was not much they could do about their dirty clothing. With no soap and little water for laundry none of their other clothes were any better. Maddy tied a bit of ribbon on her braid and made Aiden roll up his frayed shirt cuffs. They walked slowly over to the food tables. Aiden's legs felt jittery from hunger and nerves, but Maddy's bold spirit was quickly reviving.

“Oh, Aiden, look, there's jam!” she whispered. A blue enamel bowl of strawberry jam shimmered in the sun like a pot of melted rubies. “And butter!” The butter was freshly churned, and the soft yellow peaks glistened with tiny droplets of moisture. Maddy clutched her plate to her chest, suddenly frozen. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks.

“It's okay, Maddy.” Aiden put an arm around her. “Starving times are done.” He picked up a piece of corn bread, covered it with butter and jam and held it out to her, but she still couldn't move. Aiden held the bread up to her lips and she took a tiny bite. Her shoulders began to shake and he pressed her tight to his side.

“Listen now, I mean it. We got a way to live now. We got a way out. So take a bite. Look.” He took a bite himself. He almost gagged. It was shockingly sweet and rich. It seemed to fill up his entire mouth so he wasn't sure he could even swallow it. He picked up a pitcher of fresh milk and poured them both a cup. The milk was warm and rich, with golden gobs of fat floating on top. Maddy clutched the cup and gulped it down.

BOOK: The Devil's Paintbox
7.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Ghost by Michael Cameron
Listen To Your Heart by Fern Michaels
Blue Moon by Isobel Bird
The Proposal by Katie Ashley
Snow White Sorrow by Cameron Jace
Horse Magic by Bonnie Bryant
X's for Eyes by Laird Barron
Country Love by Chelsea Dorsette