The Devil's Paintbox (38 page)

A low ceiling of gray clouds muted the sunrise. They rode silently for about an hour, then came to a rocky outcrop near the top of a ridge. From there they had a good view of a bend in the trail below, about fifty yards away.

“What do you think?” Aiden asked. “We can hide behind these boulders here and still see them coming from far off.”

“How will we make them stop?”

Aiden pulled the pistol out of his bag.

“You can't shoot them,” Tupic said.

“Believe me, I don't plan on shooting anything but the sky, and I'm hoping for not even that,” Aiden said. “But as long as they don't know that, we might pull it off. It isn't as if they're getting robbed of their own money. Be stupid to risk their own lives over something they can get more of easy from a cow.”

“All right.” Tupic nodded. “I will tie the horses back in the woods.”

Aiden settled into a place among the boulders and leaned
against the cold stone. Wisps of fog rose up from the river and melted into the trees. What was he doing here? This wasn't his fight, wasn't his cause, wasn't even his people. He had done plenty enough already to satisfy any debt to Tupic. This could go bad in so many ways. He should just leave now, go back to camp and the bearable life he had found there.

He suddenly had no more time to contemplate his decision, for the first horse came into view on the trail below. Aiden turned and was relieved to see Tupic creeping silently toward him. They watched a second horse appear, then a third. Aiden squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady himself. He had thought they would have a little time to figure out a plan.

“You sneak around and come up behind them,” Aiden whispered. “I'll jump out, tell them to stop. Then you shout to them don't turn around—so they won't see that you don't have a gun.” His heart was pounding so loud he feared the three men could actually hear it. “Keep your hat on and your face covered.” Aiden pulled his kerchief over his face. “They can't know you're an Indian.”

Tupic nodded, then darted off silently into the woods. Aiden heard the sound of hooves and the snort of a horse.
I don't have to do this. I can just let them ride on past.
He pressed his back against the stone, took some deep breaths and tried to steady his shaking hand.
This isn't my cause.
He heard the horses approaching, heard the men's voices.
There must be some other way.
The horses were so close he could smell them now.

It's got to be someone's cause.

“Stop right where you are!” He sprang up and pointed the pistol at the three men. “Put your hands up!”

Two of the men shot their hands into the air, but the third just stared at him, then slowly raised one hand.

“Don't move!” Aiden shouted. “We've got you surrounded.”

“Don't turn around.” Tupic shouted his line like a nervous actor in a bad play.

“Hands up!” Aiden repeated, waving the pistol at the man in the back. “Both hands!”

“Sorry,” the man said calmly. “That hand doesn't go up.”

Aiden felt as if he'd just been stabbed through with cold steel. He knew that voice! It was the last voice he had ever expected to hear and the last in the world he wanted to. The man's face was gaunt; he had a beard and long ragged hair, but there was no mistaking his eyes. It was Doc Carlos.

“We have nothing to steal,” the man in front said. “All we're carrying is medicine.”

“I know what you're carrying,” Aiden said. His knees were quivering so hard he thought they might buckle. He didn't know whether Carlos recognized him. “Get off your horses,” he said. “Slow, now. I can see where your guns are and you can see my finger on this trigger.” He almost laughed, for it sounded like a silly line from a dime novel. He wrenched his mind around and tried to focus.

“Kneel down on the ground. Do what I say and you won't get hurt.”

“It ain't any value to you,” one of the men said. “It's just vaccine.”

“And men will pay for it,” Aiden said, trying desperately to keep a clear head. “They'll pay plenty up north at the gold mines. Tommy!” he shouted. He hadn't thought to make up a white man's name for Tupic before this. “Tommy! Get
over here.” Tupic appeared, bandana pulled high, hat pulled low, head ducked. “Take those two and tie them up to some trees,” Aiden directed. Tupic got the rope and quickly secured the men. “The other one comes with us.” Aiden waved the gun at Carlos. “He's our hostage.”

“You can't just leave us!” one of the men shouted.

“Someone will come along and find you before long,” Aiden said. “The trail looks busy enough.” His kerchief was slipping and he could hardly breathe through it. “Don't try to follow us, don't send any law. If we smell a posse, we kill your friend dead, you understand?”

Tupic finished tying the first two men up and tucked their blankets around them.

“Get this one on his horse, Tommy. Tie his hands, then go fetch our horses,” Aiden said, his voice breaking. “Hurry.” Tupic helped the third man to his feet but stopped in surprise when he saw who it was.

“Doc? Is that—?”

“Go on now!” Aiden snapped. “Move!”

hey rode hard through the trees for ten minutes; then Aiden reined in his horse, slid out of the saddle, stumbled off behind a tree and vomited his guts out. He waited to catch his breath, staring down at the dewy ferns.
Not glamorous, pteridophytes, but very interesting.
He wiped his mouth, then strode back, grabbed Carlos's jacket, yanked him off the horse and smashed a fist into his face. Carlos fell to the ground, a gush of blood pouring from his nose. Tupic jumped off his horse, grabbed Aiden and pulled him back.

“What are you doing!”

Aiden lunged again, but Tupic held him. Carlos flinched in anticipation of another blow but made no move to fight back.

“Stop!” Tupic shouted. “Are you crazy?”

He flung Aiden to the ground, but Aiden, well practiced by now in fighting, easily dragged Tupic down with him. They rolled together, grappling and kicking in the slippery pine needles, until Aiden abruptly stopped himself and shoved Tupic away.

“You are not my fight!”

He got to his feet. Tupic sprang up after him.

“Carlos is not your fight either!”

“He let Maddy die!”

The accusation hung in the air like the burned smell of
torn wood, the awful words finally out. The world was silent except for their hard breathing and the restless clink of a horse's bridle. Carlos slowly sat up, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Tupic wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You said she drowned.”

“Because he let go of her!” Aiden flung Tupic's restraining arm away and turned back to Carlos. “It was you who should have drowned!” he said bitterly.

“Yes,” Carlos said. His voice was flat. If he was as shocked to see Aiden as Aiden was to see him, it did not show on his face. If anything, he seemed inordinately calm. He looked almost as bad as the first time Aiden had seen him, just weeks after release from the prison camp. He pulled his damaged arm into his lap but made no move to get up. Thin morning sun streamed through the clouds in steamy stripes of soft gray light.

“That is how you hurt your arm,” Tupic said quietly.

Carlos did not answer. Aiden went back to his horse and grabbed the rest of the rope. “We'll leave him here.”

“He did not cause your sister's death!”

“You weren't there. You don't know!” Aiden could feel the awful panic rising.

“I know that no man can hold against fast water,” Tupic said gently. “Were you about to pull yourself free from the river when we found you?”

Aiden knew this was true, had always known it was true. But he would not let it be true. If there was no fault, there could be no anger, and without anger the space inside him would fill up with pain that he could not bear. The pain of
every death and the waiting on death, the raven's claw around his heart, the terrible burn on his palms from a shovel handle worn silky smooth.

“You are wrong to blame him,” Tupic went on.

“He's alive. Maddy's dead.”

“And the river still does not care.”

Aiden clutched the coiled rope.

“We do not leave a broken man tied in the woods far from the trail. We let him go free or we take him with us.”

“Fine.” Aiden held up his hands in surrender. “You do whatever the hell you want! I've done my part. I'm through.” He stumbled toward the brown mare and fumbled for the stirrup. “You have the vaccine. You're on your own now.” He mounted, yanked the animal's head around and kicked hard.

upic and Carlos caught up to him less than a half mile away near a small stream. Aiden was sitting against a tree, sharpening his knife on a stone while the brown mare stood nearby, feet firmly planted, eyes closed, velvet lips pulling hungrily at the small tufts of grass. No one said anything at first. The mare lifted her head slightly to glance at the newcomers, then turned away and seemed to plant herself even more solidly.

“A horse will not walk all night and then all day,” Tupic said simply. “It must rest and eat. There is no way to make it go.”

He and Carlos were riding two of the vaccine party's horses, leading the third, with Jackson's black horse plodding along behind.

“These other horses are fresh,” Tupic said. “Take one of them if you must go.”

“I have two days left,” Aiden said. “I can walk it in two days. Just give me some of the food.”

“The weather is changing,” Tupic said. “Snow is coming. We should ride east over this ridge, then make shelter in the valley before the storm.”

Aiden got up. His anger had ebbed; now all he felt was overwhelming emptiness. “I just want to get back to camp.” He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Suddenly a loud crack shattered the quiet morning and splinters of
wood rained down on them. Aiden, used to logging, immediately looked up, expecting a falling branch to come crashing down. Carlos, used to war, slid off his horse and pushed Aiden to the ground. Tupic flattened himself beside them. Suddenly the woods were crackling with shots. The horses shrieked and stamped with fear. Chips of wood flew all around and the forest floor erupted with little bursts of pine needles.