The Devil's Paintbox (39 page)

“Damn!” Aiden cursed. “How could they be after us so soon?”

“Not them, others,” Tupic said.

Of course, Aiden realized. Even if the two men from the vaccine team had gotten themselves free, they didn't have their horses. Others must have come along, found them and decided to give chase.

“Five horses—we are easy to track,” Tupic said.

Aiden groped for a new plan, but he was wrung out by now. His mind and heart were ash.

“Take the vaccine and go,” Carlos whispered. “It's in the black saddlebag. I'll stay here.”

“We will not leave you,” Tupic said.

“They don't want me, I'm your hostage.” The sudden clear danger had brought out the quick-thinking and decisive side of him that Aiden had glimpsed in other times of crisis. Carlos, in his damaged heart, was still a surgeon and a soldier.

“Those are rifle shots,” Carlos said. “They're still a way off.” The gunshots stopped, but they all knew it was just so the pursuers could listen. “Shoot your pistol,” he said to Aiden. “Then hit me.”

“No—” Aiden's brain felt slow. He looked at Tupic, who nodded.

“It is good,” Tupic said.

“Where's the gun?” Carlos reached impatiently for Aiden's bag.

“That will let them know just where we are,” Aiden protested, starting to summon his wits.

“I think they know that already,” Carlos said. “But your shots will make them think twice before they ride right in.”

Aiden fumbled in his bag and pulled out the gun, rolled on his back and fired up into the trees.

“Thank you.” Tupic squeezed Carlos's shoulder.

“Hurry!”

Tupic crawled over to the vaccine party's three horses, mounted the one with the black saddlebag, and held the reins of another for Aiden. Jackson's two tired horses ignored everything as they browsed for grass.

“Now knock me out,” Carlos said urgently.

Aiden's hand shook and the blow barely left a mark.

“Harder!”

“I'm sorry,” Aiden whispered.

“Just do it.”

“I mean for blaming you.”

“Go.” Carlos's face was tense but determined.

“You loved her,” Aiden said quietly.

“Yes.” Carlos smiled. “And it wasn't easy.”

Aiden blinked back tears and took a deep breath.

“Now hit me hard.” Carlos squeezed his eyes shut and Aiden brought the butt of the pistol down as hard as he could. It landed with a sickening thud and a small gash
opened above Carlos's ear. He fell, not unconscious, but definitely dazed. Aiden ran to the horse, grabbed the saddle horn and swung himself up. He fired a couple more times, wildly into the sky.

They rode hard, the horses snorting great steamy blasts in the cold air, but there were no more gunshots, no galloping pursuits. The wounded “hostage” apparently was a good delay. There was a rock outcropping at the top of the ridge, and they lost precious time picking a way through it before they could start the descent. The sky grew thicker and more ominous. The wind howled and the temperature dropped even as they descended into the sheltering valley. Around noon they came to a stream and stopped to water the horses and fill their canteens.

“How far do you think we've come?” Aiden asked.

“Four, maybe five miles,” Tupic said. “We should make a shelter now; snow will come soon.”

“No,” Aiden said. “They could catch up.”

“The men will also fear the storm,” Tupic pointed out. “They will go back to the town or the logging camp for shelter.”

“It could be a light snow.”

“This does not feel like light snow,” Tupic said.

“Just a little farther,” Aiden pressed. “If we go down this valley a little more, we'll at least narrow their approach routes and see them coming.”

The horses suddenly lifted their heads together, gracefully, like dancers, and sniffed the air. Tupic and Aiden both tensed, but it was only snow beginning to fall. Blizzards were rare here, but when they came they could be furious.

“Just a little more,” Tupic agreed.

At first the snow fell in large wet flakes that melted in damp blotches on their clothes, but soon it was swirling hard. They followed the stream for another half mile, until they came to a small waterfall.

“We will find a place here!” Tupic shouted, waving toward the rocky ground on either side. They tied the horses near the waterfall. The noise would help them find their way back in the increasing roar of the storm. Aiden had a few yards of rope left in his bag, and they tied themselves together. In a strong blizzard, they could be lost a mere six feet apart. The world was now nothing but heavy steps, smacking branches and stinging snow. They groped almost blindly, searching among the rocks for any kind of shelter. Finally they found a narrow strip of dry ground beneath an overhang. A cluster of dense pine trees beside it broke some of the wind. It wasn't much, but they might be able to build a fire at least. Then, as they started back to retrieve the horses, Tupic saw a dark shadow among the rocks.

“Here. Look!” It wasn't exactly a cave, but it was palatial compared to the first spot. Two slabs of rock had fallen from a large outcropping, leaving a crevice between them that offered enough room to lie down and four feet of headroom in the middle, like a small rock tent. Carefully stamping out a trail to find their way back, they retraced their route to the waterfall and retrieved the horses. They tied them in the shelter of the original overhang and wiped them as dry as they could with pine branches.

hey had been awake and traveling for more than thirty hours by now, but there was still much work to be done before rest. They carried the saddles and bags over to their shelter, then went back to the stream and cut willow branches for the horses to eat. It was poor fodder but better than nothing. The world became a timeless blur of relentless howling, stinging cold and the urgency of survival. They laid branches over the gaps in the rocks, then piled snow on top to make a snug roof. Once the roof was tight, they swept out all the snow from inside and laid down more pine boughs for insulation against the cold ground. All along they piled up whatever dry wood or pinecones they found to use for a fire.

Finally they crawled into the little shelter. Tupic reached out and dragged the saddles close to the entry hole for a makeshift door. He stuck a branch upright between them like a flagpole to keep a smoke hole open.

They were wet through from the sweating, and shivering hard. Aiden found a tin of matches in the pack and they soon got a little fire burning. When the tentative flickering finally settled into a reliable blaze, they felt triumphant.

“Food.” Aiden handed one of the stolen saddlebags to Tupic and opened the other himself.

“Bread.” Tupic plopped a heavy chunk down. “Cheese. Fish.” They were both so exhausted it was an effort to speak even in single words.

“Cup—” Aiden pulled out an enamel mug and held it while Tupic filled it from the canteen. Aiden set it in the fire to warm. Tupic turned the rest of the bag out and found a pair of very smelly socks, some candle stubs in a nail-punched tin can, a small bag of tobacco, a pipe and a woolen shirt. He unrolled the shirt and out tumbled a little package, wrapped in newspaper and stained with shiny blotches of grease. He lifted a corner of the paper and found two golden brown meat pies.

Ooh—what is this? It smells good,” Tupic said.

“Meat pies.” Aiden stared in disbelief. There was no mistaking them, from the aroma to the distinctive crimped pattern on the crust. These were camp four meat pies. And they were fresh. A new fear stabbed him now.

“Why do you wait?” Tupic said. “They look very good.”

“Yes,” Aiden said. “They are.” Tupic took a bite of one and his eyes grew wide with delight. Aiden couldn't taste his; his mouth had gone too dry. His mind was churning. The men who had shot at them that morning were not just accidental travelers between Everett and Tesler's logging camp who happened to come across the tied-up men and then gave chase. It had to be a two-day journey overland from Gilivrey's camp four to Tesler's on horseback, and there was no real reason for anyone to make it, especially in winter. The two camps had little business with each other, and any they did have would be done in Seattle. Even if someone did want to travel between the two camps, it was easier to go downriver to Seattle than up the coast, and it would still take two days. Tesler's men never came to Powhee's fights. Bandy's girls never went there; Tesler had his own resident girls. Meat pies did not fly. Someone had sent the men specifically
to find him!
Ain't nothing Napoleon Gilivrey don't know about what goes on in his camps …,
Jackson had said. But why?

“Tupic, how did you find our way today?” Aiden asked. “Once we left the trail.”

“What do you mean?” Tupic popped the last bite of his meat pie into his mouth with satisfaction and licked his fingers. “We just went east.”

“We could never see very far ahead in the woods and you don't know these mountains, yet you knew when to climb a ridge and when to follow a valley.”

“I don't know these mountains,” Tupic said. “But I know mountains and the way they make paths.”

“So trying for due east like we are, how many places would you expect to find to cross?”

“Two or three places would be easy. None would be impossible, I think. These are not real mountains. But some ways would be difficult.” Tupic's dark eyes searched Aiden's face. “You are troubled.”

“I think the men who shot at us this morning came from Napoleon Gilivrey's camp. I think they were looking for us.”

“Us? Or me?” Tupic asked. “Because of the dead jail man in Seattle?”

“I don't know why else.”

They lay quietly for a long time. Aiden put another stick on the little fire.

“If the men find you alone, they will take you back?” Tupic asked. “They will not hurt you?”

“No. I don't think so. Gilivrey won't want that.”

“Then you will go alone on the good path and I will go alone on a bad path.”

“No—”

“I will soon go alone anyway,” Tupic interrupted. “Before we near your camp. This is only one day before.”

Of course they would have to split up. Aiden hadn't had time to think this far ahead.

“But how were you planning to travel? You can't go near Seattle.”

“I will find a way. Put the shirt on,” Tupic said, handing Aiden the woolen shirt. “You shiver too much.”

The blizzard grew stronger. Their shelter held, though occasional blasts of wind roared in through the smoke hole, stirring the fire into sparks and dusting Aiden and Tupic with snow. Somewhere in the sky, beyond the storm, day turned to night. They rationed the firewood carefully, keeping a doll-house fire so the heat would not melt their roof. They wore every scrap of clothing they had and huddled together under the two blankets, hoping to fall asleep before the cold overtook them. But despite their exhaustion, sleep did not come. Tupic turned on his side, leaned up on one elbow and gazed into the red glow of the fire.

“Why do you think human beings are not better?” he said. “With all the time of history and all the books, the Bible and Aesop, the wisdom of your people and mine and the
Atlas of the World,
shouldn't we all just be—better?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see the vaccine?” Tupic said.

“Sure.” Aiden rolled onto his back and reached for the black saddlebag, which was tucked in a niche out of the way. He handed it to Tupic. Tupic unbuckled the straps and lifted the flap. The pouch was stuffed with straw. Carefully cushioned in this nest were six brown glass medicine bottles,
each individually wrapped in a bit of flannel. Tupic gently drew one bottle out and held it up to the light. The cork was sealed with melted wax. Inside were many bits of string, each about an inch long.

“This is the vaccine? It is string?”

“Yes.” Aiden took the bottle and examined it. There was a label with dates and numbers on the outside. Each bottle had originally held one hundred strings, but one was empty and the seals on two others had been broken for the vaccinations in Everett. “That's how they transport it.” He told Tupic all he had learned from Dr. Abradale.

“So each string is one life,” Tupic said as he wrapped the bottle back up.