The Devil's Paintbox (6 page)

After the women bathed, the men had a chance to wash, and some of them even did. That evening the whole camp smelled like soap, and a lot of the married people disappeared into their wagons right after supper, sending their children to play down by the riverbank. Marguerite, with a shine in her eyes and a blush in her cheeks, gave Maddy a novel to read and suggested she might find the light better down by the river. It was a slim “ladies’ novel,” which Maddy had never been fond of, but she knew when she was being asked to make herself scarce. Her parents used to send all the
children out to the creek to “catch some bluefish” when they wanted some privacy. There were never any bluefish in the creek.

Aiden decided to explore the river bluffs around the bend. It was just after sunset, and there was a low stripe of bright red along the horizon, with a deep blue sky just above, like a field of cornflowers. The water below was silver in the fading light. He was glad to be alone for a little while. The twilight coaxed out feelings and memories that he rarely allowed himself. He thought about the past and the lost, wondered about the future and simply enjoyed the miracle of being alive. Right now, the starving winter almost seemed like a bad dream.

Suddenly the peace was disturbed by a sound in the bushes below. He slid the bow off his shoulder and crouched down. The bushes rustled again, far too vigorously to be caused by any small animal or bird. He heard a snort, then a whine. What could be that big and sound that odd? An injured buffalo?

“Hello?” Aiden called out as he crept up to the edge of the bluff. “Is someone there?”

Now he was answered with a vigorous sob—reassuringly human. He stood up and saw Polly Hollingford, crying like she had been stabbed through the heart.

“What's wrong? Are you all right?” Aiden slid down the little hill but stopped a cautious distance from the girl.

“Of course,” Polly sniffed. “Go away.”

“You're not hurt?”

“No, I just want to be alone!”

Aiden had never thought of Polly as the type for contemplative solitude.

“Um, this isn't the best place for that, really,” he said awkwardly. “It's getting dark.”

“Thank you. I would never have noticed that,” she snapped.

“It's just—it isn't safe.”

“You're alone.”

“Well, yes, but you're a girl.”

“Just go away.” Polly started to cry harder. Her shoulders heaved as she drew great snuffling breaths. Aiden glanced around for her sister, Annie, or anyone else better suited to fix a crying girl, but there was no one in sight.

“What's the matter?” he asked warily.

“Everything!” Polly sobbed. “Everything's the matter! I hate it out here! It's horrible. Everything is filthy and dull and dusty and awful.”

Aiden squatted down on his heels, careful to keep well away. He was pretty sure he would be included in the filthy, dusty and awful part.

“Mr. Jackson says the Rocky Mountains are grand.”

“I don't want mountains! I want my friends and nice things again. I want dancing and parties and musical concerts.”

“There's probably a music hall in Seattle.”

“Oh, you are such a stupid boy!” She wiped her eyes on her skirt. “This is the worst place in the world.”

“We—um, we have some books you can borrow,” he offered. “The
Atlas of the World
is very good. It takes your mind different places.”

Polly looked as if she were going to bite his head off, but then just started crying again. Aiden sighed.

“Well, at any rate, it won't last forever.” He stood up. “Come on, I'll walk with you back to camp.” He offered his
hand to help her up, but she sniffed haughtily and took hold of a little shrub instead. Aiden had to turn his face and work not to laugh as the roots ripped right out of the crumbly hillside, sprinkling a shower of dirt on her. She brushed angrily at her dress and hair.

“Oh!” Polly scrambled awkwardly to her feet.

“Shush!” Aiden said suddenly.

“Don't tell me to—”

“Quiet!”

“What is it?” Polly asked, her voice rising with fear.

“Not sure,” Aiden said quietly. All around him the twilight felt electrified, like the air just before a storm. “Don't get nervous, but it could be wolves.” He couldn't pick out a specific sound, but all around there were little noises that didn't belong to a calm prairie night.

“Wolves!” Polly screeched. Aiden quickly threw his hand across her mouth.

“Quiet!”

Polly shoved his arm with surprising strength.

“No one will hear us down here.” Aiden's heart was beating hard, but he tried to keep calm. “If you scream you'll just sound like some wounded animal and get the wolves all fired up.”

In the gathering darkness, he saw three pairs of glowing yellow eyes appear in the riverbed. Likely there were more on the bluff above them. Wolves were smart hunters who surrounded their prey and attacked from all sides.

“I'll tell you when to scream,” he whispered. Polly nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fright. Aiden took his hand off her mouth.

“Why don't you have a gun?” Polly whispered angrily

“I'm good with the bow.”

“You should have a gun!”

“Well, I don't.”

“Can you kill them?” Polly's voice was high and strained.

Aiden swallowed. He was a good shot, but five good shots wouldn't get all these wolves. “Some,” he said. “One, yes, maybe two. After that, no, not likely. You have to shoot right through the lung or heart to kill it dead.”

“Stupid boy!” She slapped him across the face. “Can you not just tell a lie when it's needed?”

Aiden was startled. “Sorry.” He fumbled for reassurance. “We'll be all right,” he offered lamely. “They might just go away. Wolves don't regularly tend to kill people.” That was true, but wolves would be hungry right now, after the long winter. It was too early for pronghorn or buffalo calves. The two of them out here alone were vulnerable. Might as well have brought along the gravy. He could hear the hot panting on the bluff above them. Aiden picked up a rock.

“See that crack in the bluff just there?” He nodded to a sheltered spot about twelve feet away. “I'll scare them back and we'll run for that place. Okay?”

Polly nodded and gathered up her skirt.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Go!” Aiden jumped up and hurled the rock at the nearest wolf. Polly sprinted away. Aiden yelled and waved his arms. Polly dove into the crevice. The wolf slunk back and then Aiden dashed to the crevice, his feet slipping on the loose gravel. Polly clutched at him. Aiden was shocked by the
sudden feel of warm, plump flesh pressed against him. He had never been so close to a girl before. Even with dirt in it, her hair smelled wonderful.

“Someone will be coming after you, won't they?” he asked. “Won't your family know you're missing?”

Polly started sobbing again. “I told them I was going to see Therese Thompson. But that was a lie, for I meant to go walking with Friedrich. Only, when I got to where we should meet, there was Annie talking sweet to him already.” Her shoulders shook and dirt crumbled down the front of her dress. “Asking all about his stupid cows—as if she cared about cows! She knew I fancied him! So I was angry and went off here.”

The bold alpha wolf crept closer, head low, lips peeled back to show long yellow teeth. He paced back and forth, watching them. Two other wolves skulked just behind him, waiting for their leader to attack. They made almost no noise, just short, low growls. Then there was a rough snort from above. Polly grabbed Aiden so hard he almost dropped the bow.

“Stop it!” he whispered. The luminous eyes in the riverbed grew closer. The wolves knew their prey was trapped and isolated now; all they had to do was close in for the kill.

“Look,” Aiden said, trying to sound steady as he eased up to his knees. “They'll soon know in the camp that something's wrong; maybe already. The cattle will smell the wolves and get restless, and the dogs will be barking.”

He drew an arrow and fitted it to his bow. Yes, he thought, they might know there were wolves about—-Jackson would rouse the men to keep watch and build up the fires—but there
was no reason to come looking for a stupid lad wandering in the twilight, or for a sulking girl who missed dances and feather beds.

He heard a snarl, then a dark shadow flew over them, fur bristling so close it almost brushed Aiden's head. Without even thinking, he drew his bow and shot. The twilight was split with a yelp of pain, and the huge wolf tumbled to the ground. Aiden's arrow was buried deep in its back. The wolf thrashed around, whining, scratching desperately with its front paws while its rear legs dragged limply behind it. A chilling chorus of howls pierced the night.

Now everything became strangely slowed down. Polly was screaming, but Aiden could still hear the low growls and the sounds of wolf claws scratching gravel. He could hear the sound of his own heart beating. His hands felt heavy, but he fitted another arrow to the bow, drew, aimed and fired. Another wolf went down, struck cleanly through the chest, instantly dead. Twice more Aiden shot. One wolf yelped, flung itself around and began to lick at the arrow in its rear leg. The next arrow missed entirely, the point striking a spark against a stone.

Aiden had only one arrow left. The pack was hanging back now, panicked by the smell of blood and the howls of distress, but the alpha wolf was undeterred. He crept closer, his yellow eyes fixed and hungry, his haunches tensed to spring. Aiden reached for his last arrow. As he fitted it to the string, he realized with horror that the arrow was bad. The notch was half broken and the shaft was split. He tried to hold the arrow together with his finger and thumb, but when he drew it back, the tension was too much and the string slipped up into the crack. The wolf was less than twenty feet
away. Foamy spit glistened around its mouth in the last light of the fading day. Aiden thought he could smell its foul breath.

“Polly give me your hair ribbon,” he whispered. The trembling girl gave him a blank stare. “Polly!” She covered her face and cried silently into her hands. Aiden reached over and snatched the blue ribbon out of her hair. It was silky and slippery and his hands shook as he tried to wind it around the broken arrow. He couldn't get it to stay just by wrapping it over the end, and if he tied a knot, it would snag on the bowstring when he shot. Two more wolves, emboldened by their leader, had left the damaged pack and were creeping closer.

“I don't want to die!” Polly cried.

“You won't,” Aiden said firmly. How was that for a lie? He shoved one end of the ribbon into the split, then wound the rest tightly around the shaft. He held the loose end against the shaft with his thumb and tentatively drew back the bow. The ribbon held the arrow together all right, but he knew it would wreck his aim. He would be lucky to kill a sleeping chicken on its own roost. Aiden carefully drew back the string. His hands were surprisingly steady, though he couldn't feel a thing in the rest of his body.

White light suddenly filled the river bottom. A full moon was rising. It glinted off silver fur and shiny wet noses and the ridiculous blue satin ribbon. The alpha wolf turned its cold gaze toward the moon. Then it turned back toward Aiden. Then it sprang. Aiden didn't even realize he had shot, but he heard the delicate rustle of cloth as the ribbon fluttered free. The wolf froze in midleap, directly over them.
Aiden could see individual hairs on its chest and rough bumps on the pads of its paws. A drip of hot saliva landed on his neck.

The air exploded with gunfire and the wolf flew backward. Dirt crumbled down on Aiden from the top of the bluff, and he threw himself over Polly. At first, time had seemed extra-long; now it felt impossibly short. A dozen men came skidding down the bluff, firing at the wolves. The smell of gunpowder pinched the air. The shooting and noise went on forever, then stopped completely.

“Daddy!” Polly screamed. Mr. Hollingford grabbed his sobbing daughter. Aiden brushed the dirt out of his eyes. He saw Jefferson J. Jackson standing a few yards away, his rifle still smoking. The alpha wolf lay dead, its chest blown open. Aiden's broken arrow stuck out from the wolf's neck, the ribbon end fluttering in the soft breeze.

“Was me killed that bastard!” William Buck, the big braggart, crowed. “Y'all see that? That was my shot killed him dead!”

Jackson glared at Buck, then silently reloaded his rifle. Four wolves lay dead. The rest were running away into the darkness except for one who lay wounded by the river's edge, Aiden's arrow still stuck in its leg. Jackson raised his rifle, pulled the trigger, and shot it clean through the head.

Jackson turned to Aiden. “You all right, boy?”

Aiden nodded. He tried to stand up, but his body was half stone and half jelly.

“Pretty good shooting.” Jackson slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Taxing, though, ain't it? Take a minute there; I'll fetch your arrows.” His tone was almost gentle. The sky was
bright, and men cast long moon shadows as they walked around, looking at the dead wolves. One lifted up a limp paw to admire the huge claws.

“Aiden? Aiden?” Maddy dashed up to him. “Are you all right? Say yes!”

“Yes.”

“I told you stay back in camp!” said Jackson, returning with Aiden's arrows in his hand.

“Oh, tell me all you want!” Maddy glared at him. “If my brother gets ate by wolves, no reason for me not to!”

“Well, that'd fix ‘em!” Jackson said. “Eating you would be poison for sure, if they didn't choke first!” The arrows in his hand were coated in wet blood and shone like cinnamon candy sticks. Aiden stared at them and felt sick in the stomach. The whole scene felt like a dream, with the moonlight so lovely, shining down on the dead animals. Horrible as they were, the wolves were also beautiful, and wouldn't have had to be shot at all if he and Polly hadn't stupidly put themselves up for feeding.

“I'll clean ‘em off for you,” Jackson said.

“I'm obliged,” Aiden replied softly. Jackson walked over to the river and swished the arrows around in the water, then came back and put them in Aiden's quiver.

“Remember take them out to dry when we get back to camp, else they'll warp,” he said.