Paint the Wind

by Pam Muñoz Ryan

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Actually, I went to summer camp every year at Big Bear Lake. It was perfectly fun during the day with all the great activities, like swimming and crafts and hiking. We slept in tents until the bear came.…”

  “A bear?” Payton leaned forward.

  “Yes. A bear came into our camp in the middle of the night and ate all of our food and then totally destroyed the camp leader’s tent. It’s an absolute miracle he survived because the bear claws entirely ripped through the canvas. After that, they moved us to cabins.”

  “Wow. I guess that’s why they call it Big Bear Lake, huh? I camp here every summer but we don’t usually see bears. There are mountain lions around in the foothills looking for mule deer or pronghorn. When they find one, they follow it and then kill it, and try to hide it so they can come back and eat again later. By the way, ever felt any earthquakes? Because I hear they have them every couple of months where you live.”

  Maya forced a smile. “Actually, we have them every couple of days. We have to bolt down absolutely everything in the house or it just jiggles everywhere. And we have railings, so if you’re walking down a street and there’s an earthquake, you’ll have something to grab on to. Once, I was upstairs and we had an earthquake and by the time it was over, it had tossed me all the way downstairs. It’s extremely exciting and tremendously dangerous.”

  “Really? Do you … do you have to miss school?”

  “Oh, sure. Because the classrooms are entirely in shambles after an earthquake and we have to wait until they’re cleaned up. Every year in June we have to make up all the days we missed for earthquakes. You know, earthquake days.”

  “Just like us making up snow days. Did you ever get hurt from one?”

  Before she could answer, Aunt Vi, Fig, and Moose reassembled in their chairs with their coffee.

  “What are you two talking about?” asked Vi.

  “Maya was telling me about earthquakes,” said Payton.

  “You ever felt one?” asked Moose.

  “Not really,” said Maya.

  Payton lurched forward in his chair. “But you just said —”

  Maya interrupted him. “Grandmother told me that I slept through one once, but it didn’t do any damage.”

  Aunt Vi glanced from Maya to Payton. “Okay then. Payton, how about running to my tent for my guitar?”

  “Gladly,” said Payton, giving Maya a mean smirk and nudging her chair as he walked by.

  “Hurry back, Payton,” called Moose. He turned to Aunt Vi. “Who would you like me to bell and hobble tonight?”

  “Not Wilson,” said Aunt Vi. “But Seltzer and Catlin could use a night out.”

  “What’s bell and hobble?” asked Maya.

  “I let a couple of horses out each night to graze around the campsite,” said Aunt Vi. “I hobble them with a loose strap around their front legs so they can only take small steps. They can still get around pretty well but not too far. I put a cowbell on them, so we know where they are and because, to tell the truth, I like the sound. It’s sort of reassuring to hear those clinks and clangs at night”

  “What’s the story on Wilson? Why’s he separated from the rest?” asked Fig.

  “He does this every summer when I first bring him out. I had him with the others for a few days, but when I try to take another horse through the gate, he is right there trying to edge through. Yesterday, he squeezed by and made it a mile before I caught him. I’ll keep him separated until he gets used to his new surroundings and I can trust him not to take off. If he were hobbled, he’d just keep going all night and there’s no telling where he’d be in the morning. Payton is going to have to keep that gate latched or Wilson might end up in California.”

  Payton returned, toting a black case and a songbook.

  From the moment Aunt Vi opened the case and pulled out the burnished guitar, everything about her changed. As she tuned it, she became subdued and dreamy-eyed. She strummed and hummed, warming up her voice, then flipped through the book until she decided on a page. “Here’s a song for Maya. It was Ellie’s favorite.” Her voice was round and smooth and she sang slowly, her words filled with melancholy.

  Down in the valley, the valley so low

  Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

  Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow

  Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

  Roses love sunshine, violets love dew

  Angels in heaven know I love you

  Know I love you, dear, know I love you

  Angels in heaven, know I love you.

  Maya heard a sniffle from Moose. She stole a quick glance at him and saw that he had pulled out his handkerchief. She knew how he felt. During Aunt Vi’s song she had bitten her lip hard to keep her own longing for her mother at bay.

  Aunt Vi turned a few pages in the book and started another song. She crooned about lost loves and people dying and lonesome trails. The tunes fit the mood, with the smoldering embers in the campfire and the encompassing quiet and the enormous darkening sky.

  When she finished, even Payton seemed calmer. “Promise you’ll sing every night, Aunt Vi?”

  “I’ll do my best, Payton.” She looked at Maya. “I tinker with the strings every evening. But when I’m heart-heavy, I only strum and can’t bring myself to sing. There were a few years after your mother … when there was no singing.” Aunt Vi busied herself with putting away the guitar.

  Fig stood and stretched. Golly did the same. “It’s about that time … Moose and I will be leaving early, Maya, so I’ll see you in a few weeks. Have fun on Seltzer, your Equus caballus. Payton, I’m feeling a little scared-y. You’d better sleep in with me tonight.”

  Payton grinned and nodded.

  “Good night, everyone. C’mon, Golly.” Uncle Fig and his dog headed toward the river.

  Moose stirred out the embers. “Vi, I’ll take care of the horses.” As he passed Maya’s chair on his way to the corrals, he touched the top of her head and said, “I never thought it would happen … you being on the Sweetwater with us. And I sure hate to leave you so soon. But we’ll be back before you notice. Good night, Maya-bird. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” She shook her head, not minding at all.

  “Well … okay then. I’m off to sleep.” He disappeared in the darkness.

  Aunt Vi pointed out where everyone slept. Moose, Fig, and Payton’s tepees stood closest to the river; Aunt Vi’s was in a clearing beyond the campfire; Maya’s was farther away still. “If you need anything, just holler and I’ll come running. In the morning, if I’m not in camp, get yourself some breakfast. The oatmeal will be on the warming grate over the fire. Then meet me up at the corrals. And Maya, Moose is right. We’ve missed you and we’re very glad you’re here.”

  Payton jumped up from his chair and, in his haste, knocked it over along with the one next to it. He quickly righted them and ran off, calling back, “Good night, Aunt Vi.”

  “Good night, Payton,” she answered. Then more quietly, “That boy needs a big field and a bucking bronco to wear him out. Maya, I guess you can see that Payton’s a bit of a tumbleweed. I’m not sure who looks forward to summertime more—Payton or his family.” She handed Maya a flashlight. “Sleep tight, now.”

  “Thank you,” said Maya, watching Aunt Vi walk away. She turned toward her tent and wished it wasn’t so far from the others. She took tentative steps, following the beam of light. The darkness surrounded her. She tried to convince herself that there was a peacefulness about it, but Grandmother’s stories about children disappearing in the night weaseled through. A shadow shifted. A willow branch snapped. She sensed a large presence nearby.

  A low growl rumbled from the bushes.

  She froze and gasped and swung the flashlight but could see nothing. Something thudded in front of her and then behind. She spun and finally shined the flashlight on the grinning Payton.

  “Scare you?”

  Maya gritted her teeth and marched around
him toward her tepee.

  He called after her in his fake voice, “Everyone’s so happy you’re here.… Maya this, Maya that … Just so you know, I’m not happy you’re here.”

  Maya slipped into her tepee, tied all the flap ribbons, took off her boots, and crawled into her sleeping bag, fully dressed. She turned off her flashlight.

  A creature wriggled across her legs! She jerked and tried to pull away. But it seemed to be everywhere at once. Maya jumped up and tripped from the confines of the mummy-like sleeping bag. As she struggled on the floor of the tent, tiny cold feet ran across her hand. She screamed, “Aunt Vi!”

  When Aunt Vi finally untied the ribbons and forced her way inside the tent, she found Maya sitting motionless and shining her flashlight on a tiny mouse in the corner of the tepee.

  “Maya … it’s just a mouse. A little field mouse that couldn’t hurt you.” Aunt Vi shooed the mouse from the tent. “It looks like Payton’s been up to his tricks again. Don’t worry. It can’t get back in.”

  “Are … are you sure?”

  “Your tepee has a zipper beneath those ties,” said Aunt Vi. “Fasten it tight and nothing can get inside.”

  Within moments, the strumming of tiny feet skittered up the outside of the tepee.

  Aunt Vi reached up and slapped the side of the canvas.

  Maya heard a simultaneous squeak and thud as the mouse hit the ground. She blew out a long breath.

  “I’ll have a talk with Payton, okay?” said Aunt Vi.

  Maya nodded and zipped the tent opening after her. She inspected every crevice of the entire tent and inside the sleeping bag. Then she pulled deep into the quilted cocoon and wondered if it was possible to bell and hobble Payton.

  MAYA FOLLOWED A PATH UP A DIRT HILL AND EMERGED in the field next to the remuda. She paused. The grass still glistened with morning dew, and the air was infused with the sweet grassy aroma of damp hay. As she approached the enclosures, several horses lifted their heads and whinnied.

  She straightened the kerchief around her neck, snuggled her hands in the unzipped pockets of the vest, and whispered, “I’m going to ride a horse. A real horse.” A spurt of excitement laced with anxiety coursed through her mind and her stomach. Would riding a horse feel the same as reading about riding a horse?

  Curious about a blue plastic container a few feet from the corral, Maya stopped and lifted the lid. Immediately, two horses edged as close to the bars as possible. Inside the container was some type of grain with a delicious smell that reminded Maya of oatmeal-and-molasses cookies. She scooped out a bit and with a cupped hand, fingers pointing up, held it through the bars. “Do you guys like this stuff?”

  “Maya!”

  She whirled around.

  Aunt Vi hurried toward her.

  “When you hold out your hand to a horse, especially if you have food in your hand, hold it flat and tight. A flat hand looks bigger. Believe me when I say that a horse could chomp those fingers and it wouldn’t feel one bit good.”

  Maya swallowed hard. She turned back to the horse and leveled and tightened her hand. The horse deftly nibbled the food from her palm, its gigantic lips as tender as a baby’s cheek.

  “Okay. Let’s get started. Follow me,” said Aunt Vi.

  “Where’s Payton?” asked Maya as they entered the corral.

  “After that prank last night, I told him to stay in camp during your lesson. You don’t need more than one critic while you’re learning. First thing, never sneak up on a horse or come up from the direct behind or the direct front, because they can’t see you there. Most people approach a horse on the near side, which is their left. Always let them know you’re coming.”

  Maya followed Aunt Vi into the corral, taking timid steps to avoid the occasional droppings.

  “Hey there, Seltzer,” said Aunt Vi. “I’m right here, boy.” She slipped the halter over the horse’s muzzle and buckled it. “When you lead a horse, hold the rope a few inches from the halter clip, stand to the side, and walk as if you were the Queen of Sheba. You don’t want to lead a horse by standing right in front of it because if it got spooked it would run right over you. Here, you take the rope and lead him to the tack bench.”

  Maya knew she wanted to try, so why was she hesitating? Take the rope, she told herself.

  She wavered. Maybe it would be better to tell Aunt Vi that she’d rather wait until tomorrow or some other day.

  Maya followed the rope from Aunt Vi’s hand to the horse’s face. She was surprised at the length of the lashes and the intense eye, which seemed to look through her and read her thoughts. There was something hypnotic about being in the horse’s presence, as if she were under a spell. Was that her hand reaching for the rope? Was she the one leading Seltzer out of the corral to the tack bench? Or was it all a dream?

  “There’s an imaginary circle on the ground below the horse’s shoulder,” said Aunt Vi. “That’s your safety zone for not getting run over or kicked. You can do most things to the horse from that spot on either side. Now we’re going to groom the blanket area.” She handed Maya a currycomb.

  Maya copied Aunt Vi’s small circular movements with a currycomb and then the long sweeping strokes with a dandy brush. She watched Aunt Vi use the hoof pick to pull out the packed dirt embedded in the horseshoes. Then they took turns combing the mane and tail.

  “See how I put the blanket pads over the withers and his back and lift the saddle into place, letting it down lightly?” said Aunt Vi. “Now I’m going to drop the cinch and then come around … and thread the latigo strap through the rigging ring and tighten with short tugs. Now, the bridle. For your first few lessons, I’m going to put it on over the halter, so I can keep you on a lead rope.”

  Aunt Vi lifted the bridle over the horse’s head, tickling the edges of the horse’s mouth until it opened so the bit could slip inside. She fit the bridle over the ears. “Maya, you don’t have to remember everything today, because you’re going to hear me give you these directions thousands of times until it all becomes a habit and you can do it automatically. Understand?”

  Maya nodded. She reached up and stroked the sleek hair on Seltzer’s neck and down toward his barrel. Standing so close, she felt an intense energy, yet at the same time an unusual calmness, as if she and the horse were somehow tied together and communicating in an ancient language. No wonder her mother had loved horses.

  Aunt Vi helped her into the saddle and adjusted the stirrups. On a lead rope, Maya walked the horse in a large circle around Aunt Vi, first one direction and then the other. With each step, she felt the sway of Seltzer’s shoulders.

  “Now let’s try a slow jog. Press on his sides with your legs and cluck to him.”

  “He won’t go too fast, will he?” asked Maya. “Because I usually, almost always get migraine headaches if I go too fast.”

  “Maya, I have you on a lead rope. I’m not going to let the horse go too fast or get away from either one of us.”

  Maya clucked and Seltzer picked up speed. She felt the staccato of his jog. Aunt Vi had been right. It wasn’t too fast at all. A wave of confidence washed over her, as if someone had given her a teaspoon of poise and selfassurance. For more than an hour she paid diligent attention to Aunt Vi’s every instruction: Look out to where you want to go. Sit tall. Keep your heels down. Say whoa like you mean it.

  After they removed Seltzer’s tack and turned him into the corral, Maya wanted that feeling back. “When can I ride again?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow morning and every day after,” said Aunt Vi. “Now head back to camp. When you see Payton, send him up here. I’m going to work with him for a while. He’s a different boy on a horse. Riding might as well be a tranquilizer for him, and I want him to find that quiet spot in his mind as much as possible. Don’t forget your chores, Maya. Haul about a dozen pieces of wood from under the tarp to the pile next to the fire and then sweep out the kitchen tent, your tepee, and mine.”

  Maya nodded and ran back to the campsite, thinking t
hat she was a different girl on a horse, too. Only for her, it wasn’t a quiet spot. It was a happy, buoyant place. She called for Payton, but he didn’t answer. She moved the wood for Aunt Vi and looked around the campsite again. Where was he? Maya took the broom to her tepee. When she lifted the flap, she saw that the lid was off her box of horses. The photo of her mother lay on the canvas floor. And the figures had disappeared. Maya ran toward Payton’s tent.

  She found him on a flat rock behind his tepee a few feet above the river, the horses in a pile next to him.

  He held a miniature palomino in his hand. “Done with your pony ride? I bet you didn’t even get off the lead rope.”

  “Those don’t belong to you. Give … give them back.” Her voice shook with anger. “Where’s the brown-and-white Paint?”

  He searched through the pile and held it up. “You mean this one?”

  Maya walked closer. “Give it to me!”

  Payton stood up, swung his arm back, and threw the brown-and-white horse into the dense willows.

  “No!” Maya ran to the spot where she thought it had landed. She pushed her way into the bushes and searched the ground near the bank. She swept the dried leaves away, saw what she thought was the horse, but instead brought up a handful of twigs. She continued in a frantic scramble, whimpering, “I can’t lose her.… She’s all I have left.…” Willow limbs smacked her face. She pulled out from underneath the bushes, stood up, and looked at the deep and endless hedges. It would take forever to find it. Tears streamed down her dusty cheeks, leaving muddy tracks.

  Payton came up behind her. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

  She wiped away her tears and turned to face him, her fists clenching and unclenching. “It was … It was mine.…”

  Payton taunted her. “If you’re so sad and you don’t like this place, make sure you tell Aunt Vi. Because I heard her talking to Moose this morning and he said that when he comes back, if this is all too much for you, he’ll take you to the ranch. Isn’t that great? You can leave. All you have to do is tell Aunt Vi that you hate it here. Then maybe things can get back to the way they should be, with just me and my grandpa Fig, and my uncle Moose and my aunt Vi.” He turned and ran.