Spring of the Poacher's Moon by Angela Dorsey
Chapter 4
That night, I was a wreck, so focussed on my problem of what to do about Charlie that I could hardly eat supper, let alone carry on a conversation. Luckily, Mom didn’t notice. She was so into planning the addition to the cabin that she hardly knew I was in the room. She’d not only sharpened the axe and saw, but had marked some dead trees and windfall near the cabin that would make good log walls, and insisted on showing me every single one before it got completely dark. Loonie – that’s our ancient German Shepherd – didn’t know what to think with all the excitement from Mom and the worry from me. She kept switching between eager leaps of joy and sad eyed drooping melancholy as she followed us around.
I was relieved, and I think Loonie was exhausted, when we went back inside. Mom immediately became distracted by her survival books that gave instructions on cabin building. Yeah, they do make books like that, and I think she has every single one of them.
After I went to bed in the bedroom that I share with Mom, it took me forever to fall asleep. What was I going to do if Charlie tried to take Twilight away from me? Was there any way I could stop him?
The next day, I woke up grumpy, or at least I was grumpy according to Mom, who seemed excessively cheerful to me. Mercifully, it was Kestrel’s day to come over, so I knew I’d soon be away from Mom’s perky home-addition preparations. I still didn’t know what to do about Charlie, so I pinned my hopes on Kestrel. Surely she’d have some ideas about what to do. She knew him better than I did, plus she could tell me if he really was the Wild Horse Ranger, or if he was trying to steal Twilight from us to sell or something.
I told Mom that I was going to meet Kestrel, then saddled Rusty, freed Twilight to run beside us, and headed out. If I was lucky, I’d get there before she left. I love hanging out in her room. It makes me feel like an average teenager, lounging on her bright comforter, talking, and listening to music. We all enjoy hanging out at Kestrel’s, actually. While I relax and pretend to be normal, Rusty grazes in one of their massive pastures, and Twilight plays with Kestrel’s dog, a sable collie named James. They have this competition going where he tries herding Twilight as she tries to chase him. It’s hilarious watching them go in circles, faster and faster and faster. What isn’t so funny is when one gets frustrated and tries to take a chunk out of the other. As you’ve probably already guessed, Twilight is usually the one to start the biting.
A rifle shot popped in the distance and I pull Rusty to a halt. “Whoa, buddy.” He sidestepped nervously. “It’s okay.” I reached to pat his neck.
Danger, Twilight. Come near.
The filly spun around and ran toward me, but before she reached me another shot rang out.
Whoosh!
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the whoosh was the bullet whistling past my ear!
“Hey!” Instantly angry, I screamed as loudly as I could. “Horses and people are right here!” I felt like adding, “You stupid idiots!” but thought it wouldn’t be smart to provoke someone with a gun.
While the distant gunfire hadn’t stilled the birds my shout did, and in the void left by their silence I heard an engine fire up. The motor revved and then roared away. It was an ATV, I was sure. And the shooter was fleeing.
I patted Rusty with a trembling hand. That was sooo close! To hear the bullet whistle as it passed us? How far away could it have been? One of the horses could’ve easily been injured or killed. Or I could’ve been. And judging by how fast that ATV took off after I yelled, I doubted they’d have offered any help. They would’ve just skedaddled as fast as their little machine could carry them, even if they’d hurt me or one of the horses. Jerks!
Then I heard it again. A motor. My heart thundered. Had the shooter heard the rage in my voice? Maybe I’d made him angry and he was coming back.
Rusty tossed his head. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking. I knew we should get out of there.
I leaned forward over his neck and he sprung into a fast gallop. Come quickly, Twilight, I called to the filly, and moments later she surged past us and raced down the rough road in front of us. We’d be safe closer to Kestrel’s house. She didn’t live as far out in the bush as we did.
The motor’s roar grew louder. Was it catching up to us? No! It was on the road in front of us!
I pulled Rusty to a sliding halt – Twilight, come back! – a split second before the green truck rolled around the corner. For a moment, wild panic blinded me. I’d been wrong about the motor being an ATV. It was a truck! And the shooter was… was…
Familiar? There was something about the way the driver held the steering wheel as if he was trying to throttle an attacking wild beast. And I’d seen that grimace before, that flash of white teeth grinding together. The last confirmation was the lettering on the truck that said it was a rental.
The driver was the only person who ever came to our house other than Kestrel and her family. Edward, Mom’s agent.
Twilight was already high-tailing it back to us, panic sparking from her like lightning.
Safe now. Stay close.
Though she was terrified of the big green machine, she stopped and pressed her trembling self into Rusty’s flank. Edward brought the truck to a screeching halt, then flung the door wide and lurched from the interior, his face almost as green as the truck. These roads, if they can be called roads instead of wide trails, can be pretty hard on travellers, especially reluctant ones.
“Hi, Edward,” I said, leaning down to pat Twilight reassuringly on the neck.
“Evy,” he gasped. Then he bent, put his hands on his knees, and stared at the ground.
“Rough trip?”
No answer as he fought to control his travel sickness. I waited. Finally, he straightened. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked nonchalantly, as if moments ago he hadn’t been almost puking his guts out.
“Nowhere. Just out for a ride. So how was your trip?”
He nodded, still a bit green. “Good, good,” he said unconvincingly.
“You look a little pale.”
“It’s a long drive.”
I couldn’t argue with that. He must have left yesterday, stayed over in Williams Lake, and then left Williams Lake awfully early to get this far by mid-morning.
“So your horse had a baby?” he asked, motioning to Twilight.
“No, she’s from the wild herd,” I said, rather than remind him that Rusty was a boy and would make a very strange dam.
He fidgeted and his eyes wandered as if he was wondering what to say next. Then he smiled. “Hey, I got something for you.” He leaned back inside the truck and I heard a bag rustle. He emerged from the truck with two candy bars in his hand. He handed one to me, then leaned on the truck hood and opened his bar’s wrapper. He looked at the exposed chocolate for a moment, then lowered it. “So your mom is painting horses now?”
“Yeah. They’re awesome paintings too. You’ll love them.” I took a big bite of the candy and closed my eyes in ecstasy as the sweetness filled my mouth. This was heaven!
“I’m sure I will.” Such positive words, considering his tone of voice sounded like he’d just stepped in cow poop.
“So…” I said dreamily, thoroughly enjoying my chocolate, “What did Mom ask you to bring when she phoned you? Building supplies?”
“Yeah.”
“And you couldn’t because her paintings haven’t been selling. Why haven’t they been selling?”
Edward looked at me suspiciously. “If your Mom didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I should.”
“Hey, Mom tells me things.”
Rusty stamped his hoof and kicked his rear legs up in a little hop, throwing me slightly forward. Edward’s eyes popped wide. Of course, I knew why my trusted steed was instantly upset. I was stretching the truth again. But Mom does tell me things, I justified to myself. She tells me things all the time: like what we’re having for supper, what funny thing Loonie did, what I should tackle next for homework, and so on.
He sighed, took a nibble of chocolate, chewed, swallowed… and finally spoke. “No, she didn’t ask me why.”
“If you tell me why, maybe I can help her get inspired by something that will sell better.”
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze judging me. “Okay, it’s because the tourists are the main buyers and they want local Vancouver stuff. Ocean scenes, totem poles, that kind of thing. Try to get her to paint something like that.”
“Sure,” I said, though I knew it would never happen. Mom would never create a painting just so it could sell. She has to love her paintings, every single one. “But mustangs are cool. Maybe they’ll like wild horses.”
“Maybe. I hope so.” He turned back to the truck cab, the forgotten chocolate bar still clutched in his hand. Obviously, our conversation was over.
“I’ll ride Rusty back to help unpack the stuff,” I offered.
“You go first then,” he said. “The truck will be slower than your horse.” He opened the door and flinched, as if he dreaded getting back inside.
I turned Rusty toward home. I’d have to go hang out in Kestrel’s room another day. Edward only came twice a year and I wanted to see what he’d brought. There were always things missing from the list Mom sent him, but he’d add new stuff to make up for the shortfalls. Once he even brought jellybeans instead of popcorn. That was a great day until Mom discovered the candy and sent it back with him when he left, and then we didn’t have any popcorn for six months.
Rusty moved stiffly beneath me.
Why are you still angry? I spoke truth to him, I told Rusty as we rode.
You spoke tricky at first.
I quickly changed the topic. So fun to see what Edward brought. Rusty didn’t reply.
My upset gelding carried me back home while Twilight loped alongside, slowing only when we reached the cabin. “Mom!” I called, and listened. No answer. Quickly, I slipped from Rusty’s back, hurried up the porch steps, and opened the door. “Mom?” Nothing. As I walked down the porch steps, Edward’s truck roared up to the cabin. Moments later he was out of the cab and we both heard the call from the forest.
“Timber!”
I spun around in time to see a dead treetop tip sideways into the forest and disappear. Mom was already falling trees. As Edward backed the truck up to the front of our cabin, I mounted Rusty again, gave him an apologetic scratch under his mane, and asked him to lope toward the forest. Twilight followed like a golden shadow.
“Mom!” I called again.
“Over here!”
“Edward’s here with our stuff!”
“I’ll be right there!”
I turned Rusty back and Twilight galloped away to do a kicking, bucking, snorting loop of the meadow. I hardly watched her as I hurried back to the cabin. If I was lucky maybe I’d have time to eat another candy bar, if Edward had more, that is. I didn’t want the reject one that he couldn’t eat.
He did have another. The second one wasn’t as good as the first, but it was still plenty good and was gone way too fast. I reluctantly swallowed the last bite as Mom approached us, looking like a miniature, old-fashioned logger with her axe over her shoulder. She shook hands with Edward and welcomed him to the cabin as if just two days ago she hadn’t been extremely upset with him.
“I can’t wait to see these mustang paintings, Laticia,” he said to Mom. “Evy’s been bragging about them.”
“Well, come inside. I’ll put on some coffee too.”
“Great.”
I slipped off Rusty’s saddle and bridle and plopped them on the ground. I’d put them away later. Then I patted Rusty on his sleek gray shoulder and ducked my head. Sorry.
Rusty nuzzled me and his acceptance and affection flowed serenely into my mind. I drew in a deep breath. I hated it when he was mad at me, even when I pretended not to. Now, everything felt right again.
Inside the cabin, Mom put the first painting on the easel for Edward to view – Ice Dances, that’s what she called it. It was a stylized painting of Twilight with Snow Crystal and Ice, two of the wild horses, dancing in the snow beneath a full moon. The ice crystals they kicked up surrounded them in a glittering fog, making them appear magical. It truly was one of Mom’s best. I could tell that Edward was impressed as well. He stood with his chin in his hand, trying to act indifferent, but I could almost touch the excitement rising from him.
“Not bad, Laticia,” he said. “Let’s see another one.”
She showed him another of the horses galloping across a frozen lake. And then another of our meadow, with the snow, peacefully untouched and inviting. And then there was the one with Twilight looking out from the barn. This one still made me feel sad. Vibrant longing was alive on her face, and though the viewer wouldn’t know what the filly was looking at, I knew. Mom started that one when Twilight was still being held captive, when she still yearned to return to the wild. Mom had completely caught the absolute hunger for freedom in Twilight’s eyes and I still felt guilty looking at it. I was the one who’d caused her pain back then.
She put up the remaining two paintings, one of a Whiskey Jack in the willows at the edge of the lake, looking all blurry and misty and unworldly. She’d called that painting Spring Spirit. And finally, one of Cocoa and Rusty grazing together. This painting exuded comfort, two old friends completely at ease in each other’s presence.
After each painting, Edward nodded and said something like, “Hmmm,” or “Not bad.”
Yeah, right. He was thrilled. I could totally tell. He just didn’t want Mom to know it, for some strange reason. And oddly enough, she couldn’t tell that he was completely awed and blown away by her paintings. She’s kind of blind when it comes to her own work, and of course, she won’t take my word for it that they’re awesome.
“They may sell,” Edward said in a doubtful voice when she finished showing all six paintings. “You want to help me unload? I should head back.” Not another word about the brilliant paintings. I would’ve kicked him if Mom hadn’t been there.
“Sure,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Come help us, Evy.”
The three of us relieved the truck of its load: box after box of canned goods and powdered things, and bag after bag of rice, beans, flour, sugar, salt, oats, and so on. Some boxes were super heavy – my schoolbooks. I couldn’t wait to open those. One big box was light and didn’t rattle. I guessed it contained the new clothes we’d purchased from the mail-order catalogue. I hoped the sizes were right this time. After Edward’s last visit, I opened my clothing box to find that almost half of my new t-shirts were too small. I ended up trading them for some of Kestrel’s clothes. She’s smaller than me so she fit the smaller T’s, and I fit into some of the hand-me-downs from her older sisters.
When we reached the bottom of the load, Mom turned to Edward. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing at the plywood stacked beneath the heaps of supplies.
“I thought I’d help you out a bit, Laticia. You said you needed building supplies. You can pay me for them when these new paintings sell. I mean, if they sell.”
Mom seemed to both shrink into herself and grow bigger as she put her hands determinedly on her hips. “We don’t accept charity, Edward. You know that. And I don’t buy anything on credit.”
“But, Laticia, you need—”
“We need nothing. We’ll get by just fine, thank you.” And she meant it, I could tell. Though it would be awfully nice if she did accept the plywood. How else were we going to make a floor for our addition? “If the paintings sell, then we’ll buy some plywood, if we still need it,” she added.
Edward shrugged, smart enough to not argue with her. “Whatever you say. Let’s get the paintings packaged up.”
The pa
The silence he left behind was deafening. Mom and I stood on the porch, staring at the muddy tracks leading away from the cabin. We would be alone again now for another six months, not counting visits from Kestrel. At least that’s what I was thinking. Not Mom. After a moment she sighed and put her hand on my shoulder. “I hate it when they leave. It’s like sending off my children.”
I hoped that she’d fight a bit harder to keep me than she did to keep her paintings, but in another way I was glad she’d told me. Mom hardly ever tells me anything personal. It’s like she pretends to be iron-woman, totally invincible, with no feelings of sadness or confusion or anything negative. It wasn’t until I was seven that I even realized she must have bad feelings sometimes, though she never talked about them.
“They’re going to make their new owners happy,” I said in an effort to cheer her up. “And I’m sure they’ll sell too, Mom. They’re the best you’ve done.”
She smiled bravely at me, took my arm, and led me toward the cabin door. “So let’s see what Edward forgot this time.”
“And what extra he put in,” I added, hoping that there’d be a couple more candy bars or some other surprise. If I found them first, Mom wouldn’t throw them into the stove to get rid of them – or so I hoped, anyway.