Paint the Wind by Pam Muñoz Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

fresh grease spots peppered the white enameled stove. Moose sat at one end of a long trestle table on a bench seat, sipping coffee.
    She stood in the center of the room and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re getting rid of me …?”
    Fig and Moose exchanged glances.
    â€œNow, that isn’t exactly true or by choice,” began Moose.
    â€œSit down and let us explain,” said Fig, herding Maya to a seat at the table. “You see, Moose and I are taking you to the Sweetwater River to stay with your great-aunt Violet. She’s our baby sister. But I’m warning you, no one has dared call her Violet in years, except behind her back. We call her Vi, rhymes with pie.”
    â€œMaya, the camp is nature at its finest,” said Moose. “You’ll sleep in a tepee, live around a campfire, and ride a horse every day. In fact, you’ll see more horses in a summer than most people see in a lifetime. And we’ll be out there soon enough.”
    â€œSee, we’re all here together in the house for most of the year,” said Fig. “Even your aunt Vi. During school months, she teaches classes at the college. Art history,painters of the American Southwest, that sort of thing. Moose and I hire out in town. He’s a farrier, shoeing horses, and I’m a handyman. Being as smart as I am, I can do almost anything.”
    â€œWhich means he’s a master of nothing,” said Moose.
    Uncle Fig pointed his spatula at Moose. “I’m warning you. Don’t rile the cook.”
    Moose ignored him. “In the summer, Aunt Vi sets up a field camp. She writes articles for horse magazines and some years she takes groups out to photograph or paint scenes of the wilderness and the wild horses.…”
    â€œLike my father did?”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Fig. “That’s how he met Ellie way back when. Your father signed up for a week-long trip, and Aunt Vi outfitted the group. She provided the folks with tepees, food, and horses, and was their guide ontop of it all. That’s one of your father’s paintings in the living room.”
    Her father had painted that beautiful stallion? A small satisfied smile appeared on Maya’s face. A piece of her father was in this house, too. At least one painting had escaped Grandmother’s wrath.
    Moose cleared his throat. “In a few weeks, our business will slow down for the summer and we’ll come out to camp. But first, Fig and I need to finish our work obligations near the ranch. We weren’t expecting you, Maya. But we’re sure glad you’re here.”
    â€œYour cousin, Payton, is already out there with Vi,” said Fig.
    Maya’s eyes brightened. “A girl?”
    â€œNo,” said Fig. “And for your sake, I’m sorry that he’s not. Payton is my ten-year-old grandson. See, some yearsback, my son married a nice widow-lady who already had three boys. Then Payton came along. Don’t get me wrong. We love them all, but his older brothers have taught him every bit of mischief known to man and on top of that he’s wound tight. He comes here every summer from their ranch in Colorado to spend time with our side of the family. And to give his parents a little breather.”
    Maya groaned. Would he be like the two brothers across the street on Altadena Lane who had seemed interested only in wrestling on their front lawn, frying leaves with a magnifying glass, and spitting in the gutter? Besides, Maya wasn’t ready to leave this house. She wanted to soak up all the little details of her mother’s life. She wanted to sit and gaze at her father’s painting for a very long time. What could she say to convince them to let her stay?
    â€œOh, that’s okay. You don’t have to take me there just yet.” She tried to keep her voice light and matter-of-fact. “I’ll wait for you. You can work during the day and I’ll stay