Under a Painted Sky by Lee Stacey

Author:Lee, Stacey [Lee, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2015-02-27T08:00:00+00:00

22

NEITHER OF US SPEAKS UNTIL WE CAN SEE PEOPLE again. This time, the sight of the pioneers comforts me.

Andy tugs at her collar, wet with sweat. “Someone sure don’t know how to bury a man, or maybe just a negro man.”

“Maybe they didn’t have time to dig deep. Or maybe they didn’t have shovels.”

“He looked killed to me,” Andy says. “Surprised they left his boots. Maybe whoever did it thought they were dirty.”

“Well, they were pretty muddy.”

“I don’t mean dirty that way. Some people think touching a colored or his things will get ’em dirty.” She removes her hat and fans herself with it even though people can see us. Then she relids her head and sighs. “I’m just glad it wasn’t Isaac.”

I nod. “Should we tell someone? Maybe he’s part of the Broken Hand Gang.”

“Just ’cause he’s colored don’t mean he’s part of that gang, you know.” Her tone is not accusing, but I still feel the sting.

She goes on. “Anyway, who would we tell? And why?”

I steer Paloma between a couple of tents and concede the point. No one’s going to care about a dead black man. Poor fellow. He came all this way to end up under a tree. At least someone took the time to carve a cross. That means someone cared about his soul.

We pick our way through the pioneers and are scouting for a good place to camp, when we see the boys flying down the trail. They draw up their panting horses beside us.

“Time to go, kids,” Cay cries, straining his eyes behind him. His shirt is buttoned wrong.

West curses as he pulls up behind him. Cay holds his hands out to his cousin. “I’m sorry, okay? How was I supposed to know she had six brothers?”

“You gotta chase every skirt you see?” says West, glowering.

“I don’t chase ’em. They just fall into my lap.”

“That’s the last time I’m doing that,” says West, pulling Franny to the water’s edge. We all follow him.

“How deep goes that water?” Andy squints at the inky lane.

“Don’t worry, Princesa likes agua.”

“I ain’t thinking about her.”

Cay stands up on his stirrups for a better look down the trail. “If it gets too deep, stand up.”

Andy crosses her arms. “I knows you’s joking with me.”

“Ain’t joking. C’mon, c’mon! Let’s wiggle.”

“Fine,” says Andy. “You go walk on water first.”

“All right, I will.” Cay digs in his heels. “This is what we call a Skinny dip.”

Andy goes next, followed by Peety and West.

Paloma paces the shoreline, not sure if she wants to do this after all. The remuda—both horses and riders—peers back at me. “Come on, girl, it’ll be an adventure, you can tell your children about it one day,” I plead to her.

“Mules no have children, Chinito,” says Peety. “Let’s go, Paloma.”

But she will not go.

West tugs his rein to signal Franny back, but Peety holds out an arm.

“Trust me, Paloma, you can do it,” says Peety. Then he spurs Lupe onward, and the remuda follows. The distance between us increases until the sound of the rushing river drowns out the horses’ splashing.

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