Chasing Painted Horses

by Drew Hayden Taylor

  “How did she do this?” asked William. Shelley shared their astonishment. It was truly awesome.

  Ralph answered, “I don’t think she did. Remember that bus trip our school took last year to that hockey game in Baymeadow, when the heater in the bus was broken.”

  “Yeah,” responded William. “Man, that was a long, cold ride.”

  “That’s what happens when your heater breaks. Anyway, I noticed inside the bus there were little tiny snowflakes falling. Remember, I pointed that out to you.”

  William was still looking towards the roof, but listening. “Yeah.”

  “And then Mr. Barton, who was sitting just ahead of us, turned around. Do you remember what he told us?”

  “Uh-uh. I don’t think he likes me.”

  “There’s a surprise.” That was proof Shelley was still listening.

  “He told us the condensation from our breath rose up and got colder. Eventually it turned into snow near the top of the bus and fell back down.” All three looked up again at the glimmering Horse.

  The bigger boy shivered. It might have been imagination, but it seemed a good five degrees cooler inside the fort. “And you think something like that is happening here?”

  “I think so. I don’t know the science of it, but Danielle’s breath rising up the past few days must have somehow turned into ice crystals instead of snow.” Once more, they all looked around. It was like the Horse was made of diamonds or stars.

  “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

  Amazed by the Horse, Ralph reached up to touch its forelock, mesmerized by what the girl had created, this time in near-darkness, and how nature had improved it. It looked so real, he almost felt like he could pet it, angry and defiant as it looked. His hand connected with the pencil crayon–covered cedar plank and, for a brief second, that crack between the worlds that Danielle had somehow forged opened for him, and he could swear that he felt the Horse’s hair. He didn’t know how or why, but he also thought it was warm.

  “Don’t touch him!”

  The scream came from Danielle, cutting through the cold and dark, startling everyone. Bolting from the corner, she pushed Ralph away, knocking him with remarkable strength directly into William; they both went down.

  “You can’t do that. He’s mine.”

  Breathing heavily and looking weak, she stood over the two boys. “Please. I don’t have anything else.” Then, leaning back, she began to cry. It was the second time she had shed tears in front of them.

  “I’m sorry.” Struggling to his knees, Ralph didn’t know what else to say.

  Shelley took Danielle’s hand and led her back to sit beside her on the stained mattress. “Don’t worry. Ralph won’t touch your Horse.” In a world that was obviously askew, it was hard for Ralph to know what to do. He stayed on the cold, sawdust-covered ground next to William, who was equally perplexed. Out of nowhere, the tiny little girl had briefly frightened the bully.

  Danielle had definitely not acted this way the last time Ralph had touched the Horse. But then, as he remembered it, the little girl had been finished with her creation and had left their home. Evidently, she wasn’t completely done doing whatever it was she had to do with it. Or her attachment to the Horse, or it to her, was lasting longer. Maybe getting stronger. All these questions were way out of Ralph’s level of understanding. He wondered if his mother would understand. If she could explain it to him. So he just sat there, amidst the sawdust and cigarette butts, hoping his sister could help the little girl.

  Danielle’s sobbing increased, and Shelley began to look like she was on the edge of panic herself. All she could think of doing was getting closer to the little girl, wrapping her more tightly in the worn blanket in an attempt to keep her warm. She repeated, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” rocking her back and forth.

  The four of them were aware that things were indeed not okay. After a few minutes, Danielle’s sobbing seemed to subside. Her tear-streaked face appeared from Shelley’s shoulder. She wiped her nose with her sleeve, sniffling loudly.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m sorry.” She tried to smile and managed a small one. “I’m just so hungry.”

  That’s when it occurred to the trio. She’d been hiding in here for the past few days, was it already five in total? Was it possible? She’d not had anything to eat in that entire time?

  “Danielle, when’s the last time you ate?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  Cursing herself, Shelley wished desperately she’d brought something for the little girl to eat. But she hadn’t. It hadn’t occurred to her, and it sure wouldn’t have occurred to William. Maybe her brother. “Ralph, do you have anything to eat?”

  “No. I don’t.” Why would I? he thought. Instinctively, he rummaged around in his pockets and found one piece of gum. Quickly, he pulled it out. “I got this! A piece of gum. Want that?!”

  Shyly but hungrily Danielle nodded, and Ralph crawled across the floor and gave it to her. Eagerly, she took it, unwrapped it, and swallowed it without chewing. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  William cleared his throat. “Um. I’ve got two ham and cheese sandwiches. And an orange.”

  Shelley and Ralph both looked at him in surprise. “I was going out ice fishing with my brother, remember?”

  Out of his big snow jacket pocket, he pulled a paper bag stuffed with food.

  “It’s yours. If you want.” He held it out for Danielle, not wanting to come closer and perhaps scare her.

  “Go ahead. It’s okay.” He even managed a hesitant smile for her, wanting Danielle to accept his gift more than he could explain.

  Ralph took it from him and handed it to Shelley, who reached into the crumpled brown bag and brought out the sandwiches and orange. Unwrapping the plastic wrap, Shelley offered her half of one of the sandwiches. Like a cat pouncing on a mouse, Danielle grabbed it and, as small as her mouth was, managed to fit the half completely into her mouth.

  “Danielle! Take it easy. You’ll choke.” Shelley held the rest of the sandwiches out of her reach. “You can have the rest as long as you promise to eat it slowly. It isn’t going anywhere. Promise?”

  Danielle nodded eagerly, swallowing the last of what was in her mouth. Shelley, with a stern look, handed her the remaining portion of the sandwich. Danielle attacked it, too, though she ate it more slowly and more deliberately, a bite at a time. Taking out the orange, Shelley started to peel it for her.

  Danielle looked at William, who was still sitting on the frozen ground, watching her. “Thank you.”

  William managed another smile and nodded.

  Shelley finished peeling the orange and offered it to Danielle. Taking it, she then said, “Thank you” again and began to tear the sections apart. She offered all three an opportunity to share a wedge, but all declined for obvious reasons.

  “Feel better?”

  Danielle burped, causing everybody to laugh. She was halfway through the orange when Ralph asked a question that had been bouncing around in his head ever since Danielle had first appeared at their house.

  “Danielle. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you draw this Horse? Over and over again? Obviously it’s special to you. I’m just curious. Why?”

  Looking and feeling relieved, she raised her free hand up to point to the image hovering over her. “My Horse. I like to draw my Horse.”

  “I know, but why? Why do you make him so big, so colourful, and so …”

  “… incredible,” finished William. This was a question he had wanted to ask, too, but had never had the opportunity. They all knew there had to be a story behind such a creation, behind Danielle’s obsession.

  With the last of the orange gone, Danielle savoured the remaining flavour in her mouth before answering. “He’s my friend, like you. But the Horse wasn’t always there. Someti
mes I had to go find him. Now he always comes when I call. He’s always here when I need him. I think he likes me, too.”

  Ralph took note of the faraway look on Danielle’s face. He asked another question. “Where does your Horse come from?”

  “Campbellford, I guess.” That was a small town just a few hours’ drive to the southeast of Otter Lake. They had all been there once or twice for the big agricultural fair held every fall.

  Danielle looked up at the ceiling of the camp fort. “He reminds me of my father.”

  Ralph and Shelley nodded, wanting to hear more. They remembered their parents talking about Danielle’s father and how he had died. It was a tragedy that no child should have to remember. It was clearly a tragedy her mother couldn’t get over.

  William knew the town of Campbellford very well since two of his brothers played hockey there quite frequently and he would tag along, but at the moment his interest lay above the four. He was positive the large image dangling over their heads was staring at him. Positively glaring, and it seemed specifically at him. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

  Stroking Danielle’s hair, Shelley tried to coax more of the story out of her. “It’s okay. You can tell us.” She smiled encouragingly.

  The dam had been breached. Though she was known as a small and quiet little girl, Danielle Gaadaw’s story sprang forth like it had been waiting for a spring thaw to break up the ice jam.

  Nestling up against Shelley again, drawing the older girl’s warmth like a thermal vampire, the past poured out of Danielle. “Back when my dad was alive, he took me to that town … Campbellford.” Not wanting to interrupt her, the siblings and friend acknowledged her by nodding encouragingly. “Well, they have pony rides there, and my father knew I liked ponies. I remember this big lineup of kids … and there was only one pony for them all. We had to stand in line for a long time before I had a chance to ride. All the time I kept watching that poor pony. They put one kid after another on his back, and he would go around and around in a circle, around and around, wearing out a path in the grass. Sometimes his eyes weren’t even open. That’s all he ever did. Just went around in the circle all day, every day. And I felt sad for him, very sad. He looked so old and unhappy, and his back was bent real low from all the kids sitting on it, kicking him in the sides with their heels. When it was my turn to ride, I started crying. I felt so sorry for that poor pony, I didn’t want to ride him.”

  All Ralph could say in response was, “Yeah, I’ve seen ponies like that,” which was more than the others did. “What’s that got to do with your Horse?”

  “A couple months later my dad died. And things got different at home. Mom changed. Everything did. But I never stopped thinking of that pony, thinking how sad its life must be. I wondered if he dreamed of better things when his eyes were closed. Then he began to change when I thought of him; he grew bigger and got stronger the more I thought of him. He grew to be really beautiful and strong. I could see him so clearly, it’s like he was waiting for me. Then I began to draw him. At first, he didn’t look very good. Kind of like a stick figure, but it was still him. And I began to wonder if all things could change, be different, if they had better places to live, people who loved them a whole bunch.”

  This time, William broke the silence. “Wow, your art teacher must love you.”

  Danielle shook her head violently. “No. No. It doesn’t work like that. Not on a small piece of paper. Then it becomes the pony again. Has to be someplace special or big. Your house is special. Mine isn’t. I tried there a few times and got punished real bad. So I don’t do it there anymore. The problem is He wants to come more and more, and I got few places to let him come anymore.”

  “Maybe if we talked to your mother? I’m sure maybe we —” Shelley was still at the age where she thought all things were possible.

  For the second time since they’d arrived at the camp fort, Danielle seemed agitated. “No, you can’t. No. She wouldn’t like that. Her and her boyfriend don’t like people coming over.” For a second, she paused. “I miss my father. I miss my mother.”

  “But your mother is still alive.”

  Danielle remained silent. She no longer looked at the Horse, nor did she look at them. It was like she had retreated deep into herself. “She’s not my real mother. She changed after my father died. She used to be so nice, then she got sad. Then she started drinking. Last year her new boyfriend showed up. Now I’m afraid. I don’t like it there. I don’t like him. He scares me.”

  They could barely hear her voice.

  A cold and dry silence hung over the occupants of the camp fort. Ralph could see the steam coming from the mouths of the others, but he couldn’t hear them breathe. In the short time they’d been there, the sky had clouded over outside, and it was growing dark. Perhaps Danielle’s story had depressed the world.

  “Danielle, I’m so sorry.” Shelley was on the verge of tears. “I wish there was something we could do.”

  “Could I come and live with you?” Danielle looked up at them, jumping to her knees, hope filling her eyes for the first time. “Please. I’ll be good.” The intensity of her stare briefly startled the older girl.

  Shelley and Ralph looked at each other. They didn’t know how to respond. This was not a matter they had any power of decision over, but both knew their mother would bring this hurt little girl into their house and quite probably shower her with all the love and gifts possible. Sadness and want would become a thing of the past for Danielle for sure. Ralph wanted to help, he was sure of that. After learning her story, he knew he needed to help her, somehow. At his age, he had figured out that the world primarily consisted of good people and bad people; there were no shades of grey in between. Up until this silent moment, it hadn’t occurred to him, to any of them, that someday they might have to make a choice between the two. And, he had to admit, he kind of liked the idea of being somebody’s big brother.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think things work that easy.” Growing uncomfortable, Shelley shifted her seat on the mattress, hoping the move would help. It didn’t.

  Reaching out, Danielle grabbed Ralph’s shoulder. “I’ll let you touch him. My Horse!” she said eagerly to Ralph.

  Once more, Ralph was at a loss for words, glancing nervously at the Horse. Then he looked to Shelley and then William for any kind of support.

  It was Shelley who uttered for the first time the panacea used by all mothers to placate anxious and excited children. It was a foreshadowing of her life to come as a wife, a parent, and a minor executive in charge of child welfare on the Otter Lake reserve. “We’ll see.” For only a brief moment, the wattage of Danielle’s enthusiastic smile dimmed. But “we’ll see” was something. And something is always better than nothing. Her new best friend would see, whatever that meant. She would have to be content with that for the moment.

  “As for right now, young lady, I think you should be going home.” Shelley tried to put some confidence in her voice.

  This brought another puzzling response from the runaway. “Why?”

  It was an uncomfortably good question. The definition of “home” varied widely among the four of them huddled together in that fort. Based on everything she knew about Danielle’s family, her current situation, and what that home held for her, Shelley struggled to find an adequate and honest response. “Uh, well, it’s probably a lot warmer than in here, for sure. And this isn’t the place for a young girl to stay.” From what Danielle had told them, her house wasn’t much better than this place, but they knew they couldn’t leave her here. The trailer she called home was truly the lesser of two substantial evils. But it was the only crutch they had to rely on. The options available to these well-meaning children — and they were still children — to save the day were severely limited.

  “Come on, we’ll walk you home.”

  Succumbing to Shelley’s urging, Danielle rose shakily to her f
eet. Her head hung with resignation. One by one the four of them left the small building, heading back into the woods to follow their trail to what could thinly be called civilization. Ralph led the way in the deepening darkness this time, followed by Danielle, who kept looking over at Shelley, who would occasionally put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. Then came William, protectively watching their backs.

  It had been a very strange afternoon for all of them.

  As they walked through the poplar and cedar trees, William debated asking a question of the young girl. Purposefully, he had kept quiet during much of this encounter, not wanting to aggravate the situation any more than he had already. But there was a question that the emerging artist in him needed to ask. It had been bugging him since they had entered the camp fort and seen the new version of the Horse. Now was as good a time as any.

  “Um, Danielle. I noticed, on your Horse this time, the red hand, I guess it was your hand, on it. You’ve never done that before. I was just curious …”

  Breathing hard from the exertion of walking in the snow, Danielle struggled to find the breath to answer. “That’s me. Being part of the Horse. Joining it. I saw some pictures of old-time Indian horses in that book Shelley’s mom gave me. There were handprints from warriors on their war ponies. I guess it means I am always going to be a part of the Horse now, and he’s always going to be a part of me.”

  William thought this explanation was kind of odd. “Always is a long time,” he said.

  The little girl shook her head, almost stumbling off the trail at one point into the deep snow. “Not for me. Someday, when I’m older, I’m gonna have a real horse, too. Maybe a bunch of them. I’m gonna ride them and pet them and feed them. Yep. I know it. And … and … and …,” she added almost too quickly to get all her thoughts and hopes spoken coherently. “I’m gonna have a place for tired ponies to rest and stop walking in circles.”

  It was a relief to all of them to hear Danielle sounding happy again. Though nobody could see, Ralph’s fingers were crossed in a silent prayer that if the art, horse, and little girl gods were kind, Danielle’s happiness would last and her situation would get better.