Paint the Wind by Pam Muñoz Ryan Page B

pans, and spires of dishes. An American flag dangled from the kitchen’s tree-branch rigging. The other tent held a makeshift desk made from a sheet of plywood atop two sawhorses. A jumble of journals and reports fanned across the work area. Stacks of textbooks rose from the corners of the desktop. Rolled charts and maps huddled in corners.
    Centered between both tents, a cast-iron pot hung from a tripod of poles over a fire pit surrounded bycorrugated metal. Five white plastic chairs grinned around the nose of a small fire, as if cheerfully waiting for someone to sit down and visit.
    Fig pointed to the office tent. “That’s where Vi does her research and writes her articles. Most of those boxes in the back of the truck are headed for the office. She likes to have her books and papers with her wherever she goes. And speaking of your aunt Vi, here comes the Queen Bee now.”
    A woman charged through the willows and hurried toward them, cradling a bouquet of wildflowers in her arms. “I thought I heard the truck!”
    Moose turned off the motor and they clambered from the cab.
    Aunt Vi wore blue jeans, low-heeled boots, a crispwhite long-sleeved shirt, and a red silk kerchief tied in a low knot, like a necklace. The woman ignored Moose and Fig and grabbed Maya, holding her at arm’s length.
    â€œFinally, the girl cometh,” said Aunt Vi. She pulled Maya in for a hug and rocked her back and forth.
    Maya couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her so long and squeezed her so tight, and even though she left her own arms dangling at her sides, she found herself leaning into Aunt Vi’s embrace.
    â€œI bet my pesky brothers have been filling your head with all sorts of twaddle about me. I’m glad to have another filly out here to balance out their nonsense.” She released Maya and shoved the bouquet of wild-flowers into her hands.
    It was hard to believe that Aunt Vi, Moose, and Figwere brothers and sister because she was as short as they were tall. Her straw sun hat bore a gigantic brim that shaded her shoulders and was snug to her head with a stampede string. Every few moments the brim swelled with wind, threatening to lift her off the ground. The wind soon had its way and the hat flipped off her head backward, dangling and spinning from the safety of the leather braid. She had the same reddish hair as Uncle Fig, cropped almost as short, and the family’s purplish eyes, but hers were accented in the corners with feathery white laugh lines.
    Aunt Vi slapped her hands together and said, “Who feels alive in this wind? I sure do! Maya, you look so much like your mother, it’s unsettling. Golly-girl, stop running in circles and sit!” The dog immediatelycomplied. “Fig and Moose, if you don’t mind, I need some wood hauled. I can split it later. Where’s Payton? Payton! I sent him to the river and he’s still not back.” She hurried toward the truck, hoisted a box, and began carrying supplies into the tent.
    Maya stood in the middle of the activity holding the flowers. She slowly turned in a circle and looked up at an endless and cavernous sky. There was far more heaven above her than there was earth below, and the horizon seemed worlds away. Without a white wall to define her boundaries, how would she ever know when she disappeared from someone’s view?
    Aunt Vi came out of a tent on her way to the truck for another load. “Maya, don’t let that sky swallow you up. Put those flowers in a jelly jar in the kitchen tent.The latrine is beyond those trees. That’s our fancy word for a toilet in a tent. You probably need it after that long drive. Your tepee is over there.” She pointed to a lone tent below the rock mountain. “Grab your suitcase from the truck and put it inside your tepee. After that, just sit in one of those chairs and relax until we get dinner ready. Tonight you’re a guest. Tomorrow will be a