Paint the Wind by Pam Muñoz Ryan

lawyer told Moose that your grandmother closed herself off from the entire world and tried to do the same to you. That makes me think she was just sad and afraid. I have to feel sorry for someone like that.”
    â€œWas Moose ever sad and afraid when my mother died?”
    â€œSure. We all were. But we had each other to lean on and to share the sadness. We dragged each other out of the wallow so it was easier to get on with laughing and loving … and singing.”
    â€œHe still seems sad,” said Maya.
    â€œOh, that’s because Moose wears his heart on his sleeve. Know what that means?”
    Maya shook her head.
    â€œIt means he wears his feelings on the outside insteadof covered up on the inside. He gets emotional when he’s sad and when he’s happy. And during a beautiful sunset. Or at the drop of a hat.” Aunt Vi smiled.
    â€œHis wife died, too, right? My other grandmother?” said Maya.
    â€œYes, we lost Moose’s wife many years ago when your mother was just a baby.”
    â€œSo … my mother didn’t have a mother, either … just like me.”
    â€œYes and no. Back then, I was a young woman just out of grad school, teaching art history at a university in the East. When Moose’s wife died, I came home to help raise Ellie. She was my niece, and she needed me. I never regretted it. Secretly, I had missed my family and my horses but was too proud to admit it to anyone. Fig joined us when he became a widower, but even when hedidn’t live at the ranch, he and his family were around all the time. We all played a part in raising Ellie. I guess I filled in as her mother.”
    Aunt Vi sat up, leaned her elbows on her knees, and stared downstream, where Payton stood on the bank, skipping rocks into the river.
    Maya followed her gaze, thinking about how much Aunt Vi, Uncle Fig, and Moose must have loved her mother, too.
    â€œYour mother used to say that the Sweetwater wore a hole in her heart that she could never fill up with contentment from anywhere else. This spot was one of her favorite places, Maya. Here, and being out with the wild horses. You’ll see why tomorrow.”
    â€œTomorrow?”
    â€œI’m taking you and Payton to see a harem band I’vebeen watching. I keep track of several of the smaller harems so that when I take groups out, I’ll know where they are. We’ll probably see one or two of the stallions your father painted. He was a talented artist. You must have known that.”
    Maya shook her head. “Grandmother said she destroyed everything. The only painting of his I’ve ever seen is the one in the living room at the ranch.”
    Aunt Vi’s mouth set in a straight line and she shook her head. “All his beautiful paintings … well … I can at least show you what inspired him, and if we’re lucky, you’ll see the brown-and-white Paint your mother once rode.”
    â€œThat’s … that’s the picture I have.… She’s on a brown-and-white horse!”
    â€œThe horse’s name is Artemisia,” said Aunt Vi. “Shewas a yearling who was separated from her mother during a gather and taken to auction.”
    â€œWhat’s a gather?”
    â€œIt’s a polite word for a roundup. I bought Artemisia and trained her for three years. She was a four-year-old, just like you, that last summer you and your mom visited. Ellie adored that horse and rode her the entire time she was here. She was my horse, Maya, but Artemisia and your mother had a connection like I’ve never seen before. When Ellie left, Artemisia pined for days. Later that summer, I moved Artemisia out here to the Sweetwater because I needed more remuda horses to outfit and guide a pack trip for a group of photographers. I let someone else ride Artemisia. That was my mistake.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWe had been out all day, tracking a band of wild horses,” said Aunt Vi. “When