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The Winter Horses(32)

By:Philip Kerr


He walked around the water tank, nodding his appreciation and muttering kind words of admiration. Finally, Max let out a loud laugh of delight.

“I feel just like one of those ancient cavemen seventeen thousand years ago. Whatever prompted you to do such a wonderful thing, child?”

“These old walls were a bit gray,” she said. “I never liked gray all that much. And I like it a lot less since the Germans came to Ukraine. I thought that if I was going be hiding in here for a while, then it would be nice to make things a little more bright and colorful.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that,” said Max. “You’re full of surprises.” The old man tried to make his smile last awhile longer, but knowing what he knew now, this was proving to be difficult.

Mistaking his melting smile for a lack of genuine enthusiasm, Kalinka said, “I know they’re a little crude. But I’ll get better, and when I paint the walls of the other water tank—which is the important one—then I’m sure I’ll get it just right.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Max. “I think you’ve done a marvelous job.”

“No, this was an experiment,” said Kalinka. “To work out my technique. The other cave is where I’m going to do the proper work. You see, I really want to make Temüjin and Börte feel like they are outside on the steppe, with all their old friends—the horses who were shot. I might even try a few bison, too. Just like in the books you lent me.”

“Well, that’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Kalinka.”

Temüjin nodded his affirmation of this project. He hadn’t seen a lot of art, but he knew what he liked. He put his nose in Kalinka’s hand for a moment, breathed warmly on the palm of her hand and then went next door to check on Börte.

Max picked up a piece of wood, dropped it onto the fire and then sat down on the floor with a heavy sigh.

“What is it, Max?” said Kalinka, sitting down beside him. “Did something awful happen when you went to see Captain Grenzmann?”

“Yes,” he said. “You could say that.”

“And here was I, chattering away about my stupid paintings. I should have remembered that you’d be feeling bad after—well, after, you know.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Max. “Although that was quite bad enough. I don’t think I’ve ever had to eat anything quite as bad as—”

Gradually, Max explained some of what had happened in the baron’s old study at the big house. He did not mention that the SS men at the house were probably the same men who had killed her family.

“But what does it mean?” she asked.

“It means that bloody Captain Grenzmann won’t be satisfied until he’s found this place and satisfied his own curiosity that it is what I told him it was,” said Max. “A ruin of no importance. It means that he might well come here as soon as tomorrow morning, when he’s out riding. And I think we can guess what will happen if he finds you here. It means, my dear, dear girl, and my only true friend, that you will have to leave this place tonight. Right now. You have to go away somewhere safe. To our own Red Army lines, southeast of here.”

Kalinka winced as if Temüjin had bitten her backside.

“Oh, Max,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure. And I sincerely wish I wasn’t.”

“I see,” Kalinka said sadly. She’d been so happy in her little cave.

“Since you’re without parents and without identity papers, Kalinka, Captain Grenzmann will assume you’ve escaped from a camp or another special action group, and possibly shoot you at the same time as he shoots Temüjin and Börte.” He sighed. “It’s too bad, but there it is.”

Kalinka nodded. In all other circumstances, she might have cried, but she could see Max was right and there was no point in moaning about it. Escape was now her only option.

“All right,” she agreed. “Of course, I can see the sense in what you’re saying. I’ll go tonight.” She frowned. “But look here. There’s no point in me leaving here on my own. Why don’t I take Temüjin and Börte with me? You said yourself, he’ll shoot them if he finds them here.”

He nodded. “Yes, he will.”

“Think about it, Max. If they don’t come with me, the breed will be extinct.”

“I can’t argue with that, Kalinka. But all the same, your plan is founded on the assumption that the horses will do what you say. That they’ll follow you. Will they follow you? They’re wild animals, after all.”