it. She swallowed nervously, but held her silence. He, of anyone who would see that work, knew Chayton best. He would see its shortcomings as even she couldn’t. Long minutes passed. Finally, he began absently slapping his hat against his leg, giving the tight confines of the cabin a critical glance.
“You’re going to run out of space here fairly quickly.” He frowned. “Do you have enough light in here?”
“Everything is fine here. I’ll make it work.”
“For now, perhaps.” He nodded. “Sarah wanted me to ask you to come up to the ranch for Sunday dinner.”
The invitation took her off guard. She clasped her hands together. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I don’t have time to take a day off. I haven’t a calendar or a watch. I don’t know what day of the week it is or what time it is. And to tell the truth, when I get working, I lose all sense of anything. I wouldn’t like to make a commitment I can’t keep.”
Logan nodded, then sent another look around the place. “I think it’s too dark in here.” He walked outside, moving to the corner of the house. “I have a big tent I’m not using this summer. If you like, I could send some men down to set it up in that field. You could put up several easels in there.”
“Is it sturdy?”
“It is. Fully wind-tested. It was used as a church in Cheyenne when they were building the railroad. I traded for it several years ago so I could have a tent to set up a shop in when I do a show at different fairs and rodeos.”
“Well, then, yes. I think that might be very helpful. Thank you for offering it.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair, then set his hat on his head. “May I ask you something? I don’t mean to pry, but I’m curious. Why the feverish rush to produce work? It isn’t as if you have a time limit on the use of this cabin.”
“No, but I do need to earn a living. I find only about twenty percent of my work is show-worthy. I need to complete enough of my best work to support an exhibit on my own, otherwise I will have to share the space.” She looked at him levelly. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. The chances of her landing an exhibit, shared or otherwise, were pretty slim. She had to produce her very best work. Period.
She’d been able to find only one gallery willing to consider showing her work, an offer that came loaded with caveats for volume, quality, and timing—even though the gallery owners were Theo’s long-time friends, the very people who’d enticed Theo to move from the East Coast to Denver. As far as the art world was concerned, she was an unknown. None of the most powerful art collectors even knew Theo had taken on a student, much less that she’d spent the last years of his life handling his remaining commissioned works.
She desperately wanted to do more pieces featuring Chayton, but she’d been unable to locate him. She mentioned it now to Logan, hoping he might tell her where to find his friend. “I ran into Chayton the other day and haven’t seen him since. I’m afraid he’s moved away.”
Logan smiled. “He’s not gone. He’s not going anywhere while his daughter is still here.”
So it was his daughter they were fostering. She’d wondered about that. Aggie sat on the bench in front of her house, wrestling with an inner debate over asking something that was none of her business. “It’s my turn to appease my curiosity. Of course, you don’t have to answer, but why is White Bird with you and not him?” As soon as she asked the question, she wished she hadn’t. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think many white people understand what’s happening with Indian children. They’re taken away to a boarding school at a very young age. Five or six years old. They often don’t see their parents or families again for years. Chayton asked that we raise her instead, teach her to live in the white world, as the schools
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