Read Online Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) by Cat Porter - Free Book Online
Authors: Cat Porter
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hummingbird.”
I touched it with my fingertip. “So strange, isn’t it? A hummingbird is such a sweet, joyful creature, yet there’s something harsh and scary about this skull.”
“Always is when you’re looking at skulls and bones, Tania.”
A shiver raced up my neck at his remark. A shiver that reminded me of the life he led.
“Still beautiful though,” he said.
“Still beautiful.”
Butler carefully placed the small skulls in his large palm. “This is a hawk skull. This one’s a falcon, and this is a crow.”
“They’re incredible. So delicate. How do you know this stuff?”
“My dad was a hunter and a hiker. I used to tag along.”
We lined the crates with the colorful shawls and coverlets, and we carefully placed the furniture pieces in there along with miniature towers that I found on another shelf. I didn’t have to tell Butler what to do. He handled all the material with care.
I added the photographs to another crate as well as small paintings Gerhard had made by swirling fat brushes, his own fingers, and objects through paint on pieces of Masonite. Each image was a bright detonation of color in deep space or a glowing underwater abyss.
“Every piece is a variation on the same image of an explosion, huh?” Butler remarked. “I bet he was obsessed with the H-bomb testing going on back then. I know my granddad was. Shit, those are wild colors. Like some sort of glow-in-the-dark octopus. This guy…baker by day and bizarre artist behind closed doors.”
“It’s called outsider art.”
“Meaning?”
“He wasn’t classically trained and worked outside the mainstream art world. He was obsessed with creating and worked with whatever material was available to him, often dabbling in unusual, unconventional subjects and elaborate fantasy worlds.”
“He was good.”
“Very, very good. I wonder if he ever sold anything in his lifetime. So imaginative. Really unique.”
“Maybe he wasn’t interested in selling. Maybe this was his and his wife’s personal thing. Their world.”
My eyes slid to his.
Their world.
“How’s it going in there?” shouted out Dave from the open doorway.
“I think we’re done!” I said.
“Let me take this stuff outside, and we can have a better look at what you’ve got,” muttered Butler.
“Dave? Could I take a peek into the barn, you think?” I asked.
“Sure, sure,” he replied.
Another hour went by with Butler and I sifting through the barn, which was filled with old farm machinery and tools, tattered magazines, and bakery equipment. Butler looked for any motorcycle parts but came up empty-handed. He pulled out an old iron bubble gum dispenser, and my eyes widened at the sight.
“Thought as much.” He brushed past me, holding the heavy piece. “You need to see something.” He pointed to a mass of rusty bicycles stacked against a wall.
“The bicycles?”
He pulled the second one out from the pile. “This one here is a Victory. Victory was one of the first bicycle companies in America. Has the original nameplate, clamp brake system, and pedals. Even the saddle looks original. You’ve got to take it, Tan.”
His eyes beamed at me, his look intent. Butler was buzzing.
I bit down on a smile. “Okay.”
“Hold it while I bring the gum machine outside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be a hard-ass with the prices, and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you talking about? I might like a bargain, but I know a good opportunity when I see it.”
“Okay, but don’t be too hardcore about it.”
“Stand back and learn, my friend.”
Butler let out a laugh as he set the gumball machine on the ground by the crates. He came back and got the bike, and I followed him outside.
Dave and I bartered on prices, and I managed to quickly bundle several pieces, offering him a special price on those items, putting on my geez-you’re-making-this-hard-on-me-have-some-pity face. I dazzled him with my willingness
I touched it with my fingertip. “So strange, isn’t it? A hummingbird is such a sweet, joyful creature, yet there’s something harsh and scary about this skull.”
“Always is when you’re looking at skulls and bones, Tania.”
A shiver raced up my neck at his remark. A shiver that reminded me of the life he led.
“Still beautiful though,” he said.
“Still beautiful.”
Butler carefully placed the small skulls in his large palm. “This is a hawk skull. This one’s a falcon, and this is a crow.”
“They’re incredible. So delicate. How do you know this stuff?”
“My dad was a hunter and a hiker. I used to tag along.”
We lined the crates with the colorful shawls and coverlets, and we carefully placed the furniture pieces in there along with miniature towers that I found on another shelf. I didn’t have to tell Butler what to do. He handled all the material with care.
I added the photographs to another crate as well as small paintings Gerhard had made by swirling fat brushes, his own fingers, and objects through paint on pieces of Masonite. Each image was a bright detonation of color in deep space or a glowing underwater abyss.
“Every piece is a variation on the same image of an explosion, huh?” Butler remarked. “I bet he was obsessed with the H-bomb testing going on back then. I know my granddad was. Shit, those are wild colors. Like some sort of glow-in-the-dark octopus. This guy…baker by day and bizarre artist behind closed doors.”
“It’s called outsider art.”
“Meaning?”
“He wasn’t classically trained and worked outside the mainstream art world. He was obsessed with creating and worked with whatever material was available to him, often dabbling in unusual, unconventional subjects and elaborate fantasy worlds.”
“He was good.”
“Very, very good. I wonder if he ever sold anything in his lifetime. So imaginative. Really unique.”
“Maybe he wasn’t interested in selling. Maybe this was his and his wife’s personal thing. Their world.”
My eyes slid to his.
Their world.
“How’s it going in there?” shouted out Dave from the open doorway.
“I think we’re done!” I said.
“Let me take this stuff outside, and we can have a better look at what you’ve got,” muttered Butler.
“Dave? Could I take a peek into the barn, you think?” I asked.
“Sure, sure,” he replied.
Another hour went by with Butler and I sifting through the barn, which was filled with old farm machinery and tools, tattered magazines, and bakery equipment. Butler looked for any motorcycle parts but came up empty-handed. He pulled out an old iron bubble gum dispenser, and my eyes widened at the sight.
“Thought as much.” He brushed past me, holding the heavy piece. “You need to see something.” He pointed to a mass of rusty bicycles stacked against a wall.
“The bicycles?”
He pulled the second one out from the pile. “This one here is a Victory. Victory was one of the first bicycle companies in America. Has the original nameplate, clamp brake system, and pedals. Even the saddle looks original. You’ve got to take it, Tan.”
His eyes beamed at me, his look intent. Butler was buzzing.
I bit down on a smile. “Okay.”
“Hold it while I bring the gum machine outside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be a hard-ass with the prices, and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you talking about? I might like a bargain, but I know a good opportunity when I see it.”
“Okay, but don’t be too hardcore about it.”
“Stand back and learn, my friend.”
Butler let out a laugh as he set the gumball machine on the ground by the crates. He came back and got the bike, and I followed him outside.
Dave and I bartered on prices, and I managed to quickly bundle several pieces, offering him a special price on those items, putting on my geez-you’re-making-this-hard-on-me-have-some-pity face. I dazzled him with my willingness
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