Authors: Cheyenne McCray
She swallowed and remained in her seat as she stared at the gallery. “I don’t know about this.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder and his palm was warm as she turned to face him. “They’re going to love your work.” His expression was serious as he spoke.
She looked into his brown eyes and saw only confidence and sincerity. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am.” He drew her close and kissed her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. Her belly flipped again and she couldn’t look away from him as he drew away. “You’ll never know if you don’t take that step.”
“You’re right.” She took a deep breath and looked at the gallery before meeting his gaze again. “I’m ready when you are. I think.”
The air in High Lonesome Gallery was cool as Ella clutched her portfolio to her chest and stepped through the entrance. Clint held the glass door open until she was inside then let it close behind him. Her whole body felt edgy. She held the portfolio even tighter as she took in the gallery.
Oil paintings, pencil drawings, and bronzes were tastefully exhibited. Various artists had series that depicted U.S. Marshals, Native Americans, cowboys from the Wild West, ranching, and the U.S. Calvary. She didn’t see any with a rodeo theme like her work.
Ella was drawn to a bronze of a hunter on a horse, followed by a packhorse with a deer slung over its saddle. Another sculpture was of a stagecoach pulled by a team of horses. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the prices listed on each piece. They were far more than she’d expected.
“Mr. McBride.” A woman’s voice startled Ella into turning. A lovely woman of about sixty held her hand out to Clint. The woman was close to Ella’s height, with smooth, short blonde hair, her expression mild, somewhat reserved.
He took it. “Ms. Rothschild.” As he released her hand, he touched Ella’s shoulder. “This is Ella Fisher, the artist of the bronze pieces I showed you yesterday.” He turned to Ella. “This is Ms. Rothschild, the owner of the gallery.”
With the portfolio clutched in one arm, Ella held out her opposite hand. Ms. Rothschild’s grip was light yet firm at the same time. “Call me Kathleen,” the woman said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kathleen.” Ella smiled despite the fact she was nervous as hell, her stomach doing backflips now.
“If you’re ready, I’ll get one of Ella’s pieces,” Clint said.
Kathleen gave a nod and put her fingertips lightly on Ella’s shoulder as Clint headed out the front entrance. “We’ll go to my office.”
Ella felt completely underdressed in her best western jeans and blouse as she followed Kathleen, who wore a yellow, tailored sleeveless dress and heels. They went to the back of the gallery, into an office filled with paintings and pencil drawings that hung on the walls. More art was stacked vertically on the floor, against a file cabinet and a table. An office desk and chair, with two chairs in front of it, were on one side of the room. On the opposite side was an empty, sturdy-looking table.
When they were in the office, Kathleen faced Ella. Even though they were the same height, Ella felt like a little girl beneath the older woman’s gaze. “You’re quite young. How long have you been a sculptor?”
Ella cleared her throat. “I’ve been working toward being an artist since I was a child. I learned how to make bronzes four years ago and that has been my medium ever since. I do pencil drawings that are the inspiration for the pieces I sculpt.”
Kathleen studied Ella. “Did you bring any of your drawings?”
Ella nodded. “And my portfolio.” She handed the binder to Kathleen who set it on the table as Clint’s walked into the office, carrying a crate.
“Set it right here.” Kathleen gestured to the empty table and Clint obliged.
Ella’s heart beat faster as the woman took the framed pencil drawing that Clint had sent on top of the crate and began studying it. Clint carefully unpacked the first sculpture, which was the bull rider.
Kathleen was still looking over the drawing that went with the sculpture. “Very nice,” the woman murmured as if to herself. She set the drawing on the table as she moved close to the bronze that Clint had unveiled. He left the office to get the second crate.
Ella held her breath as Kathleen studied the sculpture, looking at it from all angles. She used a monocle to examine the minute detail. As she went over the bronze, Ella couldn’t begin to tell what the woman was thinking.
Clint brought in the second bronze and its drawing, opened the crate, lifted the sculpture out, and put it on the table. Again Kathleen studied the pencil and then the bronze of the cowboys team roping.
When she straightened, Kathleen turned to Ella. “How many completed works do you have that are available?”
Ella tried to relax as she let out her breath so that she could speak. “Six completed counting these two, and one clay that needs to be bronzed.” She gestured to the binder on the table. “They’re all photographed and in my portfolio.”
The woman picked up the binder and began perusing the photographs, turning each page slowly. She gave a nod, as if to herself, before looking at the two sculptures on the table.
She returned her gaze to Ella’s. “I’d like to arrange a private showing of your work, all six pieces, if the quality of the other four is as good as these.” She gestured to the print drawings. “I’d like to include the pencils as well.” She offered Ella the first smile since they’d been introduced. “We sell on consignment, of course.”
Ella’s eyes grew wider and then she almost dropped her jaw to the floor when Kathleen told her approximately how much she’d make off each piece and every drawing that sold.
With those sums she’d more than be able to pay for her art and help her family get the ranch back on its feet.
“I must caution you.” Kathleen seemed to read Ella’s mind. “It could take some time before a piece sells.”
Ella nodded, her throat dry. “I understand.”
“Good.” Kathleen went to the office desk, moved behind it, and sat in the leather reclining chair.
Kathleen reached into a drawer on the right side of the desk. “I have paperwork for you to fill out.” She set a packet on the desk. “I will provide you with signed copies when our transaction is completed. Of course we will have each piece appraised.”
Ella finally managed to find her voice as she sat in front of the desk. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kathleen picked up a pen from a holder. “And thank you for choosing our gallery in which to showcase your amazing work.”
No suitable response would come to Ella. She looked at Clint who had taken the seat beside her. She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she mouthed as Kathleen prepared the papers.
He took her hand in his and smiled as he squeezed it. “You deserve it,” he said softly.
Pink Zebra, the old-fashioned ice cream parlor on Scottsdale Road, was a place Ella had never been to. She felt lighter of heart than she had in a long time as she and Clint found a booth and slid into it, across from each other.
“An ice cream parlor is a great way to celebrate.” She smiled at him as she set the folder with the contract on the table. She hadn’t been able to part with it. “Since you’ve been here before, what do you recommend?”
He picked up the dessert menu. “To tell you the truth, I like everything I’ve tried here.”
“I want chocolate.” She looked over her own menu. “The brownie sundae looks good.”
“Haven’t had that, but I’d bet it is.” He put his finger on a photograph. “I think I’ll have a good old-fashioned malted milkshake.”
While he got up to order at the counter with stools along its length, Ella turned to look out the picture window. The High Lonesome gallery was just up the street and around the corner from the Pink Zebra. It felt almost surreal as she thought about the fact that her art was going to be showcased in an actual gallery.
She shook her head. It felt like she was dreaming. Just to remind herself that she wasn’t, she opened up the folder containing the contract. She read through it once again. She’d been grateful to have Clint with her, offering her advice when she needed it.
Her gaze drifted over the legal jargon, but none of it was computing. She was too dazed for it to sink in. She closed the folder. She’d look at it later when she could concentrate.
Several minutes went by and Clint returned with her sundae and his milkshake.
“Mom and Dad aren’t going to believe this.” Ella scooped up some brownie and ice cream and slipped the spoon into her mouth.
Clint finished taking a sip of his milkshake. “Oh, they’ll believe it. Your parents are already proud of you and this only reinforces what they’ve believed for a good long time.”
She scooped up another bite, this one dripping with hot fudge. “If these pieces sell, I’ll be able to help the ranch start to get ahead.”
Clint stopped sucking on his straw. “Don’t worry about the ranch. I’m taking care of it and I’ll help turn it around.”
She let her spoon rest in a swirl of hot fudge as she met his gaze. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”
He settled his hands on hers. “Seeing you excited and happy—that’s all the thanks I need.”
His hand felt warm and heat flooded her belly. She turned her hand up and interlaced her fingers with his. For a long moment they remained silent as their gazes held. They were basically nullifying their truce.
“Your ice cream is melting.” The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile.
She smiled back at him then released his hand to start eating her dessert again.
Her smile faded as reality settled in. She’d been so caught up in the excitement that she had forgotten that the owner of the gallery wanted two more pieces within the next five months.
“What’s the frown about?” he asked.
She turned her attention to him. “I don’t know if I can get two more to the gallery by this fall. I have the one ready to bronze, but I’m nowhere close to being finished with the one I’m working on now. There’s so much to do around the ranch.”
“I’ll take care of the ranch.” He pushed aside his empty milkshake glass. “You work on your art.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I have a responsibility to my family to help make and keep the place successful.”
“Ella.” The firmness of his tone caused her to focus her attention on him. “Your dad hired me so that you could work on your art more. Carl wants you to be happy and succeed at what you do best.”
Her mouth tightened. “Dad doesn’t need to be paying for help just so that I can sculpt.”
“Why are you fighting this so much?” Clint leaned forward, his forearms resting on the tabletop. “The people who love you want you happy. Let them make you happy.”
She looked away, wrapped in thought. He put his hand on hers again, drawing her attention back to him. “Ready to go home?”
A deep sigh eased through her and she looked at her now empty dish. She hadn’t realized she was finished. She looked up. “Guess so.”
“Hey.” He took her chin in his fingers. “I want to see that happy, excited girl who was here with me just a few moments ago. Being in that gallery is an amazing accomplishment, one you should be proud of. Your mom and dad will be as proud as I am. Now let me see that smile again.”
She nodded and managed a smile as he let his fingers slip away. “It’s been a dream of mine since I was drawing horses as a kid.”
“That’s better.” His answering smile made her happiness return.
“Let’s go home.” She got out of the booth and stood as he got to his feet, too. “I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad.”
“That’s my girl.” He walked with her to the entrance and held the door open for her. When they were out, he put one arm around her shoulders and they headed toward the truck.
His embrace sent warmth through her and she liked that he didn’t let go even as they walked down the sidewalk and crossed the street. It felt comfortable, like it was the most natural thing on earth.
Just maybe everything was going to work out.
Two days later and Ella wasn’t sure anything was going to work out at all.
It was afternoon and she stood in the middle of her studio, the heel of her palm against her forehead as she stared at the tarp-covered project. She hadn’t been able to get herself to sit down and work on it. Usually she would have been stripped down to her panties and tank top but now she could only stand here.
No matter what Clint said, she still felt a deep sense of responsibility toward her family and the ranch. It wasn’t in her nature to just turn everything over to someone else and focus on her own happiness. The happiness of others was what was important to her. She couldn’t sit here and work on the sculpture when there were more important things that needed to be done.
She lowered her hand and brushed hair behind her ear. Yes, more important things. But now that it was afternoon, she should be able to sit down and concentrate—she just couldn’t seem to do it.
No. She had to get out of here. Had to do something. She’d ride the fence line, checking it to make sure it was sturdy and there was no danger of it going down and letting any of the cattle wander off Fisher property.
After she left the studio and locked the door, she headed for the barn. She saddled up an Appaloosa mare named Poca, short for Pocahontas. The routine made her relax and she felt like she was doing the right thing, even though a part of her wanted to be in her studio, working on the sculpture.
As she put her foot in the stirrup and swung up onto the horse, Clint spoke from behind her.
“Where are you off to?” he said in his low drawl. “You should be working on your sculpture.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “The west pasture fence line needs to be checked.” She realized she sounded defensive as she spoke the words.
He studied her. “You haven’t been spending much time in your studio these past couple of days.”
She frowned. “Keeping tabs on me?”
“Someone needs to,” he said, but he had a teasing look in his eyes.
Not in the mood to be teased, she raised her chin. “I need to work on the ranch.”