Authors: Cheyenne McCray
He was quiet for a long moment and she faced him. Heat slowly crept through her veins. He hadn’t changed his mind and a part of her had hoped he had. A huge part of her.
“Never mind,” she snapped before he could answer her question. She turned and strode out of the barn. She could feel his gaze on her back but he didn’t call her back, didn’t say anything at all.
Clint watched Ella walking away. He’d wanted to tell her he was staying, but he didn’t know if he could make that kind of promise. Yet, at the same time, he wasn’t sure he could leave this place again.
He dragged his hand down his face. Damn. It was time he made a decision.
In his heart he’d already made that decision. He was going to stay.
A calmness came over him. Walt and Cody were right, he did belong here and this land was in his blood. He regretted a lot of things but he wasn’t going to allow himself to make another decision he’d regret, and leaving would be a big one.
As he worked around the ranch, he considered his future. One thing he knew was he didn’t want to leave Ella. He also wanted to invest in some land and a home. For now he’d continue to work for Carl until the older man found someone to replace Clint when he was ready to work his own ranch. Not only would he have a place to stay during the transition, he’d also be close to Ella.
His thoughts turned to her art. While talking with her this week, he’d learned that she hadn’t shown her art to anyone outside the family. He wasn’t sure if it was from a fear of rejection or lack of confidence in her work, but she had been making the sculptures for years and had quite a collection.
And then it hit him and he pulled out his cell phone. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
“You what?” Ella’s eyes widened as she looked at Clint with incredulity as they stood in the kitchen after breakfast. She couldn’t believe what he’d just told her. “You actually took the two bronzes I gave my parents and showed them to the owners of an art gallery?”
“Your dad agreed.” Clint’s gaze was steady as he held his glass of orange juice. “When I went to the Phoenix area yesterday, I took the pieces to a gallery that specializes in Western art in Old Town Scottsdale and they loved what they saw. They want to see sculptures that you would be willing to sell.”
Ella felt almost dizzy and she braced her hands on the back of a kitchen chair. It had been a dream of hers to have her art in a gallery, but she had never been sure her work was good enough. And now Clint had arranged for her to meet with the gallery owners who’d said they loved her work. She was speechless. She didn’t know whether to hug him or be mad at him for taking the liberty.
“You have an appointment at noon.” He offered her a smile. “We’ve already done the morning chores. There are just a couple of things that I need to take care of while you get ready and gather what you want to take.”
Ella found her voice. “Noon? You should have asked me first.” She put her hands on her hips. “I can’t just leave Dad to take care of the ranch while we go to Scottsdale.”
“I’ve already talked with Carl and he’s thrilled about it.” Clint set his juice glass on the countertop. “I’ll have everything taken care of and we’ll make it back in time to do evening chores.”
Ella rubbed her palms on her jeans. “What if they don’t like my other pieces?”
“They will love them.” Clint took her by the shoulders. “I’ve seen a lot of artwork during the years that I traveled and yours is among the best I’ve seen.”
She bit her lower lip for a moment. “You aren’t just saying that?”
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” He eyed her steadily. “That’s something you can always count on.”
“All right.” She straightened and he released her shoulders. “If you’re sure you don’t need me for anything, I’ll get ready.”
“When I’m finished with what I have to do, I’ll drive my truck up to the studio and load the bronzes you pick out.” He reached up and tugged at the end of her braid like he used to when she was young. “The things have to weigh at least fifty pounds each.”
“About that.” As much as she liked doing everything herself, one thing she did need help with was carrying the sculptures. She was strong but fifty pounds was a lot and she didn’t want to risk damaging any of her pieces.
“I’ll meet you at your studio in two hours.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “Around nine.”
“All right.” She forced herself to relax. “I’ll be ready.”
To her surprise, she felt a little giddy as she walked to her room—excited but nervous, too. She hadn’t let anyone see her work before, with the exception of her parents and Clint, and Clint only because he’d invited himself into her studio. She just hoped he hadn’t recognized himself in the drawing of the sculpture she was currently working on.
After she showered and slipped into silky pink panties and a pink bra, nice jeans, and a pretty pink blouse, she pulled on a pair of western boots. She applied makeup and curled the ends of her hair before grabbing a leather purse and heading out.
When she reached the living room, her dad was hanging his western hat on the hat rack. She went up to him and hugged him.
He returned her hug then drew away. “How’s my girl?”
“Good.” She put her hands in her back pockets. “I’m not sure how I feel about having my art secretly sent to a gallery, but I appreciate how much you care.”
He smiled. “Sweetheart, nobody is more proud of you than me and your mom. You work hard and it’s about time somebody else gets to see it.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’d better get out to my studio.”
After popping into the kitchen to tell her mother she was leaving, Ella walked out of the house and down the worn path that led to the cabin. It was a pretty spring day, bright and clear with a breeze rustling the trees. Indian paintbrush and California poppies bloomed along the path.
She let herself into the studio. She walked across the room and opened the door leading into the main cabin. She didn’t go in but caught the newer scents of leather and Clint’s aftershave. The cabin was neat and clean as usual and Clint’s belongings were nowhere in sight. She’d never snooped, but he’d likely put everything away in the drawers and in the closet.
When she backed into her studio and closed the door behind her, it seemed somehow different. She looked around and saw only the things she used for her craft, several bronzes, as well as the drawings she had sketched for inspiration. What should she take to the gallery?
After debating with herself, she chose a sculpture with two cowboys team roping and one depicting a bull rider. She’d used Spanish words for both bronzes, the translations being “Teamwork” for the first sculpture; the second, “Man and Beast”.
The thought of parting with her art, her children, made her want to pull back and say she’d changed her mind. But the flip side was the thought that anyone who bought her work would do so because they appreciated the sculpture so it would find a good home. She’d also have more room for more pieces.
From a drawer she dug out a portfolio she’d put together of the bronzes in hopes of one day getting up the courage to take them to a gallery. Each one had been photographed—both the bronze and the accompanying pencil drawing. The dimensions and weight were included. The only thing missing was an appraised value because she’d never had her work appraised. It was still hard to comprehend that someone might want to sell her pieces, much less have buyers coming along who wanted to pay for them.
By the time Clint drove up to the cabin, she had everything together but was still jittery. He came in through the studio’s front door and her stomach swooped when he smiled at her. It was the first real smile she’d seen from him and his dimple appeared as he did. She’d always loved that dimple.
He took the first sculpture and put it into the shipping crate from the place where she’d had it bronzed, then carried the crate out of the cabin and loaded it onto his truck. She took the framed pencil drawings and set them and her portfolio on the floorboard of the back seat of the king cab while he put the other crate in the back of the truck and secured both with bungee cords.
When everything was loaded, she climbed into the passenger side and he closed the door behind her before going to the driver’s side and getting into his seat. Her stomach flip-flopped as he started the truck and put it into gear, and then they were on the road.
She had plenty of time to work up a good case of nerves during the roughly hour and a half drive from Prescott to Scottsdale. She tried not to show just how nervous she was, but she had a feeling she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“Don’t worry.” He reached over the console and put his hand on hers and squeezed. “If nothing else, we can have ice cream at that old-fashioned parlor on Main Street.”
She smiled. “I like ice cream.”
“I brought something else for you, too.” He nodded toward the glove compartment. “To calm your nerves.”
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and opened up the glove compartment. When she spotted them, she laughed. “Cherry lollipops.” She reached for one of the three red-wrapped lollipops in the compartment. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget?” He gave her a quick grin. “You used to search my pockets for them.”
She unwrapped the lollipop after shutting the compartment door. “Seems like an eon ago.”
He nodded. “It sure does.”
She popped it into her mouth and twirled it over her tongue before sucking on the sweet and tart treat. It did relax her to enjoy the lollipop while she and Clint talked.
“I told you what I’ve been up to since I left,” he said. “Your turn.”
She tilted her head to the side as she held up her lollipop. “You still have a lot of stories to tell.”
“No throwing me off.” He glanced from the road to her before returning his gaze to the road. “I’ll tell more later. It’s your turn now.”
“I don’t have anything exciting that’s happened while you’ve been gone.” She shrugged. “I’ve mostly been working on the ranch.”
“What have you done over the years?” Clint glanced at his mirrors and over his shoulder to check his blind spot before pulling out to pass a slower vehicle. “You can start from the time I left.”
Ella looked out the window at the desert scenery speeding by. They were leaving high desert and heading to a lower elevation. An ache formed in her heart as she thought of the days following her brother’s death and Clint’s disappearance.
“It took some time coming to terms with Bucky’s death.” She swallowed and didn’t look at Clint as she thought,
And missing you. You broke my heart.
Out loud she continued, “Things went on at the ranch, the animals still needing tending and we had to keep the place operational. It just wasn’t the same.”
“I’m sorry,” Clint said quietly. “I should have been here for all of you.”
She turned her gaze away from the window and studied Clint’s profile. “You did what you thought you had to and you’ve carried guilt that you shouldn’t have. That’s enough penance for anyone.”
The fact that she’d released her anger over him leaving the way he had surprised her. She hadn’t realized that she’d finally accepted it for what it was.
His gaze met hers. “Thank you.”
As he looked back at the road, she continued to study him. He had so much character etched into his features that her fingers itched to sketch him. She rarely did portraits, preferring sculptures, but there was something about the strength in him, the hardness that went along with his experiences, yet the softness and kindness he showed, too.
“I finished high school and took a year of art classes in Phoenix before having to go back to the ranch.” She shrugged. “That’s been my life.” She looked at what was left of her lollipop. “Art and ranching. Or maybe I should say ranching and art, in that order.”
“Did you take classes on sculpting?” he asked.
“That’s where I learned what it takes to produce a bronze.” She nodded. “I use the same company that my former art instructor does, to cast my sculptures into bronze. I learned a lot in that class. There’s more that goes into producing a bronze than I ever realized.”
“They’re amazing,” he said. “The detail of your work is incredible, right down to the personality of the riders.”
A sense of shyness spread beneath her skin. “Thank you.” She sucked on her lollipop for a long moment, letting the tart flavor spread over her tongue. She’d been so nervous about meeting the gallery owners that it hadn’t occurred to her that she might be nervous being in a small space with Clint for so long. Instead, she felt relaxed and comfortable with him.
“Have you thought about getting back into rodeo?” she asked.
A look came over his features, a hardness that took her off-guard. “No.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”
“I’m not riding again.” His tone was flat, definite.
“If it’s because of Bucky, you know now that what happened wasn’t your fault.” She studied him. “You were the best bronc rider most have seen.”
He looked tense and dragged his hand down his face. “That was another world.” He sighed. “Another lifetime.”
“It is a dangerous sport,” she said, “and you have nothing to prove.”
For a long time there was only silence between them and she rolled her cherry lollipop over her tongue as she watched the traffic and parts of metro-Phoenix speed by. Every time she came to this area she found herself glad that she’d grown up in a less populated part of the state.
She was relieved as they exited the freeway and drove to Scottsdale Road before heading south to Old Town Scottsdale. The Old-West part of town boasted jewelry stores, gift shops, and art galleries along with several restaurants.
Her belly flipped as he turned the truck west on Main Street and she saw the row of galleries on each side of the street. He pulled the vehicle up to a gallery with southwestern art in its massive picture windows. High Lonesome Gallery was gracefully scripted in gold in the lower right hand corner of the window to the left of the entrance. He parked and shut off the engine.