Wyoming Renegade. Susan Amarillas

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СКАЧАТЬ many successful artists there are in the world? Damn few, and even fewer women artists.”

      “Then there’s room for one. I’m leaving tomorrow for Wyoming. My plans are made.”

      He glared at her.

      She glared back. Finally, wanting to end this, she said, “I’m going to see Davy while I’m there. Don’t you think he’s been exiled long enough?”

      “Your brother is not exiled. You make it sound like he’s in Siberia. I simply sent him to our bank in Gunlock.”

      She knelt on the love seat, her fingers curving over the smooth wood trim. “Papa, please. He’s learned his lesson, I’m sure.”

      “Well, it’ll be a miracle if he has. As I recall, his habits included public drunkenness, gambling, staying out all hours… and let’s not forget the women. David’s only nineteen. At the rate he was going, I doubted he’d live to see twenty.”

      There was a hitch in his voice, a crack that expressed his feeling more accurately than his words. It was that little crack that quelled her temper. “I know,” she told him softly, sincerely.

      Tears threatened, and she blinked them back. “I know you love Davy. Just as I know you love me.”

      His chin dropped to his chest for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking?

      Drink in hand, he moved to the other love seat. They faced each other across the small expanse. Elbows on knees, he said simply, “David doesn’t make loving him easy.”

      With a feeling of deéjà vu, she leaned forward, touching his sleeve with her hand. “I know he’s been difficult, but he means well.”

      She missed her brother terribly and loved him unconditionally. “You miss him, too, don’t you?”

      “I miss him.”

      His voice was husky, and far away—as far away as Wyoming. “It’s time,” she told him firmly, confidently, maybe a little more confidently than she felt. She’d failed to stand by Davy once, but never again.

      “Yes,” he said, and sighed. “Tell him to come home.”

      She let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’ll make it my personal mission to take care of him until he gets settled, until I leave for Paris.”

      “Thanks,” he said absently, his gaze still focused on the dancing flames.

      “Now that that’s settled, I’d better get to bed. I’ve got an early start in the morning.”

      She hadn’t taken three steps when—

      “Hold on there, missy. Thought you had me, didn’t you?”

      I was so close to making a clean getaway, she thought.

      “Assumed all this talk about your brother would make me forget about that blasted contest and about your trip, didn’t you?”

      “I didn’t think you’d forgotten. But I’m done talking.”

      “By that I guess you mean you can run off to Wyoming and I’m supposed to give my stamp of approval? I’m supposed to pay the bills for this fiasco.”

      She needed up-front money, his money. She’d used the last of her savings to pay the fee. The entry form had been mailed and accepted. Everything was in place, but it all hinged on her ability to make this trip.

      “Two months,” she coaxed.

       “You don’t need a career.”

      “I’m an artist.”

      “It was supposed to be a hobby,” he retaliated from his love seat.

      “It’s an occupation.”

      “It’s futile.”

      “It’s exciting and challenging.” This time she took an aggressive step in his direction. “This is not some whim, Papa. I’ve been working hard in Paris. It took me a long time to find my place, my style. I’ve already shown two paintings in an exhibit and—”

      “Two paintings! In all these years!” He raked his hand through his hair. “You call that success?”

      “I call that a start. It’s more than I’ve been able to do here. I have to go back. You’ve said you won’t support me any longer, and I accept that. This contest money will let me make it on my own. I have to go. I have to.”

      She wanted him to understand how she felt, the urgency that drove her, the excitement that filled her every time she made a painting, captured a feeling, a bit of herself on canvas. “Two months is all I’m asking.”

      Uncertainty flashed in his eyes, and she gave him what she hoped was her best, most imploring smile, the one that had been letting her get her own way most of her life.

      “I’ll be back by August.”

      He shook his head, but he was vacillating, she could tell. “But all alone…”

      “I won’t be alone. I’ll have Eddie.”

      That head shake was getting more adamant.

      “All I’m asking is for you to trust me, to understand. I’m not asking you to do it for me, just don’t stop me.” Very softly, she entreated, “Please.”

      Heart pounding, she waited for the decision that would determine her future. She wondered for the first time what she would do if he refused. Would she give up painting? Would she try to find the money somewhere else? There was nowhere else to turn and there was a deadline rushing at her. Who knew when she’d have another opportunity like this?

      Panic prickled along nerves already tight with anticipation. “Papa, I have to—”

      “All right.”

      “What?” she repeated, not certain she’d heard the words she’d waited for. “What did you say?”

      “I said all right. On one—”

      “Thank you!” She hurled herself in his direction, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his beardroughened cheek.’ “You won’t regret this!”

      “One condition.” He tugged at her arms and set her away from him. His expression was executioner serious.

      “Condition?” Dread coiled and swirled in her stomach like acid. She stepped back, her heel catching on her hem and making her more off balance than she already was.

      “I’ll let you go on this trip. I’ll fund your expedition on the condition that when you don’t win this contest, you will give up this art business and allow me to find a suitable husband for you.”

      “You can’t be serious?”

      “I’m very serious.”

      “You’d СКАЧАТЬ