Three Months LaterBecca studied the painting on her easel. The sandhill crane—in various shades of gray, brown, scarlet, and white—floated above the desert landscape, close to the ground, coming in for a landing. She liked it.
She washed her hands. A short time earlier, the last of the visitors had departed. Becca's paintings had become so popular that tours of the studio—formerly called the forge—were offered to guests who were interested in seeing Becca at work. Walt's sculpting process had also become a draw, so, at Gaby's urging, the forge was cleaned up and proper workspaces created for both artists.
“Hey, Becca.” Walt entered through the barn doors, removed his cowboy hat, and wrapped a black bandana around his head. Beau danced beside him.
“Afternoon, Walt. Are you ready for tomo
