Jacob had completed several works and Miles Layton was coming from Denver to see them so Omar and Myra decided to give a party for their painting. It had taken several months for the custom frame to be made but it was finally completed and the tetraptych was installed. Myra loved to entertain and had the money to do so lavishly. Dinner would be for eight – Miles, Jacob, Cady, Walt, Vic, Henry, Omar and herself – but she invited thirty more for the viewing afterward.

Miles had also brought his Nighthorse painting. It wouldn't be shown to the guests but he set it up in Omar's study and brought Jacob in before dinner.

"I want to show you something I bought twenty-three years ago."

Jacob studied it closely. "That is a piece of shit but it's still the best thing I did back then."

"You're too hard on yourself. The brushstrokes are unique."

Jacob nodded. "Not bad, but the painting has no soul."

"I know. I bought it for the brush work which still fascinates me. Something you can enjoy forever is the best reason to own a work of art."

Cady came in and Jacob introduced them. Miles was explaining to Cady why he liked this early work by Jacob when her eyes widened and she choked.

"It's so bad it made my wife sick," Jacob joked.

"Sorry, something went down the wrong way," Cady apologized.

When Miles left Jacob asked what was wrong.

"He was talking about the brushstrokes and I was looking at the swirly pattern it made and it hit me that it's a visual of what your tongue feels like. On my body. Everywhere."

"You fascinate me," Jacob said, paraphrasing Miles. "You are a work of art I'll love and enjoy forever. However, that brushstroke was an experiment to recreate the spiral effect of a seashell."

"Oh." Cady took another look. "I can see that. I guess I have an active imagination."

"Was the visual a good feel or a bad feel?"

"Mm, very good. I don't know anything about brushstrokes but your tongue action is excellent."


The after-dinner viewing was a great success. Omar and Myra opened the cover frames and swung them back to reveal the four panels, beautifully lit and displaying to advantage in the vaulted atrium.

The viewing concluded with an official signing of the work. Jacob added his trademark signature in Cheyenne characters to each panel. Miles, as a certified authenticator, presented the Rhodes with a guarantee of provenance.

The crowd had moved back to the entry hall where drinks and sweet and savory hors d'oeuvre were provided safely away from the painting. Walt and Cady stayed to look a little longer.

"So Jacob is an artist now."

"He's always been an artist," Cady said. "He just created in a different medium for a long time."

"Well, as the saying goes, I don't know much about art but I know what I like. I like this."

"Thank you, Walt," Jacob said from behind him. "When's your birthday?"

"July."

"Hmm."

Alone later with Vic, Walt asked what she really thought of Cady and Jacob as a couple.

"They're solid. I have to say that prison mellowed Jacob. He seems the same on the surface but a lot has changed inside. Enough that he's a different kind of painter than he was years ago. You could end up with a famous son-in-law."


Cady returned to work a few days after the party. Neon and Nova were three months old and sleeping six hours at night so the household had settled into a routine. Cady would work part-time for awhile. Leaving her babies had felt impossible at first, even with Jacob working at home and Charlotte caring for them with the help of her granddaughter. But when Jacob suggested she take a leave of absence or quit entirely, she didn't want that either. She missed working at the public defender's office and wanted to continue using her skills and knowledge. She had learned from her meltdown after the twins were born; motherhood had made her more confident and organized.

Everyone in the office was happy to see her. Judges welcomed her back to their courtrooms and prosecutors congratulated her. Cady appreciated it but knew it wouldn't last. They would be opponents again soon enough.

One change Cady made was to drop Longmire from her name. She had become Cady Nighthorse when she married but because she had been Cady Longmire all her life, she went by Cady Longmire Nighthorse at first to ease the transition. She could have continued as Cady Longmire at work but she simply didn't care to. She loved Jacob and she wanted all of him, including his name. She didn't need the confusion of being known by different names in her private and professional lives.


THE LAYTON GALLERY of Denver

Presents a selection of works by

JACOB NIGHTHORSE

Viewing by invitation only: Saturday, July 7, 6pm-9pm
Artist in attendance

Exhibition: July 10-31, Tue-Sat, 11am-5pm or by appointment

Nighthorse is a member of the Cheyenne Nation and an advocate for Native Americans.
He lives near Durant, Wyoming with his wife and children.


Jacob and Cady drove to Denver Saturday morning. Resting in hotel robes before dressing for the reception, Jacob lay flat on the bed, looking calm, but there was a distance in his eyes and Cady wasn't fooled.

She sat on the edge of the bed. "Nervous?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What can I do?"

"You're already doing it – you're here."

Cady smiled and opened his robe. "While I'm here, I could help you relax." She bent over, hands reaching, mouth encircling.

"That's not going to work … unhh."

Cady raised her head. "Yeah, right. Tell me when you want me to stop." Her mouth lowered.

Jacob groaned again. He slid his hand under Cady's robe and felt her thighs part as his fingers moved up.


Two hours later they were mingling at the reception, Jacob in one of his tailored suits and Cady in a little black dress with her hair up.

An old woman approached Jacob, more interested in his personal history than art: "I heard that you spent a year in prison. Can this be true?"

"No." A beat, then he added, "It was thirteen months. And I'm still on parole. In fact, my parole officer is here tonight."

Jacob looked around and indicated Vic who was stunning in a revealing burnished gold dress. Her hair was up and her heels were high. Badass sheriff of Absaroka County wasn't the first occupation that came to mind. Another woman and a man joined her.

"My wife and my father-in-law." Jacob wondered where the hell Henry was. This scene needed his presence.

The woman didn't wait for anyone else to show up. She fixed a smile on her face, said "How nice to meet you," and tried not to hurry as she walked away.

"No sale there," Jacob said with satisfaction.

"I overheard your conversation," Henry said from behind him.

"Henry, my man, I wish you'd joined us."

"I do not think she believed your introductions."

"I hope she thought I brought hookers to my show. That's what she would expect of an ex-con."

"You think Walt looks like a male prostitute?"

"How about a pimp keeping track of his talent?"

Henry pressed his lips tight to keep from laughing but couldn't hide the smile. "You are more entertaining to be around since giving up business and taking up art."


Jacob and Henry joined the others.

"One of your paintings looks like the mountain behind our cabin," Walt said.

"It is."

"I guess it's already sold. A sticker says it's on loan."

"It's on loan from you for the show. You can take it home the first of August."

"I doubt I can afford it."

"Remember I asked when your birthday is?"

"I can't accept that, it's too much."

"It's a gift, Walt. If you don't want it I'll buy you some beer and horse feed instead."

Walt smiled. "Thanks, Jacob. Seeing that painting will be like having a back porch.

Jacob nodded. "That's why I didn't paint the view from the front porch."

"The mountain and trees look like they're coming right off the canvas."

"Good eye. It's a texturing technique called impasto; you add thick layers of paint until it creates a 3D effect."


Omar and Myra Rhodes wandered over. They had loaned their tetraptych for the show.

"I've had three offers up to double what I paid."

"Thinking of selling?" Jacob asked.

"Not unless you have a similar piece I'll like more.

"Yours may be one of a kind."

"Even better."


Pricing of art is an art in itself. Jacob Nighthorse was a special case. Decades ago he had been a little-known artist with technical skill but questionable ability overall. He disappeared for twenty years and reemerged with a vision and power of expression that could not have been foreseen. He was lucky that Miles Layton was representing him. Not only was Miles one of the best in the business but he had long admired Nighthorse's technique even as he acknowledged the lack of inspiration. To discover that Nighthorse's technique was intact and his inspiration enhanced was a once-in-a-lifetime circumstance. It was tricky striking the right balance. On one hand, his past work could be detrimental to his future reputation. On the other hand, his history was interesting and added to the artist's mystique. Miles was a master of these fine points and priced accordingly. It was a very successful exhibition.