An Artist's Way is one of my favorite missions just because of the pure joy on Arthur's face.

Chapter 21: Galerie Laurent

"Are you sure about the vest? Maybe I should go with red. Or that purple one? Or-"

"Green is fine. It's really your color, Al," Arthur said. Today was the gallery opening, and naturally, Albert was a nervous wreck. At least he had chosen a shirt, considering white went with everything, but the tailor had one too many vests of every color imaginable. Arthur selected a slightly nicer blue shirt than his usual wardrobe, a transaction that took all of one minute after walking into the store.

"You sure?"

"Course! Reminds me of that vest you always like to wear, just a bit fancier."

"But then maybe I should try to change it up a little!"

"Al! Buy the vest!"

"Alright then, it is decided!" Albert paid for the vest and headed out the door, Arthur trailing behind. "Now, the gallery doesn't open officially until noon. I have to go there early to show my work to reviewers and rich benefactors. You can come with me now, but I'm afraid it will be dreadfully boring."

"Well, I should visit Kieran this morning. I'm sure he could use some company."

"And here I thought that Mary-Beth was doing that," Albert teased. Hosea found Arthur's letter a day later, meeting him at the doctor's with Mary-Beth. Arthur chuckled, remembering the doe-eyed Kieran blushing up a storm whenever Mary-Beth visited, and especially when she would read one of her romance novels to him.

"I still have no idea how that happened. The way I heard it from Hosea, Kieran liked her, but not the other way around."

"Well, love is strange," said Albert. "I will see you at the gallery?"

"Sure." Arthur was looking forward to it.

And dreading it.

Because the gallery opening would determine not only Albert's success or failure, but also where he would go in the future. As much as Arthur hated the idea of saying goodbye to Albert, he couldn't help but anticipate that future.

Is he going to travel west with you?

Arthur worried that the answer was no.

He trudged to the doctor's office, the secretary waving to him as he entered. Kieran was still staying in one of the patient rooms thanks to Arthur's payments. He didn't mind. The man saved his life by shooting that O'Driscoll at Six Point Cabin, so he certainly deserved comfort while recovering from his injuries. Mary-Beth smiled when he entered. Kieran kept sleeping on the bed.

"How's he doing?" Arthur asked her.

"Better," Mary-Beth said. "The doctor thinks he might be able to leave soon, though where we will go…"

Arthur didn't miss that Mary-Beth included herself in the planning.

"I talked to the local stable owner. He said Kieran could come on as a hand. It isn't much pay, but it might help get him started. And you, 'cause you're staying with him, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Didn't see that one coming," Arthur said.

Mary-Beth blushed a little. "I know, it's all so soon. But I have to give this a chance, Arthur. Otherwise, I never will."

"Does Dutch know?"

"He doesn't even know Kieran is here! Hosea kept it from him, for good reason if you ask me. Dutch is… well… you left at a good time, Arthur. I see that now. I told Karen and Tilly that I'm leaving, but I don't trust the others."

"That so?"

"Most nights I just stay here or in a hotel."

Arthur patted Mary-Beth on the shoulder. "Well, at least you found a reason to get out of the life."

"I did. Thank you, Arthur."

"What for?"

"If you hadn't… well… I don't know if I would have had the courage to leave if it weren't for you."

"I didn't do nothing."

"Yes you did," Mary-Beth said quietly. Then, she stood up, grabbing her bag and rummaging through it. "Before I forget, Hosea gave me this letter meant for you. I think it's from that Mary!" Sure enough, the scribbled address on the front was Mary Gillis' sloppy cursive.

Arthur stared at the letter in his hands, Mary-Beth watching him closely. "Guess I'll open this later," he finally said.

And when later came and he read the letter, it was Mary asking for his help once again, lamenting on her past mistakes and how neither of them would change. He checked his pocket watch. It was only eleven, and the Hotel Grand was just down the street. Arthur sighed. He hated that he needed to see Mary at least once more. He needed closure, if he was ever going to get Dutch's voice out of his head.

Mary was sitting on the hotel balcony as he approached. "Arthur, you came!" she called out.

"Yeah, I came. So, what do you need?"

"Wait there, I'm coming straight down." Unlike their last meeting, where they both were awkward and nervous, Mary seemed genuinely happy to see him.

"Hello, Mary," Arthur said as she exited the main doors.

"Arthur… you came."

"Sure. Now, what's wrong."

"Daddy."

"Your father? Oh, I'm a bigger fool than I even thought." He started to walk away. Why he ever thought there was a sliver of comparison between Mary and Albert he would never know.

"I'm begging you, Arthur," Mary called after him. "I know Daddy was not kind to you, but surely you cannot hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter and wanting better for her than… than…"

"Than me?"

"Than the choices you make."

But Arthur remembered Mr. Gillis. The verbal abuse hadn't only been directed at him. The whole family received the brunt of it. In Mr. Gillis' eyes, Jaime would never amount to a breadwinner to maintain the family wealth, Mary would never grow up from her fantasies and marry rich so Mr. Gillis could profit from the match, and Arthur wasn't rich enough to be worth using. "You are a fool if you believe your Daddy was thinking about love when he threatened to call the law on me. Even if I did honest work, he never would have accepted me unless I had a stack of cash to line his pockets."

"That's not true?"

"Isn't it? Between your daddy's drinking and whoring and gambling? How much did Mr. Linton pay for his approval?"

"Barry was good and kind-"

"And rich," Arthur finished. Mary turned away, tears brewing in her eyes, and that's when Arthur realized people were watching them on the street. "Maybe we should go somewhere and talk. Get some coffee, or an early lunch, or something?"

Mary nodded. They walked in silence to the restaurant down the street. Arthur tried not to gawk at the prices, but instead pulled out Mary's chair for her to sit down. Fortunately, they were the only two inside.

"It wasn't that I didn't love you, Arthur," she said. "You know that."

"I know."

"We were so very young. Think how different life could've been."

"Yeah, I've thought about it," Arthur said. "And I think we would have been miserable. Either you would have come with me or I would have gone with you, neither of us were willing to build something just for ourselves."

"And what about now, Arthur? We could still run away together."

"Mary-"

"It's not too late!"

"Mary-"

"We can start over."

"Mary!" Arthur grabbed her hand, putting a stop. "I met someone."

"…what?"

"I actually left the gang. Not long after we last spoke."

Mary's face grew red, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Who is she?"

"Well, he," said Arthur. Mary was one of the few people he ever felt comfortable telling that his attractions extended to men. He felt that he had to, considering he was planning to ask for her hand in marriage. "He's a photographer. Actually, he's got some photos in a gallery that's opening today, that's why I'm all dressed up."

"You're hardly dressed up," Mary tried. Arthur gave a weak chuckle in return.

Her eyes were red, and the tears were once again building. Arthur sighed and said, "I know this wasn't exactly what you were expecting when you wrote me."

"So you changed? Just like that? Met a man and left your gang?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what was it, Arthur?" she furiously wiped at her eyes, but it was too late as she started to yell. "Why wouldn't you change for us? If all this time it just took the right person for you to be a better man, then I guess I wasn't it!"

"It ain't like that, Mary. I didn't just suddenly change because of Albert. Things with Dutch? That changed! Hell, the world is so different now than what it was when we were together. I… you… you always said I was asking too much of you. That leaving your family and your life was too much. Well, back then you were asking me to do the same damn thing!"

She still wouldn't look at him, so he continued. "Al and I were friends before I left the gang. I was helping him with his photos. Stuff happened, I started seeing things different all of a sudden." Arthur hoped he was finished with the changes and clues from the strange man in the bayou. "I got into a fight with Dutch, then I got hurt, Al took me here to recover, and things just… happened. I don't know if it will work out. He said he might be heading back northeast to the cities."

"And you won't go with him if he does?"

"I don't know. City life ain't for me, that's for damn sure."

"You seem to be doing just fine right now," Mary said with a smile.

"Forget your daddy," Arthur said. "Grab whatever money you got left, grab Jaime, and find a better life."

"Maybe you are right. It's just hard to leave family, even when they've done so much wrong."

"I know." Arthur thought about Dutch and the gang, and how much he wanted to help them get the money they needed to leave. "Trust me, I know."

They finished their coffee and food while Mary interrogated Arthur on Albert. He gladly shared the stories of his adventures with wolves and wild horses, and reluctantly revealed the series of events that led to him being in Saint Denis. Eventually he just said, "Do you want to go to the gallery? Meet him yourself?"

The joy and laughter faded, and Mary said, "It might be awkward. At least for now. Perhaps I will swing by the gallery later to see these photographs, but not today."

"I understand."

He walked her back to the hotel, and as they parted at the door, Mary turned and said, "I have a lot to think about, but maybe you are right. Jaime and I may be able to find our own way."

"I'm glad, Mary."

"But you need to follow your own advice, too."

"What you mean?"

"I mean I've known you for a long time, Arthur. What you have now, make sure you give it a chance. I know how much that gang means to you still, but don't go looking for a reason to turn and run back to them. Albert, do you love him?"

"I think so." This was his first time admitting it out loud.

"Then do what we never did. Talk. Find a life where you both are happy. Be willing to compromise a little. Promise me, Arthur."

"I promise."

And he really meant it.

As he walked up the stairs to the Galerie Laurent, nearly an hour late but who was really counting, Arthur planned everything he wanted to say to Albert to start a conversation about their future.

And was greeted by a small crowd.

"Damn," he muttered. "Guess Al didn't need to worry about his photographs being popular."

"Welcome to the Galerie Laurent," the man at the window said. "The show is free today, in honor of our opening. In the first room we are featuring the photography work of Mr. Albert Mason, and in the second we have oil paintings from Mr. Charles Châtenay. I would… stick to the first room, if I were you."

Albert Mason stood in the middle of a group of people, nervously babbling about his photographs and the reason behind his project. Arthur smiled and waved, and Albert's face lit up. "Oh, and here is my friend who helped me get these photographs! I would have gotten nowhere if it wasn't for his expertise. In fact, I wouldn't have gotten through the first day, considering a coyote tried to steal my supplies."

Heads turned towards Arthur, taking in the out of place outlaw in the middle of the fancy gallery. But one of the patrons smiled and said, "Oh, he's the one from that photograph!" And Arthur realized one of the large pictures was of him, his large hat casting a good portion of his face in shadow. If he wasn't standing next to it, he would be difficult to recognize. Albert grabbed his arm and pulled him aside before too many questions could be asked and said, "I hope you don't mind. Mr. Laurent wanted another photograph, and he really liked that one and I didn't know how to say no-"

"It's fine, Al," Arthur said, smiling at the photograph. "I forgot you took that one."

"I don't think I even asked for your permission! I just pushed you in front of the camera."

"And look where we are now. A whole room to yourself!"

"And some sculptures. And most of these photographs were taken by pure luck. I'm hardly more than an amateur."

"An amateur with a crowd of folks asking about your work. Give your skills a little credit, Mr. Mason."

"Perhaps you are a tad right," Albert admitted, staring at the people discussing his work.

"Go, tell all of them the stories of how you made me get out of a boat in alligator infested waters so you could get a shot of that monster! I think I'll go visit Charles in the other room. I'm sure he's bored out of his mind already." Albert laughed at that, waving Arthur off and returning to his discussions of wildlife preservation.

Charles Châtenay's paintings were… well… exactly what Arthur expected from the man. Mostly women, but there was a man or two, and all naked. Charles himself stood in a corner, brooding over the glares and scrutiny of the gallery's visitors.

"Look at these idiots," he said. Arthur just laughed as an older woman in a blue dress approached the pair.

"Excuse me, Mr. Châtenay, couldn't you have painted some drawers on her?" she rasped.

"Madame, I paint her in her natural state as she was and will be in paradise."

"There's nothing natural about that."

"Clothes are civilization, repression, death," he continued. "To be naked is to be free, innocent, alive! Like Buddha said, you know, we are all just here to fuck."

The woman made a rather indignant noise. "Well, that explains the decadence of those hottentots.

She likely had more to say but was soon interrupted by a man in the crowd going, "Hey, you got a picture of my wife here… in her… delicates!"

Arthur tensed for a confrontation, then a woman cried out, "Henry! Is that your behind? Why would you be showing it to that man?"

"That's my momma, as nude as the day she was born!" said another.

"Stop looking at my husband's buttocks!"

"Stop looking at my momma!"

"Well maybe she shouldn't have exposed herself like that!"

Arthur just stood back and laughed. This gallery opening wasn't as boring as he expected. Ironically, the first fight broke out between Henry and the nude woman's son, but the situation quickly devolved from there. The first blows on Charles himself where from the original complainer, the woman in the blue dress, who beat Charles over the head with her purse crying out, "You filthy little man!"

Women began rushing from the room while the men fought. Albert poked his head in and then said, "Good lord!" Arthur couldn't reply as he had to stop one of the men from going after Charles. A few punches and he knocked the man out, turning to find a mostly empty gallery.

"Charles, where are you?" he called out, only to find the man crouched in a corner.

"Well, that ended rather abruptly," Albert said with a huff.

"At least it weren't your artwork that sent them running," Arthur teased.

"This show is well and truly over," Charles said. "Come on, I know a place where I can disappear for a few days."

Albert decided to follow Arthur and Charles, saying, "Well, at least I was able to make a few good contacts."

"This way, this way. The exhibition, you can say, it was not boring!"

"That it was not," said Arthur.

"Art should test people, push them. I thought I was a fraud, a no-talent brush washer. Now I am not sure. We provoke emotions, no?"

Albert muttered, "If those are the emotions we are trying to provoke then I won't make it far in this field."

"Your canvases will have punch holes through 'em if you ain't careful," said Arthur.

"I told you I was a whole ass!"

"You did, and you are. Now maybe go be an asshole somewhere else for a while."

The safe location Charles led them to was, naturally, a woman's apartment. After a bit of insistent knocking, she let him in. Charles turned back to Arthur. "That picture I gave you. It will be worth something someday. I can feel it! I hope to see you again sometime."

Albert stared at the door. "He is… an interesting man."

"So it was a good opening? Even though it was… cut short?"

"I think so," Albert said. They walked back to the apartment, and now they were at the moment of truth. Arthur's heart threatened to burst from his chest. "I met several people who liked my work, and want to see more of it. A few people who might offer funding, but…"

"But what?"

"Some of their offers came with too many conditions. Exclusive gallery rights, purchasing rights, that sort of thing, you know."

Arthur didn't quite know, but it sounded restrictive, the exact opposite of what Albert wanted. "One man, he works for a wildlife preservation association, wanted me to tour cities on the East Coast. Said he would pay all travel expenses and a small stipend for my troubles."

Air caught in Arthur's throat. "Is that what you want to do?"

"No!" Albert said quickly. "I don't want to be dragged back to city studios and an endless parade of art galleries. I want to stay in the field, expand my portfolio, give my work to art magazines that go to people all over the country."

"Really?" Arthur said, relieved. "But the other day, you were talking about going to New York or some other city."

"That's what I worried would happen," admitted Albert. "I didn't know if there would be any interest in my work, and, well I didn't want the notion to be a surprise. I've been so afraid of failing and having to go back home alone because I know you don't want to go to New York! I don't want to go to New York!"

Arthur smiled and pulled Albert into a hug. "I don't want to go to New York, either. But just so you know, I do want to stay with you."

"Even if I spend the rest of my years as a poor, struggling photographer?"

"Sure."

"Even if I have to occasionally visit a city to display my work?"

"Well, that depends on the city. If it's one of those East Coast ones, I'm camping outside of it."

Albert chuckled into Arthur's shirt. They stayed in the hug, and Arthur whispered in his ear, "I love you, Al."

"Really?" Albert said, pulling back in the hug to stare into Arthur's eyes.

"Yeah, really."

Albert pulled Arthur into a long, passionate kiss, before saying, "I love you, too."

Arthur's heart still beat fast, but it was now from excitement rather than nerves. He and Albert had a chance at a future together. One they were building for themselves.

Then, a few days later, Dutch van der Linde crashed a trolley car on the north side of town.