Chapter 28: The Horse

Conal's POV

On Friday I got to the atelier an hour early, because I had learned that an hour early was how I stayed out of trouble.

Leandra was downstairs arguing with a buyer about a hem.

Odette waved me toward the back stairs and said, "Wait in her studio. Touch nothing."

I had never been in Leandra's studio.

It was a narrow room on the top floor with a high north window and a dress form in the corner.

A long table ran under the glass, covered in paper.

There were swatches pinned to the wall in rows, and a mug of pencils, and her old shears.

I recognized them.

She had carried them out of the Sweetgrass in a duffel four and a half years ago.

I stood in the middle of the floor with my hat in my hands and did what Odette told me.

I touched nothing.

But the paper on the table faced the door, and I could not keep my eyes off it.

It was a drawing, not a dress.

She had drawn a barn with the big doors rolled back and bales set in two rows.

A long strip of runner ran down the middle between them.

At the far end stood a tall man in a vest, drawn only in outline, with no face yet.

At the near end, three people were walking toward him.

Two of them were small.

One was a woman with her chin up and a plain gray sleeveless dress.

There was a note in the margin in her small, quick hand.

It said: Sweetgrass. First week of October. Ask him first, then ask him again.

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