"What about Elizabeth?" Anne said, bouncing into the room, her petticoats rustling, auburn curls tumbling. "Hello, Matthew. Are you still in the army?...What'd I miss?" she asked her father, raking back her unruly hair. He gestured for her to sit. She did, fidgeting beside her distracted stepmother."Miss Anne," said Matthew, half standing and then sitting very carefully again, aware of his chair's fragile feel. "How are you?" Fine, just fine," said Anne, her brow furrowed, lower lip thrust. I was occasionally boarding a few horses in one of the 3 barns, including my wife’s mare White Cloud. One of the barns was converted into my blacksmith/machine shop. The other was converted into a small art gallery. The loft was remodeled with plenty of windows for Anne to paint. My precious wife expressed her need to paint with watercolors. She consigned some to several large art galleries all over the Country. In time, I learned all there was for Sam to teach me. We weren’t in competition. More

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