Matthias
Rose was painting again. After two months she completed 17 paintings which I called “The Desert Rose Collection” because they were all snapshots from her months in White Horse. There were desert landscapes, adobe houses, some grim and weathered faces captured in random portraits. There was a painting of Juan Alberto Delgado, standing in front of his grocery store, his arms crossed over his skinny chest, his boots covered with dust, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. There were some rough looking cattle on the range, and some beautiful, brown skinned children playing on a quiet street. It did not take much convincing to get Darrion Allbright to buy the entire collection. I was going to leave Rose to negotiate the price for herself, but she shook her head.
“I only kno
