Mark and I were staying in North Fork while Micah was out of town. I was taking Micah's place for a couple of days.  I ran into Hanna Shaw, literally.  She was paying more attention to her new hat and I was waving to a friend of mine.  She asked me if the stage was running late today.  She told me she was meeting Jeremiah Crowley, an artist from New York.  The finest in the country.  He was coming here to paint her portrait.  It was a birthday present from her Daddy. We were both headed that way so I'd told her I walk with her. 

Jake Shaw, Hanna's father and his hired hand, Ben Travis was waiting for Crowley to come in on the stage.  She was like a school girl.  Crowley was the last to get off the stage.  "Greetings to North Fork. My happy destination," said Crowley.  He was hiccupping and drunk.  He was so drunk he couldn't even walk.  He fell to the ground.

Mark and I had settle in our room at the hotel.  Mark asked me if I thought Mr. Crowley was as fine of as artist as they say.  He wonder why he drank like that.  How comes any man drinks?  I told him that was not an easy question to answer.  A man usually takes to the bottle when he's not sure of himself, when he loses his confidence.  It has nothing to do with the kind of work they do.  They could be a rancher, a blacksmith or even an artist.  "Pa, I sure hope Micah don't come back for a week."  "Why do you say that son?"  "Well, I kinda like sleeping in this hotel bed. It's almost like being on a vacation."  "It won't seem like a vacation when you go out to the ranch tomorrow to do some work."  You should have seem the look on his face.  "Goodnight Son."  He smiled.  "Goodnight Pa."

Crowley was headed for the saloon when Hanna rode into town.  She wanted to talk to him.  He said he was on his way to get some.....breakfast and then the next stage.  They both entered the saloon. Sweeney told then he wouldn't be open for another hour.  Hanna told him they just needed some place to talk.  Crowley then handed Sweeny some money and told him he wanted a bottle of whatever that would buy. 

Hanna wanted to know what happened to him.  He was different in New York.  He told her nothings changed.  He told her it that was a long time ago.  She still wanted him to paint her portrait.  He thought her father had changed his mind.  He did, but she hadn't changed her mind.  She wanted to prove to others that he was still the artist she knew before.  "I wish I were the man you once knew."  "You are Jeremiah."  "Very well then, when do we begin?" He asked.  "Right now," she said. 

     A friend of Travis saw Hanna and Crowley together.  He rode out and told Ben Travis.  He came into town to see for himself. 

I was just sending Mark off to school when I heard a scream come from the saloon.  I ran over to see what was going on.  When I got there Travis was beating up on Crowley.  I took Travis off of Crowley and told him if this happened again he would end up in jail.  Travis turned to Hanna.  "I don't want to see you around that drunk anymore. Your making a public spectacle of yourself."  "He came here to paint my picture and that's what he's gonna do." Yelled Hanna.  "No he ain't. You heard what your father said yesterday, well that goes for me to!" Yelled Travis.  "Who do you think you are Ben Travis, giving me orders?"  I told Travis that Mr. Shaw fired Crowley yesterday and that his business was done with this man and to let it go at that.  "I just hope he's got the good sense to get out of town, because if he don't he'll live to regret it," said Travis.  He then left.

I took Crowley back to Micah's office with me.  "Why are you doing this to yourself Crowley?"  "You know why, it's gone. I haven't got it anymore. It's been gone for three years.  For three years I've done nothing. Nothing, you understand? It's gone McCain. The touch, the feeling."  "When Jake Shaw sent for you, why did you
come?"  He told me his creditors were closing in on him.  It was the right time.  What would a rancher know.  Shaw would be buying his reputation.  He said he could have painted Hanna's portrait good or bad, who would have know the difference except himself.  "One learns to live with oneself," said Crowley.  "What happened to the man Hanna use to know in New York?" I asked.  "That man no longer exist," he said.  I didn't believe him and I told him so.  I felt he wanted to try again. The only way he would be able to square things with himself and everyone else was to do what he came out to do, paint Hanna's portrait the right way.  I felt he would be alright after a while if he stayed away from the bottle and a little practice.  I told him Micah never liked the color of his office.  "Your a painter Crowley, you paint."    

He painted and painted and painted.  I went to check on him.  He sure did have a sense of humor.  He painted a really neat western landscape. He said it was the first time he felt like living since.....it must have been the milk! 

"Pa, Pa! You better come out to the ranch. Some of the steers got into some local weed."  I told Crowley I'd be back in a little while, he should keep on painting. 

Travis saw Me ride out of town.  He found this to be a good time to harass Crowley.  He took Crowley to the saloon with him.  When Sweeney asked Crowley what he wanted to drink he said, "milk."  "Milk!" Said Sweeney.  "This is a saloon."   He kept trying to entice Crawley.  He  asked him to have a drink with him to show there wasn't any hard feelings.  Crowley still wouldn't have a drink.  "Here's to burying the hatchet," said Travis.  "Are you sure Mr. Shaw said that I could paint Hanna's portrait?" Asked Crowley.  "First thing in the morning," said Travis.  He told Crowley that he told Shaw,  "that a man has the right to a drink now and then."  He just kept on drinking and holding it up in front of Crowley until he finally gave in.  "Maybe just one," said Crowley.  Travis was pleased with himself.  He told Sweeney whatever Crowley wanted was on him.      

The next morning I came looking for Crowley.  I couldn't find him.  Sweeney told me Crowley left at closing time.  He had a snoot full.  He was by himself. Just then Mr. Hannabury came running into the saloon.  He found Sam the tailor dead and Crowley sitting on the floor in one of Sam's new suits with Sam's money stuffed in his pockets and Crowley still drunk.  I went to check out the situation.

I took Crowley back to Micah's office.  The crowd was getting restless.  Crowley couldn't remember much.  He did see a face in the shadows, but couldn't remember who it was.  It was a strange face.   In fact he wasn't even sure if it was for real or his imagination.  "Oh Lucas, it must have been me. I could have done anything."  A man like him doesn't kill.  "That face you saw. Can you draw me a picture of it?"  He wasn't sure.  It was worth a try. 

I went out to face the crowd.  Travis was in the crowd helping to keep the townfolks riled up.  "Just a minute. We need to give him a chance to prove he's  innocent."  Travis asked if I thought Crowley didn't do it.  "I think he was to drunk, thanks to you Travis."   "Somebody slugged him, took him over to Sam's place and made him look like the killer."  "The reason I think that is because Crowley saw the man who slugged him."  "He doesn't know him, he saw him well enough to draw his face."  "That's what he's gonna do right now."  I called Mr. Crowley to come out.  He started sketching.  Everyone's eyes were on Crowley.  My eyes was on everyone.  Travis and his friend was getting nervous.  Crowley had finished.  He drew his own picture.  I had to play this out, so I bluffed the killer out.  I looked at Travis and his friend, when his friends started yelling, "That's my picture he drawing! That's me, but I didn't do it! It was Travis. I ain't gonna take the blame for him!"  Travis told him to shut up and he drew his gun.  He said it was an accident.  He didn't mean to kill anybody.  He said he was gonna ride out of here and no one was to stop him.  He got on his horse and rode off.  I called to him.  He shot at me, I had no choice but to return fire.  Knocking him off his horse and killing him.          

"You sure must have thought you did it Mr. Crowley, drawing your own picture," said Mark.  "Shows you how low a man can sink in his own mind, Lucas."  Well Hanna finally was getting her portrait painted.

"Ya know something Pa? That Mr. Crowley sure is different. You think he'll be able to paint her picture right now?"  "Well Mark. There's an old saying a man does a better job if he likes his work is true, he'll paint a real good picture."  Mark looked at Hanna, "aaaaah."  He understood exactly what I meant.  Hanna was a very attractive woman.  I turned his head and off we went.