“Smile,” Jimmy Cotton, the Jimmy Cotton, called from behind my camera and I smiled with all the happiness I felt that none other than Jimmy Cotton was taking my picture (not to mention, it felt good standing like that in Max’s arms).

“That’ll be a good one,” Jimmy Cotton muttered, fiddling with my camera before he stepped forward and handed it back to me.

I took it thinking maybe I could die right there on the spot and do it happily, considering Jimmy Cotton just took my photo. Though that would mean I wouldn’t have the chance to get his photo printed and hermetically sealed.

“You hear about Dodd?” Cotton asked Max and Max kept the arm around my shoulders, hand curled around my neck but his other hand dropped away.

“Yeah.”

“Thought the sun shone brighter when I woke up this mornin’,” Cotton mumbled and I let out a little, surprised giggle.

“He was an ass,” Cotton told me.

“I’m beginning to get that picture,” I said back.

“Mick came up to the house this mornin’, luckily Nina’s got jetlag and she could tell him she was awake and in bed with me when the deed was done.”

Cotton’s face got hard and he asked, “What in the sam hill is Mickey doin’, askin’ you for an alibi?”

I was stuck on Max telling Jimmy Cotton (of all people) I was in bed with him but Max didn’t seem to feel my displeasure which I was pretty certain was so extreme it should be felt and he spoke to Cotton.

“Not a secret we don’t get along.”

“Not a secret you ain’t the type of man to do that kind of thing.”

“Cotton –” Max started.

“Especially you,” Cotton went on.

“Jimmy –”

“Especially with Dodd,” Cotton continued then looked at me. “Max had far more reason ten years ago to pull a trigger and take out that jackass, dang nab it,” he looked back at Max, “and Mickey knows it.”

“He’s just doin’ his job,” Max said but I was intrigued at what Cotton said. I’d heard the words “ten years ago” recently and just now and that seemed an interesting coincidence.

Unfortunately, Cotton was miffed and I couldn’t get a word in to ask him to explain.

“Got a lot of nerve, showin’ at your place.”

“I wasn’t his first visit.”

“And won’t be his last,” Cotton looked at me, “Dodd wasn’t much liked by anyone. Hell, Mickey could have come to visit me.”

“You don’t own a gun, Cotton, you’re a pacifist, non-violent, remember?” Max reminded him.

“Ever a man to test the mettle of pacifism and non-violence, it was Curtis Dodd,” Cotton shot back.

Max chuckled, I waited for more information to be shared but both men settled into silence.

It was either ask, when I told myself I didn’t want to know, or keep silent. It took a lot of effort, I really wanted to know about ten years ago, Max and Curtis Dodd, but I kept silent.

“Welp, you two young ‘uns don’t need an old man spoilin’ the mood, I’ll just be gettin’ on.”

“You aren’t spoiling the mood,” I told him quickly and he smiled at me.

“Any talk spoils that,” he said, dipping his head to the vista behind me. “That, you experience in silence or, better yet, with someone that means somethin’ to you.” For some reason, his eyes slid to Max when he said his last before he looked back to me and concluded, “Therefore, I best be gettin’ on.”

I didn’t share that I barely knew Max therefore he didn’t mean anything to me (at least I was telling myself that) but Cotton was on the move and Max had bid him good-bye.

“It was an honor to meet you, Cotton,” I called after him, he stopped and turned back.

Then he asked the bizarre question, “Yeah? Why?”

“Because…” I felt funny under his strangely intense scrutiny and finished lamely, “you’re Jimmy Cotton.”

“Just a man.”

“A man with a way with a camera.”

“Lotsa those,” Cotton said dismissively, clearly not one who enjoyed praise from an inexpert like me but probably, I was guessing, from anyone.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly but loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve been to my fair share of exhibitions, only yours made my heart hurt because my system couldn’t process the beauty that met my eyes.”

Max went still at my side and Cotton pulled in such a deep breath, his chest puffed out.

“So,” I kept talking softly, “you’re not just a man with a camera. Not to me. You’re Jimmy Cotton, your photographs gave me that, I loved it, I’m grateful and because of that, I’m honored to meet you.”

He watched me for several moments, the old man cantankerous look he’d perfected slipping, his face getting soft. He tipped his chin up at me, gave a short wave, turned, climbing, and he rounded the bluff.

I watched him go and I suspected Max did too.

I watched longer because I felt Max’s arm give me a squeeze to get my attention.

“Ready to go back?” he asked when I looked up at him.

“No,” I blurted, his eyebrows came up in question and then I blew out a sigh before suggesting, “Can we ride around on the snowmobile for awhile?”

He grinned then offered, “You want me to teach you how to drive?”

I shook my head fast and his grin turned to a smile.

“Baby steps,” I said to him.

“You got it, Duchess,” he replied, walked me to the snowmobile, we got on and Max drove me around for a good, long while and, I had to admit, I enjoyed every, single moment.

* * * * *

I rinsed the lunch plates in Max’s kitchen sink and told myself it was high time that I got back to being a smart, sane, rational person again.

We’d driven around in the mountains on his snowmobile for awhile, Max showing me more views, a few more of his favorite places, all of them beautiful, none of them quite as spectacular as the bluff. I took some photos, even one of Max I told myself I shouldn’t take and hoped he didn’t notice I was taking it. He was gazing over a valley, his handsome profile relaxed and, well… handsome. Too handsome not to capture on film with that valley spread out behind him, so I did and I did it quickly, prepared to pretend I was only taking a photo of the valley.