She stood painting in the darkness by the light of a candle as hundreds of golden fireflies flickered across the prairie. The milky glow of the galaxy shimmered across the stars glittering in the sky. The air was hot and humid and she could hear the chirping of the crickets and she could hear the hooting of the owls. She was wearing a new shirt and some new trousers and a new pair of calfskin boots. Her hands and her wrists were streaked with wild smears of paint.
She became aware of the approaching glimmer of a lantern.
“Clara, you’ve been out here since sunrise,” Theodore called.
The amber light of the lantern swung across the canvas as he reached the easel.
“Just look at how beautiful the prairie is at night,” Clara said.
“I’m worried you may become ill if you continue working like this,” Theodore said.
“This has been the greatest day of my life,” Clara said.
He hesitated, glancing at what she was painting.
“There’s a plate of supper waiting for you when you return,” Theodore said.
And then gripping the handle of the lantern, he toddled back through the grass toward the inn.