Painters' lives of quiet desperation, rickety Rocky Mountain relationships, and the unending difficulties faced by black men in white America make up the bulk of these nine stories (three previously published), as Everett (see below; God's Country, 1994, etc.) returns to familiar themes with his usual subtlety and eccentric comic flourishes. The painter in ``Cerulean'' breaks down when an encounter with an indigent makes him feel like a schmuck: as a result, he gives in to a long-suppressed urge to eat paint, which awakens his wife's latent hostility; the Denver painter in ``Dicotyles Tajacu'' has already lost his wife to a dermatologist, so he burns his latest work and hits the road for Laramie, along the way connecting with a stuffed wild pig missing an eye; the Colorado painter in the title story breaks into his D.C. gallery to rescue a major work just sold to someone he despises—and distrusts his new wife when she says she understands. The black bullrider in ``Turned Out'' has the strangest experience of a lifetime on a killer bull, while the black cowhand in ``Squeeze'' has too close an encounter with his one-legged friend's dentures, thanks to a racist prankster. Meanwhile, a rancher catches his wife cheating on him, then learns he's dying of stomach cancer (``Throwing Earth''). In ``Wolf at the Door,'' another rancher with trouble in his marriage and a love of wild animals struggles to find a way to reconcile himself to his life. The thematic and situational similarity in these modern tales of western woe provides continuity and some strength, but ultimately the reiteration keeps any one story from emerging from the pack. Vignettes nicely crafted, and eminently readable, but none worthy of superlatives.