One Hard Ride

by M. M. Bordeaux

  Justin was equally circumspect, giving no indication that he had seen her coming out of Jake’s room wearing nothing but a T-shirt.

  From what she could make out, Jake, Julie, and Mr. Sanchez were negotiating the price of a half-dozen Quarter Horses the Morgans wanted to sell, and the stud fee for a stallion the rancher wanted to bring up from El Paso. The conversation was all in Spanish, of which Amanda had only a rudimentary knowledge.

  Once breakfast was finished and the table cleared, Luke and Julie escorted Mr. Sanchez outside while Jake and Justin lingered over coffee with Amanda. Neither she nor Jake hinted in any way that they had spent most of the night together. But from the looks she got from Rosita, she was certain the housekeeper could see she had the glow of a well-fucked woman.

  Amanda had brought a folder with the PP&C brokerage contract downstairs and presented a copy to Jake and Justin after breakfast. Justin thumbed through the ten-page document quickly then slid it back across the table to Amanda.

  “Jake’s the one to sign this. He’s the lawyer in the family. And he has power of attorney on my behalf.”

  She looked at Jake in surprise. “You’re a lawyer?”

  Jake gave his younger brother a quick scowl and then turned back to Amanda. “I got my jurist doctorate in Austin, but never took the bar. I just wanted to be able to deal with legal issues on the ranch. If Granddad and Great Uncle Bethyl had understood half of what the probate lawyers were doing, they might have avoided this goddamned feud that’s been going on for decades. Just give me a few minutes to read your contract. I’m sure the terms will be fine, but I do want to read it.”

  “Of course. If you agree to the terms and can prove ownership, just sign on the dotted line and I’ll take the copies back to New York for Richard’s signature. We’ll next-day ship a copy back to you.”

  “All right.” Jake took an envelope from the buffet table and handed it to Amanda. “Here are copies of the settlement specifying that Granddaddy was to get the painting, and a copy of Granddaddy’s will leaving the painting to our dad. There’s also a copy of the letter from Great Granddaddy to his mother, telling how he got the painting in the first place.”

  As she took the envelope, Justin got up from the table. “I’m going to make sure Julie cuts out the right horses,” he said. “We don’t want to ship Senor Sanchez the wrong stock.”

  Amanda looked at Justin, wondering what he would be like as a lover. He was definitely handsome and well built. He certainly seemed nice enough. He could be aggressive, as he’d demonstrated with Winslow the day before. But an aggressive lover might be a good thing.

  She suddenly realized she’d been staring intently at the slight bulge in the front of Justin’s jeans. She looked up to find the man staring back at her with a bemused look on his face. Oh God, she thought. Caught looking again. She blinked and blushed, turning away. If Jake had mentioned anything to Justin about the threesome, the younger Morgan was not letting on.

  Justin walked out and Amanda rose from the table, walking into the lodge’s main room. She laid the envelope with the painting’s provenance on her laptop and walked over to look at the painting, giving Jake a chance to study the PP&C contract. Essentially Peabody, Paterson & Cope would have the exclusive right to sell the painting, with a twenty percent commission on the selling price paid by the buyer. If the painting proved authentic, the commission itself would be a small fortune. If the painting was not authentic, that twenty percent might be a commission on nothing.

  The contract also stated that if the PP&C representative, namely Amanda Sloane, felt reasonably sure the painting was a genuine Charles Marion Randell, the firm would cover additional authentication, with the fees deducted from the seller’s total gain.

  Jake read the contract, and then stepped into the main room where she was studying the Randell. “This looks fine,” he said. “My only concern is how long it will take for authentication. We need four hundred eighty thousand by the end of the month.”

  “I’ll be honest,” Amanda said. “Fully accepted authentication by a community of Randell collectors will take time. The collectors don’t want another unknown painting showing up. It decreases the value of the works they already have. And the odds are not in favor of it being genuine. In the past fifty years or so, there have been at least eighteen paintings surface that have been proved forgeries. And only three that have been authenticated as genuine Randells. One of the three is still in dispute by some collectors. The problem with your painting is that there isn’t any reference to it in Randell’s notes or ledgers or letters. No bill of sale, no mention of it of any kind.”

  Jake’s expression had become somber.

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t a Randell,” she continued. “There are hundreds of works that aren’t specifically mentioned anywhere. If the painting is authentic and gets a green light by the Randell authorities at the Montana Museum of Western Art and a couple of independent experts we work with, there will be a few collectors who will have to have it. I wasn’t kidding when I said it might bring twelve million.”

  “And if the painting is a fake?”

  “PP&C walks away and you have a nice piece of art for your mantle.”

  Jake looked at her seriously for a moment. “Do you think it’s real?”

  “It looks like it might be. I’ll need a lot more time with the painting and my laptop. And there is no guarantee we can get independent verification within a month. But I can’t go forward without a signed contract.”

  “Then it’s a deal,” Jake extended his hand.

  Amanda shook it, keeping her grip firm and businesslike. She couldn’t help remembering that she was holding the same hand that had caressed her breasts and slid between her legs just a few hours earlier.

  Jake signed the contract and Amanda put it in her folder.

  “Great,” she said. “Now I’ll get to work. I want to take the painting outside so I can see it in daylight.”

  Jake lifted the painting from the mantle. He handed it to Amanda but held on as she tried to take it from him. With the painting separating their bodies, he leaned in close, looking down at her over the top of the painting’s frame. “I want you to know how much I enjoyed being with you last night. You are an amazing woman.”

  She blushed at the compliment, then looked up into his beautiful eyes. “I enjoyed it, too. More than you know. And I want to reiterate that what happened last night will not influence my analysis of the painting.”

  “Or what might happen tonight?”

  She felt her blush deepen but she held her gaze steady. “Not at all. I would never let personal issues interfere with my work. Ever.”

  “I believe you. But I would like to interject with one more thing.”

  She raised an eyebrow but, before she could speak, Jake leaned down and kissed her, softly at first but with such increasing intensity that she had to hold tight to the painting just to keep from falling down. Whatever point Jake Morgan was making with this kiss involved more than just sex, no matter how delightfully free and fun the sex might be.

  As he pulled away and released the painting, Amanda said, “Wow.” She looked into his eyes, wondering what was there besides desire.

  He smiled and stepped away, lifting his hat off the deer antler rack by the lodge’s front door. As he started out, she studied his denim-clad butt admiringly, holding the painting tight against her chest to ease the tingling in her rock hard nipples.

  As he opened the screen door to step outside, he looked back over his shoulder. “Have you considered spending another night with us?” He didn’t emphasize the word “us,” but there was no doubt what he meant.

  She looked at him, still holding the painting tight against her breasts. “Yes, I’ve considered it.”

  “And?”

  “And I think I’m going to need more time with this artwork than I planned. So maybe I better stay one more night.”

  He looked at her a moment and then smiled and tipped his hat. />
  As he left, she was smiling, too.

  ****

  Jake caught up with Luke and Justin loading a bay gelding into a horse trailer at the north end of the corral. “So what do you boys think about our New York City art appraiser?”

  The two men looked at each other and grinned, then looked back at Jake. “On a scale of one to ten,” Luke said, “I’d give her a twelve.”

  “Oh, hell,” Justin said. “Her tits alone are worth that. She’s a fifteen at least. She is one damn fine looking filly. She can cowgirl up on my pony any time.”

  “I think she wants to do just that.” He grinned at Justin, then at Luke. “You too, fence post.” Luke and Justin’s grins faded and they looked at Jake seriously.

  “She saw you last night with Julie.” Jake said.

  “I know,” Luke said. “We saw her, too. Thought we might put on a show. Let her see how we rodeo in Texas. Then you came along and swept her off her feet.”

  “Literally,” Justin added.

  Jake smiled. “I haven’t done that with a woman in a hell-of-a long time. But Amanda is choice. And whatever she saw the three of you doing, she was as turned on as any woman I’ve been with.”

  “We know,” Luke said. “You left your window open and we could hear her moaning for hours. I don’t know what you were doing, but she sure seemed to be lovin’ it.”

  “What’s up, Jake?” Justin said. “You usually don’t talk about your ladies.”

  “This woman is very special. I think she is just starting to understand what a sensuous, sexy woman she can be. Last night, she told me she was letting go of some inhibitions that have kept her sexually repressed for a long time, and she wants to shed some more. I think we can help her explore some of those boundaries.”

  Luke and Justin looked at Jake, waiting for him to continue.

  “She got really turned on watching the three of you last night. Said a threesome had been a fantasy of hers for a long time. I told her we could arrange something if she would stay another night. She wants to stay.

  “So what do you boys think? Can we help her out?”

  Luke and Justin were both grinning now. “Hell yes,” Justin said. “I definitely want a ride in that rodeo.”

  “Count me in,” Luke added. “I’m always ready to help out a damsel in distress.”

  “One thing though,” Jake said. “Amanda may be a wildcat in the sack, but she has a sweet soft side and I don’t want her to get hurt. In any way. Understood?”

  Both men looked at Jake seriously again. “Understood,” Justin said.

  “Totally,” Luke added.

  “Alright,” Jake said. “I’ll let her know. Nine o’clock tonight.”

  As he walked away, both cowboys were grinning from ear to ear.

  Chapter Eight

  Amanda took the painting out onto the front porch, along with her camera, laptop, Jake’s envelope, and her magnifying glass.

  It was a clear bright May morning, warm enough that she didn’t need a sweater or jacket. She propped the painting up on a windowsill and pulled a wicker porch chair up so she could sit and study it in detail. After taking a dozen digital photographs, she started to open up her laptop, then decided to first read the documents Jake had given her.

  The documents were boilerplate legalese, basically claiming that the painting had been handed down to Jake and Justin, who were to split the proceeds if it were ever sold. In a smaller envelope, she found a photocopy of a hand written letter dated 1889.

  Amanda had no doubt that Odell Morgan’s letter was authentic. Or that Charles Randell had given him a painting. But if the painting on the windowsill was the Randell, or a Randell, the proof would be in the painting itself.

  Amanda returned the letter to the manila envelope and opened up her laptop. She had already done extensive research on Randell and had downloaded all the information about the artist. She now needed to revisit every bit of data so she could to compare it to the Morgans’ painting. She focused on the probability that the painting was a forgery and would study every detail that could prove her right.

  Four hours later, she’d found nothing to convince her that the painting was a fake. If it was a forgery, it was a damn good one.

  At one o’clock, Rosita brought her a lunch of chicken tacos and an ice-cold beer. Amanda paused just long enough to wolf down a couple tacos and half a bottle of beer, then returned to an article about common mistakes forgers made when they copied Randell.

  Often the style of cowboy hat was wrong. Or the signature didn’t match a particular period. She continued through the afternoon, comparing the painting to hundreds of others on the Internet, looking for any anomaly that might indicate a forgery. For the Morgan’s sake and for the sake of PP&C, she hoped the painting was a genuine Randell. Still, she tried to maintain a strong degree of skepticism.

  Intently studying the work with her magnifying glass, she was startled when a voice behind her said, “Pardon me, ma’am.”

  She turned quickly to see Justin on horseback. He had ridden up close to the porch and was smiling at her startled expression.

  “Sorry.” He tipped the brim of his hat. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just thought you might like to take a break and go on a quick ride. You’ve been at that quite a long while.”

  Amanda looked at Justin, then at the horse. The animal was solid black and looked huge, even though she was looking down on it.

  “I…I don’t think so. I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

  “Nothing to it. You can sit behind the saddle and hold on to me.”

  Holding onto Justin Morgan wouldn’t be a bad thing under any circumstances, she thought. Amanda wondered if Jake had already arranged the threesome. He probably had, considering the grin on Justin’s face.

  “Put that painting back on the wall and hop on. We’ll take it slow and easy. I’ll make sure you enjoy the ride.”

  Pun intended, Amanda thought, looking at the cowboy’s sly smile.

  “You can’t come to a Texas horse ranch without riding a horse, can you?”

  What the hell, Amanda thought, admiring Justin’s slim waist and muscular chest and shoulders. “All right. Give me a minute.” She took the painting and her laptop back into the lodge, returning quickly to the porch. “How do I get on?”

  Justin nudged the horse near the steps. “Come down about halfway. You can grab my arm and swing your leg over his back. This is Cricket.” He patted the horse’s neck. “He’s gentle as a lamb. Just climb on up.”

  Amanda stepped down a few steps then grabbed Justin’s arm. As she expected, his bicep was hard and muscular. The swing up was easy and, in seconds, she was straddling the horse’s back, her crotch just behind the back of the saddle. She held Justin’s shoulders for a moment, not sure where to put her hands. Finally, she slid them down to his waist.

  “Ready?” Justin looked back over his shoulder.

  “Ready,” she called, with just a bit of apprehension.

  Justin reined the horse away from the porch and walked him toward the stream that ran behind the stables. The stream was barely twenty feet wide at this point and they crossed with Cricket wading next to a narrow wooden bridge that spanned the quickly running water. On the opposite bank, they started up a fairly steep slope. Amanda held on tighter, worried about sliding off the back of the horse. At the top of the rise, the ground leveled out and she relaxed.

  As Justin guided the horse up the gentle slope, he said, “I reckon you’re looking at the painting out on the porch because of the natural light.”

  “Yes. Makes it easier to more accurately judge the color and brush strokes.”

  “Well, I don’t want to scare you, but you should be cautious. Winslow is such a snake, I wouldn’t put it past him to come back and cause a bit more trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble? Do you think he might try to steal the painting?”

  “There’s no telling what he might try to do. Just be cautious. We once beat Winslow on a
bid for a stallion we wanted to put to stud. Winslow bitched and moaned for a week. Then one day, we found the stallion dead in the south pasture, which butts up to Winslow’s property. There was no healthier horse on this spread. We had the vet do an autopsy, and he said the horse died from a snakebite. But based on the amount of venom he found in the horse’s system, the rattlesnake would have to have been fifty feet long. We’ve got some big rattlers in Texas, but none quite that big.”

  “So you think your cousin injected the venom into the horse?”

  “The vet couldn’t find any bite marks. And a snakebite usually swells up at the puncture wound. There’s no doubt in our minds that Winslow decided if he couldn’t have that horse, neither could we.”

  “That’s horrible! How could anybody do something like that?”

  “Just be cautious. Winslow knows we can’t be around the lodge all the time. So if you see that red pickup of his come through the gate, take the painting inside and lock the door.”

  “Yes. I will. Of course.”

  Justin’s warning about Winslow was disconcerting. Watching out for a nutcase was not in her job description. But then, so far, nothing about this project had been either. For God’s sake, she thought. Here I am riding across the Texas prairie with a man I’ve barely met and will probably be fucking in a few hours.

  Jake turned, speaking over his shoulder. “Ready to trot?”

  Before she could say yes or no, he spurred the horse and she suddenly found her butt bouncing up and down on Cricket’s back.

  “Hey…could we…slow down…a bit?” She had wrapped her arms around Justin’s waist and was clasping her hands tightly in front of his belt buckle. Justin reined back and slowed the horse to walk.

  Amanda tried to admire the hills covered in wildflowers, but it was difficult to ignore the issue with Winslow Morgan. Justin solved that problem when, after another hundred yards, he said, “The stars were really beautiful last night, weren’t they?”

  “Yes…they…were,” she stammered. Had he seen her outside on the balcony?