One Hard Ride

by M. M. Bordeaux

  Jake got out of bed and discarded the condom in the hot stove. He turned to help Amanda but she was already up, pulling the blanket off the bed. She held it up by one corner, handing him another corner. As they stretched the blanket between them, her pulse quickened. Christ! This looks exactly like the one in Taos. PP&C dealt primarily in paintings and sculpture, not artifacts. But a blanket worth almost half a million dollars had caught her attention.

  She’d been at the auction to sell three Southwestern School paintings to a Santa Fe client. She’d been afraid his purchase of the blanket might mean he would back off on the paintings. But he hadn’t. The man was among the newly rich Chinese industrialists and had bought all three paintings, the blanket, and half a dozen Hopi pots.

  Pots! The pots on the shelves behind the stove! She handed her corner of the blanket to Jake. “Hold this just a minute,” She said, stepping over to look at the clay pots.

  “Maybe I should fold this up.” He nodded at the blanket.

  “Yes. But be careful.”

  He chuckled. “Well, I don’t think I’m going to break a blanket. What are you looking at now?”

  “These pots. They might be valuable, too.” The pots on the shelves were nicely designed, elegant with minimal decoration. She had no idea if they were worth anything or not. But she would take one back to the ranch and send a picture of it to Santa Fe as well. She selected the one she thought was the nicest example and turned to Jake. “Okay,” she said excitedly. “Let’s get dressed and head back.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Amanda darlin’, it’s stopped hailing but it’s still raining like hell out there. We can’t go back yet.”

  She looked at him for a minute then smiled broadly. How had she not noticed? The wind and rain were still raging, rattling the shutters and howling over the cabin roof. He had laid the folded blanket on a top bunk and was standing facing her, his legs apart and hands on hips. She looked at his grinning face then down to his cock. It was impressive even soft and resting against his thigh.

  “Well, we’re still naked,” she said, putting the pot back on the shelf. “Maybe we can find something to do until the storm does die down.” She continued to eye his cock, licking her lips with a sensual I-want-to-eat-you swipe across her upper lip.

  “Sounds good. But I get to go first.” He shoved his spurs off the table, then turned and picked her up by the waist. He sat her on the empty surface with her bottom just at the table’s edge, her legs hanging down. When he knelt between her legs, she smiled, then leaned back on her elbows and spread her knees. Jake lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders as he gently kissed the iodine coated puncture wounds. His tongue traced a wet path higher up, finally reaching the smooth, swollen lips of her pussy. She was already wet from her other orgasms, but he soon had her dripping with arousal.

  Over and over he licked up and down her slit, varying the pressure of his tongue, using the tip to slip between the slick folds, then flattening his tongue for an upward swipe. At the apex of each stroke, his tongue and lips played with her clit, circling it wetly or nibbling and sucking it with his lips. In minutes, she was close to orgasm, but he kept her at the edge, not letting her slip over into climax.

  After interminable minutes of Jake’s tongue and lips teasing her, he slid one finger into the wet folds of her pussy, then another. Shoving his fingers in and out, he sucked and licked her clit vigorously. Now nothing could pull her from the edge, and she cried out with the force of her orgasm. Her fingers clutched his dark curls, holding him tightly against the throbbing flesh between her legs as she bucked her ass up and down, fucking the fingers he had buried inside her sheath.

  As the fiery waves of her orgasm subsided, she lifted her head from the table and looked down at Jake. He was smiling mischievously, his lips and chin glistening in the lamplight from her copious juices. With great effort, she uncrossed her ankles, which she had unconsciously locked behind his back.

  “Oh my.” She sighed contentedly “Was that me screaming and moaning? Or was it the storm?”

  He grinned. “I’m not sure. Your thighs were so tight on my ears, I couldn’t hear.

  Blushing, she said, “Sorry. It’s just…Well, it’s never been that good for me. Orally, I mean. That was incredible!”

  He smiled and stood up, wiping his lips and chin with his bandanna. “Happy to be of service.”

  She grinned. “Any chance we could have an encore tonight?”

  “Amanda darlin.’ You can have anything you want tonight.” He stood up and stepped back, helping her off the table. As her feet hit the floor, he took her in his arms and looked intently down at her face. “I mean that,” he said. “I want you to have everything you want tonight. Or anybody.”

  She studied his expression, the steadiness of his gaze. She looked at him just as seriously. “The anybody I want is you. Just you. We’ll work out the anything and everything later.” She reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock. “In the meantime, you’re definitely going to need a hand with this.”

  He grinned. “I’d really like that. But the storm has about passed. We should get back to the lodge. You can suck my cock tonight.”

  She smiled. That would be something she would look forward to.

  Amanda’s attention returned to the Indian pot and blanket. She was eager to send photos to her collector in Santa Fe. In minutes, they were both dressed, their clothes still damp but not terribly uncomfortable.

  He closed up the stove, turned off the oil lamp, and closed the cabin shutters. As he brought Ginger around from the lean-to, Amanda carefully rolled the clay pot up in the blanket. She gave him the bundle to hold, while she swung up behind the saddle, then held it tightly in one arm while she held onto him with the other.

  In minutes, he had Ginger at a brisk trot headed back toward the lodge. The bouncing hurt but she didn’t want to slow down. The storm clouds were drifting off to the east, billowing white now as the late afternoon sun set the wildflower-covered prairie alight with millions of sparkling rain-drop diamonds.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They had just crossed the cattle guard and started down the slope to the creek when Amanda yelled, “Oh God, Jake! Look.”

  A puff of black smoke wafted from the front porch where Amanda had been working with the painting.

  The second he saw the smoke, he jammed his spurs into Ginger’s flanks, surprising the mare into an all-out run. They leapt the creek and were at the lodge in minutes, Ginger kicking up clouds of dirt and mud as he reined her to a skidding halt. The painting was propped up on the windowsill and engulfed in flames.

  Jake swung his right leg over the saddle horn and slid off, yelling at Amanda to give him the blanket.

  “No!” She refused, holding the blanket tight against her body.

  He turned toward the porch. The painting was already half destroyed, only a portion at the bottom not yet burned. Rosita suddenly ran out through the screen door with a fire extinguisher. Jake took the steps two at a time and jerked the extinguisher from her hands. Turning it toward the painting, he doused the flames in seconds.

  “How did this happen?” he demanded angrily.

  “I don’t know, Señor Jake. I was in the garden. I smell smoke and come to look. I don’t see no one or nothing. Just the painting on fire. So I go to get the extinguidor de incenddios.

  Jake turned to see that Amanda had managed to slide off Ginger without dropping the blanket and pot. Still clutching them to her chest, she walked up the steps to stand beside them.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry…” She reached out to touch his arm but he jerked away.

  He turned toward her, his face livid with anger. “Goddammit, Amanda! Why did you leave the painting outside and just walk off? A fucking multi-million dollar painting up in smoke!”

  “Jake. I didn’t leave it outside! I put it on the mantle before I went to the barn. I swear. You can ask Luke.”

  He wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. �
�I don’t need to ask Luke anything. The damn thing is right where you were looking at it this morning.”

  “Jake, you’ve got to believe me. I put it on the mantle and locked the door when I left. It was right next to my phone and laptop.” She opened the screen door and stuck her head inside. “Look, Jake. My laptop and phone are still there. Right where I left them.”

  Rosita was wringing her hands, obviously distraught over his anger. “Es true, Señor Jake. Look. Someone broke the front door. The lock is broken.”

  Jake almost turned his anger toward Rosita, but eased up when he saw tears welling up in the housekeeper’s face. He looked at the door. Shit! The lock is broken. And there was a distinct boot print on the door next to the lock where someone had kicked the door in.

  “Rosita, did you see anyone?” As if he didn’t know.

  “No, Señor Jake. I was in the garden. Picking tomatoes for salsa. I didn’t see nobody.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I know who it was, and I should have let Justin kill him earlier. Now I’ll have to do it myself.” He turned and pushed his way through the door.

  Amanda followed him into the lodge. “Wait, Jake. About the painting. I need to tell you…” She set the blanket and pot on a club chair and followed him into his office.

  Jake unlocked the gun rack and took out a hunting rifle. As he started back outside, Amanda grabbed his arm. He jerked away.

  She stepped in front of him. “Jake, please. About the painting. I’ve got to tell you…”

  “What, Amanda? Our insane cousin just destroyed a million dollar painting and our future. What the fuck can you tell me that will fix that? Get the hell out of my way!” He moved to step around her but she blocked his way again.

  “Jake. For God’s sake, listen to me!”

  He looked down at her and saw the sincerity of her plea.

  “The painting is a forgery, Jake. It’s a fake.”

  “What? I don’t believe you.” But he did. He knew she was telling the truth. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

  “I will be as soon as I hear from my office. Let me check my phone messages.” Jake watched from the door of his office as she walked quickly into the main room and got her phone from the mantle. She read her text messages on her way back. He could see from her expression that the news was not good.

  “How do you know it’s a forgery? Yesterday everything looked good.”

  “Come outside and look at it with me. Maybe I can show you.”

  The painting, or what was left of it, was still sitting on the windowsill.

  “There are two things that made me suspect,” she said quietly. “You can see them both in the unburned areas.”

  Jake looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

  “Look at the signature here in the lower left corner. See the nine in the 1889. How the down-stroke curls to the left?”

  “Yeah. A lot of people make nines like that. I do myself.”

  Yes. It is common. But not with Randell. His down-stroke was always straight. Never curved.”

  “Never?”

  “Never,” she said with certainty. “Now look at the brand on the cow in the background.” She wet her finger and wiped soot off the cow’s rump. “What would you say it is?”

  He leaned forward and looked closely at the brand. It was small but he could easily make out a capital T attached to the lower half of a circle. “I’d say that was a rocker T. Or maybe an anchor.”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, there was never a ranch in Montana with a brand like this. Especially not in the Judith Basin where Randell lived and worked.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Maybe he just made it up.”

  “He never made up a brand. He painted everything exactly from life.”

  “I guess that’s not good is it?”

  When she answered, he caught the faint glimmer of a smile. “Does it matter much now anyway?”

  “No. I guess it doesn’t. But why didn’t you tell me about this earlier. We’ve been together almost all day long.”

  “It was hard not to tell you. But I didn’t want to say anything until I was absolutely sure. I wanted to hear from my office first.”

  “And your office confirmed your suspicions?”

  She held up her phone so he could read the text message. “srry to say u r right. wrng sig—wrng brand.”

  He looked at her, his mind in turmoil. He had worked hard not to get his hopes up, but he had, and now he felt like he had been kicked in the gut by a horse. He and Justin would have to figure out another way to save the ranch. And the prospects of that seemed damn bleak. He glanced up at Amanda, saw the sadness in her eyes, saw she was about to tear up.

  He put an arm around her. “Don’t cry, Amanda. You’ll get me started and cowboys have a rule not to cry in front of anybody but their horse.”

  She sniffed and grinned up at him. “Do you think your cousin did it? Why would he burn a painting that could have been worth a fortune?”

  “Of course Winslow did it. Who else? The man is as crazy as a moon-struck calf. He’s capable of anything. He’d rather destroy something than let us have it.”

  As they walked back inside, he said, “Listen, let me tell Justin about what’s happened. And I’d better lock the gun cabinet and hide the key.”

  ****

  Jake took what was left of the destroyed painting into his office. “I want to show Justin the wrong signature and brand before we toss the damn thing away.” At the door to his office, he turned to her and said, “Amanda, I’m sorry I accused you of leaving the painting out. I was just so damned mad…”

  “I know, Jake. It’s all right.”

  “And about tonight. I don’t think I’ll be very good company. Can I get a rain check?”

  “Of course, Jake. I understand.” She picked up her computer, the blanket, and the pot and went up to her room. She was thankful the madman hadn’t trashed her computer. At least she’d kept Jake from putting out the fire with the blanket. She wasn’t certain of its value yet, but she couldn’t take a chance on the blanket being damaged or destroyed too. No matter how mad Jake got. If only…God, it had to be what she thought it was. It had to be!

  She removed the pot and unfolded the blanket on the bed. Standing on a chair at the end of the bed, she took several pictures of the blanket with her camera. Using a towel to handle the pot, she set it on the dresser and took several more pictures, turning the artifact so she could show all sides. Looking in her phone directory, she found Chi Long in Santa Fe and sent him the best of the shots she had taken.

  Her text simply read, “Ni hao, Chi. Interested? Get back to me by e-mail. I am at the Morgan ranch in West Texas and the phone service is spotty at best. I look forward to hearing from you. Amanda.”

  She sent the pics, hoping that Chi would be in the States and not in China. Rosita had washed and ironed her clothes so she took a shower and put on clean jeans and a tank top. She could hear the housekeeper ringing the triangle chime on the front porch to announce supper, but she had no appetite. In fact, she was numb. Just a sad emptiness when she thought of Jake and Justin losing their ranch. At that level, she couldn’t help being emotionally involved, no matter how professionally distant she remained.

  The sun was dipping low in the west and she stepped outside to watch the incredible sunset that seemed to follow every rainstorm. As she walked out onto the balcony, she saw Justin and Julie drive up in the ranch’s black pickup truck. Julie walked toward the foal barn carrying a large package and Justin walked into the lodge. A moment later, she heard an unintelligible yell followed by the office door slamming shut. She winced. I’m glad I’m not there for that conversation.

  As the sun finally set, Amanda went back into her room and checked her e-mail to see if she had a response from Chi Long. There was nothing. She poured herself a large brandy and then sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the open laptop, willing Long to e-mail, willing the e-m
ail to be good news.

  As she tried to organize the mental scramble in her head, there was a knock on the door. To her surprise it was Julie. She was even more surprised by what the young cowgirl was wearing.

  Julie’s outfit consisted of a faded hip-hugger denim miniskirt so short it barely covered her crotch. The belt loops held a wide leather belt with a large shiny silver buckle. The buckle was engraved with a beautiful horse head and “Quarter Horse Champion—2006.” The waist was so low Amanda figured it would barely cover Julie’s pubic hair, if she had any. Which Amanda personally knew she didn’t.

  Several inches above the mini-skirt, a rhinestone-studded horseshoe on a silver chain dangled from her bellybutton. Her top was a V-neck cotton tee with the bottom cut off just below her breasts. The shirt read, “Save a Horse—Ride a Cowboy.” It was obvious Julie’s small breasts were not covered by a bra. A pair of fancy red boots and a black cowboy hat completed her outfit, which Amanda could only describe as cowgirl slutty.

  “What’s up, Julie?” Amanda really hadn’t had a chance to get to know Julie, except at the dinner table one night. Seeing her fuck Luke in the breeding barn and then fuck Luke and Justin gave Amanda a sense of intimacy with the young woman, but they hadn’t really become acquainted.

  Julie smiled. “What’s up is you, Mandy. You’re going to cowgirl up and join us at the Rusty Buckle. You need a night out. And we need to show you a little Texas hospitality.”

  “I don’t think so, Julie. Who’s we anyway?”

  “We is me and Luke. Luke is just driving. Once we get there, it’s every cowboy and cowgirl for themselves.”

  “Really, I can’t go. I’m waiting for an important e-mail. And I don’t have anything to wear. Plus, I need to be here for Jake. In case…”

  “Honey, Jake and Justin are locked in their office, and it looks like they will be there for a long time. Everybody on the ranch knows the painting got burned. Right now there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it, so you might as well cowgirl up and get on with life. Nothing gets a girl out of a funk like a margarita and a turn around the dance floor with a two-stepping cowboy. You may as well give up girl, cause I’m taking you to the funnest roadhouse in Texas.”