The next morning, Rowdy got a call from an unknown number. Although he didn't like robocalls, this was a Nevada number, so he thought he should answer it. Gretchen was still asleep as they'd had a nearly all-night lovemaking session. He was tired, but once the phone chirped, he came wide awake.
"Rowdy Jackson."
"Hello, Rowdy. I'm Pete Nelson, Gretchen's father."
Quite the surprise. What was this about? Rowdy left Gretchen's dim room and went into the adjoining room, ostensibly because his luggage was there. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?"
"I'm sorry to call you about this, but Cindy Sue had a good impression of you as a decent man, so I thought I'd rely upon your discretion."
"I'm not going to keep any secrets from Gretchen, sir. I hope that's not what you want."
"No, not at all. But there is something you should know which Gretchen isn't aware of. I asked Cindy Sue to leave the situation to me, but I'm having little success with it. I need your help."
Until he knew what the problem was, he couldn't help anyone, so unless he was going to leave Gretchen's pa to hang in the wind, Rowdy needed to get down to the meat of the matter. But he was disinclined to trust Pete, if only because there had been a time years ago when the man had chased Gretchen out of her home.
"I'll be honest with you, Pete, I don't much like the way you've treated Gretchen in the past, and the fact is, she won't have anything to do with you. Why should I?"
"Because you care about her. Because even though she won't believe it–and for good reason–I care about her. She's a stubborn young woman, Rowdy. I've tried to apologize but she won't listen to me. We have Cindy Sue as our conduit and that's all. I would have it otherwise. I don't like the way I treated her in the past. It's something I'm ashamed of. But if I can make it up to her in any way, I want to, even if she'll never see me again, or introduce me to my granddaughter."
This was a man with regrets as big as the Rockies. He didn't sound like he was after his daughter's money. Gretchen had mentioned, in one of their brief conversations about her parents, she gave them a stipend of over a million dollars a year, just for their comfort. She did this through her mother, but everyone knew the money was for both of them. To Rowdy, it meant Gretchen wasn't through with her father altogether. There was wiggle room there.
"What do you need help with?"
"It's Neil."
"Gretchen's boyfriend from high school? Amy's father?"
"Yes, that turd. Well, ever since he learned about Gretchen's money, this was about six months ago, he's been coming around here trying to get information out of us about her whereabouts and her friends."
"You think he's after her money?"
"No doubt about it. I assume he's seen the change in our living conditions since she started helping us, because he's asked me for loans a number of times. I always say no, of course."
"Is he in Reno?"
"Yes, he lives downtown somewhere. He's a high school gym teacher."
"Do you think he's a danger to her or Amy?"
"I don't know. It's what I'm worried about."
"Why has no one sicced Bob on him?"
"I don't have a relationship with Bob. I only know about him from Cindy Sue. I haven't told him about the visits, and we haven't told Gretchen because it's a tender subject for her and I don't want her to worry."
"Well, I'll look into it. Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, son. I've asked enough of you. Take care of my little girls."
"I aim to do that. Say… There is something you can do for me."
"Happily. What is it?"
"I'm thinking about buying a property somewhere not too far from Reno. Would you happen to know of anyone selling or a good realtor who specializes in ranch land around here?"
"As it happens, I know my old stead is up for sale again. Apparently, the city guy who wanted to become a gentleman rancher bit off more than he could chew, so he's having to sell the place and move back to the suburbs."
"Tell me about it."
Their conversation lasted several minutes longer as Rowdy got the low-down about the old Nelson ranch. It had been in the Nelson family for three generations before Pete Nelson got sick and the bank foreclosed on it. Pete was better now but didn't want to use Gretchen's stipend to buy the ranch back. He was as stubborn as she and didn't want to take her money. He only did so because of Cindy Sue.
They rung off and Rowdy sat in a chair in his room, thinking about how to handle the situation. He decided to call someone he trusted and get a second opinion. Bear was exactly the right person for this kind of call: even-keeled, temperate, objective, and intelligent.
Chapter 12
"So, Gretchen, you've become an art expert overnight?" Harry's voice was tightly controlled as Gretchen held the phone up to her ear.
"No…"
"Then why the hell did you buy an 'authentic Remington' painting from an online auction, sight unseen, unauthenticated, un-appraised?"
"Well, I really loved the painting and the guy selling it seems legit. He's not?"
"Definitely not. He's a swindler of the first order. When I got the credit card statement with the charge, I checked into it. Do you have the painting in your possession?"
"Yes. It arrived yesterday. Do you think it's a fake? It was very expensive."
"Gretchen, I have to tell you, when I saw this charge, I was very tempted to call you up and fire you as a client."
"Oh, no! No, please don't." The idea of losing Harry was horrible. What would she do without him? She depended on him to give her sage advice and, unfortunately, too often clean up her messes.
"I won't because I care about you. You remind me of one of my daughters. But you must stop doing these things."
"I know. It just looked so pretty. I just bought some art from a gallery in San Francisco, too."
He sighed. "A legitimate gallery?"
"I've done business with them before, so they invited me to their New Year's party. That's where I saw these incredible paintings by a rodeo guy who's a friend of Rowdy's."
"Sounds safe enough. Now about that 'Remington', we'll need to get an authenticator to take a look. It's fairly pointless as at the price you paid, I'm sure it's a fake, but I want you to know what's wrong with it and how obvious it would have been to a person who studied the subject and who knows what he's talking about. A real Remington would cost twenty times what you paid, if you could even find one at a true auction house. You can buy all the art you want, so long as you don't buy 'authentic' masters without authenticating them first. Understand?"
"Yes, Harry. I'm sorry. Can we have Rowdy's artist friend authenticate it?"
"Doubtful. But he might know of an authenticator you'd like to use. I know of one, but he's often very busy and it can take months to get him to look at the art."
"I'll ask and let you know."
"Enough of this. We also need to talk about Neil. I had Bob do some checking on him, and we found out he's deeply in debt and needs to get money quick. He knows he can't get back into your good graces–"
Gretchen interrupted, "Yes, I told him as much."
"Right. It appears his goal now is to take custody of Amy and get child support money from you."
"Ridiculous. What crazy judge is going to give a guy deeply in debt custody over a child when her mother has more than enough money to support her for life?"
"No judge in her right mind would do it, it's true. His weapon is going to be a morals claim. It would tie things up in court and would certainly introduce emotional problems into the mix as Amy would surely know who and what her father is."
"Someday, I want her to know who her father is, but she's too young now. I don't want her to form an emotional attachment to a snail."
"No, of course not. Anyway, I'm expecting to hear from Neil's lawyer sometime soon. My information suggests he's having a hard time securing an attorney, however. Certainly, I wouldn't take the case on contingency and no
ne but the most desperate attorney would, but there's no way he can pay in advance. There are desperate attorneys out there if you aren't too picky."
"Maybe he'll give up."
"Maybe. Well, my dear, I'll let you go. No more big purchases without thinking it through."
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Can I make a charitable donation to the Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund? They help cowboys and cowgirls who've lost their livelihood due to injury or catastrophe preventing them from rodeoing."
"Justin as in Justin Boots?"
"Yes. I'd like to send them a few hundred thousand."
"That's a sizable donation. Do you want to deal with the publicity?"
She sighed. "Not really, but it's a good cause and important to me."
"Very well. I'll check into it. I'll let you know when the donation is made so you can expect the thank-you-let's-have-a-party-in-your-honor phone call."
They said their goodbyes and Gretchen hung up. She loved giving to charities, but this time she was going to do it right and let Harry make the arrangements. Her soft heart made her a target.
After a conference call with Bear and a few days waiting for him to network, Gretchen had the name of an authenticator of western art. He was available and willing to come to Reno to look.
The price for his services and his airfare was half of what Gretchen had already paid for the painting, but if the painting turned out to be legitimate, she would have more than made up for the costs. She wasn't holding out much hope.
A week went by, each day filled with Rowdy and Amy and often her mother, but then the authenticator, a Jonas Arbuckle, came by.
While Melody and Amy played upstairs, Rowdy and Gretchen showed the picture to Jonas in the parlor. "It's badly framed," he began.
"Yes, but that can be fixed," Gretchen said, anxious to get an answer to the burning question.
He peered at the paint strokes, holding up a magnifying glass and studying the way the colors were applied and the way the artists' signature was formed. He cut off the backing paper from the frame and looked at the canvas, testing a bit of the paint, including smelling it. When he was done, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Authentic. Congratulations."
Gretchen felt her jaw drop. How had this happened? "Is it numbered or something? Do we know if it was stolen or anything?"
"I'm not aware of this particular painting. It's not lost from a collection as far as I know. I did some checking based on the photo you sent me and there is no record of it. There were a few paintings mentioned in Remington's diaries which have never come to light. This is likely one of those. Beyond that, I can't claim to know its provenance."
"Oh, gosh! Oh, gosh! Oh, gosh!" Gretchen was nearly hopping around like Amy was prone to do.
"Calm down, princess." She'd forgotten Rowdy was there watching silently. He turned to Jonas. "Can you put the authentication in writing?"
"Absolutely."
"Great," Rowdy said. "Will you send it here?"
"I'll have it couriered."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much," Gretchen said, her hands practically shaking as she found out about her new treasure.
"My pleasure." He gathered up his bag of tools and left.
Gretchen was overjoyed, and just a little bit smug. She hadn't made such a gigantic gaffe after all.
"Skated by that one by the skin of your teeth, princess."
"But I did!"
"You screwed up. You just got lucky, in spite of it."
"Now, don't be a downer on my happiness."
He frowned. "I don't want you to get any darn fool ideas about doing this again."
"Harry told me to cut it out."
"Why you don't listen to Harry more, I don't know. This could have been a very expensive mistake."
"I keep saying I'm sorry. Everyone expects me to say I'm sorry," she said, irritation rising. Why was it always her fault? Wasn't it more the fault of the con men who were always trying to swindle her? How was she supposed to know about all of this stuff? And she couldn't always lean on Harry. She had to be a grown up and make her own decisions. It was her money to dispose of as she saw fit. It was not Harry's money, nor her accountant's, nor her banker's, nor her financial advisor's. If she wanted to fritter it away, it was her business.
Of course, if she was going to behave so badly, Harry would fire her and leave her on her own. As she calmed down, she realized how hard it would be to keep her affairs in order without Harry. And how intimidating it was to have control over all those dollars, employees, and eventually, a grant-giving foundation to support good causes beyond her personal scope. She couldn't manage it all herself. She needed Harry and his cohort.
Sighing, she said what she hoped was her final, "I'm sorry."
"Put the picture over by the writing table."
There was a small, walnut writing table on one side of the room, and a decorative chair next to it. She placed the Remington against the wall near the table. It might even be a good place to hang it eventually. Standing back to admire it, she didn't hear Rowdy come up behind her. Didn't realize he was there until he gave her a resounding smack on her rump. She was wearing a floral top with black skinny jeans, and there wasn't any padding between her butt and Rowdy's hand. The jeans did nothing to keep the sting from the impact.
"Ouch!"
He walked to the parlor doors and closed them, turning the lock as he did. "You deserve a spanking for not listening to Harry's constant advice to think before you spend. No one is denying you the right to shop, Gretchen. They're only advising you to spend wisely and not on a whim–especially when the sums are so big."
She knew she did deserve a spanking. She'd messed up and barely got away with it. Apparently, she wasn't to get totally away from her mistake. Her punishment wasn't going to be financial, is all. "But Rowdy…" An excuse was elusive, so she left it there.
"Pants down and put your belly flat on the tabletop."
It was only a few steps to the table, so she got closer before she slid her pants off over her bare feet. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her black satin panties, but Rowdy shook his head. "This is not going to be a frolic. Let's make it harder for us to veer off track."
Any hope of a fun kind of spanking went out the window. Black satin panties were not going to save her from a rough paddling either. With trepidation, she positioned herself bent over the table, while Rowdy took a position to her left side.
There was no preamble. As soon as she was bent over, he started smacking her behind with vigor. She ouched and ow'd and complained, but Rowdy kept paddling her. "Too bad there's no ruler on this desk," he said.
Although she knew there was one in the drawer, she said nothing about it. All she needed amidst this spanking was a volley of ruler smacks!
The spanks traveled down her thighs almost to her knees, and she kicked her heels up, the pain forcing tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her words garbled. "I won't do it again, I promise."
"Every single time you do, I'm going to spank you. Every. Time. And I'll find a ruler, and when I can't find a ruler, I'll use my belt. You're lucky I don't now."
"No! Please don't. It already h-hurts."
"Your thighs are bright red, but not bright enough. I want you to look at that painting. Look at it right now."
Turning slightly, the painting stared at them like a silent witness to her misery.
"Good. Now keep looking at it, and let it remind you what not to do. Think about the painting and what it could have represented had you not gotten so lucky. Think about the college tuition or trip to Europe or world cruise you might have had instead of a flop."
She blubbered and squirmed as his hand kept crashing down.
"Look at it, Gretchen. Don't you ever look at it and forget what kind of pain it caused, which you brought upon yourself."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't take your eyes off it."
So many spanks went by. So much heat and burning pai
n. So much regret for misbehaving. She sobbed and cried for all she was worth.
"Harry might leave you if you don't stop acting up, Gretchen."
"H-how did you know?"
"It doesn't take a super-genius to figure out he'll eventually have enough and bail on you for being too much trouble."
Sobbing all the harder, she pressed her hot face to the cool tabletop.
"You need Harry. Neither you nor I is equipped to manage so much money."
"I hate the money! I hate it!"
"You don't hate it. You hate managing it."
More spanks fell, though they were slowing. Maybe Rowdy's arm was tired or his hand was smarting. She hoped it hurt him as much as it was hurting her.
"Please stop. Please. Please. Please. I'll learn. I promise."
He stopped suddenly, then rubbed her hot behind gently. Even the warmth of his hand stung and his calluses scratched her tender flesh. "Don't be full of promises, be full of success."
"Yes, sir. Can I get up now?"
"Yes."
As she turned, he pulled her in for a hug and held her as she cried. He even supplied her with his ever-present bandana so she could wipe her nose and face. She cried there, tension being relieved with every falling teardrop, until she had no more tears to cry. Rowdy pressed kisses on her forehead and smoothed her hair.
"Best you squirm back into those tight jeans."
She eyed the ice bucket next to the pitcher of lemonade on the coffee table, but he must have seen where her gaze went. "Uh, uh, uh. No relief. I want you to remember this for a while. Put your pants on then come sit on my lap. I want to talk to you about your ex."
"Neil?" She reluctantly left Rowdy's arms and began to wriggle her way back into her pants. How she wished she'd chosen something baggy to wear!
"Yeah. Come sit."
They made their way to one of the couches and sunk into the cushions. She curled up against his big chest and they were quiet for a minute.
"What about Neil?"
"I got a call about him. Apparently, he's been harassing your parents, looking for you and trying to connect with your friends."
"I wonder why Mom didn't say something, but that must have been a while ago, because he definitely found me."
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