operation that had been passing fraudulent money in the canyon.
“Let’s hope not,” Hud said with a groan. “I get a call a day about a bad twenty. Someone’s churning them out,” he said getting to his feet. “In the old days it took a lot of expensive equipment and space along with some talent. Now, all you need is a good copy machine. A video online will walk you through the entire process. The good news is that these operations are often small. We aren’t talking millions of dollars. Just someone needing some instant spending money.”
“Well, good luck finding your counterfeiter and, again, I’m sorry about this. You have enough going on.” But as he turned to the door, he said, “What about the painting?”
“The owner swears he has the authenticated original with paperwork on the back.” Hud shrugged. “I would imagine this is nothing more than a cheap prop.”
“Then you don’t mind if I keep it?” Laramie asked.
The marshal chuckled. “It’s all yours.”
Laramie considered the painting on the floor. It was what he would have called Old West art, a rancher on horseback surveying his herd. It was titled “On The Ranch” and signed by an artist named Taylor West. The painting looked expensive to him, but what did he know?
“If someone comes looking for it, I’ll let you know. But I have my doubts.” Hud grinned. “If you ever see that woman again, though... I’d be curious just what color her eyes are since they seem to have made a real impression on you.”
* * *
“REALLY?” LARAMIE DEMANDED when he saw his brother Tanner “Hayes” Cardwell at his house the next morning. “That wasn’t funny what you and the others pulled last night.” He couldn’t help but wonder if the kiss had been planned, as well. It was a nice touch, something that would have had his brothers rolling on the floor laughing. “Hud got a real kick out of it since he has nothing to do but take bogus crime reports. I hope he arrests the whole bunch of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hayes said as he poured coffee for them.
Laramie looked to his sister-in-law and real-estate agent McKenzie. He’d been staying with them this holiday and, while he enjoyed being with them, he was anxious to get his own place. McKenzie had been helping him find a house.
“Tell me you weren’t in on it, too,” he said to her.
“I abhor practical jokes.” McKenzie shot a disapproving glance at her husband. “What did you and your brothers do?”
“Nothing. Honest. I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Hayes said holding up his hands. He looked genuinely innocent.
But Laramie wasn’t buying it. He knew his brothers too well. They’d all treated him as if he was the bookworm who ran their family business, Texas Boys Barbecue. They would all have said he was the brother who never had enough adventure in his life.
So it would be just like them to set this up to add some spice to his life, as they would call it.
“Who was the woman?” Laramie demanded.
“There was a woman?” Hayes asked and grinned.
McKenzie shook her head. “You’ll have to tell me about it on the way to the house, Laramie. I promised the owner we’d be there by nine. You can deal with your brothers later.”
On the way up the mountain, he told McKenzie about what had happened last night.
“That doesn’t sound like something Hayes would do,” she said. “Are you sure your brothers were behind it?”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense. I saw her leaving with a painting. So, of course, I thought she’d stolen it. I guess that’s what I was supposed to think.”
“Are you sure the painting you have is a fake?”
“It doesn’t look like it to me, but I’m no expert by any means. The owner says he still has the original. So maybe I stopped the woman before she could make the switch, but I could have sworn she was coming from the house.”
McKenzie seemed to give it some thought. “Maybe she saw your headlights coming up the road and took off before she could make the switch.”
“I suppose. If she really was a cat burglar. Or it could be just what the marshal thinks it is—my brothers’ idea of a joke.
“I know an art expert if you’re interested in finding out about the painting. Or, if it is by a local Western artist, you could take it right to the source,” she said.
“Have you ever heard of Taylor West?”
McKenzie looked over at him in surprise. “He’s a well-known artist in these parts. He lives farther up the canyon near Taylor Fork. I’m sure if you took the painting to him, he’d be able to tell you if it was his or not.”
“I just might do that.” He looked up the mountain road ahead and thought about what he’d seen last night as he’d come over the last rise. He couldn’t help thinking about the woman. She’d certainly played her part well. If his brothers had been in on it.
He thought about what he’d seen in her eyes just before he started to call the marshal. She’d looked scared. But that could have been an act, too.
“First thing I want to do is see the original,” he said to McKenzie.
“You think the owner lied about having it? Why would he do that?” she asked as the house came into view.
“I don’t know. To collect on the insurance, maybe. He could be in on some scam involving the artwork if this artist is that well-known.”
McKenzie raised a brow as she parked next to a white SUV next to the house. “Cowboy art doesn’t go for that much. A Taylor West might sell for near a hundred grand to the right market. But we aren’t talking the Mona Lisa.”
He didn’t know what the original was worth, but he was anxious to see it. “I looked up the artist’s website last night. Most of Taylor West’s original work sells for twenty-five to seventy-five thousand depending on the size. Some of his older works are worth more.”
“Did you see this particular painting on the artist’s website?”
“No.”
The owner, Theo Nelson, turned out to be an older distinguished man who’d apparently made his money in real estate back East. “If you have any questions, just let me know. I’ll be in my study.” Nelson disappeared up the stairs, leaving them alone.
“So what do you think, so far?” McKenzie asked as they stepped to the bank of windows that looked out on Lone Mountain. The snow-covered peak glowed in the morning sun against a robin’s-egg-blue sky.
“The view is incredible,” Laramie said. Then he dragged his gaze away to look at the paintings on the walls.
“This open concept is nice,” McKenzie said as she went into the kitchen. “Great for entertaining. Granite countertops, new top-of-the-line appliances, lots of cupboard space, a walk-in pantry and even more storage for multiple sets of china and glassware—if you ever get married to a woman who collects both... You aren’t listening to me,” she said when Laramie didn’t take the bait.
“Sorry. Let’s see the second story,” he said, already starting up the stairs.
The next floor had a large second living area, two bedrooms and a study. The study door was partially open, the owner at his desk, head down.
Laramie scanned the walls quickly. The painting wasn’t there.
“Another great view,” McKenzie was saying.
He agreed, taking a moment to notice the house. He liked it. “Let’s see the top floor.” He saw her shake her head, but she followed him up to the third level.
This,