Roaring Fork Rooker, page 1
ROARING FORK ROOKER
ROARING FORK RANCH
BOOK IV
HEATHER SLADE
CONTENTS
Roaring Fork Rooker
Part 1
Prologue
1. Jw
2. Jw
3. Jw
4. Jw
5. Jw
6. Jw
7. Jw
8. Jw
9. Jw
10. Jw
11. Jw
Part 2
12. Echo
13. Jw
14. Echo
15. Jw
16. Echo
17. Jw
18. Echo
19. Jw
20. Echo
21. Jw
22. Echo
Epilogue
Roaring Fork Bridger
About the Author
Also by Heather Slade
ROARING FORK ROOKER
He left her to honor a promise made in blood.
She survived his abandonment but carries secrets of her own.
Together, they must confront the past that tore them apart and the truths that could destroy their future.
JW
Thirty years ago, I left Echo without an explanation, choosing a dying family member’s desperate plea over the woman I loved. I told myself I was protecting her by disappearing, but I shattered both our hearts. Now, my family obligations are complete, and seeing her again at a small-town parade reminds me that some wounds never heal—and some loves never die. I want a second chance, but first, she needs to understand why I vanished and why I can never let her go again.
ECHO
JW destroyed my world when he disappeared without a trace. One day, we were planning our future; the next, he was gone, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my shattered life. I survived by building a career helping families through crises, convincing myself I’d moved on. But when he walks back into my life after three decades, every defense I’ve built crumbles. He says he can explain everything, that there were secrets bigger than our love. What he doesn’t know is that I’m hiding secrets of my own—ones that could destroy not just our second chance, but everyone we both love.
Part I
PROLOGUE
FLYNN
December 21
My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the manila envelope on Richard “Six-pack” Langley’s conference table. I’d seen one just like it four times before. Once for each of my siblings. And the documents inside had irrevocably altered their lives, uprooted their plans, and forced them to follow directives from an anonymous trustee we now suspected had been appointed by our mother before she died.
I glanced around at my brothers, watching as they traded meaningful looks. All had taken their turns, sacrificing a year of their lives to save our family’s ranch—our inheritance—by fulfilling obligations set forth in the Roaring Fork Trust. When their respective time was up, we’d been called to gather in this same office, hoping it was over, only to learn it wasn’t.
With Holt’s three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day stint recently completed, we’d been summoned again. I didn’t doubt the trust had one final test—for me.
I twisted my wedding ring, thinking of Irish—the love of my life. While I sat, waiting to learn my fate, he was at home with our twin boys, Paxon and Rooker, and our four-month-old baby girl, Rowan Patricia.
Six-pack cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Buck snapped. “Are we here because we’re done or to learn what impossible task our sister will be forced to do?”
The attorney pulled out a single sheet of paper. “I’ve received instructions from the Roaring Fork Trust LLC regarding the final codicil.”
“Goddammit,” Buck swore under his breath while I held mine, waiting for Six-pack to speak.
“It reads as follows, ‘The Roaring Fork Trust further stipulates that Flynn Marie Wheaton Warrick, along with her husband, Paxon Warrick, and their children, must travel to Sangre Vista Guest Ranch in Taos, New Mexico.’”
My brothers tensed around me.
“Unlike the previous stipulations,” Six-pack continued, “Flynn is required to arrive by December 23 of this year and remain until January 23 of next year.”
“A month?” Porter echoed, disbelief in his voice. “That’s it?”
I frowned, waiting for more. “What am I supposed to do there?”
“The codicil only states that you and your family must stay at the ranch for the specified period. No additional requirements are listed.”
“This is suspiciously simple,” Holt muttered, echoing my thoughts.
“Who owns this ranch?” Cord asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Six-pack shook his head. “I don’t have that information. All I know is that it’s a guest ranch, and you’ve been instructed to travel there with your family and spend the holidays.”
The entire Roaring Fork Ranch—50,000 acres, the legacy of generations—would be lost if I refused what seemed like a simple vacation.
“Is there anything else we need to know?” I asked.
“Only that all expenses are being covered by the trustee. You’ll find a confirmation email in your inbox with the details.” Six-pack paused, his expression thoughtful. “I will say, this codicil feels different from the others.”
Buck stood. “Then, we’re done here.”
“Thank you,” I said to Six-pack before filing out of the office and onto the sidewalk, where my brothers formed a protective circle around me. Snow had begun to fall, the flakes catching in my hair.
“This is weird,” I said once we were out of earshot. “Why would I only need to stay a month when all of you had to commit to a full year?”
“And why New Mexico?” Porter added.
Cord rubbed his chin. “When I had to spend my year in New York, it turned out there was a family connection through Mom that none of us knew about.”
“You think there’s someone connected to us at this ranch?” I asked as we walked to our vehicles.
“Let’s talk about this at home,” Buck said, motioning for me to ride with him and instructing Cord and Porter to go with Holt.
I was ten when my oldest brother left Colorado—then believing it was for good. So it wasn’t until three years ago, when he received instructions from the first codicil, demanding that he spend a year living on our ranch, that he and I really got to know each other. Now, I spoke with him almost daily. Especially since his son and my twins were the same age.
“What are you thinking?” I asked a few minutes into our drive.
“The Roaring Fork Trust was registered in New Mexico.”
“I forgot all about that.” I gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. “Do you think my being summoned there has anything to do with the mystery trustee?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Six-pack did say ‘the final codicil.’ It could mean they’re ready to reveal themselves.”
“I’d like to think so,” Buck said. “Not that anything else to do with it has been that simple.”
When we reached the ranch house before our brothers did, Irish was waiting on the porch, holding Rooker while Paxon toddled around his feet. My heart swelled at the sight of them.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It’s almost too good to be true,” I said as we went inside. “We have to spend a month on a ranch in New Mexico. Oh, and we have to leave in two days.”
My husband’s eyebrows flared. “Two days? That means we’ll be there for Christmas.”
“And New Year’s.”
“What’s the name of the place?” he asked, opening his laptop.
“Sangre Vista Guest Ranch.” I looked over his shoulder when he pulled up the website. “Wow,” I said at the same time Holt, Cord, Porter, and Buck walked in.
“Wow, what?” Cord asked.
We all huddled around Irish as he scrolled through the photos. The property was nestled in the mountains outside Taos and had luxury cabins, gourmet dining, spa services, and horseback riding—it looked like something from a travel magazine.
“Well, sis,” Buck said with a warm smile, “I don’t know what this is all about, but at least the place looks nice. I guess it’ll be up to us to hold things together here while you’re gone.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Like any of you would have complained about a month-long vacation.”
“Would have been nice,” Porter agreed, chuckling. “But we’re just glad yours seems shorter than what we went through.”
Despite their teasing, we all knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t just about a vacation. The trust had been orchestrating our lives too carefully for that.
Later that day, my sisters-in-law joined us for a family dinner. The thought that I wouldn’t be with them on Christmas Eve or Day made me weepy. Last year was the first time we all spent the holiday together, and it had been the kind of family celebration I used to dream about as a kid.
“So, New Mexico,” said Irish. “Has anyone in your family ever mentioned connections there?”
Buck repeated what he’d said earlier about the trust being registered there. “That’s the reason the trustee can legally remain anonymous. It’s one of the only states that allows it.”
Irish nodded. “We should check with Decker Ashford and see if he can dig up anything on this ranch.”
I’d met the man a few times, but hadn’t really had many conve
“Already on it,” Buck said, phone to his ear. “Hey, Deck. Need a favor…”
I opened my laptop to check the email Six-pack had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a reservation confirmation for a three-bedroom luxury cabin at Sangre Vista, all expenses paid, from December 23 to January 23.
“Two days isn’t much time,” I murmured.
Irish squeezed my hand. “We’ll be ready. I can pack the boys and me tonight.”
Three years ago, when the trust first revealed itself, I never could have imagined being married, with twin boys. Now, I couldn’t envision facing this without them.
“What do you think is waiting for us there?” I asked softly.
Irish’s eyes met mine. “I don’t know. But your brothers all found something they needed while fulfilling their obligations. Maybe you will too.”
“Well,” I said, standing and lifting Rooker from Irish’s arms. “Whatever’s waiting for us at this swanky place, I’ve got a day and a night to prepare. And, honestly, if all I have to do is spend a month at a luxury ranch with my family to save our inheritance, I think I can manage that.”
My brothers laughed, but their eyes held the same question I knew was in mine.
What was really waiting for us at Sangre Vista Guest Ranch?
I had the strangest feeling that this trip would finally give us answers—not just about the trust, but about secrets that had been hidden for years. Something about the way Six-pack had called this codicil “different” made my skin prickle with anticipation.
Whoever this mysterious trustee was, I had the unsettling certainty that our time in New Mexico would reveal more than any of us was prepared for.
1
JW
Standing on the wraparound porch of Sangre Vista’s main lodge, I watched the road that wound through the pines toward the entrance gate. The December air bit through my sheepskin jacket, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of more snow before evening.
Today was important. The Warrick family would be arriving this afternoon, and everything needed to be ready.
I pulled my jacket tighter and began my morning rounds. The walkways around the lodge had been cleared and salted twice since yesterday’s snowfall. Ice could form quickly at this elevation, and the last thing I wanted was a guest taking a fall.
Inside the lodge, I made my way through the great room, where overnight embers still glowed in the massive stone hearth. I added fresh logs, watching as flames caught and danced against the river-rock chimney that stretched two stories to the vaulted ceiling. Fresh wreaths and evergreen garlands adorned the main entrance, and pathway lights created pools of warm illumination leading to the guest cabins.
My boots crunched through snow when I walked to the stable complex at seven. Inside, twenty-six horses stirred in their stalls, some already munching hay.
Rick, our stable manager, looked up from where he was measuring grain into buckets, pushing his hat back on his graying head.
“Morning, JW. You’re here early.”
“I wanted to check the road conditions before our guests arrive,” I said, though we both knew I could have done that with a phone call to the county highway department. “How are the horses this morning?”
“Good to go. Kit and Carson are ready for sleigh work if you need them, and the riding horses are sound. Weather’s supposed to hold for the next few days.”
I walked down the center aisle, checking each stall. Fantasma, our quarter horse stallion, stretched his neck over the door for attention. I obliged, running my hand along his neck while he snuffled at my jacket pockets, hoping for treats.
“The new guests have young children. Twin boys, about three years old, and an infant daughter.”
Rick nodded. “I’ll keep the gentler horses close to the barn. Maybe set up some supervised visits if the boys are interested. Kids that age love seeing the big animals, even if they’re too small to ride.”
“Good thinking. And, Rick?” I paused at the stable door. “This family is important. I want everything to go smoothly.”
“You got it, JW. We’ll treat them well.”
Walking back toward the lodge, I detoured through the equipment barn, where Michael, our maintenance guy, was already at work.
“Morning, Michael. Everything running okay?”
“Yeah, all good. Pueblo Moon’s holding temp fine.”
“Good. I want you to do another walk-through this morning—check the faucets, test the lights, and make sure the fireplace is working right.”
“Already on my list,” Michael said. “Anything else?”
“They have small children. I want child-safety latches on the lower kitchen cabinets and outlet covers throughout. Also, check for sharp corners at toddler height and loose rugs that could cause slips.”
“I’ll have everything childproofed within the hour.”
By seven-fifteen, I was reviewing the day’s schedule with Sarah, our front-desk manager.
“The Warrick family’s file,” I said.
She pulled up the reservation on her screen. “Party of five, arriving today. Welcome packet ready with maps, activity schedules, and emergency contacts.”
“What about their special requests?”
“Organic milk, decaffeinated coffee always available, and family-friendly meal options. Chef Alton has everything ready.”
“Weather can be unpredictable in December. Make sure we have plenty of indoor activities ready—books, games, maybe coordinate with the kitchen for some cookie-decorating sessions if the boys get restless.”
“Should I handle check-in when they arrive?”
“No, I’ll greet them personally. But please be available in case they need immediate assistance.”
At eight, I convened the morning staff meeting in the main dining room.
“Good morning, everyone,” I began, consulting my notes. “Today, we welcome our only guests for the next month. We’re closing the ranch to all other reservations during their stay.”
Alton leaned forward. “Any dietary stuff?”
“Simple finger foods for the children—they’ll prefer familiar options. We’ll check with the mother in the event she needs anything special for the baby.”
“I’ll prepare a welcome basket with local honey and some of my softer cookies for the kids.”
Our activities director, Lisa, raised her hand. “Shall I look into activities for the toddlers, or do you have something specific in mind?”
“The boys might enjoy seeing the horses, though they’re far too young for riding. Supervised visits to the stable, maybe some gentle interaction with our calmer animals. Sleigh rides if weather permits, but with extra blankets and shortened routes.”
“What about hiking trails?” she asked.
“Unlikely with an infant and toddlers, but the easier paths around the lodge might work for short family walks.”
Jim, the head of security, spoke from his position near the door. “Any specific considerations on my end?”
“Privacy is essential. No staff should approach their cabin unless requested. All maintenance and housekeeping should be coordinated in advance.”
I noticed the questioning looks my staff exchanged when they thought I wasn’t watching. In the years since I’d transformed Sangre Vista from a working ranch into a luxury guest operation, I’d built a reputation for high standards but reasonable expectations.
But today felt different. Today required my personal attention in ways I couldn’t explain to my employees.
After the meeting ended, my next stop was Pueblo Moon itself, situated on a ridge overlooking the valley. It offered breathtaking views while maintaining privacy from the other accommodations.
Michael was already there with his toolkit. “Latches are installed,” he reported. “I’ve also added padding to the corners of that coffee table—it’s the height where a running toddler might hit his head.”
The main living area was spacious and welcoming, with a stone fireplace flanked by comfortable leather furniture. Large windows framed the mountain vista, while warm wood floors were softened by thick woolen rugs.
