Roaring Fork Roughstock (Roaring Fork Ranch Book 2), page 14
When we arrived, Kaleb was standing near the table where coffee and pastries had been set up. I realized I should’ve called him to let him know what Buck said about every trace of evidence of what we’d done the night of the accident being gone. Except now, with Mav saying he wanted to talk, the lack of evidence might be a moot point.
“He says he’s ready to speak,” I said under my breath.
When Kaleb nodded, I could see the same internal struggle I felt. This wasn’t about either of us. It was about Mav’s journey, and we had to respect that, regardless of the consequences either of us would face.
“The other thing has been taken care of,” I said as quietly.
We took our seats but not together. Like always, Mav and I sat in the back.
We were nearing the end of the meeting, and Mav hadn’t made a move. Just as I thought he might’ve changed his mind, he stood.
The guy standing near the front nodded once. The rules were, you could stay where you were and speak, or move to the podium. Mav stayed put.
“I, um, my name is Henry, and I’m an, um, alcoholic.”
It was the first time I remembered that he’d been named for his dad but used Maverick instead.
“I get that I’m supposed to talk about my problem with alcohol, so, uh, I guess this is where it all started.”
When he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, I remained expressionless. His hands shook as he opened it, and from where I sat, I could see letters cut out of a magazine like the ones Cici had shared. Bile rose in my throat as I read what the note contained before Mav read it out loud.
“Your fault. They were out looking for you,” it read.
“So I, uh, got this the day of my parents’ memorial service. Someone left it for me at the funeral home. It says it’s my fault they died.”
The typically quiet room went completely still, as though everyone held their breath.
“The night they died, I was at a party. First time I got drunk. I was fifteen. Every day since, until the last few, I’ve…done the same thing.” Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the paper he held. “I don’t know of another way to make the pain stop.”
He sat down, hung his head, but handed me the paper. I folded it but didn’t give it back. The meeting concluded, but until Maverick got up, I wouldn’t. Kaleb walked past us, and I made eye contact with him, but not anyone else. And when Mav did stand once the room was empty, I silently followed him out to my truck, used the fob to unlock it, and drove back to the ranch.
Since he didn’t speak, I didn’t either. Maybe that was wrong, but I had no idea what to say.
I parked in my usual spot, not far from the ranch house, and cut the engine.
“You think I should tell Cici.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.
“That’s up to you.”
“She’ll hate me.”
I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder. “You know she won’t, Maverick. The other thing you know, if you dig really deep, is that what’s in this note could very well be someone fucking with you. We don’t know why they went out that night. We’ll never know.”
His tears fell fast, and his body shuddered. “I know.”
Disputing his belief wouldn’t achieve anything, so I kept my mouth shut other than to say he could trust I would never reveal what he’d said either at the meeting or now. “I do think you should tell Cici, but whether you do or not isn’t up to me. It’s your decision, and I’ll respect it.”
Mav used his jacket sleeve to wipe away his tears, then opened the door but hesitated to get out.
His back was to me when he spoke. “Just another one of my secrets you’ll keep. Right, Porter?”
20
CICI
The morning sun barely warmed the February air as I headed toward the south barn to check on Mesa King. Steam rose from the coffee in my travel mug, a gift from my mom, years ago, that I’d started using again recently. The familiar weight of it in my hand made me miss her with an intensity that caught me off guard.
Porter and Mav had left for town early again, like they did most mornings now. Part of me was glad to see my brother looking steadier, more focused, but I couldn’t help but believe that something significant had shifted between them. The way they looked at each other, spoke to each other—it was different somehow.
A light frost still coated the grass, crunching under my boots as I walked. Each day, it felt like the ranch, like me, was holding its breath, waiting for the next blow to come. Even Mesa King’s usual morning greeting wasn’t as enthusiastic, which made me worry that he’d had a setback in his recovery.
I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the conversation coming from behind the barn.
“I could see not wanting to make the kid feel guiltier than he already does, but Cici deserves to know why her parents were out that night,” I heard Shaw say.
“It won’t change anything,” a voice that sounded like Martinez’s responded.
My coffee mug slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, splashing hot liquid across my jacket. The scalding heat barely registered through the shock of what I was hearing. The voices carried clearly in the cold morning air as I pressed my back against the barn wall, my heart hammering so hard I was sure they’d hear it.
“If it were your parents, wouldn’t you want to know? My God, they died thinking their son was in a fatal accident—” Shaw’s voice cracked.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as their words sank in. My knees buckled, and I had to grip the rough wood of the barn wall to stay upright.
“I can’t keep it to myself any longer. There’s a very real possibility that what happened that night wasn’t an accident. The same way Maverick being drunk wasn’t.”
“You have no proof…”
I raced away before hearing whatever else Martinez was about to say. I couldn’t bear more. My feet carried me toward the house, but Porter’s truck wasn’t in its usual spot. He and Mav weren’t back from town yet.
Once inside, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. I needed air. Needed to move. I took off in the direction of the equipment building, where we stored the ATVs that we typically only used in better weather. Maybe a ride would help clear my head and process what I’d just overheard.
The door creaked when I pushed it open, the sound echoing in the still morning air. Dust motes danced in the weak beam of light from the grimy window. I’d barely taken two steps when something caught my eye—a door to one of the side rooms was slightly ajar. It was one we never used, even when Dad was still alive, except for old tack and equipment we meant to repair but never got around to.
My hand trembled as I pushed the door wider. The hinges creaked, echoing in the empty space. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, and its beam revealed signs that someone had been in here.
A battery-operated lantern and a pair of binoculars sat on a makeshift table fashioned from an old crate. Beside it was a rusty metal folding chair.
A familiar scent caught my attention—the same brand of cigarettes Dad smoked before Mom finally convinced him to quit.
My stomach churned as I swept the light around the small space, revealing empty food containers, whiskey, and beer bottles, but not much else besides mouse droppings. There was an underlying stench in the place that I’d say I didn’t recall, but who knows when I was last in here? Maybe before I left for college?
Peering through the filthy, stained blind that covered the only window confirmed it looked directly out at our house. That someone had been in this room, spying on Mav and me—now, on Porter and everyone else who’d shown up to help us—made me feel violated in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
My flashlight beam caught something wedged behind the crate. When I pulled it free, I saw it was a photo of a man, a woman, and a baby I didn’t recognize. I shoved it in my pocket, then backed out of the room, desperate to escape both the physical space and the implications of what I’d found.
There was only one ATV in here, which meant the others must now be stored somewhere else. It was covered in cobwebs, which I brushed away before climbing on, needing to get out in the open air more than ever as today’s revelations alone threatened to suffocate me.
The key turned, but nothing happened. I tried again. The engine caught this time, but something felt wrong. The steering was loose. Too loose.
I was about to turn it off when the ATV lurched forward, completely out of my control. The wheel jerked violently in my hands, spinning uselessly as I fought for control. I screamed as it careened toward the wall. Metal screeched against metal as it flipped, pinning my leg underneath. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and for a terrifying moment, I couldn’t even cry out.
The machine’s weight pressed against my leg with devastating pressure. Through the pain, I noticed something odd—a thin wire that shouldn’t have been there, trailing from the steering column. Someone had rigged this to fail. The realization that, once again, this wasn’t an accident made the panic rise faster in my throat.
Pain shot through my thigh. I screamed for help. The pressure was intense, but I couldn’t tell if anything was broken. My mind flashed to Maverick’s mangled leg after his accident. Would I end up like him?
“Cici!” Porter’s voice carried from outside. Had he and Mav just gotten back? “Where are you?”
“In here!” My voice cracked with panic and relief.
He burst through the door, Steel and Jagger right behind him. Their faces went pale when they saw me trapped beneath the heavy machine.
“Don’t move,” Porter ordered, already assessing the situation with a calm I’d come to rely on. His eyes met mine, steady and reassuring even as I saw the fear behind them. “We’ll get you out.”
It took all three of them to lift the ATV enough for me to slide free. Porter’s hands ran over my leg. “Call 9-1-1,” he shouted while he continued checking for injuries. His touch was gentle but thorough in a way that still managed to send shivers through me despite the situation.
When I tried to get up and my legs trembled, he scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing.
“The steering’s been tampered with,” Jagger said in a low voice to Porter.
“Get Kaleb on the phone,” he replied through clenched teeth before turning to Steel.
He nodded, pulling out his phone as he followed us to the house.
“I want you to stay inside until the EMTs arrive,” Porter said, holding me close as he carried me across the yard. My head rested against his chest, his heartbeat as rapid as my own. “Steel will stay with you.”
The words to argue wouldn’t come.
“What happened?” Mav gasped, jumping up from where he sat at the kitchen table when Porter carried me inside.
“Accident with an ATV,” he said, gently easing me down on the couch. “EMTs are on the way. The two of you need to stay with her while I go back and wait for the sheriff,” Porter said, looking between Steel and Mav. Both of them nodded.
As I sat waiting, the words I’d overheard burned in my throat. Should I tell him that our parents died thinking he was hurt or dead? That someone had used him as bait to lure them out that night? The haunted look in his eyes stopped me. He was finally getting better. More stable. I couldn’t destroy that progress.
I’d tell Porter first. Let him help me figure out how to handle it. But not yet. Not until I could process it myself.
“You okay?” Mav asked, his voice rough with concern.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I shut my eyes and rested against the couch, trying to quell the nauseating feeling in my stomach. According to Shaw, someone had lured my parents to their death with lies about Maverick. And still, someone was trying to destroy what was left of our family. None of the events were isolated. They couldn’t be. The same person who’d put my parents’ lives in peril was still here, still working to finish what they started four years ago. And what had he meant when he said it might not have been an accident any more than Maverick being drunk that night was?
Steel took up position near the door, waiting for emergency services to arrive. His presence was both reassuring and somehow oppressive. The wail of unnecessary sirens in the distance made everything feel surreal, like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
My leg throbbed where the ATV had pinned it, but the pain felt distant compared to the ache in my chest. Mom’s and Dad’s last moments must have been filled with terror for Maverick. They died trying to reach their son, not knowing it was all a lie.
The EMTs said there was no indication my leg was broken, and the pain had already begun to subside.
“You’re damn lucky,” one of them said as they finished checking my vitals and filling out their report.
The pain pill they gave me started to kick in, making me drowsy, but one thought remained crystal clear—someone had orchestrated all this. My parents’ accident, the ranch’s decline, the ATV tipping over on me—they were all connected by an invisible thread of destruction.
The same question—why—had me shedding tears of frustration. I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting back a sob. I couldn’t break down. Not now. Not with Mav so close by, Steel standing guard, and Porter out there, trying to figure out who might’ve tampered with the ATV.
I thought about the photo in my pocket but wouldn’t show it to anyone before Porter. Other than my brother, he was the only person I felt certain I could trust. Maybe I was stupid for believing I could, but I couldn’t bear the idea that I’d be forced to keep all this inside and handle it alone. I needed him. I just prayed that doing so wouldn’t destroy me further.
“Steel?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you tell Porter it looks like someone has been watching us from out there? In one of the side rooms?”
“Will do,” he said, typing something on his phone.
The weight of the ranch and all its secrets was becoming too much for me to bear. The place that had been my home all my life began to feel like a trap, and we were all caught in it.
21
PORTER
“Hey, Porter?” Jagger called out when I returned to the building where the image of Cici being pinned under an ATV would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Where are you?”
“In here. On your left,” he shouted. “Steel messaged that Cici said she thinks someone has been in here recently.”
I pushed the door open wider to walk inside when he pointed to a chair that sat near a window as well as a pair of binoculars.
“Watching the ranch house,” I muttered.
“Watching everything,” Jagger concurred.
I was about to leave the room and take another look at the ATV when I heard him gasp.
“Jesus, look at this,” Jagger said, pulling back the corner of an old throw rug.
My phone’s flashlight’s beam revealed dark stains which had seeped into the concrete floor. “Is that blood?”
Jagger looked up at me. “Sure looks like it.”
“Human?”
“Impossible to say for certain without testing the DNA, but yeah, it’s likely.” Jagger stood and took photos with his phone. “Based on the splatter, I’d say there’s a good chance someone or something died in here.”
The thought made my skin crawl and turned my stomach. I’d never been much of a hunter, even though it was a big sport in this part of the state.
“We need samples,” I said, pulling out my phone to see how far out Kaleb was. “And photos of everything.”
“Already on it,” Jagger said, holding up evidence bags. Apparently, Decker had made sure his team came prepared for anything.
I sent a message to Buck. Where are you? I asked.
RF. What’s up?
Something at Morris Ranch you need to see.
Wrapping up a few things here, then I’ll head that way.
I glanced up and saw Martinez walk in.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking in the direction of the room where Jagger was.
“Accident with an ATV. This is a crime scene, so I’m gonna need you to step out.”
His eyes opened wide. “Was someone hurt? I saw an ambulance headed this way when I was out in the south pasture.”
“Cici, but she’s okay.” He still hadn’t moved, so I walked over to him. “Juan, I need you to step outside. The sheriff is on his way now.”
“Where’s Cici now? Up at the house? Is there anything I can do?”
“Not right now. You can get back to work. If there’s anything else we need, I’ll let you know.”
His eyes scrunched, and I thought he might say something else. Wisely, he walked out instead.
I sent a message to Steel. Don’t let Martinez in the house.
Roger that, he responded.
No one comes in without my say-so.
Understood.
Something about Martinez’s behavior had my hackles up. Rather than wait for Buck to arrive, I called him.
“What do you know about Juan Martinez?”
“Meaning?”
“What’s his background?”
“No idea, but I can ask around.”
“Yeah, do that.”
“You got it, Port. Hey, are you all right?”
I saw Kaleb pull in. “I gotta run. The sheriff just arrived. Just get here as soon as you can.”
I ended the call and met Kaleb halfway between where he parked and the equipment building.
“How’s Cici?” he asked.
“Steel sent a message, saying the EMTs had checked her out. No apparent injuries. But there’s something else you need to see.”
He followed me inside, and I pointed to where Jagger was collecting evidence.
“Is that blood?” he asked, stepping into the room.
