Roaring Fork Wrangler (Roaring Fork Ranch Book 1), page 21
The sensation of knuckles meeting bone shot up my arm, a burst of pain that I barely registered through the surge of adrenaline.
A woman nearby shrieked, and several heads turned in our direction. Remi straightened, looking ready to lunge at me, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with anger, but Ben grabbed his arm.
“You fucking hit me!” Remi shouted, drawing more attention.
Hospital security approached fast, led by a guy I recognized from high school. He’d grown into his lanky frame, now filling out the security uniform with broad shoulders.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, his eyes widening as he recognized Ben. “Holy shit, you’re Ben Rice!”
Ben cleared his throat. “Sorry about the disturbance. My friend here”—he nodded toward me—“had a justified reaction to some extremely inappropriate comments about a sick child.”
The guard’s eyes shifted from Ben to me. “Wait. Are you Holt Wheaton? Damn, man, I hardly recognized you. Heard you were playing with CB Rice now. My wife and I have tickets to your Valentine’s show.”
I flexed my stinging hand, feeling the skin pull tight across my knuckles. “Thanks for the support.”
The guy, whose name I still couldn’t remember, looked at Remi, who was holding his jaw, murder in his eyes. “Want me to escort this one out?”
“No,” Ben said firmly. “We need him—unfortunately. He’s here to take a bone marrow test for a child who needs a transplant.”
The guy’s expression changed immediately, understanding dawning. “Luna Marquez? My daughter’s in her class at school and talks about her all the time. Tell her they all miss her. She’s a great kid.”
A rush of warmth filled my chest at the mention of the sweetest, most precious little girl I’d ever met. She’d touched so many lives in her short time in Crested Butte.
Ben stepped closer to Remi, his voice low and cold, but carrying enough that I could hear every word. “You have two choices. Take the test right now, or I fire you on the spot. And I’ll make damn sure everyone in the industry knows exactly why. You’ll never work with another band again.”
Remi’s face paled beneath his well-crafted stubble. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Ben replied, his posture rigid with anger. “After what you said about her mother? I absolutely would. Don’t forget who brought CB Rice to national attention. The contacts are mine, Remi. The relationships are mine. Cross me on this, and you’ll quickly find out how thoroughly I can end your career.”
The standoff lasted several seconds as tension crackled between them. I’d never seen Ben like this—using his influence as a weapon. This was a side of him that explained how he’d risen to the top of a cutthroat industry.
Finally, Remi’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Where do I go for the fucking test?”
I pointed down the hall. “Lab’s that way.”
“I’ll walk with you,” said Ben.
“Your hand okay?” the guard asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be all right. Sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Pete, and don’t worry about it. You’ve got a lot on your mind right now.” He motioned to my hand. “You gonna be able to play guitar?”
I flexed my fingers, wincing as pain radiated through my knuckles. “Not right at the moment, but soon enough. I gotta tell you, it was worth it.”
“That felt good to watch. The guy seems like a huge asshole,” Pete muttered.
Seconds later, Ben was back. “I told the woman administering the test to make sure it hurt like hell.”
“It’s the same as any blood draw.”
Ben chuckled. “I know, but seeing Remi panic was worth it.”
Pete excused himself, and we moved to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from curious onlookers. Ben ran a hand over his face.
“Did you mean what you said about firing him?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “But not until we get the test results. If he’s a match and they need him for the transplant, I want to maintain some leverage.”
I clasped his shoulder, feeling a new respect for the man I’d known all my life. “I can’t thank you enough for this. For bringing him here, for standing up for Luna and Keltie.”
Ben’s expression darkened, guilt flickering across his features. “Don’t thank me. I should have done more when Keltie left the tour. She was the best sound engineer we ever had—truly gifted. Then she was gone, and Remi never gave an explanation as to why.” He shook his head. “I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t do a damn thing about it.”
“You’re helping now,” I said, recognizing the weight of regret in his eyes. “That’s what matters.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the least I can do.”
After ten minutes, Remi emerged from the lab, looking every bit as surly as before. The security guard followed behind him, keeping a watchful eye. After Remi stalked past us without a word, Ben said a quick goodbye, then followed him out.
I returned to Luna’s room, my hand throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Despite the pain, a sense of grim satisfaction settled over me. The punch had been worth it—more than worth it—for the things Remi had said about Keltie. Lost in thought, I almost missed the elevator doors opening as I approached. Keltie stepped out, her face creased with worry.
“Holt? I was looking for you.” Her eyes drifted past me, widening as she caught sight of Ben and Remi right outside the entrance. “Is that—”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Ben brought Remi in. He took the test.”
Her gaze dropped to my right hand, which I’d been absentmindedly flexing. “What happened?”
“Let’s say I had to knock sense into him.”
Keltie’s eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might be upset. Then a small, fierce smile touched her lips. “Good.”
I laughed softly, relieved she understood. “I promise I’ll tell you everything later. How’s Luna?”
Her smile faded, shoulders slumping with the weight of worry. “Not great. She’s asking for you. Dad’s with her, but she keeps saying she needs you to finish the story.”
“Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”
We got on the elevator, and as the doors closed, Keltie wrapped her arms around my waist. I held her close, feeling her exhale shakily against my chest, her body fitting against mine as if it belonged there.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For looking out for us.”
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in. “Always, darlin’. Always.”
“I only wish I would’ve seen you hit him.”
Seconds ago, I didn’t think I could laugh, but I did.
25
KELTIE
Crested Butte had transformed into a place I barely recognized on Valentine’s Day. Elk Avenue bustled with activity as vendors set up booths selling hot chocolate, handmade jewelry, and festival food. Storefronts displayed red and pink hearts alongside concert posters, and people streamed toward the amphitheater from every direction.
I guided Luna through the crowd, her small hand warm in mine. The scale of what friends, family, and even strangers had created for my daughter overwhelmed me. Flynn’s modest fundraiser idea had grown into something massive—hotels were booked solid, and people had flown in from across the state.
“Mommy, look!” Luna tugged at my hand, pointing toward a booth where Echo West was arranging pamphlets about the Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity. “It’s Miss Echo!”
Echo looked up, her face brightening. “There’s my favorite brave girl!” She came around the table and knelt to Luna’s level. “How are you feeling today, sweetheart?” It warmed my heart that, after our first meeting, she stopped in at the hospital periodically to see how we were doing and also to check on my daughter.
“Good!” Luna declared, twirling to show off her special outfit—a purple dress with silver stars that Sam had brought with her from New York specifically for today. It matched her favorite bandana perfectly.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” Echo said, her eyes meeting mine with silent understanding. We both knew how rare these good days were, how fleeting Luna’s energy could be.
“Miss Echo, can I help give out the flyers?” Luna asked, already reaching for the colorful brochures.
Echo glanced at me for permission.
“Just for a few minutes, Luna-bug,” I agreed. “Then we need to find our seats.”
“How’s she really doing?” Echo asked quietly, her eyes never leaving Luna.
“Better than last week,” I admitted. “The doctors are amazed at how well she’s responding. Her numbers are improving, though we’ve got a long road ahead.”
“Understood,” said Echo. “When do you get the father’s bone marrow test results?”
My throat tightened. “Soon, I hope.”
“There you are!”
I turned to see Sam hurrying toward us, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Beau followed her, carrying what looked like an enormous gift bag.
“Sam!” I exclaimed, embracing her. “Luna loves her dress!”
She smiled. “We have something else to go with it.”
Before she could continue, Luna spotted them and squealed. “Miss Sam! Mr. Beau!” She abandoned her post at the charity booth and launched herself at Sam, who caught her in a hug.
“Hello, beautiful girl,” Sam said, kissing the top of Luna’s bandana. “I brought you something special.” She glanced at Beau, who extended the gift bag toward Luna.
Her eyes widened as she peered inside. “A unicorn cape!” She pulled out a shimmering purple cloth. “Can I wear it now, Mommy? Please?”
I laughed, unable to deny her anything that brought such joy to her face. “Of course.”
Sam helped her fasten the cape around her shoulders. “There. Now, you’re officially the most magical person at the entire concert.”
Luna twirled again, the cape fluttering around her. “I love it!” She wrapped her arms around Sam’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” said Sam. Her gaze met mine over Luna’s head, and I recognized the emotion there—the same fierce love I felt for my daughter had somehow extended to this found family we’d created.
Beau checked his watch. “We should head to our seats. The first act starts in fifteen minutes.”
Luna stood by my side, her cape billowing dramatically with each step. “Can we get ice cream, Mommy?”
“After the first set,” I promised. “Let’s go sit down first.”
We said goodbye to Echo, who would be joining us later, and made our way toward the amphitheater. The special seating area near the stage had been reserved for Luna and our family—a term that had expanded far beyond blood relations in recent months.
My father was already there, chatting with Flynn and TJ. He stood when he spotted us, his arms outstretched for Luna.
“Abuelo, look at my cape!” Luna ran to him, twirling once more.
“Magnificent!” he declared, lifting her into his arms.
“You’re silly.” Luna giggled, patting his cheeks.
I settled into my seat beside my father, scanning the growing crowd. The amphitheater was filling quickly, a sea of faces—some familiar, others strangers, who’d come for the music but were now part of Luna’s extended support network whether they realized it or not.
I looked up and saw Bridger—or Kingston, as Echo called him—walk onto the stage, guitar in hand. The crowd cheered as he adjusted the microphone.
I’d grown to appreciate the man’s quiet strength over the past weeks. While Holt had been my rock through Luna’s treatments, Bridger had stepped in to fill his shifts at the Goat whenever Holt needed to be with us in Gunnison or Denver. He’d never complained, never asked for anything in return.
“Evening, folks,” he said, his deep voice carrying across the amphitheater. “Thank you all for coming out to support Luna Marquez and her brave fight.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Luna stood and waved from her seat.
Bridger spotted her and smiled. “There’s our guest of honor. This first song is for you, Luna.”
He played a total of four songs, each with its own haunting quality. When he finished the last one, he acknowledged the audience with a single wave before walking offstage. His understated exit commanded a different kind of respect than flashy performers typically received.
“He’s good,” my father commented, applauding. “Reminds me of the musicians who sang at coffeehouses in New Mexico when I was younger.”
“He is,” I said, searching the side of the stage for any sign of Holt. He was scheduled to play next, and my heart rate picked up at the thought of seeing him perform. Despite having heard him countless times at the Goat, there was something different about tonight—something electric in the air that had nothing to do with the Valentine’s Day hearts decorating the venue.
Luna tugged at my sleeve. “When is Mr. Holt coming out?”
“Very soon, baby,” I promised, squeezing her hand. “Are you enjoying the concert?”
Her smile was wide. “It’s the best day ever!”
My eyes burned at her declaration. After everything she’d endured—the needles, the medications, the endless tests—she still found delight in the music and the crowd. Every moment of joy she experienced felt like a gift.
Holt stepped on stage, wearing dark jeans and a crisp, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His dark hair looked freshly trimmed, and instead of his typical array of jewelry, he wore only a single silver pendant against the white fabric. The crowd’s reaction was deafening. While Bridger had earned respectful appreciation, Holt received full-throated adoration. He grinned at the response, his confidence on stage a stark contrast to Bridger’s quiet intensity.
“Good afternoon, Crested Butte!” he called into the microphone. His eyes scanned the crowd until they found our section, lingering on Luna and me. “Before I start, I want to thank everyone who made this benefit possible. Especially my sister, Flynn, who organized everything, and Ben Rice, who’s headlining tonight.”
More cheers erupted, along with several wolf whistles.
“Most importantly,” Holt continued, his voice softening, “I want to thank Luna Marquez for being the bravest person I know.”
Luna beamed, waving both arms. “Hi, Mr. Holt!”
The audience laughed, charmed by her enthusiasm.
“Hey, Unicorn Girl,” he replied, his smile soft. “I’m going to play a couple of songs I wrote recently,” he announced to the crowd. “This first one is called ‘River Under Moonlight,’ inspired by someone very special.”
My hand flew to the pendant at my throat—the river and moon design he’d given me for Christmas. As he began to play, I recognized the melody we’d recorded at Ben’s studio, but he’d added new verses, new depths to the arrangement.
His voice filled the amphitheater, rich and raw with emotion as he sang about finding unexpected love, about a river finding its course beneath a guiding moon. The metaphor wasn’t subtle, but it was genuine, and I found myself blinking away tears as he sang.
When he finished, the crowd’s response was immediate and overwhelming. Holt acknowledged it before launching into his next song—the one he’d written for Luna about Sparkles and Shimmer. Though the subject matter was whimsical, there was nothing childish about the arrangement. Instead, he’d transformed it into a powerful ballad about courage in the face of fear, about magic found in the darkest places.
I looked down at Luna, mouthing the words, her hand clutching mine as she listened, enraptured.
Holt played a third song—one I hadn’t heard before—about finding family in unexpected places. By the final chorus, I was no longer trying to keep myself from crying. My tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I listened to this man, this incredible human being, put our journey into music.
When the song ended, Holt took a deep breath. “For my final number tonight, I want to share something brand new. I wrote this specifically for this benefit.” He adjusted his position on the stool, his eyes finding mine in the wings. “Keltie, this one’s for you.”
The first notes were gentle, almost hesitant. Then his voice joined the melody, singing about a man who’d spent his life searching, never realizing what he was looking for until he found a woman with wild curls and fire in her eyes.
The lyrics told our story—meeting at the Goat, the Christmas at the ranch, the hospital vigils, and the moments of joy we’d stolen between the fear. Each verse built on the last, creating a narrative of two people finding each other amid chaos and uncertainty.
As he approached what I assumed was the final chorus, Holt stood, stepping away from the microphone. To my shock, he set down his guitar and walked to the edge of the stage, extending his hand toward me.
“Join me?” he asked, voice carrying despite the lack of amplification.
My legs moved of their own accord, carrying me onto the stage. The lights were blinding, the crowd a blur beyond them. All I could see clearly was Holt, his blue eyes intense as he took my hands in his.
A movement at the opposite side of the stage caught my attention. My father appeared and led Luna by the hand. Her unicorn cape fluttered behind her as she hurried toward us, her face alight with excitement.
Holt knelt down when she approached. “Can I ask you something important?” he said, his voice carrying enough for those in the front rows to hear.
“Yes,” said Luna solemnly.
“Would it be okay with you if I asked your mommy to marry me?”
The amphitheater fell silent. I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears as I stared down at them, unable to process what was happening.
Luna’s response was immediate and enthusiastic. “Yes, yes, yes!” She jumped up and down, her cape billowing. “I’ve been waiting forever!”
