Page 1 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)
FLYNN
M y 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 conversations with him. All I knew was that if you wanted information about anyone or anything, he could usually get his hands on it. According to Irish, the guy was rumored to be a tech genius in the world of intelligence.
“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.