Page 14 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)
JW
A fter Flynn left with Irish and the children, I found myself alone with four men who were strangers but family too.
Buck leaned forward in his chair. “I need to understand something. The codicils—how did you decide what each of us needed?”
The question I’d been anticipating. I’d wrestled with these decisions, never certain I was making the right choices.
“Your mother left general guidance,” I began, looking directly at him. “Yours was the one she predicted the closest.” I glanced between the others. “Would you like me to speak with each of you individually?”
“Thoughts?” Buck said to his brothers.
“We all know what happened,” said Porter. “It isn’t like what we were each required to do was a secret.”
“Agreed. Start with me,” said Buck.
I nodded. “When you left at eighteen, vowing never to return, she worried that even after Roscoe’s death, you’d never come back. She died long before you made that vow, but she somehow knew it would happen.”
Buck’s jaw tightened. “I hated the sonuvabitch ,” he said under his breath.
“Since this was your heritage as much from her as Roscoe, I knew your mother would want you to learn to love it. The only way I could think of to accomplish that was by having you spend time here after he died. That’s when I came up with the year-long requirement.”
“I hated you for it. Spent that entire year furious at an anonymous trustee who’d stolen my freedom.”
“I know. I’m sorry for the anger you had to carry.”
“Don’t be.” Buck’s demeanor softened. “That year changed everything. If you hadn’t forced me to come home, TJ and I never would have had a chance to build something real together. And I never would have learned to love this place the way I do. Hell, I wouldn’t have Buckaroo.”
“It would make your mother very happy to hear you feel that way,” I said before turning to Porter.
“Your situation was more urgent. I’d traveled to Crested Butte, like I did from time to time, checking on all of you.
I knew about your struggles with alcohol and had been trying to figure out a way to help you. ”
Porter’s expression grew thoughtful, and he nodded.
“I followed you for a few days, ready to intervene if something happened. I even considered taking your keys away, like I knew Cord did from time to time. But Cord was in New York, fulfilling his stipulation, so he couldn’t help.
” The memory of that night still haunted me. “Then the accident happened.”
“You saw it?”
“I couldn’t intervene directly, but I watched as you convinced the sheriff to make everyone think you’d been the one driving drunk instead of Maverick. My gut told me the only way for both you and Maverick to heal was for you to spend time at the Morris Ranch.”
Porter went still. “How did you know about Cici and Maverick losing their ranch?”
“I learned about it from Aunt Cena,” I said, shaking my head with a half smile.
“The woman employed a bevy of private investigators. That’s how I found out a lot of things.
Anyway, I had faith that you would help them save it.
You’d already proven your character by protecting Maverick.
I believed you’d extend that same protection to Cici. ”
“So you sent me there.”
“I gambled that your compassion would help all of you heal together. I had no idea you’d fall back in love,” I said with a wink.
He shuddered but grinned. “Damn, you really were watching me.”
“Not just you, all of us,” said Holt, shifting in his chair.
I turned to him. “I feared that once you left on tour with CB Rice, it was likely you’d never return to Crested Butte. I also knew there were things none of your siblings knew yet, including about your sister who died. So I made the decision to force you to spend one more year here.”
“The charity,” Holt said softly.
“As it turned out, you were needed there in a way I could never have predicted. And that led to you discovering Scarlett’s Hope—which became Miracles of Hope—so you understand why everything would go to them if none of you fulfilled the requirements of the trust.”
“Because Mom had started it after Scarlett died.”
“That’s right.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed. “You were in the hospital cafeteria in Denver, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I spent a lot of time at that hospital while Luna went through treatment and recovery. I couldn’t reveal myself, but I needed to know she was going to be okay.”
“Why?” Holt asked quietly.
“Because you loved her. And because your mother would have wanted me to care about the people her children loved.”
Finally, I turned to Cord. “I intentionally left you for last.”
Cord’s body tensed, and his eyes scrunched. “Why? Because my story is the hardest to talk about?”
“Because your codicil stemmed back to the night Roscoe was shot and what Patricia said to you afterward.” I paused, gathering my courage. “Do you remember her words?”
His reply was barely a whisper. “She said that one day, a long, long time from then, she prayed when I learned about the decisions she made, I could understand why and forgive her.”
Tears filled my eyes as I looked at him.
“Cord, I’m so sorry for what happened to you there.
I regretted sending you to East Aurora every single day.
I came so close to revealing myself after Joseph Wilkins Jr. attacked you.
I spent every day in the hospital’s chapel, praying you’d live.
Begging Patricia to get God to grant his grace and save you—” My voice broke, and I couldn’t go on.
“She delivered,” he said, reaching over to cover my hand with his. “I recovered, learned everything about where our mom grew up, who Buck’s real father was, and I fell in love.”
“Which brings up something remarkable,” Buck observed. “We all fell in love because of our codicils.”
Porter nodded. “Cici saved me in ways I didn’t even know I needed saving.”
“Keltie, Luna, and Scarlett changed everything for me,” Holt added. “Made me realize music was only part of what I wanted in life.”
“TJ made me understand what home really meant,” said Buck.
“And Juniper…She’s my world. I wouldn’t have lived without her prayers or her support, either,” Cord finished.
I recognized the love in his expression. There’d been a time—long ago—I felt the same depth of feeling.
“Patricia designed the trust to bring you together and help you heal. She never anticipated it would lead you all to find your life partners.”
Buck leaned back in his chair. “I don’t feel comfortable speaking for everyone, but even though I was livid when that codicil came down, looking back, it transformed my life.”
“Same here,” Porter said immediately. “That year at Morris Ranch saved my life.”
“Me too,” Holt agreed. “I thought I was giving up my dreams, but I was actually finding better ones.”
“Definitely,” Cord confirmed. “The worst experience led to the best outcome.”
Their acceptance overwhelmed me. I’d carried the weight of my decisions alone, second-guessing myself constantly, wondering if I was causing more harm than good.
“How long are you planning to stick around?” Buck asked after several seconds of silence.
“I’m not sure.”
“I, for one, want to get to know you,” Porter said firmly. “The real you, not just the mysterious trustee. And we want you to know us. Our families, our lives.”
“The real us,” Holt added, “not just what you’ve observed from a distance.”
“You’re family,” Cord said simply. “That’s not something you have to earn or maintain. It just is.”
Their words stirred something I’d never acknowledged, and for the first time in decades, I felt like I might actually have a place in this world beyond duty and obligation.
The weeks that followed were unlike anything I’d experienced in my life. Instead of watching from afar, I found myself drawn into the daily rhythm of family life at Roaring Fork Ranch.
“You have a natural understanding of ranch economics,” Buck said one afternoon as we reviewed the profit projections in his office. “This kind of insight is exactly what we’ve been missing.”
I found satisfaction in contributing my knowledge to something that mattered so deeply to Patricia’s children.
One afternoon, while we reviewed cattle rotation schedules, Flynn brought up something that had clearly been on her mind.
“JW, watching you work with us on ranch operations has reminded me of something Cord and I have talked about for years. We’ve always dreamed of turning part of the Roaring Fork into a guest ranch operation.
” Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Cord’s done extensive financial research, and I’ve studied successful models in other states.
Seeing what you’ve built at Sangre Vista, I was wondering if you’d help us make it happen. ”
The conversation sparked something in me I hadn’t expected—genuine excitement about a new venture rather than just helping maintain the existing operations.
Working alongside the siblings on operational improvements and future planning gave me purpose beyond my decades of guardianship, and now, the guest ranch project offered a way to blend my expertise with their vision.
Each of the siblings brought knowledge from their life experiences outside of ranching.
Holt contributed insights from learning tour logistics, helping streamline supply chains and improve the communication systems. His creative thinking brought fresh perspectives to problems the Roaring Fork had been tackling the same way for years.
Cord brought his financial expertise to our discussions, showing me portfolio strategies and market trends. His analytical mind reminded me strongly of Patricia—the same careful consideration of options, the same ability to see long-term consequences.