Page 2 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

S tanding 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.

“I also set up the baby crib in the third bedroom,” Michael continued.

I walked through each room. In the master bedroom, fresh flowers sat on the dresser, beside a bottle of sparkling cider and gourmet chocolates—adult treats to balance the child-focused preparations.

The second bedroom had been transformed into a welcoming children’s space. Twin beds with colorful quilts faced a window overlooking the stable complex. Between the beds sat a basket of toys—wooden horses, picture books, and soft building blocks designed for small hands.

Cora, our head of housekeeping, entered with an armload of supplies.

“May I help?” I asked.

“I’m all set, JW. I’ve stocked the refrigerator, and Sarah will check with the family at arrival about how often they’d like housekeeping.”

“Outstanding work.”

She paused in the doorway, her expression thoughtful. “Javier? Is there anything else you want to tell us about these particular guests?” In fifteen years of working together, Cora had developed an ability to read my moods and motivations.

“Every guest who chooses Sangre Vista deserves our best efforts. Some require more coordination than others when traveling with small children.”

She raised a brow, but wisely let it go. “Oh, by the way, Sarah asked me to mention that the Warricks sent a message saying they expect to arrive around two o’clock.”

At one forty-five, I positioned myself on the lodge’s front porch with paperwork I pretended to review.

Fifteen minutes later, I spotted movement through the trees.

A black SUV appeared, navigating the curves with the attention of drivers familiar with mountain terrain.

As it drew closer, I could make out Colorado license plates.

I straightened my jacket and walked down the front steps.

The vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance, and I got my first clear look at the Warrick family.

The driver’s door opened first, and a tall man moved around the vehicle, opening the passenger door to help his wife emerge.

Flynn Warrick was smaller than I’d expected, with light-brown hair that caught the afternoon sunlight and an intelligent, assessing gaze that took in her surroundings.

Even after what must have been a long drive with small children, she looked composed.

The back doors opened, and two small boys burst out with enthusiasm. Twins, both with light hair and bright eyes, began pointing at the snow-covered landscape and chattering excitedly about horses and mountains.

Flynn lifted out an infant carrier. Even from a distance, I could see the tiny face surrounded by soft blankets and small hands that moved restlessly as the baby began to wake.

“Mr. and Mrs. Warrick,” I said, approaching them. “I’m Javier Wyatt, owner of Sangre Vista, but please call me JW. Welcome to our ranch.”

Her handshake was firm, and her gaze direct. “Thank you for accommodating us. Your property is even more beautiful than the photographs suggested.” She turned to her husband. “This is Irish, and please call me Flynn.”

“We’re honored to have you here for the holidays. I trust your drive went well?”

“Long but uneventful,” Irish replied. His handshake was equally firm, and I noted the way his eyes cataloged details—exits, potential threats, the positioning of staff members who were discreetly observing our interaction.

“The boys were troopers, especially considering we’ve been on the road since breakfast.”

The twins had gravitated toward their parents’ sides, suddenly shy in the presence of a stranger. I knelt to their eye level.

“I heard you mention horses. We have several here at our ranch,” I said, keeping my voice gentle.

The bolder of the two stepped forward, chin raised with the confidence that seemed to run in the family. “I’m Paxon. That’s Rooker. How many horses?”

“Twenty-six. Would you like to see them while you’re visiting us?”

Both boys nodded enthusiastically, their shyness evaporating. Rooker tugged on his mother’s coat. “Mama, can we see them now?”

Flynn smiled, the expression transforming her travel-weary face. “After we get settled, sweetheart. JW has prepared a place for us to stay.”

“And this must be your youngest,” I said as Flynn adjusted the baby carrier, giving me a clear view of the infant, who was now awake and looking around with curiosity.

“This is Rowan,” she said. “She’s been an angel during the drive.”

She was a beautiful child with dark hair that curled softly against her forehead, and eyes that seemed remarkably alert. The infant stirred, her gaze focusing on my face with the intent concentration that babies sometimes displayed when processing new information.

“That’s unusual,” Irish observed, his tone neutral but his eyes watchful. “She’s wary around strangers.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I simply said, “She’s beautiful. You’re devoted parents.”

“Well then,” I continued, stepping back to address the whole family. “Shall we get you settled? I think you’ll find Pueblo Moon comfortable, and if there’s anything at all you need during your stay, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

As I guided them to their cabin, then helped take their luggage inside, I noted details like how Flynn and Irish moved as a coordinated team, anticipating each other’s needs without discussion.

How the twins stayed close to their parents but remained curious and engaged with their new environment.

How they all seemed delighted by the Christmas decorations we’d arranged throughout the property.

They were a nice family, close-knit and the kind of guests who would appreciate what Sangre Vista had to offer, and the type of people who made this business feel worthwhile rather than merely profitable.

As I left the cabin and turned to the main lodge, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was going to be a memorable month—for all of us.