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Page 26 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

“Cena Covert found the land. Remote enough for privacy and beautiful enough to share with others eventually. When I first saw it, I knew it could become home.”

“Was it difficult? Building from scratch?”

“The best kind of challenge. Every fence post, every trail, every building—I could see the ranch’s future taking shape.

” I glanced at her as we began the climb into the Sangre de Cristo foothills.

“Watch the trees change as we go higher. Pinyon and juniper give way to ponderosa, then Douglas fir and aspen near the peaks.”

The elevation made itself known gradually—the air thinning, our breathing deepening, and the engine working harder as we climbed from 6,000 feet toward the ranch’s 7,200-foot base elevation.

Echo rolled down her window, breathing in the warm mountain air scented with pine resin and the sweet fragrance of late-summer wildflowers.

“It’s different from the Rockies,” she observed. “More spacious, yet equally as breathtaking.”

“Wait until you see the sunrises and sunsets. Sangre de Cristos means ‘Blood of Christ,’ and at certain times of the day, the peaks turn crimson.”

As we turned onto the ranch’s private road, marked only by a discreet wooden sign and electronic gate, the landscape became more intimate.

The road wound through groves of aspens, whose leaves shimmered silver-green in the afternoon breeze.

A small stream paralleled our route, its water clear and quick over smooth stones, catching the late-August sunlight in dancing sparkles.

“JW,” she breathed as we crested the final rise and my land spread before us. “This is incredible.”

The main lodge sat nestled against a hillside like it had grown from the mountain itself, its river rock and timber construction blending seamlessly with the surrounding pines.

Beyond the lodge, the cabins dotted a ridge overlooking the valley, each designed to capture the mountain views while maintaining privacy.

Late-summer wildflowers—Indian paintbrush, lupine, and mountain asters—created splashes of color in the meadows that stretched toward the distant peaks.

I was stunned speechless by how much I’d missed it. Until this year, I’d never been gone for more than two or three weeks at a time. Now, the eight months felt more like years.

As we pulled up to the entrance, satisfaction spread through my chest. I wanted Echo to see what I’d accomplished, to understand the man I’d become. This wasn’t inherited wealth or a family legacy—this was something I’d built with my own hands and vision.

“Welcome to Sangre Vista,” I said, looking over at the woman whose beauty rivaled the views that took my breath away. “Ready?” I asked, cutting the engine.

Echo reached across the console and touched my hand. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Before she could pull away, I wrapped my fingers around hers and brought them to my lips. “I’ve dreamed of this day, but never imagined it would actually come true.”

I got out, came around, and opened her door, offering my hand. At the same time, Sarah approached us.

“Welcome back, JW,” she said. “Per your request, Pueblo Moon has been prepared for your guest.”

I introduced my guest-services director to Echo, then confirmed Rick had the west barn and pasture ready for the stock when Bridger arrived, as well as the cabins ready for him and his crew.

“Everything has been taken care of,” Sarah confirmed before turning to Echo. “I’d be happy to show you to your cabin if you’d like, Ms. West,” Sarah offered, glancing between us. In fifteen years of operating the guest ranch, I’d never brought a woman here as a personal guest.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said, thanking Sarah before taking Echo’s hand and leading her down the path bordered by native grasses and late-blooming columbines. “Flynn and her family stayed here over the holidays. This cabin was their home for a month.”

Echo studied me with interest. “They must have loved it here.”

“They did. The boys, especially.” I chuckled, remembering their exuberance and excitement over every new thing they discovered.

“You’re good with them.”

I’d asked Flynn for permission to share her good news with Echo when I reported back to say her suggestion had worked.

She’d hugged me so hard that I could still feel her arms around me.

“They call me Grandpa JW now.” My voice cracked, and I laughed, brushing away a tear. “I never thought anyone would…”

Echo squeezed my hand. “It suits you.”

I raised a brow, unable to wipe the grin brought on by my happiness that she was here with me from my face.

“Grandpa JW. I like it,” she added.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” I said, leading her into the cabin that sat on the eastern ridge, positioned to capture both the sunrise views and the afternoon light across the valley.

I opened the door to reveal the river-rock fireplace ready for evening use, the artisan-crafted furniture arranged to frame the mountain views, and the fresh flowers—Cora’s touch—brightening the space with native Indian paintbrush and white delphiniums.

“The kitchen is fully stocked,” I explained, “but Chef Alton has prepared a welcome dinner if you’d prefer to join me in the main lodge. The hot springs are perfect for evening soaks, and we have mountain bikes and hiking gear available if you’re interested in exploring the trails.”

Echo moved to the picture window, her reflection ghosted against the darkening mountain landscape. “This view…”

“Wait until morning,” I said, wishing so much that I could be here, waking up with her in my arms, to show her how magical the mountains were at that time of day.

We spent the next three days exploring the ranch—sometimes on horseback through the network of trails I’d carved through forty miles of wilderness.

I showed her the high meadows, where cattle grazed among scattered stands of aspens and pine; the private lake, where guests fished for native trout; the observatory dome, where we gathered for stargazing sessions under New Mexico’s famously clear skies.

Each location held memories of building this place during my years of solitude after my mother’s death—the satisfaction of problem-solving, the physical exhaustion that helped quiet grief, the gradual understanding that I was creating not just a business but a sanctuary.

My time away brought it all back to me as if I was seeing it for the first time.

“You can see your pride in every detail,” Echo said as we stood at Sunset Point, watching the peaks turn crimson in the fading light. “The trail maintenance, the way the buildings sit in the landscape, even how the staff moves through their routines. This isn’t just a business—it’s a work of art.”

Her understanding meant more than I’d expected. “During my years of watching and waiting, ready to fulfill my promise to Patricia, the ranch gave me purpose.”

The next day’s ride took us out farther, and as we returned on the trail that led through pine forests dappled with afternoon sunlight, our horses’ hooves were rhythmic on the well-maintained trails and the warm air carried the scent of wildflowers and summer grasses.

Rick had chosen our mounts perfectly. Echo’s especially.

“The Appaloosa suits you,” I said to her as we approached the stables.

“She’s lovely. Patient with my rustiness.” Echo patted her animal’s neck as we dismounted. “How many do you keep?”

“Twenty-six in the main stables, plus the string we use for guest rides. Rick manages the breeding program—we’re developing a line particularly suited to high-altitude trail riding.”

The man appeared, his smile brightening when he saw Echo. “How did you enjoy the sunset ride?”

“Magical,” she replied. “I can see why guests fall in love with this place.”

“We have a full-moon excursion planned for tomorrow night if you’re interested. The valley looks magical under moonlight, and August is perfect weather for evening rides.”

“We’ll talk it over,” I told him before thanking him and leading Echo toward the lodge.

Selfishly, I didn’t want to share her with a group of guests, but I would if it was what she wanted.

I’d do anything she wanted, I realized. Anything.

The thought was sobering but also grounding.

I only prayed that Echo felt our connection to the same degree I was.

My staff could barely hide their curiosity about her presence.

Cora lingered while arranging fresh flowers for Echo’s cabin, her motherly attention more focused than usual.

Michael found reasons to check the cabin’s heating system twice.

Even Alton mentioned special menu preparations with unusual enthusiasm.

“She seems lovely,” Cora commented, gathering fresh towels and linens to deliver to Echo’s cabin.

“She is.”

“Known her long?”

“A lifetime.” I watched Cora process this information with the discretion that had made her invaluable over the years. “We knew each other when we were young. Before all this.”

Cora nodded, understanding more than she said. “It’s good to see you happy, Javier.”

Her use of the name I no longer needed was a jarring reminder that, eventually, I had to tell the staff the same story of my life I’d told Echo. Perhaps not in such detail, but they deserved an explanation.

Bridger and his crew arrived as the sun was setting, their trucks and trailers dusty from the road.

The animals were restless even after what had to have been a short haul compared to what they were used to.

I helped the guys get settled in the guest cabins I’d prepared and showed them the pastures where their stock could rest and recover before the competition.

“This is generous as hell,” Bridger said as we finished securing the bulls for the night. “You sure there’s nothing I can do to repay you? I know the Wheatons feel the same way.”

“Having you here is payment enough,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “We have another special guest with us. I’m not sure if anyone made you aware.”

He cocked his head. “Who?”

“Your mother.”

His eyebrows flared, and he was momentarily speechless. “You’re kidding,” he finally said. “I can’t believe she arranged to be here.”

“It was at my suggestion.”

His scrunched eyes met mine, and he put one hand on his hip. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

“Only that your mom and I knew each other many years ago. Reconnecting since I’ve been in Crested Butte has allowed us to renew our friendship.”

His eyes tightened. “Friendship?”

“For now, yes.”

He nodded once, then walked away. He’d only gotten a few steps before he turned around, pointing a finger in my direction. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

I nodded like he had. “Understood. And what if I make her happy?”

“She deserves that,” he murmured before continuing on the path to the cabins.

Over dinner that night, I observed Echo interacting with her son and his team.

There was clear pride in her demeanor as she listened to them discuss how they’d done in Taos, their plans for the upcoming events, and the reputation they were building for providing quality animals.

The easy affection between mother and son was obvious.

Bridger was different around her. Willing to say more than a few words. I’d even seen him smile several times.

When we said good night, I suggested he walk her to Pueblo Moon while I stayed behind to “catch up on correspondence,” even though there was really nothing I needed to do.

My staff had managed this place the same as if I’d been here to oversee it.

There was a time when that might not have filled me with the same relief I felt now.

Perhaps, if things progressed as I hoped they would with Echo, I might be able to spend more time in Crested Butte than I’d thought.

I walked outside and rested my hands on the lodge’s porch rail, looking up at the night sky and wondering if I could dare to hope, dare to dream.

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