Page 5 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

T he morning after Christmas, Cora knocked and entered with my coffee.

“The Warricks seem to be settling in well,” she commented, setting the cup she’d graciously brought me on my desk.

“They’re a nice family,” I agreed. “Easy to host.”

“I planned to ask if they’d like housekeeping today.”

“Good idea. Although they may prefer to have the day to themselves.”

“Javier, about?—”

When I raised a brow, she refrained from asking the question I anticipated. I wasn’t ready to talk about the family to anyone. Even a staff member who knew me well enough to call me something other than JW.

Around nine, I decided to check on the guests’ needs for the day. As I approached the cabin, I could hear the twins’ voices carrying across the snow-covered courtyard.

“Mr. JW! Mr. JW!” Paxon called out as he spotted me. The boys were hard at work on what appeared to be an ambitious construction project that had evolved from yesterday’s simple fort into an elaborate winter village.

Irish stood on the porch with his coffee, supervising the winter engineering efforts.

“Morning,” I called out. “Looks like the architects are busy.”

“Morning, Uncle JW!” Rooker called out, waving a mittened hand. “Look what we made!”

“That’s quite a structural achievement,” I said, admiring their work.

Paxon beamed with pride. “Papa helped with the walls, but we did the towers ourselves.”

Flynn emerged from inside with Rowan bundled against her chest. “They’ve been out here since shortly after sunrise. I hope they didn’t wake anyone.”

“The staff is always up early, and there are no other guests to disturb.”

Flynn’s eyes scrunched. “No other guests?”

“That’s right. So, how did everyone sleep?” I asked.

“The twins slept like rocks,” Irish answered.

“And you?” I directed the question to Flynn, noting the relaxed set of her shoulders compared to their arrival day.

“Better than I expected, being away from home,” she admitted. “There’s something peaceful about this place.”

“The mountains of New Mexico have that effect on people. You’d be amazed at how many times I’ve heard someone say something similar.”

“Is that why you chose this location for your ranch?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes attentive.

“Among other reasons,” I replied. “Would you like me to arrange any activities for today? The horses are always available for visits, or Lisa has some indoor options if the weather turns.”

“Can we see the horses again?” Paxon asked hopefully.

“After lunch,” Flynn said. “Let’s let JW get on with his day first.”

“No hurry,” I assured her. “Things are very quiet this week. I’ll leave you to your plans, though, and hope to see you all later.”

Around noon, Sarah came to see me. “The Warricks called about lunch,” she said. “They’re asking if they could eat in the lodge’s dining room, but they wanted to make sure it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not. Tell Alton to prepare something simple but substantial. Growing children and mountain air create serious appetites.”

“Already done. He’s making grilled cheese and tomato soup, with fruit and cookies for the boys.”

“Perfect.”

I was waiting when the family arrived. The twins were full of stories about their snow village and plans for expansion. They’d dressed up for the occasion—Paxon in a red sweater and Rooker in blue, both with their hair combed neatly.

“We’re going to add a castle tomorrow,” Rooker announced as he climbed into his booster seat. “With a drawbridge.”

“Ambitious,” I commented. “Will there be a moat?”

“What’s a moat?” Paxon asked.

Irish explained while Flynn settled the baby in her high chair. Rowan was becoming more social each day, babbling and reaching for objects within her range. Today, she seemed drawn to the silver water pitcher on the table, her small hands opening and closing in its direction.

“She’s got good taste,” I observed. “That’s authentic Navajo silverwork.”

“It’s beautiful,” Flynn said, then hesitated. “You seem so connected to the local culture. Have you lived here all your life?”

The question was innocent enough, but it required navigation. “I came here as a young man. The Southwest gets into your blood if you let it.”

“Where are you from originally?” Irish asked.

“Many places.” I kept my answer brief, then redirected. “What about you? Have you always lived in Colorado?”

“Born and raised,” Flynn replied. “Like you, Irish is from all over. Military family.”

“Did you also serve?” I asked Irish.

“Yes.”

I smiled inwardly when his evasiveness matched my own.

“That explains the observational skills,” I said.

He smiled. “Hard to turn off.”

“Understandable. A man’s first responsibility is protecting his family.”

Something in my tone seemed to resonate with Irish. His eyes met mine, and a moment of understanding passed between us.

After lunch, we made our promised visit to the stables. Rick had prepared special treats—apple slices and sugar cubes—that the boys could offer with supervision.

“They’re horsemen,” Rick commented to me quietly as we watched Paxon hold out his palm for Fantasma to investigate. “Got gentle hands and no fear.”

“Good breeding,” I replied, then caught myself. The comment could be interpreted as knowing more about the family’s background than a ranch owner should.

If Irish noticed my slip, he didn’t show it. He was focused on helping Rooker reach high enough to pat Carson’s neck, as the big draft horse lowered his head cooperatively.

Flynn stood nearby with the baby, who seemed mesmerized by the horses’ movements. “She loves watching them,” Flynn observed. “Maybe she’ll be a rider someday.”

“We have lots of horses too,” said Rooker.

“The mountains are perfect for it,” I said. “There’s freedom here you can’t find in more populated areas.”

“Have you always been a horseman?” Flynn asked.

The question touched on memories I rarely shared. “I learned young. Horses were a refuge when things got complicated.”

Flynn’s expression softened. “They have that quality, don’t they? Nonjudgmental, present in the moment.”

“Exactly.” Most people saw horses as recreational animals or work tools. Flynn understood their deeper value.

The twins played near the stables while their parents relaxed on a bench nearby, the baby content in Flynn’s arms. It was a picture of domestic happiness that stirred something in me I’d thought long buried.

“This is exactly what we needed,” Flynn said, tilting her face toward the winter sun. “Time to just be together without deadlines or obligations.”

“Or chores,” Irish added.

“We have plenty if you find yourself missing them,” I teased.

He chuckled and held up a hand. “No, thanks. Like my wife, I’m enjoying the time off.”

“It’s amazing what people rediscover when they’re removed from daily pressures—especially when they’re in a setting like this.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Flynn asked, then looked apologetic. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s a fair question. Yes, I suppose it was.”

Irish settled beside her. “What did you do before the ranch?”

Another question that required navigation. “Different things. I was searching for the right fit.”

“And you found it here?”

“I did.” That much was true.

When the twins tired of petting horses and announced they were ready for hot chocolate, we returned to the lodge, where Alton had prepared the treats, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Best hot chocolate ever,” Paxon declared, his upper lip decorated with foam.

“It’s the Sangre de Cristos,” I said, winking. “Everything tastes better here.”

Rooker considered this. “Even vegetables?”

“Especially vegetables,” I said, earning groans from both boys and laughter from their parents.

“We should explore some of the area while we’re here,” Irish suggested.

“I can arrange guided tours if you’re interested. Though with the children, shorter excursions might be more practical.”

“That would be wonderful,” Flynn said. “The boys love adventures.”

While Irish gathered the twins and their things, Flynn lingered.

“JW, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” I braced myself, especially when she hesitated.

“This ranch—it’s more than a business to you, isn’t it?” The question was not the one I’d anticipated, but I still chose my words with care.

“Some places become extensions of ourselves. Sangre Vista is my home as much as it is a guest ranch.”

“I can sense that. There’s a lot of love here.”

“Thank you. That means more than you know.”

She smiled, then rejoined her family for the walk back to Pueblo Moon.

Later, I sat in my office, thinking about the day’s events. Flynn’s questions were becoming more personal, though still within reasonable bounds for a curious guest.

Over the following days, we settled into a pleasant routine. The boys discovered sledding on a gentle slope behind the lodge, convinced Irish to help them build a snow maze, and developed an elaborate game involving the horses, which Rick indulged with good humor.

Flynn spent hours with her camera, capturing both family moments and the ranch’s winter landscape. She had an eye for composition, finding beauty others might overlook—morning light through icicles, wind patterns in snowdrifts, horses standing in their paddock.

“You’re quite a photographer,” I commented one afternoon, watching her adjust the settings to capture Rowan’s expression as she followed the snowflakes’ fall.

“Just a hobby, but there’s great subject matter here,” she replied.

Irish was excellent company, possessing the kind of steady presence that made conversation easy. While I’d been joking about chores, he helped with ranch tasks when I’d allow it, showing familiarity I’d expected based on their lives at home.

“You seem to enjoy this kind of work,” I observed one afternoon as he helped Rick repair a fence section.

“Flynn’s family has been ranching for generations. She could probably run this place single-handed if needed. Me? I’m still a little green, as her brothers say.”

The comment was casual, but it provided useful insight.

As we approached New Year’s Eve, I planned a special celebration for the family. Nothing elaborate—I sensed they valued simplicity over spectacle—but memorable enough to mark the occasion.

Alton prepared another special dinner featuring regional specialties alongside the usual kid-friendly options. I arranged for a small fireworks display that would be visible from the lodge’s main room, timed for the twins’ earlier bedtime rather than midnight.

“You don’t need to go to all this trouble,” Flynn protested when I outlined the evening’s plans.

“New Year’s Eve should be celebrated,” I insisted. “Besides, how often do you get to ring in the new year in the Sangre de Cristo mountains?”

“True. The boys will love it.”

The festivities exceeded my expectations. The twins were enchanted by the indoor picnic setup I’d arranged in front of the great room’s fireplace, complete with blankets and basket service. Rowan remained alert throughout the evening, absorbing the festive atmosphere.

As the fireworks lit up the sky outside the lodge’s windows, I watched the family’s reactions more than the display itself.

The twins pressed their faces to the glass, exclaiming over each burst of color.

Flynn and Irish sat close together on the sofa, the baby drowsing in Flynn’s arms, both parents smiling at their sons’ excitement.

“This has been a perfect few days,” Flynn said as the final firework faded. “Thank you for making our holiday so special.”

“My pleasure.”

“You know, when we first learned about this trip, I wasn’t sure what to expect. A month seemed like such a long time to be away from home,” said Flynn, pausing at the door.

“And now?” I asked.

“Now, I’m wondering how we’ll adjust to leaving. This place has become comfortable. Familiar. I know that probably sounds crazy.”

Irish joined her at the door, settling his hand on her shoulder. “We’re required to stay until January twenty-third,” he said. “Part of the arrangement that brought us here.”

I nodded, aware he was fishing for a response. “Well then, we’ll have to make sure the rest of your time here is equally memorable.”

After they left, I stood alone in the lodge’s great room, watching the last traces of smoke from the fireworks drift across the star-filled sky. Three weeks remained of their residency, and the most challenging part of our time together was yet to come.

When I revealed the truth about Flynn’s connection to this place, I hoped her emotional investment in being here would make a difficult conversation more meaningful.

For now, I was content to continue providing the hospitality they deserved while observing their family dynamic and preparing for the revelations that lay ahead. The new year would bring new challenges, but also the opportunity to share the secrets I’d carried for far too long.