Roaring Fork Roughstock (Roaring Fork Ranch #2)

1. Porter

1

PORTER

FEbrUARY

I gripped the steering wheel of my truck until my knuckles whitened, staring at the weathered sign marking the entrance to Morris Ranch. Snow drifted lazily in my headlights—another February storm settling over Parlin like a shroud. Fitting, given I felt like I was driving to my own funeral.

The envelope from the attorney lay crumpled on the passenger seat, its contents burned in my mind: Go to Morris Ranch. Stay one year. Save it, or lose everything. The words of our family attorney, Six-Pack, who’d read the codicil, echoed in my head—three hundred and sixty-five days, no absences longer than forty-eight consecutive hours, or my siblings and I lose everything. Including the Roaring Fork. My family’s legacy. All because of one vindictive asshole—my father—whose plot for revenge changed what might’ve been a happy family. Maybe if the sonuvabitch had faced an early death rather than my mother, we could’ve been.

But it wasn’t him dictating where and how I’d spend the next year of my life. No, it was a nameless, faceless trustee who hid behind a ghost trust filed in New Mexico, one of the few remaining states that allowed the legal document to be written in such a way that the trustee’s identity remained protected.

He or she controlled my fate and that of my siblings. I was the third who’d had to adhere to another of the trust’s codicils or we’d lose everything. The ranch, the roughstock business I’d built, which was finally turning a profit, but more importantly, our heritage. I couldn’t be the one who allowed that to happen.

The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was once again sacrificing myself, keeping secrets to protect others. How long had I held on to the truth about my oldest brother, Buck? Since I was eight years old, when my drunk father, Roscoe, had used it to justify his cruelty. Secrets had a way of snowballing in my family, each one gathering weight until they threatened to bury us all.

That wasn’t the only secret pressing against my conscience. The second was the truth of what had happened the night Maverick Morris came close to losing his life.

Somehow, that nameless, faceless fucker of a trustee who was determining our collective destiny found out about the accident. The one that had nearly destroyed a family. Not mine but the Morris’. What was left of them.

I scrubbed my face with my hand as Maverick’s words echoed in my head for the thousandth time. “Promise me you won’t tell my sister. It’ll destroy her.” The kid had been barely conscious—so much so he didn’t recall anything from that night. Blood had been streaming from a gash in his forehead, his leg bent at an impossible angle. I’d given him my vow that night, knowing it could cost me everything. But what it would’ve cost him was far greater. The kid was only seventeen.

Now, here I was, about to face her—the woman who’d once said she loved me, but now hated me with every fiber of her being. Not that I blamed her. As far as Cici knew, I was the drunk driver who had nearly killed her only remaining family.

The ranch house loomed ahead, a single light burning in an upstairs window despite the early hour. I cut my engine, listening to it tick in the predawn silence. The forecast called for eight inches of snow, and I needed to get the lay of the land before the storm hit in earnest.

I grabbed my duffel from the backseat and forced myself to walk toward the house, my boots crunching on the frozen gravel. Better to face Cici now and get the inevitable confrontation over with.

Movement caught my eye—a figure in the barn’s doorway. Even in the dim light, I recognized Cici’s stance and the defiant tilt of her chin. She had a rifle propped against her shoulder.

“That’s far enough, Wheaton.”

Her voice carried clearly in the still air, cold as the snow swirling between us. I stopped, raising my hands slightly.

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Cici.”

“I’m Cicily to you. Better yet, Ms. Morris. Only my friends call me Cici, and you sure as fuck aren’t one of them.” She took a step forward, rifle unwavering. “Now, get off my land!”

I kept my voice level, unthreatening. “I’m here to help.”

Her bitter laugh cut through me. “Help? Like you helped my brother? Get back in your damn truck and leave. I’d rather watch this place burn than accept anything from you.”

I held my ground, arms in the air. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t?” She cackled. “What happened? Your own family tossed you out on your ear?”

I lowered my hands slowly. “I have my reasons for being here, Cicily. Whether you believe it or not, saving this ranch matters to me.”

“The only thing that matters to you is the bottom of a whiskey bottle.” Her words were meant to wound, and they hit their mark. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I understand that. But I’m not leaving.” I took a careful step forward. “You need someone who knows roughstock contracting. Your operation is bleeding money.”

“And whose fault is that?” The rifle barrel tracked my movement. “We lost half our contracts after your outfit undercut us. Somehow, you found out our bid and lowered yours. You’re a stupid asshole if you think I don’t know it. Not to mention, you’re a dirty drunk.”

“I’m sober now.” It was true—it had been close to two months since I last had a drink. “And I know how to rebuild your stock program.”

“It was fine before you contributed to its demise.” She finally lowered the rifle, but her stance remained rigid with hostility. “You have five minutes to get off my property before I call Kaleb.”

Kaleb Ackerman was the sheriff of Gunnison County and the only man who knew the secret I kept about Cici’s brother.

I reached into my jacket and slowly withdrew the folded papers I shouldn’t have in my possession, but did. “You’ll want to read this first.”

“I’m not reading anything from you.”

“It’s not from me. It’s from your bank.” I held the documents out. “Your last loan extension expires in thirty days. After that, they’ll start foreclosure proceedings.”

Cici stared at the papers like they might bite her. Finally, she snatched them from my hand, scanning them quickly in the growing light. Her face paled.

“This is private financial information. How did you get this?”

“Does it matter? What matters is I can help you prevent it from happening.” I gestured to the barn behind her. “Let me prove it to you. One month. If you’re not seeing improvement by then, I’ll leave.”

She studied me for a long moment, jaw clenched. The snow was falling harder now, collecting on her dark hair.

“You’re seriously going to lose your family’s ranch because it’s me offering help? Come on, Cici. We both know you’re smarter than that.”

She bristled at my words, then hung her head. “One month,” she finally bit out. “But if you come anywhere near my brother, if you so much as look at him wrong, I’ll kill you. Are we clear?”

I nodded once. “Crystal clear.”

She turned on her heel and stalked toward the barn. “The north bunkhouse is that way. Stay out of the main house. And, Wheaton?”

I paused, waiting.

“Don’t mistake this for forgiveness. I’ll never forgive you for what you did to Maverick.”

I watched her disappear into the barn, shoulders straight and proud despite the weight of worry I knew she felt on them. My own were weighted too, with both the secret I carried for her brother and the real reason I’d shown up here this morning.

I had one month to prove myself. Then one year to save the ranch and somehow keep my promise to Maverick while facing the sister who had every reason to despise me.

I shouldered my bag and headed for the bunkhouse. The storm was rolling in, and I had work to do.

The place designated for the ranch hands to sleep was barely more than a shack, with gaps in the wooden walls, where the wind whistled through. Inside, a thin layer of dust covered everything—the narrow cots, the rickety table, the pot-bellied stove in the corner. No one had lived here for a while. That told me more about the ranch’s financial situation than any bank documents could.

I tossed my duffel on the table and dug out my flashlight. The beam revealed cobwebs in the corners and mouse droppings along the baseboards. Perfect. I’d slept in worse places during my roughneck days, but this was going to need work before the serious storm hit.

My phone buzzed—another message from Cord. I’d been ignoring my family’s calls since leaving the attorney’s office. What could I say? Sorry, I lied again? Sorry, the secrets I carry aren’t my own? Sorry, I can’t tell you the hell most of my life has been and why?

A month ago, I’d almost lost the brother I was closer to than any of my other siblings. A couple of weeks before Christmas, Cord got word from our family’s attorney that, according to a codicil in the Roaring Fork Trust similar to the one that required me to come here to Morris Ranch, he had to report to a town in New York, not far from Buffalo. He was instructed to show up at an estate called the Lilacs, live there for a year, and step into the role of livestock manager. At the time, none of us understood why he had to leave Colorado, where he’d spent his whole life, to go live in a place he’d never heard of.

We still didn’t know exactly why, but a month after he got there—which just so happened to be the night after my accident with Mav—while checking on cattle during a snowstorm, he was attacked and left for dead.

That he was still alive was a fucking miracle. A team of EMTs and doctors literally brought him back from the dead, and over the course of the last five weeks, he’d come out of a coma and learned to talk and walk again. Buck, Holt, and our sister, Flynn, took turns flying to New York and spending time at the hospital with him. Given I was in jail when it happened and still not cleared to leave the State of Colorado, I was the only one unable to be there for him. It still ate at me, no matter how many times Cord said he’d forgiven me. And, like everyone else, he still believed I drove drunk that night and almost killed Cici’s younger brother.

I’d swear Cord had somehow sensed there was more to what happened that night, but he hadn’t pushed, and I was grateful for that.

His message was brief. Be careful, it read. If he only knew the thing I needed to protect more than our ranch was Cici’s heart. I’d broken it twice now. I couldn’t do it again.

I started a fire in the stove with the meager supply of wood stacked beside it. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls as I did a proper inspection of my temporary home. The roof seemed solid enough, but the windows needed weatherstripping. The bathroom was functional, barely. At least there was running water.

Outside, the storm was picking up intensity. Through the grimy window, I could see lights on in the barn where Cici had disappeared. The smart thing would be to stay put, let her cool down. But I needed to see the condition of the stock before this weather got worse.

I pulled on my heavy winter duster and grabbed my work gloves. The wind nearly yanked the bunkhouse door from my hands as I stepped out. Already, the snow was a good two inches deep. The barn wasn’t far—maybe fifty yards—but in this weather, it might as well have been a mile.

I made it halfway there before I heard the screaming of a horse in pain.

My heart lurched. Without thinking, I broke into a run. That sound meant trouble—big trouble. I hit the barn door at full speed, shouldering it open.

The scene inside stopped me cold. Cici was struggling with a massive stallion who’d gotten his leg tangled in a lead rope. The horse’s eyes were wild with panic, his nostrils flaring.

“Stay back!” Cici shouted when she saw me. But the horse chose that moment to rear, jerking her off her feet.

I didn’t hesitate. I dove forward, tackling her out of the way as the stallion’s hooves crashed down where she’d fallen. We hit the hay-covered floor hard, my body blanketing hers.

“I told you to stay back,” she snarled, shoving at my chest.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered, rolling to my feet and tugging off my coat. The stallion was still thrashing, the rope cutting deeper into his leg. “That’s Thunder Cloud, isn’t it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“Because I was the one who helped your dad pick him out.” I kept my voice steady, soothing, as I approached the horse. “Easy, boy. Remember me?”

The stallion’s ears flicked forward. His breathing was still rapid, but some of the panic left his eyes. I kept talking softly as I edged closer, letting him catch my scent.

“I didn’t know you were there.” Cici’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Sure was. Your father knew horses better than anyone I’ve ever met.” I was close enough now to touch Thunder Cloud’s neck. “He taught me a lot about what to look for when bidding on horses. Bulls too.”

The stallion relaxed slightly under my touch. I used the moment to assess the situation with the rope. It was wrapped tightly, but hadn’t cut off circulation yet. With careful maneuvering, I could get it free.

“I need your help,” I said without looking at Cici. “Can you set aside hating me long enough to keep this horse from losing his leg?”

There was a long pause. Then she moved to Thunder Cloud’s head, stroking his nose. “What do you need me to do?”

We worked in tense silence for several minutes. Her hands were steady as she kept the stallion calm while I gently unwound the rope. When the last loop came free, we both breathed a sigh of relief.

Thunder Cloud shook himself, then nudged Cici’s shoulder as if nothing had happened. She pressed her forehead to his neck for a moment.

“Thank you,” she finally said, not looking at me. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

“I know.” I coiled the offending lead rope, using the task to hide whatever emotion might show on my face. “But you should know—I meant what I said about helping. Your dad was a good man. He taught me a lot, and when I heard about the accident…I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you and Mav, Cici.”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t talk about my father. Don’t talk about my brother. Just…don’t.”

She was gone before I could respond, the barn’s side door slamming behind her. Thunder Cloud watched her go, then turned his knowing eyes in my direction, as though he was judging me.

“Yeah, I know, boy,” I said, patting his neck. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

The storm howled outside, but I stayed in the barn for a long time, checking every stall and every piece of equipment. The place was falling apart. No matter where I looked, I saw something that needed to be repaired or replaced. But under the worn exterior, the bones were good. Like the ranch itself.

I had to figure out how to save it without destroying what little trust Cici had left in the world. And somehow keep the promise that was eating me alive.

Thunder Cloud nickered softly as I headed for the door. I paused, looking back at him. “Keep your leg out of trouble next time, okay? She might not let me stick around long enough to help again.”

I prayed I was wrong. I needed to be here for the long haul, whether Cici wanted me to be or not. I had no choice.

The wind bit into me as I made my way back to the bunkhouse. Tomorrow, the real struggle would begin. Today, we just had to survive the storm—both the one outside, and the one brewing in my heart every time I looked at Cici Morris.