Page 1 of Roaring Fork Wrangler

PROLOGUE

CORD

January

“Motherfucker,” I groaned, opening my eyes and trying to get my bearings. I was on the ground—I knew that much—and my head was pounding like someone had hit me with the sharp end of an anvil. When I reached up to where the pain radiated from, and brought my hand back down, my glove was soaked with blood.

I tried to prop myself up on my elbow, but didn’t have the strength. Blinking away the spots before my eyes, I patted my jacket, looking for my phone. When I found it, I swiped the screen, but the damned thing was dead. How the hell long had I been out here?

I was conscious, and it was still daylight. Both good signs. I raised my head, looking for some kind of landmark that would tell me where I was. A few feet away was a lean-to. If I could get that far, at least I’d haveshelter. As cold as it was, I wouldn’t last much longer if I didn’t at least try.

I had to drag myself since my every attempt to even get on my knees failed. I made it what I figured was halfway, but the black spots were back, and this time, I couldn’t blink them away.

“Fuck!” I cried out with the little strength I had left. What a goddamn way to go. Freezing to death after riding out to find cattle that were probably dead too.

1

CORD

PREVIOUS JUNE

Three hundred and sixty-six days after my father’s attorney—a guy we’d nicknamed Six-pack in high school—originally read my father’s will and the conditions set forth in the Roaring Fork Trust, my three brothers, one sister, and I returned to his office.

“I heard you got married,” Six-pack said to my oldest sibling as we took our seats at the conference table.

I could tell by the look on his face that Buck had no desire to make small talk. Neither did I. None of us did.

Last year, shortly after our father died, Six-pack had called us into his office for the reading of our father’s will. What happened next was the last thing my siblings or I would ever have anticipated.

There was a codicil within the Roaring Fork Trust stating the date and amount of the distribution of my inheritance, along with that of my siblings, after Buck successfully carried out two stipulations. If he failed todo one or both, none of us would inherit a penny. The ranch that had been in our family for over one hundred years would be sold, and the proceeds, along with any other assets, would be given to charity.

The first demand was for Buck to maintain full-time residency at the ranch, agreeing not to be away from the property for more than forty-eight consecutive hours. Given he worked in private security and intelligence, this meant Buck had to put his job on hold in order to ensure the rest of us would receive our inheritance.

Second, at the end of the year, the ranch had to be profitable. Roaring Fork had been operating in the red for the last five years. Turning that around in twelve months was next to impossible, but we’d done it.

“Can we get on with it?” I pressed.

“Of course.” Six-pack cleared his throat. “I’ve received the ranch’s financial reports from the accounting firm chosen by the trustee, and it appears you were profitable.”

“It doesn’t appear that way; we were profitable,” Porter muttered.

“Let’s just wrap this thing up,” said Buck, as impatient as I was.

Nothing would make me happier than to put all this behind us and move on with our lives. Truth be told, I never wanted to think about my father or his controlling ways ever again.

“Certainly.” Six-pack sighed, opened the manila envelope in front of him, pulled out a document, turned on the microphone, and looked directly at me.

“The second codicil reads as follows. ‘The Roaring Fork Trust further stipulates that Porter Hayes Wheaton must…’” Six-pack’s eyes scrunched, and his brow furrowed. “Sorry. I misspoke.” He looked at the document more closely. “‘The Roaring Fork Trust further stipulates that Cordero Rooker Wheaton must comply with two stipulations to be named at a later date.’”

A later date? What the fuck did that mean?

While I remained too stunned to react, my two older brothers were angrier than I’d ever seen them. Buck knocked his chair back, stood, and slammed his fist on the table.

“Enough of this goddamn bullshit,” he roared. “I did what the motherfucker required. End this, Richard.”

The attorney didn’t flinch. “I don’t have that power, Buck, and you know it.”

“Who does? It’s a trust. Someone has to be the executor. Who is it?”

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