Page 26 of Roaring Fork Wrangler

“The usual?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned from her to me. “You said Rooker was your mother’s maiden name.”

“It’s also my middle name.”

“I guess no one’s told you it was JD’s last name.”

My eyes opened wide, and I watched as he retrieved an envelope from his pocket, pulled out some papers, and handed them to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Take a look.”

The first thing I saw when I unfolded the stack was a family tree like I’d seen on ancestry commercials. On the third row from the top was my mother’s name—Patricia Rooker Wheaton. It listed her birth and death date, along with my father’s name under spouse.

I went back to the top, where the name James R. Rooker appeared. His spouse was listed as Irene Turner. James and Irene had two children, James D. Rooker and Cena Rooker Covert.

I looked up at Pete. “Mrs. Covert was my mother’s aunt?”

He nodded. “So it appears.”

I pointed at the name to the left of Cena’s. “This ismy grandfather.”

“That’s right. He and his wife had two children, your mother and JD.”

“JD was my uncle.”

Pete nodded again.

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath, finishing the beer in my glass before waving at the waitress for another.

My mind was reeling. I was nine years old when my mother died. I barely remembered her, and I sure as hell didn’t recall her or my father mentioning she had relatives in New York.

“It’s a clue, at least,” said Pete.

“You think that’s why I’m here? Just to take over from JD?”

He shrugged. “Seems unlikely that’s all it is. I mean, why only for a year?”

I thought about Buck having to spend the same amount of time on the ranch and how he’d gone from never wanting to set foot on it to making it his home. Did my father expect I’d eventually decide to stay here? It didn’t make sense. This was my mother’s family. Not his. “Truth is, I’m baffled,” I said to Pete.

“I would be too if I were you.”

“So what is Cena to me? My great aunt?”

“Yeah, and according to this”—he pointed to the family tree—“you might stand to inherit something.”

“I don’t care about that. In fact, the less I hear about inheritances in general, the better.” I put my finger on two more names in my generation, James D. Rooker, III, and John Rooker. “What can you tell me about these two?”

“Jimmy’s around. In fact, I believe he might be working with Hoss. Johnny left right after high school. To my knowledge, he’s never been back.”

“Where’d he go?”

“No clue.”

We ate our lunch in silence, and when we finished, I asked Lori for the check. “This one’s on me,” I said to Pete before walking out.

“Keep in touch,” I heard him call out after me.

---