Shifter Overdrive by Scarlett Grove


  “We won’t be having lessons this morning Morgan.”

  She looked at me with big disappointed eyes, and pushed her plate away. I knew I was walking a razor’s edge. I needed to keep Morgan’s trust, but I also had to obey Nathanial if I wanted to get him on my side about Morgan. She needed help I couldn’t provide, and perhaps this trip would be a good opportunity to discuss alternative treatment for her. But if I didn’t explain it correctly to Morgan, I could lose all the trust I had gained.

  “Your daddy has something important he needs me to do. We will be gone for a few hours. You can play with Patty, Daisy, or Joshua while I’m gone, and we will have our lessons later today. Is that alright?”

  “Fine,” she said in a dull tone, sliding out of the breakfast nook.

  She trotted from the table and threw her arms around my shoulders. I was surprised at the sudden display. I hugged her back, accepting her affection. I found myself more and more attached to Morgan every day. She was the primary reason I remained at the ranch after all the strange occurrences, rude people, and the horseback riding injury. I couldn’t leave the sweet, innocent child without anyone to teach her or to guide her. Patty took responsibility for her, but that only went so far. Patty had a demanding job. She couldn’t give Morgan the attention she needed.

  Morgan let go and drifted toward the family room to turn on the TV. She pulled herself up on the leather couch and aimed the remote at the screen. The voices of Sponge Bob and Patrick filled the room as the animated characters danced across the screen. I pulled myself up from the table, glancing from Morgan to Patty.

  “I’ll look after her this morning, Hon. You go on with Nathanial.”

  “Thanks Patty,” I said, before leaving the room.

  A strange tension gripped my stomach as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. A nice quiet day alone in the library with Morgan sounded much more pleasurable than going anywhere with Nathanial. Still, Morgan was the reason for this outing, so it did serve a purpose.

  I approached his door, feeling the nervous tension build. It tingled over my shoulders and down my arms. I raised my hand to knock, but my hand stopped before I touched the door.

  I turned away. The painting on the wall across from Nathanial’s office door caught my eye. It was a pastoral scene of a man and a woman dressed in old-fashioned clothing, perhaps mid-nineteenth century. They sat on a picnic blanket near a silver-black lake, under the shadow of a mountain. I leaned in closer to inspect the work. It beguiled me with its melancholy beauty.

  I looked closer and became aware that the man and woman in the painting looked strikingly similar to Nathanial and me. The woman wore a mustard yellow dress with a burgundy seam that ran down the sides and over her full skirt. Her red hair was parted down the middle and ringlets tumbled around her cheeks. She wore a bonnet that matched her dress. The man wore a fitted waistcoat in plush blue fabric over a vest and straight black trousers. A short top hat covered his wavy black hair. In the painting, they were leaning into each other as if sharing a secret. It was an intimate scene.

  Vague memories of my dreams and hallucinations came to me. Owen’s brother was named Nathanial. He was the one Melody was supposed to marry. I backed away from the painting. Cold shivers ran down my body, making my ribs ache. Behind me, Nathanial’s office door opened. I swung around to find myself face to face with him. A strange feeling of embarrassment rose in my cheeks, and I blushed.

  His black eyes stared at me, but his lips smiled. I wanted to run. Run as fast as I could away from this place, jump under my covers and hide from the insanity. How could this be happening? Was I really Melody? Was Nathanial really… Nathanial?

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I stammered. I felt chained to that spot, as if my feet were made of concrete, and I couldn’t move if my life depended on it.

  “Come,” he said, moving down the hall.

  My feet finally thawed and allowed me to follow. I caught up as he trotted down the stairs. The line of his powerful shoulders held straight as he moved toward the front door. He grabbed the door and waited, holding it open. I bounced after him, my breasts heaving as I descended the staircase.

  When I reached the door, I glanced at him as I walked outside. His expression was satisfied; his dark eyes sparkled as if his smile had finally reached them. He followed me out the door, closed it behind him, and led me to his Range Rover. Again, he opened the door for me and waited until I had settled inside to shut it. His strange, new gallantry made me tense. What did he want? Was he going to fire me?

  He went around the other side of the car and hopped in the driver’s seat. His energy was electric as he turned the key in the ignition. Gone was the serious, overbearing, businessman who I had known since the day I arrived. He had been replaced by a seemingly playful and gracious gentleman.

  He backed the car out of the parking area and turned down the dirt road. As we passed under the Bear Creek Ranch sign, he pressed a button on the car stereo, and music filled the cab. It was one of my favorite bands. I would never, in a million years, have expected Nathanial Ellis to be a Snow Patrol fan. I looked at him with my mouth open and then looked back out the window.

  We bumped down the dirt road for fifteen minutes, until we turned out onto the narrow, paved highway. The landscape of the valley stretched out before me, and I watched the trees fly past, opening into pasture where cattle grazed. After several minutes, we drove over a small bridge and turned the corner into a collection of buildings that made up the small village of Yuka.

  Nathanial parked in front of a general store, which was made of gleaming yellow, hewn logs. We walked inside the store, and he picked up a basket. The young woman behind the counter had long brown hair than hung straight to her waist over a pale flannel shirt. She smiled at Nathanial and then frowned at me. I tried to smile, but she looked away.

  “Hello Sandra,” he said as he walked past the counter. “This is Jane Elder, Morgan’s new tutor.”

  “Hi. Nice to meet you,” she said weakly.

  I reciprocated and followed Nathanial down the aisle. The general store had everything from fresh fruit to nails. It was a strange combination of goods to be in one place, but I just told myself it was like the log cabin version of Walmart. Nathanial went to the back wall, lined with refrigerators, and put two bottles of water in the basket. He then grabbed some trail mix and a few health bars.

  We walked back to the counter, and Sandra stared me down. I hated the whole female competition thing, but she obviously had a crush on Nathanial. She was pretty, but if her fashion was any indication, she clearly didn’t get to town very often. I wondered if she’d met Clive, our wilderness guide.

  “Is this everything?” she said, taking the goods out of the basket.

  “Yup,” he said. I looked at him. I’d never heard him talk like that.

  “What are you up to today, Nate?”

  “I’m taking Jane out to the old Miller place. I just bought that land. I was thinking of running cattle on it.”

  “She’s going to help you decide?” Sandra said skeptically. Apparently, I still looked like a flatlander, college girl.

  “Maybe,” he said, as Sandra put our things in a paper bag.

  We walked out of the store, and Nathanial stood near the passenger door. He pointed out the functions of all the buildings in town. There was a restaurant across the road. Down from there was a rickety, clapboard saloon. Down the highway from the general store was a gas station. And another five miles up the road, was the school and the community center.

  We got in the car and drove away from Yuka down the highway in the opposite direction from the school. The trees crowded in around the road, casting us in shadow. The indie bands continued to play on his stereo, making me feel like I had entered the Twilight Zone. My entire experience in Montana had been like the Twilight Zone, but somehow Nathanial Ellis jamming out to college radio tunes made it far worse.

  “Where are we going again?” I asked,
trying to break the strange energy in the car.

  “I’m taking you to an old homestead that was once owned by the Miller family. It’s almost as old as Bear Creek Ranch.” He turned a corner onto a dirt road, and we bumped up an incline. “The Millers’ daughter Melody and the Ellis boys were tangled up in a love triangle.”

  “Really?” My body began to shake.

  We pulled up the road until we came to a grassy clearing. The big log house had been maintained and expanded from an original settlement. An old, gray barn stood next to the house and was ready to fall in on itself.

  Nathanial approached the house jangling keys. I followed, not knowing how I felt about being there. Nothing looked familiar. I didn’t have any flashes of recognition.

  Nathanial opened the door, and I followed him inside. The interior looked like it had been updated sometime in the eighties and was empty except for a few pieces of furniture. We walked into the living room and looked out the window at the pasture. I was beginning to wonder why he’d brought me here. He hadn’t said one word about Morgan.

  “I’m thinking of either running cattle here or turning it into a summer rental. Or both. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about ranches or real estate.”

  “What do you think of the house?”

  “It’s nice. It looks livable.”

  “Do you think it would appeal to high-income individuals as a summer getaway?"

  “I guess, maybe. It needs some updating.”

  “How would you update it?”

  I stared at him for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Why was he asking me all this? It had nothing to do with my area of expertise and nothing to do with Morgan. Still, I couldn’t resist giving my opinion about interior design.

  “Well, the kitchen needs to be overhauled. All new cabinets, countertops, stainless steel appliances. These wood floors are gorgeous, but they need to be polished and brightened up. The exposed wood beams are nice. That’s a real focal point, but this whole house could use more light. Bigger windows or skylights might be nice. And I’m sure the bathrooms could use a major face lift.”

  “Interesting. I hadn’t thought of the light issue. You are probably right. Would you like to see the rest of the property?”

  “Sure.”

  I followed him outside into the fresh, cool air. A cloud passed over the sun, casting us in shadow. I pulled my sweater around myself, glad I had dressed in warm clothes. The weather was getting progressively colder in the short time I had been there. After six years in St. Louis, such cold weather in early October seemed strange.

  Nathanial opened a metal gate that led out into the pasture. I followed him into the thigh-high grass. He explained it was viable hay, that hadn’t been harvested, and was going to waste. It was too late in the season to get it bailed. It would be better to get cattle on it now.

  I listened to his explanations intently. While Nathanial Ellis was an independently wealthy stock trader, with a Harvard degree, he was also a multi-generational rancher. The simplicity and earnestness of his concerns for his land and cattle made my heart go out to him. I liked this side of him much more.

  We walked to the far side of the pasture to where the tree line began. We climbed the fence and continued through the forest. We followed the fence line until we came to a little brook on the edge of an orchard. The dark trunks topped with orange foliage dripping on the ground, made me feel faint. I knew this place. I’d been here before.

  On the other side of the orchard, we passed a disintegrating old building. The empty doorframe stood, but the ceiling had fallen in.

  I stared through the doorway into the darkness. An image of Owen flashed across the screen of my mind. I saw his open mouth, shrieking. His eyes were dark and haunted, his face pale. Panic trickled up my throat, and I almost screamed.

  I turned away, nearly running in the opposite direction. Tears welled in my eyes, falling in streams down my cheeks. I nearly tripped on an exposed tree root, but Nathanial caught me in his arms. He pulled me into his body. I could feel his hard chest against my back. He held me around my waist, his forearm grazing the underside of my breast. My body reacted to his touch even through the ache of my ribs. My nipples tightened against the satin of my bra.

  He slowly unfurled his arms and turned me around, still holding my waist. I looked up at him. His face showed concern. His dark eyes showed passion. My breath caught. At that exact moment, I wanted to throw myself into Nathanial’s embrace, let him kiss me deep and hard in that place that had belonged to Owen. Disembodied guilt swam in my chest. I ran my hand up his arm to help myself balance.

  “Are you alright?” He said in a low, husky voice.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath. None of it made any sense. It was here and now, and this Nathanial Ellis and I hardly knew each other. We’d just met. He wasn’t my fiancé. He didn’t even have a younger brother.

  “I was just spooked. I thought I saw a rat.”

  “Let’s go back.”

  We walked along the fence line back toward the car. I asked him if the cherry trees were still producing cherries, and he told me they were an old-fashioned variety that was most highly prized by birds. They could be harvested for use in a mixed berry jam that many enjoyed for its unique, bitter flavor.

  Back at the car, Nathanial pulled out a blanket and threw it over the grass on the overgrown front lawn. He set the snacks he’d purchased on the blanket. I sat with him and gladly accepted the bottled water. He threw a handful of trail mix in his mouth and looked out on the property. When he squinted, faint lines formed around the corners of his eyes, hinting at his age.

  I wondered again when we would talk about Morgan, but I was beginning to understand that this outing was about something else. Something told me Nathanial had secrets of his own. He turned to me and smiled, offering me the bag of trail mix. I pulled out a small handful and crunched on it, washing it down with a swig of water.

  I had the urge to move closer to him in an attempt to get him to touch me again. The strength and solidity of his body when he held me left an indelible imprint in my body’s memory.

  “What was that shack out there?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it was an old hired hand’s cabin. I think one of the Ellis boys might have stayed out there for a short time, working for the Millers. So the story goes anyway.”

  “Why work here?”

  “Well, as far as I know. The Ellises hadn’t made their fortunes yet. They’d spent most of their startup money on the property. They had cattle and timber but no cash. So Owen came over here to help the Millers while Nathanial worked at Bear Creek.”

  “I see. And he built the house after Owen died?”

  “Yes. Owen died right around the time when money started coming in from their investment. It was a sad thing. First the Millers’ daughter and then Owen. Tragic really.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Nathanial Ellis I wrote journals for most of his life. The history of the ranch is recorded through his accounts.”

  Cold washed over my body, and it wasn’t just the chill wind blowing over my sweat-dampened body. I began to shiver, this time I couldn’t control it. Nathanial noticed my discomfort and immediately stood. He offered me his hand and helped me stand, guiding me back to the truck. He helped me inside and turned on the heater while he retrieved the blanket and food. I watched him bending over to pick up the blanket. His firm thighs and backside filled me with an excitement that made the shivering worse.

  Nathanial came back to the car, and saw I was still shaking. He reached across to the passenger seat and put his arms around me. He rubbed my back vigorously and held me tight against his chest. The warmth of his body helped me calm down. I wanted to tilt my head back into his kiss. Kissing my boss wasn’t exactly appropriate, so I pulled back.

  “You caught a chill,” he said sympathetically,
allowing me to slide away from him. I knew I was Melody Miller, and he was Nathanial Ellis I. We were once engaged to be married, until I slept with his brother, and then fell from a horse and died. He was far more to me than my boss. But I had no way to prove that to myself or anyone else. Until I could be sure of what to do, I wanted to keep things professional between us.

  “So. I wanted to talk with you about Morgan?”-I said, trying to regain some composure.

  “Yes.”

  “Like I said before, I think Morgan needs a psychologist. I can teach her basic grade level skills, but her emotional issues really require a professional.”

  “I see you’ve thought a great deal about this.”

  “I have.”

  “Let’s give it a few more weeks, until after the next full moo… until after Halloween. I might take Morgan to live in New Mexico for the winter, and it might be easier to connect her with a therapist when we are closer to town.”

  “Does that mean I’ll be out of a job?” I felt angry and ashamed at the same time. Morgan needed help. She'd probably do better being closer to civilization. But I’d just begun to work here. I had no other prospects, and I’d found myself developing feelings for Nathanial.

  “I’m sure we could take you with us. Morgan probably isn’t ready for public school. Don’t you think?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Good, it’s settled then.”

  He started the car and turned toward the road.

  Chapter 10

  When Nathanial and Jane arrived back at the ranch, a UPS box waited for Nathanial in his office, on his desk. He ripped open the box and pulled out the items he had purchased for Jane the night before. Even in Montana, money could get you what you wanted. He opened the plastic packaging that contained the lilac bustier and held it up by its thin straps, imagining her body filling the contours of the sheer fabric.

  He felt himself stiffen. When he had caught her in the cherry grove, he’d wanted to push her against a tree and tear off her clothes.

 
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