by D. K. Davis
“I’ll need a ride home,” Oakly hollered from the corner of the barn.
“Leave whenever you want. You got my keys.” Rowan jogged over to a path I hadn’t noticed earlier.
Again, I pulled my hand away from him. Yea, I was drawn to him and holding his hand felt natural, but I didn’t know anything about him.
“What, you got something against holding a dude’s hand?”
“No, just yours.”
He stopped. His mouth dropped open, and his brows rose to his forehead. Talk about exaggeration.
I pointed past his shoulder. “Lead the way, dud.”
“Dud? No, no, no. You mean Dude, with a capital ‘D.’” His face spread into that sparkling smile I witnessed on his brother earlier. But the inner dazzle that came with Rowan’s rated the total opposite from Oakly’s razzle scale. If someone could actually be enamored by something, this was it for me. Even my itchy nose relaxed with Rowan’s smile.
“Okay, big D, get on with it, move forward or we’ll not make it back to the meadow in time…or isn’t it that far?”
Rowan stepped up the pace so I jogged to keep up. We kept the stride for maybe a mile or so and then slowed to a walk.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?” I kept walking with my eyes wide and searching.
“Because I’d like to surprise you.” He stepped in front of me and stopped.
“Well, aren’t you the boss.” I had a feeling this would be the moment when Rowan’s true colors would bleed through. A slap of reality…here’s the countdown.
“Close your eyes and trust me to lead you around the curve of the path. We pass by a couple of hills with cliff-wall sides along the path. You’ll hear it before you see it. When you hear it, open your eyes.”
I placed my right hand across my eyes. Rowan wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I stopped, dropping my hand down, and shot him a wide-eyed glare.
“Okay, sorry.” Rowan put my hand back over my eyes and held the other hand in his. “Will this be all right with you?” He squeezed my hand a little.
“Yes, thanks for asking.”
Rowan led me slowly. I could tell when the big curve in the path came and then bubbly gurgles of water surrounded me. I opened my eyes. The sound came from the stream and also echoed off the hill cliff-walls behind me. I sensed the forest so alive here. I wandered off the path to the edge of the stream. Green moss coated the ground and rocks along its sides, too wide to jump across, but shallow enough to wade.
“Do you ever wade in this?”
“There are areas where the bottom is sandy. This isn’t one of them. It’s rocky and the water’s cold, not fun kind of walking conditions.”
“Well, you’re right. This is an awesome place. Can we walk along the creek edge for a while?”
“I’m glad you want to. I come here a lot of times to be alone. Sometimes, I bring a fishing rod.” He grinned, flashing his white teeth, and touched my hand without grabbing it.
“Why would you ever want to be alone?” the words popped out as I thought them. I understood why I would want to be alone, easier not to risk saying or doing the wrong thing in front of people who were too busy to listen anyway.
“Let’s walk,” he said, ignoring my question. “Look at that,” he whispered, pointing at a chipmunk chattering away at us from atop a stump.
“I don’t see many wild animals in the city. There are squirrels and a few birds, but nothing like what’s out here. It’s almost like visiting a zoo without cages.”
“What city?”
“Grand Rapids. Mom and I lived in one of the old apartment buildings right in the center of town. Mom got married three weeks ago and we moved into Jack’s mansion. I have to say, there’s wildlife around his estate. He owns a lot of property.”
“Sounds like you have a good life.”
“Mom seems happy.”
“So, what does that make you?”
“Happy for her.” I smelled something and noticed a dark pile on the ground so walked over to investigate. “Ewwwe, what’s that? It looks like a huge pile of poop.”
“Yep, you got it. Looks fairly fresh too. Black bear.” He looked around as if expecting to see one.
“There are bears in these woods? We’re walking around like nothing’s going to eat us?”
“You’re funny. Black bears are afraid of people, generally. They can smell us miles away and will clear the area before we ever see them.”
“You said ‘generally.’ What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to get around them if they have bear cubs, and sometimes conditions are right when you do accidentally come across a bear. They get spooked like we would. But, honestly, I’ve lived up here my entire life, and I’ve only seen a couple.” Rowan looked upward at the sky through the leafy branches. “We’d better head to the meadow or we’ll miss the next big show.”
“What show?”
“You’ll see.” This time Rowan touched my hand and then held it. I let him pull me along. “Come on,” he said, “we need to step it up a notch or your uncle will come looking for us.”
Chapter Five
Morgan
We cut through the woods following a narrow deer-run of dirt and trodden-down brush, not the nicely laid path of wood chips like the one we followed to the stream. A lot slower pace but we still arrived faster than using the previous forest path.
The sun hung low when we popped out of the woods into the meadow. Aunt Becka waved us over. She, Uncle Charlie, and Oakly crouched against a long log, next to a pile of cut wood. Aunt Becka used a pair of binoculars to look across the meadow toward the tree line. Trees surrounded the open field and at its center stood large raised cylinders and wooden crates.
I sank down beside Aunt Becka, and Rowan bent down between Uncle Charlie and me. Oakly moved behind the log and stopped in alignment with me. He leaned toward me so that his breath hit the back of my head, but it was the full-on sniff that threw me off. I turned toward him. “Did you just smell me?”
His ear-to-ear grin made me want to slap it off his face. “Why would I do that?”
I whipped back around. Oh, this is fun. Oakly encroaches on my personal space, and I get to watch the mosquitoes bite me while the sun sets. I slapped my arm and the sound magnified in the silence.
“Shhh. There.” Aunt Becka pointed and handed me the binoculars. “Look over in that direction.” I rolled my eyes and a giant sigh whipped out, both habits I brought from home. Aunt Becka touched my shoulder and pointed again.
One by one the tan four-legged creatures cautiously stepped out from the trees. Doe, fawns, and finally the buck meandered toward the cylinders and crates, munching on scattered ears of corn along the way.
“I want you to see Zoe. She’s a fawn we rehabilitated here,” Aunt Becka whispered.
I looked through the binoculars again. “They all look the same to me. How do you tell them apart?” All the deer heads popped up. They stood motionless, staring in our direction.
“Shhh. You’ve spooked them.” Aunt Becka pointed the binoculars in my hands toward the deer she wanted me to see. “She’s one of the pregnant does. Zoe’s missing the tip of her left ear.”
I saw her. She saw me too. Some of the deer still grazed from one crate or cylinder to another, which I surmised to be deer feeders. Others moved back into the woods. So, I observed for a while. Something I never would’ve thought about doing back home, but here I considered it a new adventure.
On the way back to the house, I asked, “Deer are hunted around here, right? I mean why rehabilitate and then release them if a hunter is going to shoot them?”
“You’re right,” Uncle Charlie spoke up. “If the wildlife stays in this area on our forested land, it’s posted ‘no hunting,’ and we have a contracted security group that patrols it. But still, most of the animals we rehabilitate can be hunted. We don’t like it, but that’s the way of the world. People need to eat, and wildlife brings sustenance to a table. But,
more than that, herd populations need to be monitored, too many of a species creates issues also.”
“Yea, I know what security group you’re talking about, Forest Guardians.” Oakly brushed past Uncle Charlie and nudged into my side. “I’m part of that group. So is Rowan.”
“We are. So’s our father, and a few others we know. One of the jobs we all take turns doing.” Rowan grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him, away from Oakly.
Aunt Becka sighed and then added, “Uncle Charlie and I both believe all creatures deserve a healthy life, we do what we can to make sure it happens. When they are brought to us injured, we nurse them back to health. Your grandmother being a veterinarian is perhaps where I acquired the passion for saving injured animals. She taught me a lot in my younger years, and she’s still teaching me.”
“You never told me your mother was a vet,” Rowan cut in. “I’m looking for a college with a veterinarian program. Maybe I should talk to your mom.”
“She doesn’t visit often, but if you’re serious about researching, I’ll send her an email and see what colleges in this area she suggests.” Aunt Becka and Uncle Charlie shut off their flashlights as we neared the barns.
We looked in on the fawns and twins on the way past their pen. We wouldn’t need to feed them for another two hours.
“Why do you have more deer than other animals?” I asked.
“I guess because we’re good at rehabilitating them. Most of the rehabilitators we know don’t have the ability or the room to care for deer. A majority of the injured or abandoned wildlife brought in to us is deer or fawn.” Aunt Becka stopped at the back door to the house. “We work hard not to imprint or stamp ourselves onto these little guys, but it happens. Like Zoe, they will hang around our facility after release.”
“Does imprint mean the deer aren’t afraid of humans?” I asked.
“Yes. We purchased a thousand wooded acres surrounding the refuge as a deer preserve, so they’d have a protected place to live. It’s safe from hunters, mostly, but not always safe from the poachers in this area.”
“You got that right,” Rowan added. “There’s always some horror story of finding deer body parts in bizarre places after a non-hunting season slaughter.”
“Well, we’re here,” Aunt Becka opened the back door and waved us in. “You’re welcome to stay a while Rowan, Oakly, but I’m betting Morgan is dead on her feet. I cracked the whip all day on her.” Aunt Becka let out her signature bellowing laughter, and for once I didn’t jump.
We all dropped our shoes just inside the door, except Rowan and Oakly. They carefully walked to the front door.
“See you maybe tomorrow, Morgan. Thanks for dinner Becka,” Rowan said and then turned toward Uncle Charlie. “Maybe Mom will let me bring over the momma dog and her pups so you can have a good look at all of them, Charlie.”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”
Again, Oakly stood in front of me, blocking my path and staring at me. My whole body prickled as if stinging ants crawled over my skin. I shoved around Oakly without looking at his face and said my goodbyes to him and Rowan. I headed straight upstairs in need of a shower but was so tired, I stretched across the bed for only a minute and never heard Rowan’s truck drive away.
* * *
Rowan
“What the hell? You’re doing everything you can to make Morgan uncomfortable. Why?” My hands shook with the need to punch, and the stupid grin on Oakly’s face gave me a reason. I smashed my fist into his shoulder, and he bounced off the back end of my truck. “Leave her alone, you hear me?” The bed of the truck had an empty vodka bottle. That explains Oakly’s stupid behavior.
“God, you think you own her? It’s sickening how you act like her protector, and you don’t even know her.” He spit, and it landed in front of my shoe. “Didn’t you just meet her today? I’d say it’s still open season on her.” He twisted away from me and strode to the driver’s side door, opening it and climbing in.
“I’m driving. Give me my keys.” I rushed him before he slammed the door in my face.
He kicked my chest so hard I stumbled backward, landing on my butt. The tires spun dirt and gravel, and my truck shot down the driveway.
Charlie stepped out the front door and ambled over to me. “What’s got into Oakly’s craw?”
I got up and brushed off my backside. “In a word, Morgan.”
“I watched you boys from inside. Both of you got your eyes glowing. I thought you were going to shift and battle it out right in my driveway.” He let out a deep breath. “Morgan is clueless about shifters, and I don’t want her becoming privy to it like that.”
I didn’t want her to find out about us that way either. “There’s something about her, Charlie. She stirs my senses, but she’s only human, right?”
Charlie looked away from me for a moment and then turned back. “Yes, she’s all human, even though Becka and I never met her father.” He studied me for a moment. “Why, what else do your senses tell you?”
“Something instinctual, but I’m not sure yet.” My father had explained how instinct had drawn he and my mother together the first time they met, and everything inside me craved Morgan, from the very moment I saw her in the window. I’d never experienced this incredible pull to someone before; not just a whim-want, but a strong need to protect and cherish. I wasn’t comfortable with explaining any of it to Charlie…or anyone.
Charlie touched my shoulder. “You want a ride home?”
“No. It’s my night to patrol anyway. I’ll take off to the forest from here and see you tomorrow.” I went for the tree line on the other side of the driveway, and then stopped and turned back toward Charlie. “We need to pay attention to Oakly. I don’t trust him around Morgan.”
“Neither do I.” Charlie’s jaw tensed. He turned and sauntered back to the house.
The yard light popped on, nightfall had crept in, and my patrol timeslot started half-hour ago.
I ran into the forest, far enough to undress and spot my clothes near my favorite tree. The cat inside me urged the change; something tugged at the cougar to hurry. I prowled along my usual checkpoints, scenting death but never seeing it. Then, I came upon another empty vodka bottle, still strong smelling. Oakly.
A deep growl from behind me announced my brother. He still edged for a fight, and in his condition, he’d be after blood. I spun around. Blood covered his face and paws. I scented rabbit. Hopefully, the kill was for sustenance while culling out the sick or elderly, but somehow, I doubted my brother’s judgment right now.
He rushed forward, claws unsheathed and fangs dripping. Before Oakly got to me, our father, in cougar form, crashed into my brother’s side, knocking him onto his back. Father’s jaws stretched around Oakly’s neck, in a stronghold. Father’s weight pinned him to the ground. I stalked over and sat, waiting for them to shift. When they finally morphed into human form, I also did.
“What in the hell are you thinking, Oakly?” Dad’s face turned beat red, and his eyes glowed like his cougar wanted to surface again. “What were you planning on doing to your brother?” His jaw muscles worked along his temple. “I want an answer, now.”
“Rowan needed a lesson in humility,” Oakly slurred. “That bastard thinks he’s better than everyone else and I’m sick of it.” He lunged at me, but father grabbed his arm and hauled him back.
“You’ve been drinking again. How in the hell are you getting the stuff?” Dad slammed Oakly against a large tree and pressed a hand over my brother’s chest. “I want answers, son. How can I trust you to be responsible with guarding the forest, securing Mr. and Mrs. Connor’s property, if you can’t be responsible for yourself?”
“Talk to Rowan. He’s the one acting crazy. Over a stupid girl, he just met. He’s the one that’s not responsible.” Oakly turned his head away and threw-up. Dad dropped his hand away, and my brother fell to the ground onto his knees and hands, still puking.
Dad glanced my way and raised his brows. “So, you
’re interested in a female?”
Chapter Six
Morgan
Aunt Becka’s bellow of laughter reverberated up the stairway from the kitchen underneath the loft bedroom where I’d been sleeping. The smell of bacon made me drool. Sunlight invaded the room, shooting across the floor like a silent alarm clock.
“Come on girl, the day’s half-over!” Aunt Becka called, with an added bit of happy chortling to tidy-up the summons.
The screen door slammed a few seconds later. I threw the covers over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I’m not going to act excited about working my butt off. They’ll have to come up here and drag me down.
No one came up for me. The bacon ruled. My stomach was eating itself, and protein always took the edge off my hangry. I dressed and rushed down the stairway to the kitchen. Aunt Becka had left me a note and a plate full of breakfast.
‘Morgan,
Enjoy breakfast, and then go to the twin’s pen, time for a feeding.
Love, Aunt Becka’
Aunt Becka wrote love. Why? Odd. Mom never said that word, nor acted the part.
The food hit my empty spot. So far, everything Aunt Becka cooked or baked tasted amazing. After I finished eating, dishes went into the dishwasher, and I headed out to the pen. Aunt Becka nodded at me as she handled the five in the front pen with her balancing act of bottles. I grabbed the remaining two for the twins inside the enclosure. Those little hungry baby deer suckled it right down.
Aunt Becka and I ran the same schedule as the day before. Only this time, I had an idea of what to do. We finished the morning duties well before lunch. I followed my aunt’s lead and cleaned out the two goat stalls we didn’t clean yesterday. We muck-out two stalls one day and the other two the next, so each got done every other day.
I filled the wheel barrow with the stinky straw, covered the floor with some sweeping compound for critters, and then swept the floor out. I pulled some dry straw apart to spread around inside the stall, freshening the water and food.
