He thought of his boyhood, running through the fields and woods around his parent’s ranch. He had been an only child, and the light of his parent’s life. What would they think of him now if they could see him thus? The last time they had all been together was on his graduation day, a sunny afternoon in Massachusetts on the Harvard campus. They were so proud of him. Everyone expected him to go on to practice corporate law on Wall Street. The plane crash had put an end to that fantasy. He had to go home to the ranch.
So much tragedy had befallen the Ellis line since the first Ellises settled in Montana so many years ago. The brothers Nathanial and Owen had loved the same woman. They’d fought over her. She hadn’t chosen between them before she fell from her horse and broke her neck. Both men were distraught, but when Owen fell through the ice into the lake and drowned, Nathanial had vowed to build a monument to both of them.
As Nathanial sat in the sweat lodge, he felt himself so close in kinship to Nathanial Ellis the first. He could see through that Nathanial’s eyes. He saw himself drawing the dead, frozen corpse of his brother from the lake. Frozen tears fell down his cheeks. In the spring, he began building the mansion. It was for his lost love, and it was for his brother.
Chapter 7
Morgan sat with her cheek resting in her hand as she gazed out the library window. I knew she missed her father. The events of the night before had been traumatic for the girl. She had already been through so much.
First-grade level books sat sprawled across the table. They were the books she had studied with her mother, before she died. Mrs. Ellis’ unexplained death weighed on my mind. It gave me an eerie unsettled feeling that accentuated my already strange experience of the ranch. Morgan didn’t move from her spot. I watched her back as her little chest expanded and contracted as she breathed. The blue dress dotted with white flowers made her pale skin looked chalk-white.
It was difficult to be strict with Morgan. I wanted to take her to Disneyland and buy her cotton candy. I wanted to see her smile and see her haunted dark eyes light up with excitement. I wanted to take her somewhere sunny and warm where she could play on the beach all day, and smile, laugh like an ordinary child.
Patty walked through the double doors that led to the library from the hallway. She carried a tray with mugs and a plate of cookies. I smiled up at her. Morgan and I needed a break, and we hadn’t even started yet.
“I brought you a late morning snack. Coffee for Miss Jane. Hot chocolate for Miss Morgan, and a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies fresh out of the oven,” she said as she sat everything down on the table.
Morgan turned around in her chair and accepted the hot chocolate. Her pink mouth puckered and blew at the steaming liquid in the thick white mug. I took the coffee and thanked Patty. Her kindness and cooking made the ranch almost tolerable.
I took a cookie and bit into it. Oatmeal raisin perfection melted on my tongue. There was a perfect combination of spices under the buttery rich flavor of the cookie. I grinned and took another sip of my coffee. Morgan picked at a cookie, her dark eyes cast down at the table. Patty sighed and shuffled out of the library.
“I think we should work on reading today, Morgan. Maybe without Mommy.”
Morgan didn’t respond. I scooted into a chair closer to her and opened a picture book. The brightly-colored illustrations depicted the words at the bottom of the page. I slid the book in front of Morgan and put my finger under the first word.”
“Go ahead and begin here.”
“A is for Apple,” she read perfectly.
“Are you sure Mommy is gone right now?”
“Yes. I told her I would read all by myself today.”
I turned the page.
“B is for Ball.”
We continued through the picture book until we got to the last page. She read well and only stumbled a few times. It was still far below grade level. I opened a more challenging picture book and slid it in front of her, pointing at the words as she read them. This book proved to be more difficult for her. I gave her encouragement and small corrections as we went along.
It was mind boggling that the same child could flawlessly read Kant, but stumble over Green Eggs and Ham, depending on if “Mommy” helped her. I was way out of my depth. I needed help. My professors would be disappointed that I hadn’t referred the child to a psychologist already. It couldn’t be helped. Mr. Ellis wanted me to deal with it, or I would lose my job. And perhaps Morgan would not get any help at all.
Torn between professional duty and my loyalty to Morgan, I tried my best to usher her through the maze of her mind. Later, I allowed Mommy to come help again. I had her recite Hamlet. Her grasp of Shakespearian dialect was superb. I wondered if I could even read it with such flare.
Morgan stood on the table in front of me reciting:
“To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.”
I sat in front of her entirely in awe. My eyes wide and my mouth parted in a huge, goofy smile. I had yet to see Morgan so animated. Even when she was out in the settler’s cabin, she had not been so full of joy. Her face had an inner glow I had not seen, and her eyes finally showed me their natural emerald hue.
The double doors swung open and Penny stomped into the room, her face scowling and hard. Morgan gasped and clamored down from the table, all the light disappeared from her face.
“What do you think you are doing young lady!” the woman shouted.
Morgan ran to me and hid under my arm. Penny glared down at me as if I had committed a federal crime.
“What?” I said, flabbergasted. Anger rose in my chest, and my face turned red. She had interrupted Morgan in one of the few moments I’d seen even a hint of happiness in the girl.
“Why in God’s name would you let that child stand on a table? She’s tracking her dirty shoes all over the place. She could fall off and break her neck. Then what would you do? The nearest hospital is two hours away!”
“Morgan was reciting a play to me. I beg your pardon Penny, but the child is my responsibility. If she dirties a table, I will take care of it. I will use this room and this house as I see fit to educate this child. I have it on Mr. Ellis’ authority that I should have total autonomy in this matter. Do I make myself clear?”
“Well, aren’t you the smart one,” she sneered at me, throwing a towel over her shoulder.
“From now on I expect you to respect my authority when it comes to Morgan. Now please, you interrupted an important lesson, kindly leave us. I don’t want to have to inform Mr. Ellis that you are keeping Morgan from her education.”
Penny huffed and stalked out the doors, her clogs clicking on the wooden floor. Morgan clung to me and tilted her face up to look at mine. She beamed. I knew I had just won another level of trust with the girl. I hugged her back. The sweet little thing deserved a happy life. If there was anything I could do to give her just a little happiness, I would do it. Penny deserved to be told off, but I suspected I had just earned myself an enemy.
“Let’s get out of here for a while,” I said, taking her hand. We walked out the front door and down the gravel path toward the barns. She stopped at the entrance of the vegetable garden and pushed open the wooden gate. It was surrounded by a tall wire fence to deter deer. I followed her into the early fall abundance of the garden.
We walked along rows of fully ripe tomatoes, zucchinis and squashes, cantaloupe, garlic, potatoes, and tall stands of corn. Along the far fence,
a row of pumpkins grew round and orange along their vine-covered mounds. I followed Morgan to a trellis of raspberries where she picked the sweet pink berries from the vines and popped them in her mouth. I followed suit, plucking a berry and placing it in my mouth. The warm, sweet juice slid over my tongue. I smiled and picked several more. The explosion of sweet berry juice had an addictive quality.
For several moments, the child and I stood, giggling in the berry vines, picking berries and eating them as quickly as we could. Morgan had a pink smear down the side of her face, her eyes bright.
“This is better than Shakespeare,” I said, plucking another berry off the vine.
“I love it here.”
“Who looks after the garden?”
“Daddy, and Patty, and me.
“Your dad gardens?” I said. My tone was more surprised than I meant it to be. Morgan looked at me skeptically, as if I just found out that water was wet.
“Daddy does a lot of things. He planted all those roses in the front yard. You should see the greenhouse,” she said, plucking another berry.
“I had no idea. Where is the greenhouse?”
“On the other side of the hunters lodge. That’s where we grow food in winter. And where Daddy has his special flowers. Orchids or something.”
“Really?” I couldn’t exactly say why I was so surprised. Mr. Ellis had grown up on Bear Creek Ranch, but everything about him said “Investment Banker” or “Corporate Lawyer.” “Vegetable Gardener” just didn’t line up with the impression I had of Nathanial Ellis. The knowledge changed my perception of him, a bit.
Morgan walked away from the berries, having had her fill. She knelt down by a large pumpkin and brushed the dust from its thick orange skin.
“It will be Halloween soon,” she said at almost a whisper. “It ends of harvest. It is the time that marks preparation for winter.”
“What do you do on Halloween?” I asked. Sometimes Morgan’s words were beyond her age. It made me shiver in the warm afternoon air.
“We have a celebration. We harvest most of the garden and can the veggies. I help. It won’t be the same without Mommy. She used to lead the ceremony?”
“Ceremony?”
“My mommy greeted the seasons and the holidays. I thought all mommies did that.”
“No. I can’t say that they do. I know mine doesn’t.”
I knelt down beside her and examined the pumpkin.
“This sure will be nice for a jack’o lantern.”
“Now that Mommy is gone, we can’t have our ceremony together.”
“Who did these ceremonies with you and your Mommy?”
“Just us.”
“Not even your dad?”
“Daddy sometimes, but not always.”
“I see.”
I stood and looked around, brushing the dust from my knees. The wind blew the scent of the lake over the garden. Morgan stood next to me and looked up at my face. I felt a strange sense of foreboding, as I smelled the scent of the water. Darkness ran through my mind. Images of struggle washed over me, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was.
Morgan took my hand and led me out of the garden. I latched the gate behind us. Part of me felt haunted and cold as we approached the barns. Daisy was back from the hunt and rode a horse in fast circles in a corral, and she waved to me from the back of a white mare. She said something, but I couldn’t hear it through the fuzziness in my mind. Her words sounded as if they were coming from underwater.
She dropped down off the mare and flipped the horse’s reins over the fence, and trotted toward me. I could see her lips moving, hear the garbled tones of her voice, but nothing made sense. I was caught in some kind of in between state, between waking and dreaming. My limbs felt as heavy as massive stones falling to the bottom of the lake.
“Jane!” Daisy’s voice boomed into my ears. I blinked and found her leaning over the fence speaking directly into my face.
“What?”
“What’s going on? Did you get into Joshua’s stash?” she said with a giggle, hopping over the fence.
Morgan looked up at me and put her hand in my hand. Her eyes looked dark and troubled. Daisy grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me slightly.
“Let’s go for a ride!” she said, pulling me through the barn door. There was a line of stalls. Inside the stalls, well-groomed horses munched on hay and swished their long tails.
“I don’t think this is a good time for this.”
Morgan was already stepping into a stall with a roan gelding. She petted the horse’s muzzle. Then she pulled a handful of grain from her pocket and pressed it under the horse’s eager lips. She spread her fingers wide and let the horse slurp up the grain from her palm. Morgan giggled at the horse’s wet, tickling mouth. She wiped her hand on her dress and ran her hand over the horse’s neck.
“Should you be in there, Morgan?”
“Yes,” she said in a matter of fact tone.
“Morgan prefers Stannis,” Daisy said behind me. She pulled a red mare from a stall and tied its lead to a bar near the tack room.
“This is Tannin. She’s a quarter horse, like the rest. But,” Daisy said brushing the animal’s back, “she’s old and slow. Perfect for a newbie”
Daisy flung a blanket and saddle over the horse’s. Her hands flew over the horse, latching all kinds of buckles. It was impossible to interpret what she was doing. It all seemed very complicated.
“I’m not really sure I should do this,” I said, remembering the strange dream I’d just had while walking out of the garden. I still felt heavy and confused.
“Don’t chicken out now,” said Daisy.
“Bock, bock, bock,” said Morgan from behind me as she pulled the gelding from its stall. She led it to stand next to the horse Daisy prepared for me. The girl tied the horse up to the same bar. I felt slightly idiotic watching a seven-year-old prepare a horse while I stood near a stall door with my arms crossed.
Daisy cut behind the horses while carrying an armload of gear, carefully avoiding their rear legs. She slipped a blanket over Morgan’s horse’s back and then threw the saddle up. She let Morgan try to buckle the saddle, but the girl was too short to finish. Daisy smiled at Morgan and patted her back.
Daisy crossed back to the tack room and brought out two bundles of leather and steel that looked like strange S&M devices. Soon I saw her slip the thing over the horse’s head and press the steel into its mouth. She did the same with Morgan’s horse.
When the horses were prepared, Daisy followed Morgan out into the corral. Daisy tied Tannin’s reins over the fence and helped Morgan up into the saddle on the back of her horse, Stannis. The girl slowly rode Stannis around the barrels Daisy had set up in the corral.
Daisy led Tannin toward me and raised an eyebrow, handing me the horse’s reins. I shook my head. Daisy rolled her eyes. I saw Morgan’s horse accelerate into a trot. Daisy pulled the reins over the horse’s back and held a stirrup in my direction. I sighed and stomped over.
She held the reins while she helped me hop up onto the saddle. Raising my leg to the stirrup and hoisting my other leg over the horse, was not exactly the most natural movement for me. My butt slid into the smooth leather saddle, and Daisy pressed the reins into my hands. She smiled and patted my leg.
Daisy jogged over to the corral gate and swung it open. She ran back to the white mare she’d been riding and jumped on its back. Morgan already led her gelding through the fence and walked down the trail headed toward the mountain. I let my horse follow hers. I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice.
Daisy was right behind me, giving me instructions. Her words ran through my ears into my brain, but felt jumbled together. I only caught about every other sentence: Nudge the horse’s sides with my heel to go faster. Steer with the reins. To stop, pull the reins back hard. Raise myself up with the stirrups when the horse trots.
I held tight to the reins and let Morgan’s horse lead me up the trail. We came to the creek and walked
through the cold mountain water. I had to nudge my horse to get it to go through. On the other side was a trail that preceded into the woods. I could see Morgan’s head in front of me, gently bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.
Nathanial shivered in the heat of the sweat lodge. His body toppled over, and he fell to the dirt floor. Blood seeped from his veins soaking into the black soil. Mona came into the lodge and spoke over him. She wrapped up his wrists and poured water into his mouth.
Blackness washed over his eyes and mind, as Joseph lifted and dragged him toward the house. Nathanial gained possession of his legs and struggled to stand. With Joseph’s help, he made his way to an empty guest cabin. Mona followed behind them, holding a large bottle of yellow liquid.
Joseph deposited Nathanial into a cot that was pushed up to the wall in the small room. Pale light from the window streamed down on the woolen blankets. Nathanial collapsed on the cot and let Mona cover him with the brightly-colored covers. The wool scratched his bare skin, but he was too tired to care.
She spoke to Joseph, and he helped her lift Nathanial’s head up to take the yellow liquid in his mouth. Nathanial spit the bitter brew all over the place. Mona shushed him and Joseph made a gagging noise.
“What is that?” Nathanial managed to say. His tongue felt swollen, and his mouth felt painfully dry.
“Wolfsbane tea. You must drink, Nathanial Ellis. Remember you are a man, not a beast.”
She forced more of the horrible drink down his throat. This time Joseph held his mouth closed. Nathanial swallowed it, pressing weakly against Joseph’s arms. Joseph let him go, and he fell back down on the bed, gagging and panting. He felt his stomach clench and wanted to throw-up from the acidic bitterness. Mona whispered soft words in his ears, and he relaxed.
Mona pressed a damp cloth to his head. Sweat continued to pour from his skin, and he shivered. Joseph covered him with several more blankets and closed the window. Joseph left the room while Mona sat on a chair near Nathanial, speaking over him in a low native chant.
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