LITMIR.BIZ

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smiled back. “I know, but work before play. Go get Hank. He’s a sweetie and won’t give you any problems.”

      The cool morning air was warming as the sun’s rays slanted across the lush green valley. Joe felt happy carrying the red-tailed hawk on his fist. Katie led them to a flight oval located on the southern side of the building. A flight oval was usually a quarter of a mile long with four stout metal perches placed around it. He saw that each perch, all large enough for Sam the eagle to land on comfortably, was covered with outdoor carpeting, so that the raptors could grip it and not slide off.

      “Go over to the north perch,” Katie instructed. “I’m going to place a dead mouse on the south perch. When I tell you to release Hank, do so.”

      “Right,” Joe called, carrying the dark brown hawk with a rust-red tail to the north perch. His heart rate picked up. He liked flying raptors. They were incredible in motion. He saw the hawk eyeballing Katie as she walked toward the southern perch. He could see her placing a white mouse on top of it. The jesses on Hank were very short. Katie waved her hand as a signal to release him. He’d barely lifted his glove upward when Hank exploded off it and flapped quickly into the air. Within five wing beats, he pounced upon the south perch with glee. As he landed, he simultaneously grabbed the mouse in his curved yellow beak. Folding his large wings against his body, Hank gulped down his meal.

      Katie had given him a canvas bag filled with raw meat. Joe pulled out the morsel of quail meat and placed it on the perch. Instantly, Hank lifted off and flew to where he stood. In seconds, the raptor had landed and gulped down the meat. Grinning, Joe watched as Katie walked to the west perch where she placed more food. Hank instantly took to the air, heading in her direction.

      Joe never grew bored flying a raptor. They were supreme hunters of the air. He observed how naturally Katie called to Hank after he landed and ate his food. She was smiling. But it was her eyes shining with undisguised love that mesmerized Joe. Her full attention was on the hawk. What would it be like to have Katie look at him with that wonderful, glowing expression?

      Shaken by his thoughts, Joe scowled. For a moment, he was shocked. There was no way he could get personally involved with this woman. Oh, it was true, Katie was attractive, and so trusting of strangers like himself. Who would have thought she’d be this innocent after being handed off from one foster family to another? He’d read her records. She’d had ten foster families by the age of sixteen. Katie had been in trouble, rebellious and skipping school. She’d had a tough life, there was no doubt. So how could she be so damned open and good-natured now? Was it all really just an act, as his boss Roger Hager wanted him to believe? Rubbing his jaw, Joe wasn’t so sure. There was something pure about Katie that defied logic and Hager’s dire warning.

      “Here he comes!” Katie called.

      Damn! Joe had forgotten to place the meat on the perch. The bird landed with a flap of his wings, his yellow eyes focused on him.

      “Yeah, I screwed up,” he muttered to the hawk. After digging into his pouch, he found the meat. He placed it on the thumb of his glove and lifted it. Instantly, Hank leaned forward and grasped it in his beak.

      “You gotta stay awake,” Katie called and laughed as she walked to the east perch.

      “I know,” Joe called out. “Sorry...”

      “Not to worry.” Katie placed meat on the perch. She watched Hank fly swiftly to where she stood. Smiling, she saw Joe place meat on the perch next to him, and the bird took off like a rocket, wings causing air turbulence around her, lifting strands of her black hair from around her face. Katie liked Joe’s work ethic. Clearly, Eddie had taught him well. Joe didn’t get flustered or tense and the raptors liked him.

      Walking toward Joe, she said, “Go ahead and put Hank on your gauntlet. He’s had his breakfast and we’ll put him back into the mew. The next bird out will be Quest. I want to fly her in the oval and she can have her breakfast out here.”

      “Okay,” he called and Hank hopped onto his glove. Wrapping the jesses between his fingers, Joe brought the red-tailed hawk down to a comfortable height so he could hold him steady. Hank was ruffling his feathers and shaking them.

      “That’s a good sign,” Katie said as she walked up to Joe. “A bird that trusts you will always ruffle its feathers. It shows it’s relaxed and happy.”

      Inner relief flowed through Joe as he walked with Katie back to the facility. “Hank is a nice hawk. He’s easy to handle.”

      Katie entered the building and stood aside as Joe walked in with Hank. “Well, now you’re going to get to handle Quest. She’s a piece of work.” Katie walked with him down the aisle to Hank’s mew. Joe entered and closed the door behind him. “Quest was shot in Canada and a hiker found her limping around on the ground. He cast her in his T-shirt and hand-carried her to a vet. She doesn’t trust men at all. I don’t know if it’s from being wrapped in the T-shirt or she hated the man who shot her. Or both...”

      Joe nodded and came out of the mew with Quest. Turning, he locked the door. “A lot of raptors hate being cast. It makes them feel out of control and trapped.”

      “Casting a falcon is really hard on its psyche. They’re more easily stressed. More so than a hawk or eagle.” Katie stood near the cage. She met his gaze. “I like the way you work with my raptors. I’d like to offer you the job, Joe. What do you say?”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      SHOULD SHE TRY to get in touch with her daughter...or not? Janet Bergstrom sat in the office of Mercury Courier, rubbing her aching head. She had the window open so her cigarette smoke would drift outside. With her fingers drumming on the chipped walnut desk she’d picked up at Goodwill years ago, Janet pursed her mouth. What to do? She glanced out the window and saw storm clouds gathering across the city of Cheyenne. It was summer and they could use the water.

      The door to her office was closed but she had exquisite hearing. Janet could hear the bells tinkle as the door opened and another customer arrived. Her help, one of the Los Lobos drug soldiers, Pablo, would take care of the package to be sent by courier. Turning in her squeaky wooden chair, Janet finished off her cigarette and stubbed it out in a green glass ashtray on the corner of her desk.

      She stood, realizing she needed to move around. She could never sit still for too long. Running her polished red fingernails through her dyed blond hair, she started to pace. On her desk was a photo taken by a nurse of the baby she’d given up twenty-six years earlier. It was the only photo Janet had of her baby girl. What to do? What to do? She rubbed her damp hands down the sides of her dark green polyester slacks. Janet struggled to think.

      Earlier, she’d slipped out the back door and into the alley and smoked part of a joint. A little weed was the only thing that could calm her raw, jittery nerves. But she couldn’t keep a thought in her head. Her mind swung back to her daughter she’d given away so long ago. Should she try to contact Katie Bergstrom in person? On a whim, Janet had driven from Cheyenne to the Elk Horn Ranch where her daughter was living. For years she’d followed her daughter’s career via the Jackson Hole newspaper. She enjoyed the articles on Katie and the raptors. Twice, Janet had chickened out at the front gate of the ranch, parked off the road, trying to build up courage to meet Katie.

      “Damn fear,” she said in a gravelly tone, turning on her heel. To hell with it. Janet jerked open the back door. She was desperate for some fresh air. If Pablo needed her, he knew where to find her. Stepping into the alley, Dumpsters on either side of her, three-story redbrick buildings rising around her, Janet wished she was out in nature. She hated cities, even Cheyenne. She preferred the quiet of a rural town.

      Fingers trembling, she pulled out the rest of her joint from her pocket. The lighter was always in the other pocket. Placing the joint between her red lips, she lit it and inhaled deeply. She dropped the lighter back into her pocket and began her ambling walk down the empty alley, puffing and holding the smoke in her lungs. The small road was closed off at one end and open at the other. Her car, a gray Subaru that had seen better days, was parked near the rear

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