The Defender. Lindsay McKennaЧитать онлайн книгу.
But how to ignore Katie Bergstrom’s beautiful lips? Her face was oval and she wore no makeup. She didn’t have to, Joe thought. At twenty-six, she was clearly in athletic shape. The flash of her smile momentarily stole his breath. Joe had never witnessed such a glow of happiness on anyone’s face. “Raptor magic,” as it was called by falconers, could bring almost saint-like elation to a person’s face. Joe knew that firsthand from his own falconry training. And he was seeing it in spades on Katie’s upturned face.
Something niggled at Joe. He couldn’t forget the facts in this case. For years, the FBI had been following Janet Bergstrom, Katie’s estranged mother who had given her up at birth. Janet was working with a new Guatemalan drug-and-gun cartel trying to establish a base here in Jackson Hole. Shortly after she had abandoned her child at birth, Janet had fled to Guatemala to connect with Xavier Lobos, the cartel leader. For many years, the FBI had focused on her as a mule running drugs across the Mexican border into the U.S. Another FBI agent had finally nabbed Janet. She’d been caught with a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine in her car at a border crossing. She was convicted and spent seven years in a federal prison.
How was her daughter connected with all this? Joe wondered. He shifted his focus to the golden eagle now flying in even tighter and tighter circles above Donna Pierce’s head. Joe had done his homework before coming out here on the mission. He knew all about Katie, what she did for a living and that she’d recently moved her raptor facility onto the Elk Horn Ranch, a dude ranch owned by Iris Mason. Katie always had trouble finding people to help her at the expanded raptor-rehabilitation center. Taking care of raptors was a full-time job and Katie didn’t get paid by the state to do it. She did it out of her love for these birds of prey. While that was admirable, the FBI felt that, out of necessity, Katie was a part of Los Lobos. But they weren’t sure.
According to the latest reports, Janet Bergstrom had driven out twice to the gate leading to the Elk Horn Ranch. Satellite flyovers hadn’t found actual proof she’d met with her daughter. Now it was Joe’s job to prove Katie and her mother had met. His boss at the FBI felt Katie had gotten mixed up in her mother’s drug-running operation.
Joe found their suspicions difficult to believe. Katie had the face of an innocent. His boss had warned him many times that just because a woman had a pretty face didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of skullduggery. Still...Joe would follow his instincts and keep an open mind. His heart was another matter.
* * *
KATIE WATCHED SAM set up for a landing. Donna lifted her arm high. The golden eagle knew that when a falconer raised her glove, it was a signal for him to land and eat. Sam performed a swift ninety-degree turn, one wing pointed at the ground, the other above his head, his eyes on the prize of rabbit meat sitting on the glove. As he wheeled, he straightened out, flapping his huge wings in urgent backward motions to slow his descending speed. Legs outstretched, his talons open, he landed on Donna’s glove. Sam’s curved talons bit into the thick leather and he dipped his head. He scooped up his breakfast of rabbit with his scimitar-shaped beak. His wings continued to beat as he steadied and balanced himself on the falconer’s glove. Finally, Sam folded his wings, gobbling down more rabbit.
Katie grinned as she saw Sam land on Donna’s glove. Her foster mother had taught her everything she knew about falconry. Not only that, Donna had helped her get the rare and vaunted eagle license so she could care for wounded or injured eagles found in the Jackson Hole area. Some sheep-ranchers shot them because during lambing season, the golden eagles would steal newborn lambs. It was against the law to shoot raptors in Wyoming, but it didn’t stop a sheep-rancher from killing one of these magnificent and badly needed eagles. A sudden sadness moved through her as she remembered that Sam had been one of those eagles nearly killed by a shotgun-wielding sheepherder.
Katie walked toward Donna, recalling a year ago when Sam had been brought into her center. At the time, she’d had her mews behind her rented apartment. She’d just received her eagle license. Sam had managed to fly with fifteen shotgun pellets embedded in his left wing. A kind driver on the road had seen him wobble and land unceremoniously on the muddy berm next to the busy highway. He’d picked up the injured, bleeding eagle and taken it to a vet in town. Later, Katie had received a call from that vet. Could she take the eagle after surgery and nurse it back to health? Sam was her first eagle. And because of the cracks in the bones of his wing, he could never be released back to the wild. If he was released, the knitted bones would never stand the shocking force of striking prey. The bones would shatter and the eagle would eventually die of starvation. So Sam had become an educational bird, teaching children and adults the benefits of raptors in the environment. Katie would care for Sam for the rest of his life.
There was another reason to be sad. Her foster mother and falconry teacher would be moving away in another two weeks to take care of her own ailing mother in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Katie was losing a great friend, too. Soon, Katie would be all by herself again.
Donna had placed the long jesses around Sam’s thick yellow legs and wrapped the ends through the fingers of her glove. That way, if the eagle suddenly bolted, Donna could keep the eagle in hand.
“Hey, he made a great landing today, didn’t he?” Donna said, grazing Sam’s dark brown feathers across his wide chest.
“No kidding,” Katie said. “Better than the last time we flew him, huh?” Sometimes Sam would misjudge the speed of his descent to the falconer’s glove. Four days ago, Donna had released him and, after flying for a while, he was to land on Katie’s glove for his morning breakfast of rabbit. Sam, in his exuberance, had overshot her outstretched glove. He’d grabbed at the glove with his huge talons, lost his balance and flapped into Katie’s face. To be struck by a huge wing in forward motion could cause instant pain, not to mention injury. It was like being slapped in the face. Hard. Katie had closed her eyes, fortunately, and had turned her head away to protect her sight.
She’d stood firm and quiet, which allowed Sam to flap his wings around her face in order to regain his equilibrium. He was no worse for wear, but Katie still bore a shallow cut across her temple from the incident. She’d gone into the emergency room afterward and Dr. Jordana McPherson had put in three stitches. Jordana had assured her there would be no lasting scar. It wasn’t unusual to have scars on one’s face or upper arms from an eagle. It was just part of the business of caring for these magnificent animals. Katie was more than willing to take the risk because they gave her a sense of freedom she never felt otherwise. A cut every now and then was a price worth paying.
“You can’t even see where the doctor sewed you up,” Donna said, giving Sam a look of pride. “I think after being cooped up for three days, he had extra energy to burn off.”
Chuckling, Katie walked with Donna toward her black truck. “Yeah, he’s full of himself for sure.”
Donna held out her right arm covered with a bright red cotton sleeve. “I’ve shown you my battle scars.”
“And I hope I never get the kind you have.”
Donna had, at one time, worked with a golden eagle who was eventually returned to the wild. One day, another falconer had accidentally left the cage door unlocked and the eagle had escaped his mew after being startled by a nearby truck backfiring. He’d launched off his perch and flown out the door, frightened and disoriented. Seeing Donna, who had nursed him for three months and who represented safety to him, he’d immediately flown over to her. Only, she’d had no protective gauntlet on her lower arm to save her from the puncture wounds the eagle inflicted. To this day, when Donna rolled up her sleeves, Katie could see the puncture indentations left by the eagle’s talons.
Donna balanced Sam easily on her left glove. The eagle was sated, looking around with his piercing yellow gaze. She touched his breast. “Crop’s full. He’s a happy raptor.”
Katie could see the slight bulge where Sam’s crop lay beneath the shining bronze feathers of his wide upper breast. “Yep, if he could smile, he would.”
They both chuckled.
Once they reached the pickup, Katie unlocked the rear and opened up the cab. She had a special perch built on a swing arm for the eagle. The wood was thick and sturdy,