Lindsay McKenna - The Defender

“Got it,” Joe said, opening the mew. He knew the black-and-reddish-colored hawks from the southwestern desert of Arizona were among the few social hawks in the world. Many generations in the same family lived together. Maggie flew to a cottonwood branch, which acted as her perch. She was more than ready to hop on Joe’s glove. The hawk’s eyes were twinkling and he liked the ebullient energy around the Harris hawk. In the meantime, Mac sat on the back perch, shrieking and flapping his wings because he was going to be left behind.

After shutting the mew, Joe brought up Maggie to the weight table. The hawk, unlike the owl, was fast. Before he even got his glove to the scale, Maggie flew to the perch. If hawks could smile, Joe thought she was smiling. “She’s hungry?”

Katie laughed softly. “Not really. Maggie, you’ll find, has a mind of her own.”

“I guess,” Joe said with a smile as he leaned down to read the hawk’s weight. “I like women with minds of their own.”

Katie jotted down the numbers. Joe made her want to talk, to be closer. She liked the warmth that exuded from him like sunlight. While she felt great around him, there was also this black hole. She got the feeling she would never escape the depression hounding her. And yet, with Joe nearby, she felt a niggle of hope. How could he lift her spirits when she felt so despondent? After Katie fed the hawk, Joe took Maggie back to the mew and brought up Mac.

As they worked seamlessly, Joe felt driven to try to establish a more personal connection with Katie. He knew he had to do it for professional reasons. Last night, after talking to his boss in Washington, D.C., Joe had hung up the phone not feeling good about it. The FBI was convinced Katie was a criminal. His gut told him she wasn’t, but he couldn’t convince Roger. At least, not yet. And every time Joe looked at Katie, his heart lurched in his chest. The reaction continued to surprise him. Joe had no idea what it was all about.

Next came Sam the eagle. Katie asked, “Do you have an eagle gauntlet?”

“No, I don’t.” Joe grimaced. “Do you have an extra glove? Maybe a little bigger one?”

Katie walked over to the first green metal locker and opened it. The locker was seven feet high and she stretched up on tiptoes to grab a dark-colored leather gauntlet sitting on the top shelf. “Yes, here’s a man’s-size eagle gauntlet.”

“Good,” Joe said with relief. Their fingers touched. Instantly, he felt a mild electric shock travel through his hand. Joe hid his reaction and took the glove. He pulled his off and placed it on the desk next to the file. “Thanks. I’m going to have to order my own eagle glove.”

“Yes, you will,” Katie said. “Now, Sam will be eager to get out, so expect his testosterone, okay?”

Joe tugged on the glove. It fitted right up to his elbow, longer than the regular gauntlet. “I wonder if he’ll be as aggressive as that harpy eagle Eddie has?”

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never handled a harpy. They have a fierce reputation and Sam, although he’s a boy eagle, isn’t aggressive. He’s just confident, is all.” She met Joe’s warm green gaze and her pulse quickened. Miraculously, the pain she’d been feeling in her heart dissolved. What kind of magic did Joe Gannon possess? The birds, thus far, had responded wonderfully to his quiet demeanor. Was she also responding to him? Confused, Katie didn’t have time to figure it all out. The report on her mother hung like a lead cape over her. It was impossible for Katie to sort through all the emotions.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out,” Joe joked. Some of the darkness in her blue eyes lessened. And when the corners of her soft, beautiful mouth lifted, Joe felt happiness. Tearing his gaze from hers, he forced himself down the aisle toward the chut-chut-chutting Sam.

Katie watched Joe handle the excited golden eagle. No one like being fed more than Sam. Joe guided the eagle onto the glove. When Sam unfurled his wings, the seven-foot wingspan was enough to rattle any falconer. Yet, as Sam spread his wings, Joe stood quietly and continued to wrap the jesses between his fingers. This was one raptor that he couldn’t trust to stay on his glove to be weighed. Eagles were at the top of the food chain, which explained Sam’s bold and confident nature. A trickle of relief moved through her as Joe successfully brought Sam out of his mew.

“Nice going,” she praised Joe.

“He’s a cupcake compared to the harpy.”

“Sam’s still a handful, though.” Katie met Joe’s gaze and melted beneath his widening smile. Man and eagle looked comfortable with one another. “You’re a good fit for Sam. He likes you,” Katie said, turning to the weight table and bringing the large scale forward for Sam to perch upon.

“I like him. He’s a beauty and really, very well-behaved.”

“Mmm,” Katie said, standing aside. The weight area was ten feet wide and when Sam spread his wings, the air rushed by her head and lifted strands of her hair. Joe guided him expertly onto the perch. Sam ruffled his bronze feathers and chirped pleadingly toward Katie.

“Weight first, big boy,” she told the eagle, “then food. You know the drill....”

Chuckling, Joe remained close, the jesses strung between the fingers of his glove. One never allowed an eagle loose in a facility. If he did get loose, he’d destroy his wing feathers because of the cramped quarters. Eagles had to be kept in a controlled state while indoors. Joe read the weight.

“Great,” Katie said, picking up the large plastic bag that contained half a dead rabbit.

Sam chutted excitedly, watching her open the bag.

“Joe, get Sam on your glove. I don’t feed him on the perch.”

Nodding, he tapped his glove. Sam leaped onto it, his talons curving around Joe’s wrist. Lifting and turning him so he faced Katie, Joe held his arm still for the feeding. A sixteen-pound eagle put a lot of stress on anyone’s arm. Sam gobbled the rabbit as if starved. Joe’s lower arm muscles began to burn from the weight of the raptor. He was glad when feeding was complete. And he was relieved when Sam was back in his mew. As he shook his arm, he noticed Katie watching him.

“He’s heavy.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Sure. Who’s next?”

“We have the tundra peregrines, Quest and Harlequin, on the other side of the aisle to feed now.”

Joe liked that she used we instead of I. “I’ll go get the first one.”

For the next half hour, they worked with one another to weigh and feed all the raptors. But during this time, his mind kept going back to the file folder on Katie’s desk. It was unmarked and obviously important. What was in it? He saw an edge of a black-and-white photo sticking out of it. Maybe he could ease into it, try to establish a more personal rapport. “I told my mom and dad I got the job yesterday.”

“Oh?” Katie wrote down the numbers on Harlequin. “Were they happy for you?”

“Yes, they were.” He grinned. “I have a true story to tell you.” He wanted to lift her mood. “My mom loves birds and she has a green parakeet named Skippy.”

“Is that an earned name? As in skipping out of town? Escaping his cage?” Katie asked, hearing the warmth in Joe’s low voice. She fed Harlequin and kept glancing over at Joe. She was amazed at their teamwork. Truly, he was good with the birds and that lifted a lot of worry off her shoulders.

Joe laughed a little. “Yes. Skippy likes to escape out of the house any time he sees a door open. He’s been doing this for five years, now. The last time he escaped, Mom had to go next door to a neighbor rancher who had a male parakeet called Zeus. Skippy would fly over there and sit outside the window where Zeus’s cage was and chirp for hours. I think she was in love with him. They set Skippy’s cage outside the window and she eventually flew into it because she was hungry or thirsty. Then my mom shut the cage door quickly and Skippy’s wanderings were over until the next time.”