A hoot of laughter from the far end of the bar caused Angie to send a second stifling glare in Archie and Willy’s direction. “Sure,” she said. “But it’s not very fresh. It’s early though, so if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll brew another pot.”
Turning back to him after starting the coffee, Angie was puzzled. “How did you know I worked here?”
Hacker reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet. From that he extracted a much-folded piece of paper that Angie recognized as her own letter.
“It says so right here,” the Bird Man said. “That you work in a place called the Blue Moon, that you’re interested in birds, and that on one of your days off you’d like to come see my parrots. I’d be happy to show them to you. If you still want to, that is.”
The outside door opened again. A gang of middle-aged motorcycle enthusiasts tramped into the room. These weren’t trendy yuppies out for a lark, hut hard-core, tooth-missing, tattoo-wearing tough guys-women included. For the next few minutes Angie was busy passing out pitchers of beer and margaritas. It wasn’t until after the coffee finished brewing that she was able to return to Dennis Hacker.
“Are parrots the only kind of bird you’re interested in?” he asked, as she set a stout china mug in front of him.
“Oh, no. I like all kinds of birds. Why?”
“Hummingbirds?”
“I love hummingbirds.”
“The problem is, I’m not in the Chiricahuas right now. I’m In the process of setting up camp over in the Peloncillos, farther east. Parrots should be able to make it there, too, eventually. But while I was looking around last week, I found a meadow in Skeleton Canyon, just off Starvation Canyon, where the
The mere mention of birds sent Angie Kellogg’s carefully honed wariness flying right out the window. “Anna’s?” she responded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Really?”
Hacker nodded. “Hundreds of them,” he said. “When’s your next day off?”
“Sunday,” Angie answered. “I get off at two Sunday morning and don’t have to be back until Monday at noon.”
“What say I pick you up right about then?” Hacker asked.
“At two?” Angie asked, flustered.
Hacker nodded. “In order to see them at their best, we need to be in place no later than five-thirty or six in the morning. Skeleton Canyon is a good two-hour drive from here, and it’ll take another hour or so to hike up to the meadow.”
Angie hesitated, but only for a moment. “Sure,” she said. “What should I wear?”
“Jeans. Hiking boots. Long-sleeved shirt.”
“Hey, Angie,” Willy Haskins called. “How does a man get some service around here?”
Shaking her head in annoyance, Angie started down the bar. By then some of the bikers’ pitchers were empty. During the next few minutes, as she poured more beer and mixed more margaritas, she began having second thoughts. After all, this guy was a perfect stranger. It sounded as though the place they were going was somewhere out in the boondocks. The sensible thing would be to not go at all or else to not go with Hacker unless someone else went along as a chaperone-like Joanna Brady, for instance. But by the time Angie had a spare minute to tell him so, Dennis Hacker was gone. On the bar under his empty cup, Angie found six bucks-one for the coffee and a five-dollar tip.
Instead of making Angie feel better, the out-of-proportion tip only made things worse. She had spent too many years of her life in a world where money always required something in return.
She picked up the five and examined it for a moment, as if expecting to be able to read something of Dennis Hacker’s motivation in the forbidding look on Abraham Lincoln’s face. Finally, making up her mind, she folded up the crisp, new bill and stuffed it into her shirt pocket. She would call Joanna first thing in the morning, she decided, although Angie Kellogg’s idea of morning was everyone else’s afternoon. If Joanna Brady couldn’t go along on this little adventure, neither would Angie Kellogg.
Stopping on the sidewalk outside the Blue Moon, Dennis Hacker paused long enough to wipe his glasses on his shirttail and to lake a deep breath. He had carried the letter around with him for months, intrigued by the idea that there was a woman somewhere who sounded like she was almost as interested in birds as he was. What he hadn’t anticipated was how beautiful she would be. Blond, blue-eyed, and beauty pageant beautiful. Movie star-type beautiful. And yet she had agreed to go with him on Sunday morning. Incredible. Unbelievable.
“Where’d you get this funny-looking outfit?”
Dennis Hacker turned around to see that the two old men from inside the bar had followed him out onto the sidewalk mid were staring at his four-wheel-drive Hummer. They seemed harmless enough. “The dealer’s up in Scottsdale,” he told them.
One clapped the other on the shoulder. “Like hell,” he said. “I’ll bet you stole it right out from under the MPs’ noses out there at Fort Huachuca.”
Hacker was still too overcome by wonder to be offended. “Think whatever you like,” he said. Then, replacing his glasses, he climbed into the Hummer. Dennis Hacker had come down to replenish his supplies. On several other occasions, hr had arrived intending to stop by the Blue Moon and introduce himself. Each time, he had lost his nerve at the last minute and hadn’t gone inside. This time he had surprised himself.
Now, though, it was time to head for Safeway. For a change, Dennis actually found himself looking forward to the process of shopping. By nine at night, most of the housewives with their unruly little kids would have gone home, taking their offspring with them. He’d be able to lay in his supplies with a minimum of distractions. And this time, instead of just buying the basics, he was determined to pick up something special for that Sunday morning picnic breakfast.
By the light of a battery-operated lantern, Bree sat on one of two camp stools writing in her journal. With her shoulders hunched in concentration, she wrote quickly but carefully, pouring out the words that rushed through her heart and mind-her disappointment that Nacio wasn’t with her right then, her anticipation of their being together the next morning.
Beyond that small halo of light, it was dark in the Peloncillos. Suddenly the silence was sliced open by a flap of wings and the cry of some night hunting bird. Putting the pen inside the book, Bree switched off the light, hoping to catch sight of the bird. For a moment, she could see nothing. Then, gradually, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, bright stars began to appear in the sky above her head. The far-off call of a coyote was answered by another, followed by the yapping chorus of pups. There was something wild and wonderful in the sound-like infectious laughter. Bree smiled in response.
Overhead, the stars shone like glittering diamonds against a velvet sky. The starlight was so bright that the mountains, rocks, and trees around her emerged from the gloom. Sitting there in the half-lit dark, it was easy for Brianna to sense time falling away from her. This rugged almost-empty corner of the Arizona desert had changed so little that even now an occasional jaguar, roaming north from the mountains of Mexico, had been spotted by a solitary rancher. And if the wild canyons of the Peloncillos still played host to an assortment of wildlife, it wasn’t so far off to imagine that human outlaws still ranged that same habitat as well.
Skeleton Canyon, a few miles from Bree’s camping place in Hog Canyon, had been the place where Geronimo had finally surrendered to General Crook. It was also where members of Tombstone ’s marauding Clanton gang had ambushed and slaughtered a band of Mexican smugglers only to be ambushed and shot in turn. That story, more legend and lore than history, claimed that the smugglers’ fortune in gold was still lost somewhere in the Peloncillos waiting to be found by some lucky hiker or hunter.
Bree and Nacio had talked about finding the gold one night and fantasized about what they would do with it. For Nacio, newfound wealth would have meant his being able to repay Aunt Yoli and Uncle Frank for their years of financial support. For Bree, having her own money would have meant independence. It would have allowed her freedom from the comfort and control of her father’s checkbook.
For Bree and Nacio together, having money of their own would have meant an end to sneaking around. That was coming anyway, eventually. Once the two of them went away to school in Tucson in September, it would be
