The Defender

CHAPTER ONE (#ua3f13d47-69a7-5985-9931-d6e27476800b)

CHAPTER TWO (#u0a3012bf-eae5-58da-a64d-e300e5e5bf6b)

CHAPTER THREE (#u272934b5-4e40-5278-bee7-42633577df7b)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u1e0929c8-03e2-5e13-919c-e6dde8a5f9e8)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u457d0dd2-813d-5a0a-baf3-ddcc944ccfbc)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE

SUNLIGHT BATHED the golden eagle’s half-opened wings, making them appear to be liquid bronze. Katie Bergstrom steadied the sixteen-pound bird on her leather gauntlet, facing him into the cool mid-morning breeze. She stood on the grassy floor of a wide valley, the magnificent Teton Range nearby. The sky was a fierce cobalt blue, the sun glaring at the snowy slopes.

Katie felt Sam’s eagerness to fly, his round yellow eyes transfixed on the sky above. He loved getting out of his mew, or cage, and flying the familiar territory near the main highway leading out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Giving him a smile, Katie said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just one more moment, Sam...” and spotted Donna, her foster mother, standing a quarter mile away. Her mother held up her hand, a signal for Katie to go ahead and release the raptor.

Every morning, except on days when it was raining or snowing, her educational raptor was flown. These were raptors with a medical condition that did not allow them to be set free in the wild. Golden eagles were large, and Katie could feel the weight of the bird. Her arm started to ache. His curved talons gripped the thick leather of her glove. Sam’s black pupils became pinpricks in the field of gold. He flapped his wings, opening them fully, ready to launch off her arm.

Katie didn’t know who looked forward to these flights more: her or Sam. “Okay,” she said in a quiet tone, “off you go....” and she heaved her arm and shoulder upward and forward in order to successfully launch the raptor.

Sam knew her body’s signal. He quickly unfurled his massive seven-foot wingspan. With a snap of his wings, he lifted away from her glove, piercing eyes focused on the sky above.

Katie felt instant relief from his weight. Gusts of wind created by Sam’s massive wings swirled around her head. Her shoulder-length black hair, tied into a ponytail, lifted momentarily away from her back. The wind buffeted her and her heart swelled with joy as Sam climbed into the sky. The five-year-old golden eagle made powerful sweeping motions with his wings. The sun glinted off his dark brown feathers. Remembering her love of Greek mythology, Katie saw Sam as a modern-day Icarus heading straight into the sun. Unlike the Greek youth, whose waxy wings were unable to withstand the heat of the sun, Sam’s feathers wouldn’t melt. And the eagle wouldn’t fall to earth and die, as Icarus had.

Looking across the grassy, rolling field, she saw Donna witnessing Sam’s power-climb into the near-freezing morning air. Like herself, Donna had an eagle license, a very rare certificate given to raptor rehabilitators across the U.S.A. Only falconers who had this valued license could actually fly any type of eagle found in the country. Katie waved joyfully to the forty-nine-year-old redhead who stood downrange. Donna waved back.

A thrill went through Katie. She felt the weight on her shoulders lift as Sam climbed higher and higher. Eagles were known to fly over ten thousand feet high in the wild. Sam wouldn’t do that because he knew Donna had a juicy meat morsel waiting for him on the top of her gauntlet.

A gentle sigh issued from Katie’s lips. This was her favorite morning routine: flying her raptors. Not all of them could fly, of course, because they’d been injured in one way or another. But those that could, she flew daily unless the weather hampered her efforts. Squinting against the sun, she saw Sam level off at about five thousand feet. He began to glide as he discovered invisible columns of heat rising from the green earth. Early June could bring sudden snow squalls to this part of Wyoming. The Grand Tetons made their own weather and raptors would not fly in rain or snow. They had no eyelid to close in order to protect their eyes from the harsh elements. Instead, until the weather cleared enough for them to hunt, they were earthbound.

The radio on her belt sputtered to life. It was a necessary form of communication between falconers who were often a mile or more apart when flying a raptor.

“Sam’s flying high today,” Donna said with a laugh.

Grinning, Katie pulled the radio from her belt. “Isn’t he, though? I think three days of rain and snow has left him feeling a little frustrated in his mew.”

Donna chuckled. “Oh, I agree. He might be hungry, but right now, he’s sailing and just enjoying being out in the embrace of his real mother—the sky.”

“He’s got excess testosterone to burn off, too. Grounded for three days because of rain has made him antsy to get back into the air.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Donna said, humor in her tone. “Let me know when to put the food out on my glove.”

“I will. Out.” Katie fixed the radio back onto her belt. Sam now flew around in a huge circle at least a mile in circumference above her. His path took him across the main highway leading south into Jackson Hole and north toward Grand Teton National Park. Several cars were now parked along the major road between the town and the two national parks—Grand Teton and Yellowstone—to watch the eagle fly. A number of raptor-loving locals knew she and Donna flew the raptors inside the elk enclosure between June and August. The enclosure was fairly flat and safe. As people drove up the hill and spotted a magnificent eagle or hawk flying, they would pull over and watch them through binoculars. Right now, Katie saw three cars parked on the berm, the people standing near the ten-foot-high wire elk fence, simply watching and appreciating the raptor.

She understood their joy. Sam was the largest eagle in the United States. When he unfolded and stretched those bronze wings, all seven feet of them, it was an awe-inspiring sight. A good feeling moved through Katie. She was glad the people of Jackson Hole loved raptors, supported them through donations and came to watch them be flown.

Up above, Sam continued to fly in a one-mile circle. He wore a radio antenna placed on the quill shaft of one of his tail feathers. Should Sam get lost or not come in to be fed, Katie could use the radio to locate his whereabouts. At this distance, Katie couldn’t see the short kangaroo-leather jesses wrapped around his thick yellow legs. One never flew a raptor with long jesses trailing because they could get entangled in a tree branch and trap the raptor. Short jesses insured Sam could safely land and take off from a tree branch without breaking his leg or wing in the effort.

Glancing toward the highway, Katie noticed a dark green car pulling off and park behind the other three cars. Usually, she recognized the people who stopped because they had come to her educational seminars about raptors in town. Over time, she’d gotten to know her raptors’ supporters. But the man emerging from the green car, although half a mile away, didn’t look like someone she knew. He walked over to the fence near the other spectators. Like them, he had a pair of binoculars in hand. That wasn’t unusual at all. People who loved raptors always had a pair. It was the only way to appreciate the birds up close.

Katie looked up. Sam was wheeling above them, his circles growing a bit smaller.

“Looks like he’s got most of his steam burned off,” Donna called over the radio.

Pulling the radio to her lips, Katie said, “I think so, too. Now, he’s decided he’s hungry. When Sam starts making these smaller circles, he’s ready to come in and get fed.”

“Roger. Maybe another ten minutes?”