The Defender. Lindsay McKenna

falconer. I can’t rely on volunteers to come and help me fly the raptors every morning.” Katie glanced over at the tall, attractive woman who had been the best of the many foster mothers she’d had. “But I know your mom needs you now.”

      The older woman patted Katie’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m only a phone call or email away. We’ll stay in close touch, I promise.” Her mouth curved gently and her voice lowered. “Katie, you’ve matured into a lovely young woman. I don’t want to leave either, but parental duties hit all of us sooner or later. You’re now the falconer for this area. And if you run into something you don’t know, call me?”

      Halting the truck at the stop sign, Katie looked both ways. The highway was clear of cars. “I know, but you not only rescued me from screwing up the rest of my life, you taught me how to become a raptor rehabilitator, Donna. I feel in some ways, you’re the mother I never had.”

      Donna’s smile dissolved. She kept her hand on Katie’s shoulder for a moment. “Well, let me tell you this, Katie girl. Your mother gave you up at birth and I know you’ve never met her. I know you want to and I hope, for your sake, you do find her. In the end, you have me, and I love you very much. I won’t abandon you, Katie. That’s a promise.”

      Donna’s lowered voice moved through Katie. She dearly loved her raptor mentor. And in so many ways, over the last ten years, Donna had, indeed, saved her life. “You’re my mother incognito,” she teased, her voice hoarse. Fighting back sudden and unexpected tears, Katie kept her eyes on the road. “And I don’t care what you say, you’ve been more of a mother to me than my biological mother ever was.”

      Gently, Donna rubbed her shoulder, trying to ease the pain she heard in Katie’s voice. “I know. I remember when the state social worker called me in desperation. You were acting out, you were rebellious. She begged me to be your foster mom. She thought working with the raptors might help stabilize you.” Donna removed her hand, her voice wispy. “I remember the first morning you showed up. You were always skipping out of school, always in trouble with your teachers and the principal. You had dyed your hair red and yellow. You came into my raptor facility with a chip on your shoulder. All I had to do was ask you to put on the glove and a miracle happened.”

      After giving Donna a warm glance, Katie concentrated on driving up the long hill. “I was snotty to you at first. You ignored my antics and brought out Fred, your red-tailed hawk, and put him on my glove.” Fred had died several years later, but he’d been a wonderful training raptor for Katie.

      “Yes, and your attitude melted away.”

      Shaking her head, Katie said in a softened tone, “You saved my life, Donna. When Fred perched on my glove and looked at me, I felt my heart blow open like an explosion. I felt Fred. Feeling his energy changed me forever.”

      “Raptors are miraculous,” Donna agreed. “That’s why I was happy you bonded with Fred. In days, you turned from a rebellious teen into a beautiful young woman. All thanks to the birds.”

      “And to you. Without your love and you training me to work with raptors, I don’t know how I might have ended up, Donna. I got a high-school diploma. Every other foster family I’d been in thought I’d always be a dropout.”

      “Raptors are angels in disguise.” Donna smiled fondly. “They are earthly angels come to improve our lives and make us better human beings.”

      Katie drove alertly, remaining within the speed limit. As they broached the hill, she saw the Teton Range rising out of the plain on her left. The mountains shone in the morning sunlight. Snow remained on their rugged blue-granite flanks. Her heart stayed centered on Donna. “We’ll never be out of touch,” Katie promised her. “Now, I have to hope a falconer will answer my ad to help me out full time.”

      “I’m sure someone will answer it. We have a number of folks licensed around here. We’ll have to hope one of them wants a full-time job working with you. It’s lovely of Iris Mason not only to donate enough money to keep your raptors fed, but also to pay you to be a full-time employee of her ranch. She’s just the greatest.”

      “Iris promised to build me a raptor facility if I would move out to her ranch. Now I have the room, the land and the money. Not many rehabilitators have a guardian angel like Iris in their life. I’m so grateful for all she does for us.”

      “Iris is another angel,” Donna said. “Don’t worry, someone will apply for the job. I have a good feeling about it.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      JOE SAT ON A STOOL at the counter of Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor. It was his first day in town since arriving from Washington, D.C. His cover was solid. His parents owned a small ranch south of the town. With permission from his FBI boss, Joe was allowed to tell his parents the real reason for his return and they had been sworn to secrecy. Anyone noticing him in Jackson Hole would believe he was coming from the hospital after being released from the Marine Corps. Most folks around here would expect him to work with his father. No one would suspect him of being an undercover agent.

      After watching the suspect, Katie Bergstrom, fly the golden eagle, he’d decided to grab breakfast at Mo’s. A newspaper, the Jackson Hole Gazette, had been on the counter and he’d picked it up. It was the easiest way to find out what was going on.

      Mo’s was crammed with breakfast customers, the noise level sounding like bees buzzing. He’d accidentally turned to the classified ads and his gaze fell on the Help Wanted section. One ad shouted out to him. Was he reading it right? Joe blinked and reread the ad: “Falconer wanted for a full-time position. Apply by calling Katie Bergstrom.” Joe studied the ad. Was this kismet, one of those lucky breaks an FBI agent prays for, but never gets? There it was: a job opening with his suspect. Folding up the newspaper, Joe took a drink of his black coffee, and reviewed the details of the case.

      His boss, Roger Hager, had gone over his mission objectives in Jackson Hole. Thanks to information from a local cowboy, Griff McPherson, the FBI was now focused on a man named Curt Downing. There was a possible break in this evolving drug-and-gunrunning case. McPherson and his brother Slade had been born here and owned the Tetons Ranch. Griff also worked at the Bar H and had married the owner, Valerie Hunter. Griff had met Janet Bergstrom by chance at the Horse Emporium in January. She was there to buy a dog collar for her husky, Karl. They’d talked and Janet had said she was on a visit to Jackson Hole to look at the possibility of creating a second courier business in the town. That was interesting news insofar as Roger was concerned. Janet already had a courier service established in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

      A smiling blonde, blue-eyed waitress brought over a huge oval platter of pigs in blankets. Joe thanked her as she then handed him a pitcher of maple syrup. Cutting into the pancake-wrapped sausage, Joe continued to think his way through the developments in his assignment. When Janet got out of prison, she’d gone to Guatemala for two years. After coming home, she’d started a small business known as Mercury Courier and it became quite successful. However, the FBI agent in Guatemala suspected Bergstrom received seed money from the Los Lobos cartel. Furthermore, an agent had followed her on the flight to Guatemala and taken photos of her with cartel leader Xavier Lobos. The FBI had a growing amount of information on this aggressive man who focused on running drugs and guns. He was buying weapons and selling cocaine to Canada and the U.S.A.

      Chewing his food, Joe watched the parlor’s clientele come and go. Mo’s was always a busy place. Some of the old-timers gave him a long look, as if trying to place his face. Joe had purposely been chosen for this mission because he’d been born in Jackson Hole. His parents, Connor and Lorna Gannon, ran a ranch and a landscape company. They’d given him the small house near the main ranch house for his stay. Roger felt it was perfect cover for Joe. He’d be a local boy come home and completely unsuspected by any cartel members who were trying to establish themselves in the area. Locals would never guess he was an agent. Rather, they’d see him as the wounded son returning home to heal and work with his parents.

      “Hey...Joe Gannon? Is that you?”

      Turning to his right, he looked into the eyes of Iris Mason, owner of the