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“What could the ranchers possibly have against a few parrots?” Angie asked.
Hacker shrugged. “There’s always the concern that as soon as the birds show up, someone will pull some endangered species stunt that will also endanger the ranchers’ time-honored grazing rights. Believe me,” he added, “when cowmen and tree huggers go to war, it’s easy for a guy like me to get caught in the middle and end up wearing a bullet in my chest.”
“A real bullet?” Angie asked nervously.
De
He went on to tell Angie how his grandmother’s interest in birds had been passed on to him. Leaning back in the upright seat, Angie was happy to listen. Only when De
“Where did you go to school?” he asked.
She knew this incredibly intelligent man had attended Cambridge University in England before coming to the United States and picking up graduate degrees in zoology from both Stanford and UCLA. Angie was a high school dropout. Since leaving school, what education she had achieved had come through reading books.
“A
“What did you study?”
Angie lost it then. For a moment she could think of nothing to say. “Education,” she managed finally.
“Why are you a barmaid, then?” he asked.
“I tried teaching but I didn’t like it,” she said lamely.
She was relieved when the conversation wandered back to birds once more, with De
With lightning flickering far to the south, they left Douglas on what De
“Where who surrendered?”
“Geronimo,” he said. “That famous old Apache chief. He surrendered in Skeleton Canyon, just down the mountain from where we’ll be watching the hummingbirds.”
De
“What’s this?” she asked suddenly wary as De
“Home sweet home for the next little while,” he answered cheerfully. “Come on in. It’s time for breakfast.”
“But I thought we were going on a picnic,” Angie objected. They were miles into the wilderness. Since leaving Douglas an hour earlier they hadn’t seen a single other vehicle. De
He came around to Angie’s side of the Hummer, opened the door, and then held out a hand to help her down. “There’s plenty of time for us to eat before we head up the mountain. Besides, I can fix a much better breakfast here than I can over a campfire. It also means we won’t have to carry food and cooking utensils in our packs. Come on.”
Hacker’s gentlemanly gesture of extending his hand didn’t leave Angie much choice. Feeling trapped and scared and wishing she hadn’t come, she allowed herself to be led toward the trailer. There was no telling what he could do to her alone out here in the wilderness like this. Angie Kellogg had been with some pretty scary guys in her days as a hooker, but she had always been on her own turf in the city. If one of the johns or a pimp came after her there, all she’d had to do was run outside, screaming for help and knowing that, eventually, help would come. Here there was no one. If Hacker turned on her, what would she do?
Angie looked longingly back at the road, back the way they’d just come, but De
Opening the door with one hand, he guided her up a wooden stair. “Stay right here until I turn on the light.”
The light turned out to be a butane-fueled light fixture that hung over a tiny kitchen table. “Sit,” he told her. “As you can see, this place is too small for two people to stand at once, so if you’ll sit and supervise, I’ll cook.”
Angie eased herself into the little breakfast nook and peered around. The place was indeed tiny, but it was also neat as a pin. As she sat down, she caught a glimpse of a well-made bed in a loft tucked up over a built-in desk. The paneled walls glowed warm and golden in the softly hissing light.
“How do bacon and eggs sound?” he was asking. “And do you prefer coffee or tea? I’ve become Americanized enough that I drink coffee most of the time, but I still like to have a nice cup of tea first thing in the morning.”
“Tea will be fine,” Angie managed.
Watching as he bustled around the trailer-getting out pots and pans, setting a pot of water to boil-Angie noticed that De
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. In order to get a higher ceiling, I would have had to go for a bigger caravan-”
“Caravan,” Angie interrupted with a frown. “What’s that?”
Hacker stopped peeling potatoes long enough to grin at her. “Sorry. I mean trailer. That’s what you Yanks call them. This one happens to suit me. The short wheelbase makes it possible for me to take it almost anywhere I want to go.”
Within minutes, Angie was enjoying the delicious aroma of frying bacon and sipping strong, hot tea from a beautifully delicate bone china cup and saucer. The pattern on the cup showed a long-legged blue bird standing, regal and serene, among exquisitely painted pink and orange flowers. When her bacon, eggs, and hash browns (homemade, from scratch) showed up a little later, the food was arranged on matching and equally beautiful crane-decorated plates. The silverware was a mismatched jumble, but the dishes themselves were elegant and beautiful.
“Where did you get this wonderful china?” Angie asked.
De
“Your grandmother must have chosen that pattern because she knew you liked birds,” Angie said. “That was thoughtful of her.”
De
They were almost ready to leave when a phone rang. “A phone?” Angie asked in surprise when she heard it ringing.
De
Angie tried not to listen as De
While De