Skeleton Canyon

“Well,” Angie insisted.

“My name’s Hacker,” he said, taking another tentative step or two into the bar. “De

De

Intrigued by this information and excited by her own fledgling interest in birding, Angie had written a note to Hacker, sent in care of the Audubon Society, asking if it would be possible for her to drive up to the Chiricahuas and try to catch glimpse of his birds. The letter had been sent with high hopes, but after weeks and months passed with no answer, she had pretty much forgotten about it.

“Hey, Angie,” Archie offered gallantly. “If this guy is botherin’ you, just let us know. Me and Willy may be old, but the two of us can handle him if you need us to.”

Ignoring him, Angie stared at De

“Sorry about that,” Hacker interrupted. “I was gone for a while. Several months. My grandmother was taken ill. I had to fly back home. Fortunately, they were able to find a biology grad student from the U. of A. in Tucson to take care of my birds while I was gone.”

“I hope she’s all right, then,” Angie returned.

“Grandmum?” Hacker nodded. “She’s out of hospital now, but she’s in her eighties. She isn’t going to last forever.”

Not knowing quite what to say next, Angie fell back into her role as barmaid. “Can I get you something?” she asked. “To drink, I mean?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee, would you?”

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 De

“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 whole place is teeming with hummingbirds-A

The mere mention of birds sent Angie Kellogg’s carefully honed wariness flying right out the window. “A

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 a

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 De

Stopping on the sidewalk outside the Blue Moon, De

“Where’d you get this fu

De

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. De