Flight of the Sparrows

by Annie Jones

  “Learning,” Bonnie replied.

  The girl’s head bobbed up. Her gaze shifted from Bonnie to Kate, then made a sweep around them, then back to Bonnie again. “Did you say learning?”

  “That I did.”

  “Oh well...” The girl looked at the screen one more time, then shut the laptop, smiled, stood, and extended her hand. “My name is Cassie Capshaw. I’d be happy to try to answer any questions you have. What do you want to learn more about? Our operation? How to adopt a pet? How to volunteer as a foster caregiver for animals waiting for adoption?”

  Kate paused. The name Cassie Capshaw sounded so familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “Actually, we’re interested in the Sparrowpalooza Weekend.” Kate shook the girl’s hand.

  Cassie nodded. “The classes and seminars on Friday are all filled up.” She slid a brochure off a pile on the corner of her desk. “But if you’d like to register for the big bird-watch on Saturday as walk-ins, you’re welcome.”

  “I registered for the Friday and Saturday sessions a month ago,” Bonnie told her, her hand up to refuse the brochure. “You don’t have to give me anything that I might already have or could read online.”

  “Thanks. I can go ahead and check you in now, if you like.” The girl opened the laptop again. “We aren’t officially checking people in until noon tomorrow, but since you’re here...”

  They went through the process, and since Cassie didn’t seem to mind chatting as she worked, Kate was able to learn that they’d had more than three hundred e-mail and phone inquiries about the small informal festival. Forty people had registered to attend workshops, lectures, and demonstrations on Friday. Another forty or so were officially registered for what they called “Sparrow Search Saturday.” And accounting for walk-ins and some attendees coming with spouses, friends, or family, they expected the event to bring in between one hundred and two hundred people from Thursday afternoon to Sunday morning.

  That news put Kate’s mind somewhat at ease. She had imagined a thousand or more people pouring into Pine Ridge and fanning out over the countryside near Best Acres in hopes of spotting birds with umber-colored beards. Still, even having a few people roaming around if there was a possibility of injury couldn’t be dismissed.

  After about two minutes of talking, Cassie pressed one more button on her laptop. The printer, sitting on what looked like an old nightstand from the 1960s, shuddered to life.

  As the paper began to scroll through to print out Bonnie’s confirmation, Kate dove directly into the issue that had brought them there. “Actually, we came here to talk to someone in charge of the weekend events. We want to alert him or her to a bit of a delicate situation.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. I’ve already had a couple of speakers cancel.” Cassie’s big brown eyes grew wide and worried. She came back to the desk and put her hand on the laptop, then turned and looked at Bonnie. “You listed your occupation on the registration form as teacher. I don’t suppose you’d like to give a talk on something...I don’t know...birdy?”

  “Birdy?” Bonnie echoed, shaking her head. “I’d love to be able to help, but I don’t really know enough to feel comfortable teaching. I’ve only just retired and had time to focus more on bird-watching. I came to learn.”

  “Of course, I’m sure you thought of this,” Kate said, “but why not ask Artie Best?”

  “Why not?” Cassie, framed in the doorway with a dozen curious cats watching from the room behind her, whipped around, folded her arms, and held nothing back. “I can give you a list as long as my arm why I’d never—not even if it meant refunding every last cent of the proceeds—ever, ever agree to let that man have anything to do with Joanie’s Ark. Not after what he did to my aunt Joanie.”

  A knot tightened in Kate’s stomach. So there was a real person named Joanie who ran this shelter! That hadn’t been in any of the articles she’d read about the organization or the event. Kate’s thoughts flashed back to the obituary she found of the woman in Pine Ridge, where Artie was listed as the fiancé of the woman’s daughter, Joan. Artie and Joan—Joanie’s Ark in conflict with Best Acres. Now there was a story that might lend some insight into what was going on. And Cassie Capshaw—that’s where she’d read that name. Cassie, who must have been the daughter of Joanie’s brother, was the granddaughter from the obituary. “Your aunt, Joanie, may we speak with her?”

  “I’m sorry, no. She moved to Atlanta three years ago with her new husband.”

  “New husband?” Kate found the words slipping out before she could stop them.

  “Well, ex-husband now. She wouldn’t be in Atlanta or divorced if it weren’t for that Artie Best.” Cassie had a snarl in her tone and a sour but sad expression on her face.

  “She and Artie were engaged?” Kate asked.

  “Like, forever,” Cassie confirmed. “They met more than ten years ago when the police turned in some exotic birds after raiding an illegal bird-trafficking operation.”

  Kate folded her arms and listened intently.

  “But Aunt Joanie had mostly cats back then, and the birds needed special care.”

  Kate nodded, thinking of the squawks and screeches she’d heard from inside Artie’s.

  “Anyway, I guess they had enough in common to start dating, and then they fell in love. But neither of them could just give up their lifestyles when they had birds or cats depending on them. Then there was my grandma.”

  Kate pictured the obituary again. “I think I came across her obituary online the other day. Four years ago? I’m sorry for your family’s loss.”

  “Thanks,” Cassie said dismissively. “She was a handful. My father, Joanie’s brother, died when I was a kid and so Joanie lived with my grandmother and took care of her. Artie promised my aunt that when her mother died, he’d do whatever he needed to do for them to finally make a life together.”

  “Obviously that didn’t happen.” Bonnie hobbled a bit to the side and settled down in a chair.

  “My aunt waited a year. Nothing changed. Then one day she met a man who proposed on their third date. She didn’t find out until after they eloped that he married her for her money.”

  Kate glanced around at the shabby state of the house.

  “You can probably guess he was misinformed about that. He’d overheard people talking about how the local animal-rescue owner was really loaded but lived simply because the owner cared more about the animals than creature comforts.”

  “And the rich animal rescuer was Artie Best?” Kate ventured.

  “He had everything to offer Aunt Joanie.” Cassie shook her head. “His family owned land all over Pine Ridge for generations. He could have made her happy, if he’d just made a small effort, but it just didn’t work out. I probably shouldn’t have shared all of that.”

  “That story just breaks my heart.” Bonnie sighed and shifted her weight in the chair, bracing herself with the aluminum quad cane they’d gotten from the hospital. “But of course we won’t go spreading it around town.”

  “Thanks. Are you okay?” Cassie stood.

  “I think we need to get her back to Copper Mill soon,” Kate said as she went to Bonnie’s side. “But her injury is the reason we came here today. Someone has set snares out on the land near Best Acres.”

  “Did you say snares?” Cassie went to the door behind the desk and shut it, almost as if she didn’t want the cats to hear the exchange. “Like the kind of thing people set to catch animals?”

  “No, not for animals,” Kate assured her. “This was done by fishing line tied at just the right level to snag a person who isn’t watching where they’re walking.”

  “In other words, people who have their eyes on the skies or pressed to binoculars scanning the trees,” Cassie concluded. She ran her hand through her soft brown hair and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I need some good news.”

  “I saw an umbie!” Bonnie reported, sounding as if she had just then remembered what had caused her to get so distracted.

  �
��No! Really? That is good news.” Cassie wheeled her office chair out of the way and began opening windows on the laptop screen. She squinted as the bright screen reflected in her eager eyes, then looked up at Bonnie and enthused, “That’s the third sighting we’ve had in three days. Can you tell me exactly where and—wait, did you say Best Acres? You tripped over a snare set near Best Acres?”

  “Yes, she saw the umbie and sprained her ankle on one of the hills not too far from the house and barns.” Kate elected not to mention that she thought she’d seen one of the sparrows there too. She didn’t really know if she had, and the way the women reacted, she didn’t want to give false hope or misleading information.

  “Well, I’m sorry that happened.” All the excitement drained from her expression. Her mouth set in a grim line. “But as long as it’s bordering his land, it’s none of my business, and my business isn’t liable for what goes on there. So let that mean little man do what he will. He won’t ruin this for us.”

  “You aren’t suggesting that you think Artie set that snare, are you?” Kate’s spirits sank.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past him. After the way he behaved toward Aunt Joanie, I’m not convinced the man has any heart at all.”

  “That’s awfully harsh,” Kate admonished her.

  Cassie shrugged a concession. “I guess if he didn’t have any good in him, Aunt Joanie would never have fallen in love with him. She sure wouldn’t have stayed engaged to him for all those years.”

  Kate nodded. She had known there was a story behind Artie Best and his house. Though how all that fit into the scheme of things—the trap, the missing birds—she wasn’t sure. It did support the notion that the man disliked people, which would explain the trap. But what about the missing birds?

  Kate asked Cassie if she knew anything about the bird count in the area. Cassie told her the materials in the envelope with the Sparrowpalooza information in it would have all the facts she knew about the local bird population.

  They said their good-byes, and Cassie handed Bonnie a folder with her check-in confirmation and more information about the coming weekend. Kate and Bonnie emphasized again to Cassie that people needed to be extra careful while bird-watching during Sparrowpalooza Weekend. And again, Cassie distanced herself and her organization from it all by telling them that since they weren’t in any way working with Best Acres and had warned people to stay away from the place, it wasn’t an issue for the event. Still, she agreed to make an announcement to be careful.

  As Kate and Bonnie drove away, each was wrapped up in her own thoughts. After a few minutes of silence, Bonnie spoke. “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

  “The balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet, act two, scene two, Shakespeare.” The answer came quickly out of Kate’s mouth.

  “Correct, of course, Kate.”

  “Thank you. Now can I ask why that passage came to mind?”

  “Artie and Joanie, the tale of star-crossed lovers.”

  “Their relationship didn’t end well, but can you really call them star-crossed?” Kate shook her head.

  “He was a bird wrangler, and she a cat rescuer. Where could they ever find common ground?” Bonnie said dramatically.

  “Love makes a way,” Kate answered the question quietly. “If a bridge needs to be built to reach the other person and find what you call common ground, Bonnie, then love makes a way.”

  “You’re talking about God’s love, aren’t you?” Bonnie said, seeing beneath the obvious.

  “Romantic love alone failed Artie and Joanie, just as the love between family members and even between friends sometimes falters. But coupled with God’s love, mountains can be moved,” Kate said.

  Bonnie sighed and leaned her head against the headrest. A moment passed, then she said, “Kate, I know you have a lot of things you need to do, and I’m feeling pretty peaked. Would you mind just dropping me at my hotel for now? I could really use some rest.”

  Kate reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “Bonnie, I think that’s a great plan. The last thing you need is to be injured and exhausted. And I think after we get you settled in, I’ll pay Artie Best a visit.”

  “Again?”

  Kate nodded. She couldn’t help coming back to Artie. “And if she’s home, I may stop in and see Dot too. But Artie’s land is where the birds are missing. He’s the one acting oddly, even for him. There is more to him than meets the eye. I think Best Acres and Artie Best are the key to all of this. That’s where I have to go to find the answers.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By midafternoon, Kate had gotten Bonnie settled into her room at the Hamilton Springs Hotel. Kate had tried to get her friend to stay at the house, but Bonnie wanted her independence. So Kate stayed awhile with her, then Bonnie had wanted to take a nap. Kate had the perfect opportunity, she decided, to have that long-overdue chat with Artie Best. She called ahead this time, and though Artie didn’t seem particularly thrilled at the prospect of company, he didn’t outright refuse her request.

  Kate made the drive through the eerily quiet countryside, taking the time to mull over all the events and information of the past few days. She turned things over and over in her mind, trying to untangle the legitimate mystery from the challenging but less urgent puzzle of it all. She tried to sort out the people with motivations she didn’t know about, or hadn’t yet uncovered, and the stories that, while fascinating, couldn’t help her find the answers.

  If this were a work of great literature assigned for analysis by Bonnie Mulgrew, she would have found herself searching for a common theme threaded through every scene by a skillful author. But people didn’t behave as predictably as characters in a book, and very seldom did they reveal themselves as readily.

  “Dud and Charlene Howell, for instance,” she murmured to herself. What was their story? And did it have anything to do with the missing birds? She had no evidence to make that connection. But perhaps they knew about Artie’s money.

  That would add a whole new twist to the plot.

  Kate looked across the field where they had found Dot Bagley trying to trap a wayward tabby. Kate slowed the car to take a moment to search the branches of the trees. The early autumn sun already lengthened the shadows enough that she found herself deliberating whether she could even have picked out any birds among the play of leaves and limbs, dark and light. She turned her gaze to the afternoon sky in hopes of catching a flock of birds in flight. She stopped the car, waited, and watched. No birds flew by, and yet she felt a sense of comfort and peace.

  Matthew 6:26 came to mind. “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

  She sighed and took one last look into the field. That’s when something brown and rectangular caught her eye. She pulled the car to the side of the road and got out. Before just charging out into the field, she made a sweeping survey to see if there was a fence to climb over or a Private Property, Keep Out sign posted. In doing that, she got a better look at the field. She squinted to make sure she was seeing right. Intrigued, she decided to go in for a closer look.

  Before marching into the field, she called out, “Hello? Is anyone out here?”

  When no one answered, she made her way into the open field and didn’t stop until she reached the cardboard box she’d spotted from the road.

  “What’s this about?” she muttered to herself.

  She bent down to peer at what looked like the kind of trap a cartoon character might have set for a rascally rabbit. A dowel rod in the ground held one end of a cardboard produce box fairly high up off the ground. Beneath the box was a small plastic plate, where she presumed the trapper would place food. But what kind of food? Birdseed?

  Kate crouched to examine the area under the box, but the plate and the area around it were empty. Her g
aze trailed to the construction of the trap. Tied to the dowel was string. Only it wasn’t string; it was heavy fishing line.

  Her heartbeat sped up. She thought of Cassie Capshaw, who had asked if someone had set animal snares in the countryside. Had the person who set this trap set the one near Artie Best’s land as well? And why?

  Kate stood and found where the fishing line lay in the grass. She followed it visually to the nearest clump of bushes, the obvious place for someone wanting to spring the trap to hide. It would have been so easy for someone to have been watching her the whole time. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  She took a step toward the brush. Not so much as a rustle of leaves came in response. She moved carefully to the brush to find the fishing line tied to a stake, and attached to that stake was a piece of familiar fabric. “Bonnie’s scarf!”

  It had been cut into a strip and tied around the stake, probably to make the fishing line easier to find.

  This finding put Kate on high alert. She looked around and considered waiting to see if anyone showed up, but Artie Best had been hard enough to pin down for this meeting. She didn’t want to risk arriving late and giving him an excuse to refuse to let her in.

  She climbed back into her car, but as she drove on, she couldn’t help recalling the stacks of seed in Artie’s supply barn and his erratic behavior in inviting the Howells to come see him, then posting a sign to keep visitors at bay. She thought, with her heart heavy, of the anger Cassie felt toward the man and finally of the poignant story of love lost between him and Joanie.

  What had happened there? None of her business, of course, but she couldn’t help a little wistful thinking. If only things had worked out between them. Was it too late?

  With that thought in mind, she turned into Artie’s drive through the open gate, got out, and approached the house with a new mind-set. The home no longer accentuated inconsistencies between its cozy, cottagelike exterior and the man with dirt under his fingernails and a reluctance to interact with fellow humans. Now it spoke to her of a man who had wanted to make amends. As a place where he lived by himself, it looked like the work of a man who had tried to fix the things he had broken—a promise, a future, a good woman’s heart—and knew he never could.