The Apprentice

by Jana Barkley

  “Hey, guys,” said Karen. “I think we’re done. We have to get back to the lodge to help with registration and raffle.”

  “No problem. We’ll keep going,” said Mary Kate with a wave. She moved out, still holding onto Farley so he wouldn’t fly back to where the other hawks were.

  Sam glanced over to her right and saw Hank was in step with them, but utterly unreadable. Why did he have to be so hard?

  As if in response to her thoughts, he looked over at her, held her gaze for a blistering second, and then walked on.

  “Enough of this,” she said more to herself, but Mary Kate heard.

  “All right. See if you can work it out.” Mary Kate slowed down, giving Sam some space to talk to the stubborn man.

  He was striding out fast, fueled by an emotional energy Sam didn’t have to guess at. Running to keep up with him, she turned to see they were out of Mary Kate’s earshot. John and Karen were already loaded up and driving away in a great white cloud of dust.

  “Hank,” she called. He paused for an instant, and then stomped on.

  She ran faster, jumping around sagebrush and tripping on a hidden root.

  “Damn it, Hank, will you please stop?”

  He did, and turned to see her picking herself up from the white, dusty field.

  Red in the face, fueled by righteous indignation and out of breath, she struggled to meet him face to face at the top of a rise. Again, she was forced to see the comical difference in their heights and hated it. And then, as if to add fuel to the fire, his stone-cold, angry eyes softened for a moment with amusement. Damn him.

  “What the hell is wrong?” she demanded.

  Any hint of amusement faded away in an instant. “Anything that happened between me and that woman is none of your Goddam business.”

  He walked away again, and Sam had to chase him. “I didn’t start the conversation. I wasn’t even participating in it. He cornered me while I was waiting for the rest of you.” Her outraged voice rang desperate and poignant across the sage flat. “Hank, I’m telling you the truth.”

  He stopped and stalked back to her. “The truth? Okay, let’s talk about the truth, Ms. Leyton.”

  Sam stared at him, oblivious to what he could be referring to. The intensity of his anger bored into her, and she took an involuntary step back. “What have I done?” she repeated, searching his face for some glimmer of understanding.

  It seemed to pull his own ire back a bit, but he shook his head again, refusing to relent. “I’m not an idiot. I know you’re hiding something, like I know when a hawk or a falcon is hiding a sickness.”

  Sam blanched, and her anger fell out from under her. Could he know? With his uncanny way of reading animals, had he read her and figured out her secret?

  “I’ve been through this before,” he said with disgust. “You’re hiding something, and now I see you sneaking around, fishing around to find out about me. I’ve never hidden anything from you. Why the hell didn’t you just ask me?”

  The accusation brought her anger back and gave her the strength to step toward him again. He turned to walk on, but she would have it out now, once and for all. “Goddam you, Hank Gerard. I didn’t have anything to do with whatever you imagine happened in the lobby this morning. I don’t care about your past relationships, and I don’t have time to play these stupid head games, or whatever it is you and your ex are into. I’m not Tasha!”

  He stopped and turned back like someone who’d been struck. For the first time in their acquaintance, he was at a loss for words. He found his voice, but it trailed off. “I never thought you were.”

  What was it she saw in his expression? Was he embarrassed, and had this whole ridiculous episode occurred because of something he was afraid Grant had told her about him? And did he perhaps regret that, yet again, another misunderstanding had managed to ruin the rapport the two of them were building? But the tears were coming, and she’d be damned if she’d let him see her cry. Damn him and all of this. Maybe she should find another sponsor.

  She spun around and headed back to Mary Kate. The anger etched on her face was enough for her friend to take her by the arm and walk her back to the van. Mary Kate opened the passenger door for Sam and put Farley away in his box. As Sam blinked through blurry eyes, she saw Hank moving their way and Mary Kate walking out to meet him.

  Whatever their conversation was about, it was short, and Sam was relieved to see Hank didn’t try to join them. Mary Kate came back and got into the driver’s seat. Confused, she turned to Sam. “He handed me this—in case you’d forgotten yours.”

  Mary Kate handed her the familiar silver tube with a long, black antenna. She recognized it as Gally’s transmitter.

  “Of course I have mine,” she responded, exasperated. Most falconers carried all of this gear into the field whether they were flying of not. Telemetry was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Mary Kate shrugged and looked strangely at Hank who was back at his truck. “You and I are going to take a drive. We’ll go see what’s farther ahead on this dirt road and go hawk by ourselves.”

  Sam was too spent to ask why. She nodded, wiping tears away as they drove on. She turned her back to Hank as they passed him.

  Breaking in: Helping the hawk break through the skin of its captured prey to eat its food reward

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The green van bumped along the uneven dirt road, making a large dust cloud. They followed the path for over a quarter of an hour before Sam managed a ragged breath. Cresting the rise of a moderate hill, Mary Kate brought them to a stop. Another valley, as wide as the one they had left, spread out before them with the promise of more sagebrush and more rabbits.

  They sat in the silence of the vehicle after Mary Kate shut off the engine, and Sam spoke. “Why do I let him get me so upset?”

  “I was wondering that, myself.” Mary Kate’s tone was not accusing, but thoughtful, as if she’d been thinking about the situation.

  Sam felt miserable. “And now I’ve gone and ruined the hawking.”

  “Yeah, like it’s all your fault,” Mary Kate laughed. “There’s plenty of time to hawk, still. The rabbits aren’t going anywhere. We’re just gonna play with the girls, since the boys don’t want to play nice today.”

  Sam cracked a smile in spite of herself. She loved how Mary Kate could make the worst situations tolerable with her gentle humor.

  “Can we sit for a minute? I need a moment before we hit the field, okay?”

  “You bet.” Mary Kate settled back in her seat as if she were ready to take a nap.

  They were silent for about a minute, and then Sam gave a loud sigh. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, this is silly.” Sam suppressed a laugh, feeling ridiculous.

  Mary Kate’s grin was infectious. “Then let’s go hawking!”

  They both bounced out of the car and threw on their hunting vests. Best medicine in the world, Sam thought. Hawking.

  Farley was already beeped up and ready to go. Mary Kate just opened his box and out he flew, ready to tackle the rabbits on his own. She held up the T-perch and marched out onto the sage flat, with Sam to her right, and the little hawk flew into position above her.

  The women walked the flats for over an hour, chasing after Farley and the many jacks and bunnies he pursued. At the end of their foray, they had two cottontails in the bag. As they walked back to the van, the little hawk perched protectively on a cottontail leg held fast in Mary Kate’s glove. This was what they called cropping the bird up, letting the hawk eat until his crop was so full of meat he looked like he had swallowed a baseball. It was the best reinforcement to encourage him to do it again the next time they went hunting.

  It was Sam and Chance’s turn now. She felt a lump of fear in her stomach, and wondered if it was because Hank wasn’t there. Mary Kate had always made her feel secure, too, but this was different. It was the gaping hole in her heart left by his absence and the possibility he would miss Chance m
aking his first catch.

  She scanned the horizon, imagining the rabbits still out there, waiting for her hawk. No. She would not let this heartache keep her from pushing herself and Chance until they caught something. And a wicked thought from the farther recesses of her weary mind suggested Chance catching a rabbit today without Hank around was what he deserved. Damn him.

  Propelled by her renewed anger, Sam struck off into the brush.

  Mary Kate scampered to keep up with her. “Easy, girl,” she said, laughing, “there’s plenty of time.”

  They walked for about ten minutes without a slip. Chance began to get impatient. Fanning her fears further, he flew out about twenty yards and landed on a tall sage bush. What would Hank tell her to do?

  “Should I try to call him back?”

  Mary Kate was unconcerned. “Not yet. I’d just keep walking. He may fly back to your glove on his own.”

  The two of them moved on. Sam fought the urge to whistle him in. Then she saw his head bobbing back and forth.

  “Look,” she said.

  They stopped in time to see the little red tail blast from the bush and fly with purpose past them. Mary Kate broke into a run and waved Sam to come on. There was a rabbit ahead, but too far away for Sam to see what it was. Chance was on it, pumping his wings hard until he was over it. Then in the fashion of his previous flights, he flipped his body over and smashed with a large cloud of dust into the base of a sage bush. They didn’t wait to see if he had caught something. If he had, they wanted to be there in a hurry to make sure he didn’t lose it.

  The bush where Chance had crashed was at the bottom of a dusty draw, and both women had to watch how they scurried down to avoid slipping. Sam got there first and stopped, mystified, unable to spot her hawk.

  “There he is,” said Mary Kate, pointing.

  Chance had slammed into the bush at Sam’s feet, but the rabbit had dragged him ten feet farther into another one. The rabbit was screaming, and Chance struggled to hold on. His feet were planted in the rump and top of the rabbit’s back. If the rabbit broke free from the bush it had wedged itself into, Chance would be dragged on a horrific rodeo ride that would end only if he gave up and let go, or if she was able to grab him and the rabbit.

  Sam stumbled through the sage to get to him. The rabbit bucked and reared up in panic at the sight of her, making Chance grip harder. Anticipating the situation, Mary Kate ran around to the other side of the bush, in case the rabbit broke free of Chance’s grip, but it wasn’t necessary. The little hawk let go with one foot and swung it up to the jack’s head, clamping down with pure, ferocious adrenaline. It was over. Chance pulled the rabbit together into a ball between his two feet and held on with a death grip. It would be impossible for it to get away now.

  Mary Kate talked her through dispatching the rabbit, helping her stretch the neck until it was dead, and both women collapsed in the dirt next to the panting hawk.

  All of the morning’s pain and anxiety disappeared. With Mary Kate’s coaching, Sam took her game shears and cut a hole in the chest cavity of the rabbit right behind a foreleg for Chance to break in. When she struggled to clip in to him, Mary Kate laughed.

  “He’s not going anywhere, hon. You think he’d let go of that catch?” Both women were covered in dirt and sweat, but they sprawled out on the ground next to Chance and enjoyed the beauty of the sage plain around them. Chance was the happiest of all, tearing at the precious organs full of blood and reaping the harvest he had staked his whole being on.

  “Not to bring up a touchy subject,” said Mary Kate, “but has old cranky pants talked to you about cropping up on the first few kills?”

  Sam nodded, knowing that Mary Kate was referring to the organ in the hawk’s throat, which when fully expanded by a large meal, could look like the bird had swallowed a navel orange. “How full should I let him fill his crop?”

  “Let him eat. Don’t even rush this today, since it’s his first. We’ve got time.”

  It felt like they were in the middle of nowhere, but sitting on the ground, watching Chance gorge on his hard-won meal as if they were at some grand picnic in the country, made the environment feel anything but formidable.

  But for all the relief of the current victory, Sam couldn’t squelch down the anxiety of her position with Hank, now. Her insides churned as they had when she was a kid before a piano recital or a public speech. It was normal before going on stage, but it was wretched when it signaled problems in an uneasy relationship.

  Chance was full to bursting. Mary Kate indicated he’d had enough. Holding onto the rabbit’s hind legs, Sam tossed her lure out ahead of Chance as Hank had taught her, and the hawk had no qualms about going for it. Mary Kate helped by whisking the rabbit away as soon as he let go of it, and stashed it into Sam’s vest.

  “What time is it, do you think?” Sam asked as they trudged back to the van.

  Mary Kate checked her watch and raised her eyebrows.

  “Way past lunchtime. Three o’clock.”

  “Wow. No wonder I’m so hungry.”

  Sam felt her stomach give a nervous flip at the mental image of returning to the lodge and seeing Hank. She was not up to another confrontation, or worse, his avoidance, with all of the unpleasant tension eating her up the way it had before.

  Covered in blood he would wash off once he got to his bath pan in the weathering yard, Chance jumped eagerly into his giant hood. Farley made a little noise of greeting as Mary Kate peeked into his box to make sure he was fine. After field-dressing the rabbits they had caught and putting them into the cooler in the back of the van, they loaded up to go back.

  When she heard Mary Kate swear and the repeated clicking every time she tried to turn the engine over, Sam realized something was wrong.

  “I just put a brand-new battery in this beast,” said Mary Kate, popping the hood latch and getting out to see what was the matter. Sam slid out of her seat, as well.

  After a moment’s inspection, she grunted. “Seems fine to me. Starter’s good, too. Let’s try it again.”

  Both climbed back in and Mary Kate turned the key. “Nope. It’s the battery.” She sat back with a heavy sigh.

  “What time does the sun go down?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  They got out of the van again and stared down the long dirt road in the direction from which they’d come.

  “We drove almost an hour to get to the first spot we hunted in. Then what? Another half hour or so to get here?”

  “Let’s call someone for help,” Sam reached for her cell phone.

  Mary Kate shook her head. Sam looked at the face of her phone and understood why.

  “There’s no reception out here at all. Found that out yesterday when I went for a drive to scout out fields.”

  Now, the situation was worse. And the temperature was dropping as the sun began to set.

  “One of us could hike back down to the highway and wave someone down for a ride,” Sam said, but the tone of her voice suggested she didn’t believe much in the idea. A single woman alone in the country on a desert highway? No, thank you.

  Mary Kate agreed. “Then that’s that. We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For one of those hawking buddies of ours to realize we’re late and come looking for us.”

  Sam wanted to protest. Images of an angry Hank come to yank them back home was not what she wanted to see in real life.

  “The temperature’s dropping, kiddo. It’s supposed to snow tonight. We don’t want to get caught without shelter.”

  Sam agreed, so they both went back to sit in the van. The birds would be fine, even in colder temperatures, because they had crops full of food. The energy their bodies used to process food, plus the build up of their body heat in their giant hoods, would keep them comfy and warm. The humans would have to be more resourceful.

  “Sure wish we had something to eat,” said Mary Kate.

  “We do,” Sam grinned. She fished in her purse and
pulled out the packs of crackers she had swiped from the restaurant.

  “You wonderful little thief. Here, I’ve got water. What a feast.”

  They laughed and ate their humble fare.

  “My stomach hasn’t been right since I was so sick last week, so I keep crackers on hand to settle it. Usually works.”

  “Here’s to your stomach.” Mary Kate crunched away.

  They sat in silence watching the shadows on the sage flat grow longer. With the light of the sunset diminishing, the temperature began a serious drop. Sam pulled her coat closer around her and zipped it up. Out in the field, chasing the hawks, it had been a nuisance, and she’d almost taken it off and tied it around her waist. Thankful for its multiple layers now, she pulled her knit hat and gloves out of her pocket and put them on.

  “Here,” said Mary Kate, producing a worn blanket. She, too, had snugged her gear on and draped the blanket over both their laps. “I use this for my dog, but she didn’t come this time. I don’t think she’d mind.”

  Sam was surprised to feel no fear over their predicament. She glanced over at Mary Kate.

  “Think we could make it through the night—if no one comes?”

  “I think so.”

  Sam had the hunch her friend wouldn’t let her know otherwise unless it was necessary. There was nothing to do but settle in and watch the sun go down.

  Mary Kate’s voice was the first to break the silence. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when we get back?”

  Sam sighed. “I’ve been trying not to, but I suppose I’d better, now. Maybe it depends on how he’s going to act.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said he might have overheard. That, and about his behavior since…well, since we’ve known you.”

  “You think I caused this?”

  Mary Kate snorted and rolled her head to look at Sam. “Well, maybe, in an indirect way, you did.”

  Sam frowned.

  “I’ve known him for almost ten years, Sam. He’s never been a walk in the park when it comes to getting along with other people, especially women. I used to chalk it all up to what happened between him and Tasha. God, those were a couple of horrible years. You think you two fight? Your misunderstandings are mere squabbles compared to the fireworks those two set off. It was the best thing in the world when he threw her out.”