Texas Trouble

It would take more than a few months with a child psychiatrist to make Sean disloyal to his father’s teachings now.

But the night Logan had brought Sean home, his bike in the flatbed of a Two Wings truck, had given her a glimmer of hope.

They’d rung the bell politely, and then Logan had stood with his hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if to lend moral support, while Sean had explained about sneaking out to retrieve the body of the bird.

Nora had hardly recognized her son that night. No stubborn silence, no slippery fibs, no tantrums. Just the truth, offered somberly, even apologetically, with a glimpse of the grown man he would someday be.

She’d kept her own tone equally forthright, though she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t upset, or that there wouldn’t be a punishment.

Then, together, the three of them had come up with this plan.

It called for Sean to work at Two Wings three hours every Saturday morning, and two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday until the damage was paid off.

His salary would be five dollars an hour. Logan had estimated the damage at five hundred dollars, though Nora suspected him of minimizing the mess. Still, Sean would clearly be working into the summer. That night, he’d seemed reconciled to the plan.

But as the first day grew closer, his anxiety had increased, and out came the attitude. By this morning, he’d been sullen, difficult to rouse. He “lost” the green Two Wings T-shirt Logan had provided, groused about the jeans and sneakers his volunteer training sheet called for, and presented himself at the breakfast table with a scowl and no appetite.

She had a feeling Logan was going to regret his decision to bring Sean on board.

“See?” Sean shoved his car door shut, then looked around the empty parking lot. “Told you he forgot. There’s no one here.”

“Maybe we’re early.”

But she saw his point. Two Wings seemed deserted. The only sounds were the sawing of unseen crickets, the croaking of invisible frogs and the occasional melodic whistle of birds that flitted between the trees.

The ticket window, still unmarked awaiting the formal opening of the sanctuary to the public, was firmly shut, reflecting back only the blue sky and the ancient trees.

“He’s probably in the clinic,” she said, trying to remember how to get to the main part of the sanctuary. In the eighteen months since Logan Cathcart had moved in, she’d only been here once, the day she came to apologize for Sean’s vandalism.

She knew the general layout of the land, because she used to visit often when it was owned by Logan’s great-aunt, Doreen Cathcart. Doreen had been eccentric, but a kind woman. She’d never liked Harrison, who thought her land was wasted and wanted to buy it. But she’d always welcomed Nora and the boys.

The house was over on the western edge of the property. On the other side, Doreen had built an odd little amphitheater. She’d hoped to turn the whole estate into a performance arts center, but the dream died with the amphitheater when the money ran out.

“He might be back where those big enclosures are,” she said, trying to orient herself now. “I went down that little boardwalk, off to the left.”

He seemed unsure whether he should admit that he knew where that was.

She waited.

“Okay, fine. It’s back here.” Sean moved to the left, where the wooden boardwalk snaked through the trees.

He obviously knew his way well, and she wondered how often he might have been here. He’d been caught twice now, but was that all?

A chill crept through her as she watched him walk confidently through the heavily wooded maze, never hesitating when the boardwalk forked off in different directions.

How many lies had he been telling her? Would she have to take all freedom away from him? Was there to be no more fun, no more riding his bike with his friend Paddy James, or helping the ranch hands with the horses? Would she have to peek into his room every few minutes when he played video games, or did his homework, or even while he slept?

Would she ever be able to trust him again?

As they walked, birdcalls grew louder, and after a couple of hundred yards, the trees thinned and the path ended in a large open area filled with huge, screened-in wood pens.

And Nora saw that Two Wings was far from empty.

It bustled with life.

The enclosures were filled with hawks and eagles and owls and vultures. That didn’t surprise her. She’d seen them last week.

But, unlike last week, the place was teeming with human life, too.

At least half a dozen people moved purposefully about, ignoring the concrete paths and taking shortcuts across the sand and grass. They lugged hoses and bags of feed, rakes and brooms and boards. One man carried a large hawklike bird on his gloved hand.

“Sean. Good. You made it.”

Logan’s voice brought Nora out of her dazed surprise. She’d completely misunderstood the scale of the place. Harrison had always been so dismissive that she’d assumed Two Wings must be some kind of dilettante’s hobby.

But this was no hobby. This was a mission.

Logan nodded at Nora. “Thanks for bringing him. See you at eleven?”

She felt Sean tense up beside her. She smiled at Logan, hoping he’d understand. “I’m sorry to be the hovering mother, but could you show me a little of what Sean will be doing while he’s here?”

Logan didn’t exactly look delighted, though he was too nice a man to refuse, no matter how busy he was.

“No problem,” he said. “But remember it’s not glamorous.” He held out his hands, which were stained and gritty. “We’ve been spreading mulch. To tell you the truth, I’m going to be darn glad to let Sean take over.”

“Mulch?” Sean scowled. “I thought I’d be working with the birds.”

“Sean,” Nora admonished. “You’ll do whatever Mr. Cathcart—”

“No,” Logan said bluntly. “You won’t be working with the birds yet. You won’t be doing anything alone. We don’t take regular volunteers under the age of eighteen, so you’re kind of a special case. Todd or Matt will work with you. They’re good. You’ll learn a lot from them.”

“I think I can clean out a bunch of cages.” Sean frowned. “I’m not an idiot.”

“No, but you’re a beginner. Beginners make mistakes, and either they get hurt, or the birds do.”

Sean’s mouth was still set hard, but after a couple of seconds of trying to stare Logan down, he blinked first. He lowered his gaze, toeing the sand with his sneaker.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath. “Fine.”

Nora’s cheeks burned, but Logan didn’t seem overly concerned about his new volunteer’s attitude. Maybe he’d expected nothing better. That was probably why he’d been so reluctant to let Sean participate. He undoubtedly knew he’d have to assign someone to follow the boy around like a nanny, to be sure he didn’t do something dumb.

Or just plain run away.

Logan might have said he didn’t want a donation from her, but she suddenly saw that it would take a mighty big check to compensate for the hassle Sean was likely going to be.

Scattered among the large bird enclosures were several small, neat, officelike buildings. Logan began leading them toward the one marked Clinic. Off to the side of that building, a couple of teenagers were scattering handfuls of dark chips that smelled like pine-bark mulch.

“Hey, Mark. Todd.” Logan waved toward the teens. “Come meet Sean—”