Heart Of The Eagle

“She did, believe me.”

Quietness settled between them and Dal drank the mug of hot chocolate, feeling the fingers of sleep starting to pull at her. She glanced at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. It was almost 5:00 A.M. In another half hour the wranglers would start moving around and the cook would be fueling the wood stove over in the chow hall for the fifteen men who worked on the Triple K. Her thoughts pulled back to Jim. He hadn’t asked her about her nightmare. How much had he heard? A tremor of shame flowed through her. If he knew…no…Dal chewed on her lower lip, unable to deal with the humiliation now sweeping through her.

“Jim?” Her voice was like a croak.

He turned, frowning, hearing the sudden strain in her tone. “Yes?”

Dal rubbed her temple, averting her gaze. “Uh…how much—I mean—how did you know I was having a nightmare?” Her hands went damp and sweaty as she gripped the mug tightly.

Jim gave a slight shrug, his expression suddenly less guarded. “You screamed and I heard it. That’s when I came out to see what was wrong.”

“But—you’ve got the room next to Millie’s. She never hears me when I wake up screaming.”

His eyes sharpened, as intent as an eagle’s. “You have these nightmares often?”

Damn! She hadn’t meant to imply that. Dal stared down at her mug. “Just…sometimes.”

Jim’s nostrils flared but he said nothing. “I’ve been accused of having ears like a dog and the night sight of an owl.”

“Your Indian heritage,” Dal whispered.

He rose in one fluid motion, leaning over and taking the mug from her hands. “I guess so. Listen, you get some sleep.” He wanted to ask her why she was sleeping out on a couch and not in her own bedroom, but thought better of it. Jim gave her a tender smile meant to soothe her sudden nervousness. “Is that ride this morning still on?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod as her fingers toyed with the blanket. “But later.”

“Sleep as long as you want, Dal,” he murmured huskily. “Come and get me when you want to go.”

“All right. And Jim?”

He hesitated at the door. “Yes?”

Dal lifted her chin, meeting the golden brown gaze that seemed to reach out and envelop her. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

The morning dawned clear with a pale ribbon of rose on the horizon. Dal said little as they walked their horses from the barn area to the open valley before them. She unbuttoned her sheepskin coat, her breath a mist from her mouth and nose. Sliding on the falconer’s glove, which almost reached up to the elbow of her left arm, she mounted her gelding.

The silence was complete as they rode from the main ranch area at a slow trot. Thick drops of dew hung on the green blades of grass, frozen in stalks of splendor everywhere they looked. Twin jets of steam shot from their horses’ nostrils and the saddle leather creaked pleasantly. Dal glanced at Jim, who rode at her side. His expression mirrored a peacefulness she longed to possess. But after the previous night’s episode, there was no peace in her.

Just thinking about being held by him caused heat to sweep up from her neck into her face. Unconsciously, Dal touched her cheek as she relived those stolen moments out of time in his arms. He had held her. Simply comforted her. His arms had gently embraced her to ease her inner pain. And it only served to make her more vulnerable to him. Jim had given to her last night, not taken as Jack had always done.

A high-pitched shriek shattered the quiet of the mountain valley.

“He’s here,” she said automatically, pulling her horse to a stop and turning toward the sound. Her chin lifted and she saw Nar high above them, his seven-foot wingspread silhouetted against the apricot-colored dawn light. She smiled as she met and held Jim’s gaze. “Stay here. Nar will put on a show for you, I’m sure.” With that, she lifted her fingers to her lips, creating a call similar to Nar’s.

Jim watched as the golden eagle shrilled back and suddenly folded his wings and stooped. The brown body of the raptor plunged out of the lightening sky like a cannonball. Jim tensed as Dal clapped her heels to her gelding and it took off at a gallop across the grassy valley. The eagle hurtled down at the escaping horse and rider, his beak open and claws extended. At the last possible second, Nar spread his wings, lightly touching Dal’s outstretched gloved hand.

It was an unbelievable ballet, Jim thought as he tensely watched the raptor wheel around, skimming the earth by no more than two feet as he came flying back toward Dal. The gelding was obviously used to the antics of the eagle, neither swerving nor slowing his gallop as they raced in a collision course toward each other. Nar shrilled, suddenly swooping a mere foot from the horse, his wing tip barely grazing Dal’s hair, which flew back across her shoulders. Her laughter was joyous as the eagle wheeled on his wing and corkscrewed around. Dal reined her gelding to the right in a tight circle, Nar following smoothly, almost touching her shoulder. She guided the horse into a straight line at a dead run, and the eagle easily followed.

As she pulled her gelding to a sliding stop, Dal’s laughter was silvery. She threw her arm up above her head and Nar reversed his flight, gently landing and lightly gripping her gloved wrist and arm. He lifted his head, his amber eyes blazing as he shrilled, his call echoing throughout the valley. Dal stroked his breast lightly and the raptor leaned down, moving his beak through her hair, twittering at her like an indulgent parent to a naughty child.

“Ready?” she asked Nar.

The intelligent bird’s head tilted, studying her. Nar mantled.

“Okay, big bird, off you go!” Dal drew her entire arm and shoulder back, stood up in the saddle and flung the heavy eagle off her arm. Nar flapped, the wings snapping in the coolness as he rapidly gained height, climbing up and out of the valley. He wheeled, spiraled and cavorted around her and the horse as they quietly stood in the grassy plain. Coming from one end of the valley, Nar would dive and then barely skim the earth, soaring upward within a foot of them. Jim sat admiring the powerful grace and beauty of the golden eagle from a distance. He didn’t know who looked happier: Dal or the predator. Her face was flushed, sapphire eyes alight with joy and her hair in provocative disarray around her face and shoulders. More than once he sucked in a breath, afraid that the eagle had misjudged his distance from Dal. But always the raptor missed her, often by only inches. Once he saw the wing-tip feathers brush her hair and he shivered. What if Nar ever decided to strike out at Dal with those razor-sharp talons of his? He could easily shred the jacket she wore, or worse, injure her.

Nar’s attention was taken elsewhere when he spotted a jackrabbit at the edge of the meadow. Dal watched as the raptor took off for his quarry, and turned her horse back toward Jim. The gelding was well rested from his run and cantered easily beneath her.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked breathlessly, pulling up opposite him.

“Beautiful, dangerous and thrilling,” he admitted, a slow smile pulling at his mouth. He pushed the hat back on his head, studying her. “You were beautiful, he was dangerous and the whole ten minutes were thrilling. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Dal laughed, running her fingers through her hair to try and tame it back into order. “We’ve played like this ever since he learned to fly. When he was younger, he would ride out here on my arm and I’d cast him off.” She patted her gelding. “Smokey enjoys it, too.”

“I could see that. You wouldn’t find many horses willing to tolerate an eagle attacking them like that.”

“No. Most horses would shy,” she agreed, smiling.

Resting his arm on the saddle horn, Jim said, “You’re at one with nature and the animals.”

Dal pulled her leg across the horn, balancing herself with unconscious ease as she dropped the reins and let Smokey nibble at the grass at his feet. She gazed around her, a soft hint of a smile lingering in her eyes. “Yes, I love the forest and the animals.”

“But not the two-legged variety known as men?”

The joy died in her eyes as she met his probing gaze. “No, never them.”

He gave her a slight smile. “Wish I was an eagle, then. I envy Nar.”

“Why?”

“He’s male and he has your trust.”

His insight was unsettling to her, but she had found out the night before that his intuitive knowledge of her didn’t necessarily mean pain. “Nar gained my trust with long hard hours of working together.”

“But you were willing to give him your time,” Jim countered huskily.

Dal lifted her leg, slipping her foot back into the stirrup and picking up the reins. “What are you trying to say, Jim?”

He straightened up, his gaze holding hers so that he could see the fear and defensiveness reflected in her luminous eyes. “How do you get a man-fearing horse to trust you again?” he countered.

“You work with him, I suppose.”

He gave her a heated look charged with some unknown emotion. “That’s right, you do.”

Dal looked mystified. “Do Navaho always talk in riddles?”

“When it suits them,” he drawled, smiling. Dal was a man-fearing woman right now. And whether she knew it or not, he was going to handle her, force her to work closely with him and regain her trust. If he told her that he knew she would flee from him like the frightened deer she was, and never allow him near her again. But if he could convince Rafe to let him deal with the poaching problem, then Dal would have no choice. “Come on, I’ll race you that two miles to the end of the meadow. Let’s find out what kind of a rider you really are, lady.”