Page 39 of Three-Inch Teeth

She could clearly see that old courthouse when she opened the curtains of her window at the Alpine Motel and fed pieces of road-killed jackrabbit to the five hooded falcons she’d transported to Colorado in her SUV. Two prairie falcons, two red-tailed hawks, and a sleek female peregrine made up her flight of birds.

The raptors were all hooded with leather masks and they stood up straight while grasping the backs of motel chairs with their talons. She’d spread newspaper on the linoleum beneath them for their white squirts of excrement.

*

THE OWNER OF the Alpine Motel, who had introduced himself as DeWayne Kolb, had white muttonchops and reading glasses poised on the end of his bulbous nose. He wore baggy jeans and a faded red union suit top. He’d been obviously fascinated by both Sheridan and her cargo when she entered the tiny lobby to check in.

“Hello,” she’d said. “Your sign says you allow pets.”

“Well, it depends on the pets,” he answered. “You’ve got to be careful these days. A friend of mine told me he had to fly across the country sitting next to a lady with her emotional support ferret.”

A talker, Sheridan thought.

“I have five birds of prey,” she said.

“Birds of prey? Like eagles or something?”

Sheridan detailed the species of the raptors and introduced herself as a master falconer from Wyoming. She said the birds were well-behaved and wouldn’t do any damage to the motel room.

“You don’t look old enough to be a master anything,” Kolb said with a smile.

“That’s where you’d be mistaken,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “Truly. I’ve never met a master falconer before.”

“Well, now you have,” Sheridan said. “So can I rent a room here?”

“How many nights will you need it?” he asked. “I’ve got a group of hunters coming in next week that will take all of my rooms.”

“Maybe four nights,” she said, handing over her new Yarak, Inc. credit card. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

He ran it through his machine. “I’ll charge you for four nights, then. If it turns out to be fewer, I’ll back the charges out.

“It would be a pleasure hosting a master falconer in my humble motel,” Kolb said, sliding a registration card across the counter. “It’s pretty much just elk hunters here this time of year. I’m afraid they come in at all hours and leave early in the morning. They can get kind of rowdy, so I hope they won’t disturb you.”

“I’m used to being around elk hunters,” she said as she filled out the form and handed it back to him. Sheridan felt no need to explain that she had spent her formative years surrounded by hunters, fishermen, and landowners of all stripes. They’d shown up at her house at any time of day.

“Wyoming,” he said while reading the card. “Lots of folks around here wish we could become a county in Wyoming instead of Colorado. There’s a serious movement to convince Wyoming to annex us and get the libtards in Denver to set us free.”

“I see,” she said. She’d learned from her father to steer clear of local political movements.

“About the only thing we North Parkers have in common with those people are our green license plates and the income tax we have to pay,” he said. “Colorado isn’t the place I grew up in anymore. We’ve been flooded with people from other states, and it’s disgusting. I went to a Broncos game last year against the Steelers, and half of the stadium was wearing black and gold and waving those stupid Terrible Towels. And the worst part was they were new residents.

“That’s probably more information than you wanted on day one among the North Parkers,” he said.

She smiled to herself. He was correct.

“Can I ask what you’re doing here? With all those falcons?”

“I’m in the bird abatement business,” Sheridan said. “We get hired to help get rid of problem species.”

“Interesting,” Kolb said. “Your falcons chase away bad birds?”

“Something like that.”

“Who are you working for around here, if I may ask?”

“A man named Leon Bottom.”

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