Page 60 of Three-Inch Teeth

She was grateful that her job was complete after the bird abatement was over. She wanted nothing to do with cleaning up the building and making it suitable for any kind of use again. Years of bird shit and tiny rotting carcasses made the building reek ripe and rotten.

Sheridan was also pleased with how well her first lone assignment had gone. Nate had shown her how well peregrines and prairie falcons could team up to work together on the same mission. Some falcons turned on each other to claim the airspace, but these two had cooperated. There had been no need to release her remaining birds.

Nate attributed it to the fact that prairie falcons, while the only large falcon species native to North America, were distantly related to peregrines and shared similar attributes. Prairies were slightly smaller, but more perfectly adapted to a harsh arid western environment. What they shared with peregrines was their aggressiveness, their coloring, their grace while in flight, and their eager embrace of terror tactics when it came to going after prey.

Both birds had done their jobs, returned to her at the end of the day, and done so tired but unharmed. She still had fresh falcons in reserve if needed.

Sheridan was keen to return to her motel, have a nice meal somewhere in Walden, and report to Liv how well things had gone. The only thing that nagged at her throughout the day had been her repeated sightings of the old woman lurking about inside the ranch home.

Katy Cotton kept a very close eye on Sheridan’s comings and goings. In fact, every time Sheridan glanced toward the house, she found Cotton in one of the windows on either the first or second floor, pushing aside the curtain to glare at her.

Once, Sheridan had waved. The old woman hadn’t waved back. She’d simply stepped away and let the curtains meet.

*

SHE WAS CLOSING the tailgate on her SUV when Leon Bottom drove his pickup into the ranch yard and strode over to her with a smile on his face and a six-pack of Coors in his hand.

“How’d it go today?” he asked. He was wearing the same all-black cowboy outfit as he had the day before, with the addition of a white silk kerchief around his thin neck. Maybe to make it look thicker, she thought.

“It went very well,” she announced. “There are officially no starlings left in your barn.”

Bottom did a faux reaction as if he’d been pushed back in the chest, then resumed his approach. “Man, that’s the best news I’ve heard all month. I wish I could have been here to see it, but I had to meet with my banker in Fort Collins.”

“I remember.”

*

HE PULLED TWO yellow cans out of the container and handed one to Sheridan. He said, “I was almost hoping you would need to work again tomorrow. I really wanted to see those falcons of yours chase the starlings off.”

“Oh, I’ll be back tomorrow morning to make sure none of them came back during the night,” she said, opening the can. “Sometimes a few of them return because they don’t know where else to go. Also, there might be a few birds out there who don’t know what happened today and think of the barn as their home. We can chase them all off tomorrow. Thanks for the beer.”

“My pleasure,” Bottom said, taking a long pull of his and exclaiming, “Damn, that’s good. I should have asked you first if you wanted a beer. You might not even drink.”

“I’m from Wyoming,” she said. And it was good.

“So that’s it,” he said. “You come, you chase all the problem birds away, you give me a bill, and you leave.”

“That’s it. If they come back, you can call us again. But to be honest, it’s unusual for starlings to come back within their lifetimes. Birds like starlings get hardwired fast to avoid places that have threatened them.”

“Where did all the birds go?” Bottom asked.

“The bulk of them went west, and the rest to the south.”

“So they’ll be someone else’s problem,” Bottom said with apparent glee. “I hope a bunch of them end up in Walden to plague my enemies.”

Sheridan didn’t respond to that.

“Still, this is all fascinating,” Bottom said.

“That barn will need a real cleaning,” she said.

“I’ll hire some illegals to do it,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve seen a few of them hanging around the post office in town. There’s no paperwork and I can pay them in cash. That’s what’s nice about my situation.”

She looked away and drank the rest of the can faster than she normally would. Sheridan was tired of the conversation, and of Leon Bottom.

“Thank you for the beer,” she said again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

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