“Yes, of course.”
“Just let her know she can. Do you not talk to the birds, Ms. Stanley?”
“Megan, and yes, I do.” Now her smile turned speculative as she studied Connor. “It’s not something I admit to most. All right, Sally—she’ll stay Sally—hunt.”
The hawk rose, circled high. Connor began to walk the field with Megan, following the flight.
“So what brought you to Ireland, and to Clare?” he asked her.
“An attempt to save a marriage, which it didn’t. But I think it saved me, and I’m happy with that. So it’s just me and Bruno—and now Sally.”
“Bruno?”
“My dog. Sweet little mutt who showed up at my door a couple years ago. Mangy, limping, half starved. We adopted each other. He’s used to hawks. He doesn’t bother my neighbor’s.
“A dog’s an asset on a hunt. Not that she needs one.” As he spoke, Sally dove—a bullet from a gun. As talons flashed, Megan let out a little hiss.
“Gets me every time. It’s what they do, need to do. God or the world or whatever you believe in made them to hunt and feed. But I always feel a little sorry about it. It took some time for me to stop being squeamish about feeding them during molting, but I got over that. Have you always lived in Mayo?”
“Always, yes.”
They exchanged some small talk—weather, hawking, a pub in Ennis he knew well—while Sally feasted on the small rabbit she’d taken down.
“I’m half in love with her already.” Megan lifted her arm, and the hawk responded, flying over to land. “Some of that’s just excitement and anticipation, but I think we’ll make that match you spoke of. Will you let me have her?”
“You made arrangements with Fin,” Connor began.
“Yeah, I did, but he said it would be up to you.”
“She’s yours already, Megan.” He looked from the hawk to the woman. “Else she wouldn’t have come to you after her feed. You’ll want to take her home.”
“Yes, yes. I brought everything, with my fingers crossed for luck. I nearly brought Bruno but thought they should get acquainted before a car trip.”
She looked at Sally, laughed. “I have a hawk.”
“And she has you.”
“And she has me. And I think she’ll always have you, so would you mind if I took a picture of you with her?”
“Ah, sure if you’re wanting.”
“My camera’s in my car.” She transferred Sally to Connor, dashed back to her car. And returned with a very substantial Nikon.
“That’s quite the camera.”
“And I’m good with it. Go to my website and see for yourself. I’m going to take a couple, okay?” she continued as she checked setting and light. “Just
relax—I don’t want a studied pose. We’ll have the young Irish god with Sally, queen of the falcons.”
And when Connor laughed, she took three shots, fast.
“Perfect. Just one more with you looking at her.”
Obliging, he looked at Sally. You’ll be happy with her, he told the hawk. She’s been waiting for you.
“Great. Thanks.” She slung the camera around her neck. “I’ll email you the best of them if you want.”
“Sure I’d like that very much.” He dug out one of the business cards he’d remembered to stick in his back pocket.