been on the counter and he’d picked it up. It was the easiest way to find out what was going on.
Mo’s was crammed with breakfast customers, the noise level sounding like bees buzzing. He’d accidentally turned to the classified ads and his gaze fell on the Help Wanted section. One ad shouted out to him. Was he reading it right? Joe blinked and reread the ad: “Falconer wanted for a full-time position. Apply by calling Katie Bergstrom.” Joe studied the ad. Was this kismet, one of those lucky breaks an FBI agent prays for, but never gets? There it was: a job opening with his suspect. Folding up the newspaper, Joe took a drink of his black coffee, and reviewed the details of the case.
His boss, Roger Hager, had gone over his mission objectives in Jackson Hole. Thanks to information from a local cowboy, Griff McPherson, the FBI was now focused on a man named Curt Downing. There was a possible break in this evolving drug-and-gunrunning case. McPherson and his brother Slade had been born here and owned the Tetons Ranch. Griff also worked at the Bar H and had married the owner, Valerie Hunter. Griff had met Janet Bergstrom by chance at the Horse Emporium in January. She was there to buy a dog collar for her husky, Karl. They’d talked and Janet had said she was on a visit to Jackson Hole to look at the possibility of creating a second courier business in the town. That was interesting news insofar as Roger was concerned. Janet already had a courier service established in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
A smiling blonde, blue-eyed waitress brought over a huge oval platter of pigs in blankets. Joe thanked her as she then handed him a pitcher of maple syrup. Cutting into the pancake-wrapped sausage, Joe continued to think his way through the developments in his assignment. When Janet got out of prison, she’d gone to Guatemala for two years. After coming home, she’d started a small business known as Mercury Courier and it became quite successful. However, the FBI agent in Guatemala suspected Bergstrom received seed money from the Los Lobos cartel. Furthermore, an agent had followed her on the flight to Guatemala and taken photos of her with cartel leader Xavier Lobos. The FBI had a growing amount of information on this aggressive man who focused on running drugs and guns. He was buying weapons and selling cocaine to Canada and the U.S.A.
Chewing his food, Joe watched the parlor’s clientele come and go. Mo’s was always a busy place. Some of the old-timers gave him a long look, as if trying to place his face. Joe had purposely been chosen for this mission because he’d been born in Jackson Hole. His parents, Connor and Lorna Gannon, ran a ranch and a landscape company. They’d given him the small house near the main ranch house for his stay. Roger felt it was perfect cover for Joe. He’d be a local boy come home and completely unsuspected by any cartel members who were trying to establish themselves in the area. Locals would never guess he was an agent. Rather, they’d see him as the wounded son returning home to heal and work with his parents.
“Hey...Joe Gannon? Is that you?”
Turning to his right, he looked into the eyes of Iris Mason, owner of the Elk Horn Ranch. Joe instantly recognized the matriarch. She wore a white blouse, Levi’s and scuffed boots, and her elk-skin purse hung from her left shoulder. Iris had silver hair that resembled a disturbed hen’s nest. She wore a jaunty straw hat over it. Grinning, Joe slid off the stool.
“Miss Iris! It’s good to see you!” Joe embraced the elder.
“You look good,” Iris said, stepping back and smiling up at him. “My, how you’ve grown, Joe! The last I heard, you were injured and at Bethesda Medical Center back East with a head injury.” Iris reached out and patted his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Sit down,” Joe invited, gesturing to the stool next to his. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” She was one of the most knowledgeable people in the valley and Joe felt luck was once more on his side. He could chat with Iris and learn a lot in a little time. Plus, Katie Bergstrom had her raptor facility at Iris’s ranch. Kismet had struck again.
“Thanks, Joe, I will.” Iris ordered a cup of coffee and a cheese omelet from the waitress. She turned and smiled over at him. “So, how are you?”
“Better than I was,” Joe said, lifting the cup to his lips. “I’m sure my mom and dad told you I was injured in Helmand Province in Afghanistan?”
“Yes. You know, Gwen Garner, who owns the quilting store, knows all.” She smiled. “Your mom is quite a quilter and she kept Gwen updated on your Marine Corps life.”
“After the second tour and getting a traumatic brain injury from an IED, I landed in Bethesda for six months, Miss Iris.” Joe touched the left side of his head. “I was riding in the rear of a Humvee when we drove over the damned thing.” His voice lowered with pain. “I was the only one to survive.”
“That’s so sad. Lorna called me right after she found out. They were heading out the door to Germany where you were taken for treatment.”
Joe knew his mother and Iris were good friends. Lorna Gannon had always looked to Iris as an extra grandmother in her life. Iris befriended everyone and she was one of the most-loved people in the valley. “I’m sure she was stressed out by the news,” he said.
“Yes, they were. I went over to see if I could help them pack.” Iris sighed and said in a softer voice, “We all prayed for you, Joe. It’s hard losing a child at any age. And thank goodness, our prayers were answered.”
“I was kind of happy about it, too.” He shared a warm smile with her.
Iris drank her coffee. “So, are you coming home? Griff McPherson came home after Wall Street crashed. Are you in the same predicament?”
“Sort of,” Joe hedged. He hated lying to Iris, but he had to in order to keep his cover. “I just got out of rehab in D.C. and was released from the Marine Corps because of my injury. I came home to help my father and learn his landscaping business. He’d always wanted me to take the ranch over someday and now seems like a good time.” Iris looked happy, her mouth drawing upward.
“Oh, good, good. I love when family can come together and be one. Nowadays, sisters and brothers and parents are thrown to the wind. No one lives at home or in the same town anymore. I know I’m from an older generation where that was the norm, but for the life of me, I truly feel a family should stick together.” She patted his broad shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re home, Joe.”
“I’m pretty happy about it too.”
The waitress delivered the food and Iris eagerly dug into her breakfast. Between bites, she asked, “So you’re going from being an officer in the Marine Corps to turning your talents to ranching? Your dad is very respected around here. I hired him a year ago to come in with his dozer and grader to smooth off a piece of land for me. I wanted Katie Bergstrom’s facility built on our ranch. She was struggling something awful. Raptor rehabilitators don’t get reimbursed for all the money, time and care they put into saving birds. I saw her give a talk to an assisted-living center a year ago. I was so impressed with Katie and her love of the raptors. She enthralled everyone in the room with her passion for them.”
Joe’s heart leaped as Iris brought up the woman who kept haunting his thoughts, his suspect. “My father told me you not only donated the land but you had a facility built for her raptors?”
“Yep, I sure did.” Iris twisted the lid off a jar of blueberry jam and slathered it thickly across whole-wheat toast. “I’m always on the lookout for a good business move to enhance Elk Horn’s reputation as a dude ranch. I saw Katie’s talk and was absolutely taken with her passion, her sincerity and love of her raptors. As you know, I pioneered environmental and green ways of living in this valley.”
“Yes,” Joe said, “you were the first
