Chapter 2

Although his raven self had many uses, for most of his work, his human shape served best. He tried to keep his shifting ability a secret. Few even of his fellow special agents knew of it. His commander did, along with another man they’d tried unsuccessfully to partner him with and perhaps one or two others. Even that was too many because who knew what some of the new breed of crossers could extract from an innocent or careless mind? Special agents were trained to resist pressure and even torture, but everyone could be broken in time, in some way.

He changed back, becoming once more a man dressed in flat black, with no obvious weapons and not a lot in the way of gear. He had caches of food and water, even weapons, at critical spots and, if he had to, he could shift and fly to them in an hour or two. Traveling light was as much his habit as traveling alone.

* * * *

Manuel Ortega halted to rest on a point just south of Baboquivari Peak, where the white men’s telescopes had displaced the old gods of his people. He had mixed feelings about that. Although he recognized the importance of looking beyond the protective cocoon of the earth and her atmosphere, he still thought another peak could have done the job as well and left the mountain spirits in peace in their sacred spot.

He loved high places. If he could, he’d spend most of his time in places like this, with the greater part of his people’s ancestral home spread out beneath him. The Tohono O’odham was an ancient and honorable tribe, deeply rooted in the harsh desert lands. They had wrested their livelihood from the earth’s seldom seen bounty there for countless generations. Many of them bore Hispanic names, heritage of a long association with the people of Mexico beginning with the conquistadoreswho had explored this land centuries ago.

Manuel welcomed a day off from his duties as an officer in the U.S. Border Patrol. The job paid well and let him care for his aging parents, but there were times he was not happy with his work. The job trapped him with too many people, too many tense, angry, and bitter emotional currents and sometimes required him to perform tasks he felt were so wrong he almost rebelled against his orders. He spent his free days as far away from the pressures and stifling atmosphere of work as he could, usually in the mountains.

The sun dropped to perch on the jagged edge of the distant ranges to the west, mountains bordering the Colorado River. The sight reminded him he needed to start for home. Fortunately, he had an easier way to get there than a twenty-mile hike over the rugged terrain that fell away beneath him. Tucking his head down, he shut his eyes and felt his essence slip into another form. Then he spread strong, bronze-feathered wings and launched into the air.

He’d been about twelve the first time he discovered he could shift form. Always adventurous and inclined to explore alone, that day he’d climbed into a canyon in a new area of the desert mountains and discovered a hidden ruin of the ancient ones. It took him half a day to scramble up the steep and unstable hillside to reach the spot. He’d slipped in through a narrow doorway in the rough stone wall that blocked the front of a cave under a ledge. Inside, he found only a few beads and shards of pottery. It was really not very exciting, but he’d sensed himself in a secret, sacred place, one where perhaps nobody had been for centuries. That fact alone thrilled him.

Crawling back out, he started to pick his way down. Rocks rolled suddenly. He slipped and began to tumble down the hill. Directly below him lurked one vertical drop of about fifty feet. He’d climbed around it on his way up, but it looked now like he was going to fall right over the edge. Panic hit for a moment followed by a strange calm. Shutting his eyes and wishing desperately that he could fly, something unexpected had happened. All at once he wasflying!

He would hold that memory forever. Finally safe back on level ground, he’d been scared shitless at first that he wouldn’t be able to change back, but he managed to do it. After a few more times, the process became smooth and close to effortless. He just thought himself in the familiar winged form and changed.It was that easy. He had no notion how and why, only knew it worked.

As far as he could tell, no one shared his secret. He certainly hadn’t dared tell anyone, not even his grandfather, who was a medicine man. Although the Tohono O’odham did not have the same superstitious fears about “skin walkers” or shape-shifting witches as did the Navajo and Apache, Manuel still doubted the tribe could accept his gift. They might deem him wicked and unnatural, even bad enough to exile him from their homeland. Such punishment would be unbearable. To the people of the desert, family and tribe were the essence of one’s identity and a necessity for survival.