"I will explen," he said, uncovering his face and reaching for his drink again. "The Prael hef a talent for learning languages. We hef a device to enhance thiss talent. I used it before coming here to find the ba k'rah. I was to observe and monitor your electronic entertainment to bedder learn your language. However, I hef not had time. Thus you spicking to me serves thiss purpose."

"That's nice. But what's your trouble?"

He had to search for the right words, but adequately explained he served as manifest officer aboard a starship that collected animals across the galaxy for zoos. These animals were ordered and half paid for in advance. A starship transporting animals needs water. They'd just come from a world called Igroon and the Prael didn't care for Igroonian water, so they stopped by Earth to take some on. A young a.s.sistant decided the ba k'rah needed exercise and the ba k'rah flew the coop.

"You mean," I prompted when Worl fell silent, "your a.s.sistant let the ba k'rah out of the ship?"

"No, no. But the ba k'rah es very large. If not confined, hit goes where hit wishes. We cannot harm thiss expensive animal. With our mistakes linked together, the ba k'rah escaped the ship."

I suddenly had a vision of a bunch of frantic little gray aliens chasing after the giant bird with a net. "Hit es my responsibility. My a.s.sistant failed in his duty. The purchasers of the ba k'rah want their specimen. The ship will deliver remaining animals, then return here. My commander leaf me behind to capture the ba k'rah." He sighed, staring into his gla.s.s as if hoping to read answers in the melting ice cubes. "More trouble. Now I hef spoke to you. Many violations of laws. And the ba k'rah flew away; perhaps far, when Clairk Kendt frightened hit." He turned an accusing gaze on Clark who calmly continued washing his face, not at all contrite.

"Let me get this straight," I said, studying the little alien. "You must recapture the bird and keep your ident.i.ty a secret." I punctuated the last words with a wistful sigha"here was solid proof to show the worlda.

Worl blinked innocently at me. "You help?"

"Yes." I let my dream fade and squared my shoulders. "Of course, I'll help. Do you have any idea where the bird might go?"

"Eat." He shook his head sadly, his manner so pathetic, it made me want to comfort him. "Ba k'rah find food first."

"What kind of food?" I asked, hoping humans weren't on the menu.

"Here on your planet, citrus. More trouble."

Clark perked his ears up as if listening intently and I noticed Worl spoke both to me and the cat. I smiled, realizing the little alien a.s.sumed Clark could understand the conversation. Clark meowed at me as if he could read my thoughts. Startled, I concentrated on Worl who began talking again and rubbing the b.u.mp on his head at the same time.

"I hef to find the ba k'rah. Must go now." He stood and swayed.

I caught him. He felt very cold in my arms and certainly didn't weigh much. "You're not going anywhere yet," I said, compa.s.sion for the poor unfortunate creature welling inside me. Maybe a bit of guilt, too. After all, I fell on the little guy. "It's nearly dark and you're injured. Rest for a while and then we can decide how to catch the ba k'rah. Okay?"

He didn't agree or disagree. He just collapsed in my arms. I carried him into my bedroom and laid him down on my bed. He looked strange; yet so vulnerable lying there with those luminous eyes closed. He moaned softly. Clark leaped upon the bed to put his nose against the b.u.mp on Worl's head. In some way it must have helped, because Worl quieted and turned sideways, snuggling against my cat. Clark purred in a hypnotic rhythm that nearly lured me down beside them. I shook off drowsiness and forced myself into the kitchen, where I tossed a salad to chill in the fridge. If Worl got hungry, natural foods might be kinder to his alien digestive track.

A sudden knock echoed through the house. Don't panic, my mind screamed. I ran to the bedroom where Worl and Clark lay sleeping and shut the door, then rushed into the living room to reach the front door before my unexpected visitor began ringing the doorbell.

Opening the door a crack, my breath caught as I recognized Mike Harris, the blond hunky deputy sheriff whom I'd been hoping to meet since I moved here. But not now. Was harboring an alien a crime?

"h.e.l.lo," I said, attempting to keep, my voice from squeaking.

"Howdy. Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but we've had reports of strange activities in this area. Could I come in for a few minutes?"

He looked great in his uniform and filled it out exactly like a woman wants a man to. I never dreamed I could resist inviting him into my home, but I heard myself whisper, "This really isn't a good time, officer."

He placed one suntanned hand against the doorframe, his gaze hardening and his voice deepening. "I think you ought to let me inside, ma'am."

I nodded, swung open the door and decided to take my chances rather than rile the deputy sheriff. He relaxed and grinned as he entered my living room. What a grin! It made my heart dance, until I remembered my "other" guest.

"I'm Mike Harris," he said, taking my hand into his firm, warm grasp.

"Please sit down, Mike," I responded with my best smile, wishing I'd combed my hair after the tumble with Clark and Worl. He stared briefly at my auburn curls and I hoped no leaves or gra.s.s clung there. "I'm Jackie Carlson."

"I know." He grinned again, flashing pearly teeth. "The writer lady." He sat on my sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, quite at ease. "Miss Carlson, last night our switchboard lit up with calls from across the Valley, people reporting everything from flying saucers to monster birds. Most of the sightings came from this way. You see anything?"

Now, I don't make a habit of lying to lawmen, but when he c.o.c.ked his handsome head, those keen blue eyes of his a.s.sessing my credibility as a witness before I even opened my mouth, all I could do was mutely shake my head no.

Part of me wanted to grab his hand and drag him into the bedroom to show him my little alien friend; most of me resisted.

Scratch, scratch. The bedroom door. I had to let Clark out before he woke Worl. "Excuse me," I said before dashing off to carefully open the bedroom door. Clark streaked by me, straight into the living room. I peeked at Worl, sleeping peacefully, and closed the door softly.

Clark stopped several feet from the sofa, staring warily through those green-gold eyes at Mike. Mike bent down, wiggled a finger and cooed softly, "Here, kitty, kitty."'

"Clark's pretty shy," I said, seating myself in my recliner. Clark circled around, then jumped into my lap.

"Clark? Crazy name for a cat," Mike said, appearing a bit embarra.s.sed that my pet had snubbed him.

"Clark Kent, actually," I replied, stroking the cat's silky fur obediently. Clark had trained me in a very short time.

Mike started to laugh. A nice deep laugh. "I see whya"he looks like he wears gla.s.ses, right?"

Clark stuck his pink nose up disdainfully. "One of the reasons," I answered. "Do you have any more questions for me? If not, I do have a deadline on my storyaa"

Mike got the hint and stood. "No, guess that's it. Unless you heard something last night?" he added hopefully.

"Sorry." I picked Clark up, then walked Mike to the door. Reluctant to completely blow my first meeting with this appealing man, I smiled and said, "It was a pleasure meeting you and I hope we see each other again soon." Just not too soon, I finished to myself.

Mike's blue eyes targeted mine. "I'd like that, Miss Carlson." He grinned and I felt tempted to ask him to stay. Clark sprang from my arms, reminding me of our situation.

"Please call me Jackie," I said, consoling myself with that much. Again, Mike shook my hand and even held it a bit longer than necessary before bidding me good night and departing.

Clark shot out the door as Mike left. Out of character for that cat. He rarely ventured out at night alone, but I let him go, confident he'd return shortly. Very shortly.

I grabbed a bowl of salad and settled down on the sofa to watch the late news. I clicked on the remote just as a newscaster announced last night's UFO sighting had been cla.s.sified as ball lightning. "Oh, sure," I grumbled. Next came the big bird story, explained away as a runaway kite, since its huge size ruled out hawks, falcons or evena" eagles.

Clark scratched at the door, so I let him inside and together we watched a newswoman interview old Sheriff Tuffy of West Grove.

"Warren Baily claims one of his compet.i.tors stripped his orange groves. Do you have any evidence?"

"Nope," Sheriff Tuffy replied, puffing out his plump cheeks and staring directly into the camera.

"What?" the reporter asked, looking surprised. "No tire tracks, footprints, witnesses?"

"Nope," Tuffy responded, teetering toe to heel, heel to toe in his cowboy boots, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he still stared into the camera.

"You're saying that Baily's Better Oranges lost a whole crop of nearly ripe fruit, two hundred trees stripped bare, and no one even left a clue?"

"Yep," said the sheriff, scowling at the camera.

"Uh, thank you, Sheriff," said the fl.u.s.tered reporter. "Back to you, Bob." I turned off the television and stroked Clark, who was acting strangely quiet since arriving back home.

"Citrus? Well, Clark, we better drive out to Baily's groves with Worl in the morning."

"Meow, meoow," Clark replied. I took it to mean he agreed.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I woke up to see the little gray alien holding Clark and both of them staring down at me while sunshine filtered through the front window.

"Shockie, you wake now. Help find the ba k'rah," Worl said. Clark wiggled free and jumped down.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as memories of yesterday crashed over my mind, waves of a receding dream. Clark poked his furry head under my free hand and I absently patted him.

"Okay, I'm getting up, but before we leave the house we need to disguise you, Worl. Even I can't run around the Valley with a little gray s.p.a.ceman."

"Meow, meeoow," Clark chimed in, then darted off into the bedroom. I followed quite willingly, though my head felt woozy and my mouth full of cotton. I detoured into the bath to freshen up. When I came back out, Clark was sitting upon a big box wrapped in bright birthday paper. He waved his tail and stretched.

"Get down, Clark. You'll ruin the bow on Sue's present," I scolded, scooping the cat off his perch. He kneaded my arm with his claws, not enough to hurt, but enough to halt my action. "Oh, yes!" I cried, as Wort stepped inside the room. "The boots and jeans I bought my niece might worka"Sue is just about Worl's size." I hugged Clark tightly. He squirmed in protest, so I let him go as I whispered, "Clark, you're the smartest cat on Earth!"

I changed my own clothes, then helped Wort into Sue's birthday blue jeans and tooled leather boots. Not too bad. I found an old blue workshirt of mine and Wort put it on. We rolled the sleeves up and it still looked big, but that's the fashion for kids, anyway. Worl's large head fit fine in a worn Stetson hat I'd stashed in a corner of my closet. I added a pair of sungla.s.ses and stepped back to view the alien, "You'll do from a distance. We just can't let anyone see you up close. Okay?"

"Okay, Shockie," Wort replied, playing with his hat, tipping the brim up and down in front of the dresser mirror. Clark brushed against my legs and meowed at us. "Yes, Clairk Kendt," Wort added. "We go find the ba k'rah now."

Worl, Clark, and I piled into my car. I showed Worl how to fasten his seatbelt and he held Clark on his lap. Usually Clark preferred to cringe on the floorboard while riding, but this morning he acted eager to sit up and look out. Worl had insisted on wearing his bulky belt under the shirt I loaned him. Now he shifted Clark off his lap so he could reach a cone-shaped metallic object and pull it out from his belt. He pressed the top of the cone and it started bleeping softly, glowing red to pink.

"What's that?" I asked, starting the car.

"Finder. Hit will tell us where to seek the ba k'rah." Clark pressed his nose against the finder, then jerked back as if burned. "Naughty, Clairk Kendt," Worl said, shaking his head, looking rather comical in his Stetson and sungla.s.ses. The alien spun his cone in a circle, pointing north, and cried, "That a-way, Shockie!" The finder throbbed lavender. I hit the gas pedal as we turned north on the highway. We sped past citrus groves and mesquite scrub and I noticed the finder deepen in color, the lavender now closer to purple. Suddenly it started screaming.

I wanted to cover my ears but kept my hands on the wheel while I pulled the car off to the side of the road. Wort bounced excitedly, his free hand dancing over the seatbelt until it clicked open to release him.

"Turn that finder off," I cried. He obeyed. I think even Clark looked relieved. I hope I never hear such a noise again.

"There, there!" Worl squealed, pointing to an orange grove on our right. "The ba k'rah! Flying! See?" A giant bird, shimmering black except for a bloodred curved beak, hovered above the trees.

"Look at that wingspan," I gasped, wondering if I'd been transported into some j.a.panese horror movie. "It's a monster." I gazed down at little Worl. "How can you capture that huge creature?"

He patted his belt. "My tanglefield. I hef hit inside here." He tugged one large b.u.mp and off came a fabric cylinder. "Jest let me out of you ship and I use hit."

I leaned over and opened his door for him. He hopped out, Clark following. I got out my side and rushed around to them.

Wort muttered something, grasped the tanglefield in his right hand, rotating his entire arm until I heard a bzz-bzz-bzzing. A pale lavender energy field ballooned up before collapsing back into its source.

"Big trouble, big trouble!" Worl yelled, banging the tanglefield against his other hand. Another try brought the same result. With dire alien mutterings, Worl removed a tool pack from his belt and set to work on the malfunctioning tanglefield. Just then Clark began meowing loudly and in the distance I noticed the gleam of an approaching vehicle. An engine roared closer as a patrol car zoomed into sight.

"Quick, Worl, get into the car. Stay down and don't speak. We'll try to pa.s.s you off as my nephew." The little alien, still fumbling with his equipment, climbed back into my car and bent intently over his task. Clark stayed by me, weaving between my legs as if he, too, felt nervous.

The patrol car slowed and my heart gave a sudden leap as I recognized Mike Harris, the blond deputy. "Howdy, Miss Carlson." He climbed out and scanned the roadside. My gaze followed his. With mixed emotions I noticed the bird was no longer in sight. "Trouble, ma'am?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Mike, please call me Jackie."

He grinned. I smiled back but he soon turned toward my car. "What're you doing out here, Jackie?"

"Just taking my nephew for a drive. He's, ah, visiting from Houston." Mike walked over to my car and I managed to squeeze between him and the window. "Er, w.i.l.l.y is real shy. Maybe you'd better talk to him another timea"after he's been around here longer. Okay, Mike?"

Mike stared at me funny, but at least he moved away from my car and back toward his own vehicle. I walked along with him. He stopped and turned to me, his blue gaze raking over me, as if sizing up a robbery suspect. I could feel a blush burning my cheeks, but returned his stare the best I could.

"Jackie, I've got to talk to somebody and you ought to understand. I mean, writing science fiction stories and all a" He hushed and gazed helplessly at me.

"What is it, Mike?" I asked, aware of Clark standing guard duty beside my car and hoping Worl would stay quiet.

"I saw something last night. I can't say anythinga"I might lose my job. n.o.body would believe me. They'd think I was drunk. But after I met you last night, I started thinking that maybe you'd understand. You'd believe me if I said I saw a flying saucer, wouldn't you?" he pleaded.

I blinked up at him in surprise, "Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Do you believe I saw a UFO, Jackie?"

"Yes. Of course." Clark meowed and I hastily added, "Mike, I've got things to do. Can we talk later?"

Just then Worl let out a yelp, Clark growled and a huge dark shadow glided over us. I glanced up to see the ba k'rah swoop above the orchard, orange-laden branches clutched in gigantic talons.

Worl scrambled out of the car, Mike drew his gun and took aim at the ba k'rah as Clark leaped up into the air, latching claws against Mike's upraised arm just as he fired. The shot went wild, hitting a tree trunk to the right of us with a sharp crack.

Mike swore. Clark landed with a thunk, meowing as if struck, and Worl hopped around chattering in his alien language until his hat bounced off. Mike paled, his mouth dropping open, as he gaped at Worl's gray alien head. Then the tall, strong deputy sheriff of West Grove swayed back to lean against his patrol car in a swoon.

"Worl, put your hat on!" I ordered, half-crazed myself. "The bird's getting away. Now what do we do?"

Clark jumped into my car and meowed at Worl. Worl climbed through the open door beside my cat, saying, "Shockie, Clairk Kendt is right, we must go in you ship after the ba k'rah."

"What about the deputy?" I asked, certain Mike was in shock.

The cat meowed and Worl said, "Clark thinks your lawman es hokay, but we hef to go before the ba k'rah makes a nest."

"Nest?" I repeated, wondering where in this part of Texas could a bird that big build a nest. "But I can't leave Mike like this."

"Go now!" Worl pressed his lipless mouth shut so tightly it disappeared. Then he added, "A ba k'rah alone desires to procreate. No need for a mate. Hurry!"

I drove about half a mile before I saw Mike's patrol car in the rearview mirror, lights flashing. Well, at least he wasn't still frozen in shock, I decided, ignoring him as we swerved off the highway onto a dirt track leading to a water tower. It stood, graffitti-scrawled silver, looking like a flying saucer perched upon spindly tall legs. Settled magnificently atop the tower loomed the giant, shiny black bird.

I braked the car and we spilled out, Mike's patrol car skidding to a halt beside us. "You didn't call for reinforcements, I hope?" I snapped at him.

"Heck, no," he drawled. "What would I say? Come help me chase down a girl, her cat, and a s.p.a.ceman dressed like Roy Rogers?"

"All I want is to get that bird back for Worl," I said, trying to calm my breathing. "It escaped his ship and he must recapture it."

"Shess!" Worl cried, bobbing his large gray head. "Hef to capture the ba k'rah before eggs hatch. Then big trouble. Lots of baby ba k'rah eat all the citrus."

"Eggs?" I gazed up at the huge flapping monster. "Why, they'd wipe out all the groves in the Rio Grande Valley."

"On Earth," Worl added seriously. "What to do? My tanglefield not extend high enough. Not working right. Big trouble!"

Clark meowed, brushed against my legs, then darted off toward the tower. "Clairk Kendt," Worl called, trotting after the cat. He stooped, resting one thin hand on Clark's back, murmured a few moments, then trotted back to us.

"What, does the s.p.a.ceman talk to your cat?" Mike asked me.