Birdie's Nest

by Linda LaRoque

  Lloyd was a good dancer, the tune lively. She was breathless by the time the music stopped.

  “Detective Ethan, Miss Braxton, are you having fun this evening?” Mr. Samuelson stopped before them, all smiles. Birdie wished he had another name. He reminded her too much of Carl Samuelson in her time and just because the modern man was a rat didn’t mean this one was.

  Birdie smiled as graciously as she could. “Yes, indeed. A wonderful time.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Good, good.” He clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “I’m pleased to see you got some time off to enjoy the festivities.”

  Lloyd grinned. “Well, seniority does have its benefits on occasion.”

  “Might I borrow this young lady for a dance?”

  Ethan turned to her. “Birdie?”

  “I’d love to, Mr. Samuelson.”

  Almost a foot shorter than her, the man held her against his barrel chest and stout abdomen, his grip like steel as he pushed her around the room. What he lacked in grace he made up for in enthusiasm. When the music ended, he bowed. “Thank you, my dear.”

  Before she could answer, another man claimed her, and the music started again. Even Joseph Hellman spun her around the floor and then came to a stop by a stout middle-aged woman she suspected was his wife.

  “Mattie, this is the young woman I told you about, Miss Birdie Braxton.” He lowered his voice. “You know, the young lady Tad Lockhart fished from the river.”

  Would she ever be introduced as something other than the woman fished from the Brazos? How about, the new woman in town?

  Waving a handkerchief, Mattie fanned her pink cheeks. “Ew-we, this heat!” She pocketed the fabric and gripped Birdie’s outstretched hand. “Hello, Miss Braxton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Hellman.”

  “Not at all. When Joseph came home and told me about a young woman buying guns …” She leaned in close. “He thought you really odd.” She snorted. “I told him, ‘that young woman’s got more sense than most women around here.’” She shook her head. “Expecting a man to take care of them… shoot, my man taught me how to handle a gun right after we got married.”

  “Mr. Hellman did?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  That was odd. Seemed a contradiction to Birdie.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Joseph believes few women are smart enough to handle weapons. He figured I was one who was.” She winked and chuckled. “He’s still thinking on you.”

  Birdie giggled and then whispered, “Will you keep me posted on his verdict?”

  “I will indeed.” She tapped her husband on the arm. “Escort Miss Braxton over to Olivia, Joseph.”

  “All right. I’ll bring you back something cold to drink.”

  “Oh thank you, dear. That’d be lovely.” She waved as they walked off, and then shouted, “Come visit me soon.”

  Birdie would do that. It’d be nice to talk guns with another woman.

  Olivia sat with some friends on a quilt just outside the glow of the lanterns. She introduced Birdie. They exchanged pleasantries, and then the women returned to discussing the upcoming church bizarre.

  Birdie’s gaze traveled around the area. It didn’t escape her notice that she was witnessing history. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and she rubbed them away. Sleeping young children lay on blankets with someone watching nearby and visiting. Young people, while not on the dance floor, congregated in groups just past the lanterns’ glow. Mothers sitting on folding chairs or quilts kept vigilant watch.

  Men and older boys gathered to shoot the breeze. A bottle of whiskey passed between them and gruff laughter carried on the light wind. Occasionally one of them would walk over and mingle with the teens, letting them know they were being watched. Teens? The term wasn’t used in this era. When had the term come into being? Whenever, it wasn't commonly used until the 1940s or 1950s she bet. Aunt Patty’s mother said she’d been considered a child until she turned eighteen, and then she was instantly an adult.

  Tad stood along with his rowing friend James, taking his turn as chaperone, she supposed. As they chatted, Tad’s gaze searched and landed on her. She smiled and waved. He nodded, a hint of a smile tilted his lips. James winked and smiled broadly. Birdie laughed which caused Tad to frown at his friend’s flirtation. Humph! What had soured Tad’s disposition? She started to turn her back on the men when a woman approached Tad. It was Mrs. Jamison, the woman she’d met after the rowing race. Mrs. Jamison said something and Tad shook his head. Her reply caused people nearby to glance in their direction. Tad took her arm and led her away from the group. What was that all about?

  * * *

  “You’re causing a scene, Lucy. I told you earlier I’d get by to talk to you.”

  “I got tired of waiting.” Her painted mouthed formed a moue. “You’ve been here all evening when you could have left and come to my house.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Stop it! People are watching.”

  “So what? You’ve not cared until lately.” She nodded toward the women on the blanket where Birdie sat. “Does your house guest have anything to do with your neglect of me?”

  “You know that’s not true. We’ve not been seen in public as a couple. And no, Birdie has nothing to do with us. Before she arrived in Waco, I’d already decided our relationship needed to end. You’ve become petulant and nagging, qualities I wouldn’t tolerate in a wife. Why would I put up with them from you?”

  She gasped. “You don’t mean it, Tad.” Her chin trembled. “I’ve just been lonely. I can get over it. I promise I’ll do better.” She grasped at his sleeve. “I love you, and I know you care for me too.”

  Why had he ever gotten himself involved her? He knew she wanted to marry again, and she wasn’t a bad woman. Yes, there had been a man or two before him, but she stayed loyal before moving on—until the man turned to someone else. He’d become bored with her lately.

  “Lucy, you’re a fine woman, and I do care for you, but I don’t love you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to monopolize your time when you could be spending it with a man who could love you.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she spat, “Why can’t you love me? I’m not good enough for you, am I?” Her voice rose in volume. “You have to have some fine society lady to dignify your home and I’m just trash. You sure didn’t think so while enjoying my company in bed.”

  “Lower your voice!”

  “Why?” she shrieked as she waved a hand at the crowd. Many had turned to stare in their direction. “Afraid all these fine people will learn you’ve been spending time with me.”

  “That’s enough, Lucy. Don’t contact me again. Our friendship is over.” He strode toward the dance floor.

  Her angry shout followed him. “You’ll be sorry, Tad Lockhart!”

  He already was.

  Tad stopped by James and his friend handed him a bottle of whiskey. He took a swig and enjoyed the fire as it trailed down to his belly.

  “Take another,” offered James.

  “Nope. One is enough.”

  James motioned over his shoulder to where he and Lucy had talked. “Nasty business, that.”

  “Should have my head examined for staying in that relationship so long.”

  “Yep. Guess she wants to get married.”

  “Not exactly, but she doesn’t understand why I want to end things.”

  “Is it Miss Braxton?”

  Tad glanced to where Birdie sat on the blanket. She’d danced a lot earlier and jealousy had gnawed at his insides. “No. I’d made up my mind before she arrived that we needed to go our separate ways. She’d become demanding and frankly, I was bored.”

  “I know your mother wants you to get married. You about to make her a happy woman?”

  “What?” Tad laughed. “What gives you that idea?”

  James shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.” He nodded toward Birdie. “Thought maybe
you’d met someone who could hold your attention for more than a year.”

  Tad chuckled. “She’d sure do that, wouldn’t she? Course, we might come to blows.”

  His friend threw back his head and guffawed. “Thought you already had.” He leaned in close. “How is that nose anyway?”

  Tad reached up and gingerly touched it. “A mite sore.”

  A commotion on the far side of the dance floor drew his gaze. It seemed a group of men were egging someone on, pushing him forward. Tad smiled. Guess they were helping him gather the courage to ask someone to dance. The cowboy finally rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and strode forward. He cut around the side and stopped in front of Birdie. He bowed and mumbled something. Tad wished he could hear. Birdie nodded and took the outstretched hand. They strolled to the dance floor and were lost in the crowd.

  Tad walked over to growl at the boys dancing attendance on his sister. Never hurt to let them know he was on the job, and they were to watch their behavior. They parted as he approached. He scowled for effect and let his gaze roam around the group. “Hey, Bethany, how about a dance with your brother?”

  She beamed. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  She jumped up before he could help her and wrapped her arm through his. She turned to the group. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  They’d reached the dance floor when a scream of pain bounced back from the water. Tad’s heart jumped into his throat. He dropped Bethany’s arm. "Go back to Mother."

  He ran, fearing Birdie was in trouble. Dancing couples stopped and moved back to the sidelines to reveal the trouble.

  Birdie bent over a man lying face down in the sawdust. Knee on his spine, she had both of his arms twisted behind his back, his hands up almost over his head. Howls of pain erupted from the man as he spat out sawdust.

  Birdie’s voice brooked no argument. “I want an apology, mister.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m…sor…sorry! Please…you’re breaking my arms.”

  Birdie released his arms and stood. Moaning, the man worked to get his arms down to his side.

  Detective Ethan reached Birdie before Tad did. Heart pounding in his chest, Tad watched as Ethan yanked the man up by his belt. A police officer on duty cuffed him.

  “Wait a minute.” The drunken cowboy groused. “I apologized to the woman.”

  “Shut up,” barked Ethan. “We’ll talk to you in a minute.”

  Tad slipped his arm around Birdie’s waist and pulled her to his side. With his free hand, he cupped her face and tilted it up. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “Of course not. He’s soused. I doubt he could have hurt me sober.”

  The two police officers moved them to the edge of the crowd. The band began a waltz and couples made their way to the dance floor all the time casting glances their way. Intent on the detective and his prisoner, Birdie didn’t see them. Tad moved to stand behind her to prevent their scrutiny and returned his attention to the prisoner.

  Detective Ethan asked, “What’s your name, mister?”

  “Jordan, Nathan Jordan.”

  He turned to Birdie. “What happened here, ma’am?”

  “He got fresh.”

  “Fresh?” The two officers appeared perplexed. Tad was confused too. He’d never heard the expression.

  “Yes, you know…” She leaned in and lowered her voice. He grabbed my butt and ground his…err…you know, against me.”

  Tad lunged for the man. “You son of a—”

  Ethan shoved between them. “This is police business, Lockhart. Behave or leave.”

  Jordan snorted. “It’s not like she’s a prim and proper lady.” He smirked. “Showed her bloomers to anyone willing to look today.” He sneered at Tad. “Probably showed you a mite more than that.”

  Red bloomed before Tad’s eyes. He fought his way to Jordan and would have made contact if Birdie hadn’t thrown her arms around his chest and pushed him back.

  “Stop it, Tad. He’s not worth it.”

  “He’s maligning your name.”

  “I don’t care what he’s saying, Tad.”

  “Well, I do.” He could just hear the old biddies in town gossiping now. It wasn’t fair. Birdie was unusual but she wasn’t a loose woman.

  She hugged him and patted his back. “Look, I’m new here and different. It will take time for me to adjust and change to fit the mores of this time. Some people won’t give me a chance, but others, the ones who are important, will.”

  He released his pent up breath and enfolded her in his arms. How could a woman with a figure like hers take down that cowboy? Her curves molded to his body, reminding him how well she'd fit against him when they danced, a fit he'd like to explore. He swallowed a guffaw. Lord, he'd probably find himself face down in the dust. Might be worth eating a little dirt.

  She stepped back and smiled up at him. “Chill.”

  Chill? What the heck did that mean?

  At his confusion, she added, "It means relax."

  “Miss Braxton, do you want to file a complaint?” asked Detective Ethan.

  Tad glanced up to see the other officer escorting Jordan toward town.

  “No. I think he learned his lesson.”

  “All right then. We’re letting him spend the night in jail and think about his behavior.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  “No problem, Miss Braxton. Maybe you’ll show me that move sometime.”

  “Be happy to, Lloyd.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” He tipped his hat and walked away. Before he could escort Birdie to his mother, Joseph Hellman’s wife descended on them. . He’d always liked her. She didn’t mince words, especially with the society ladies she and Mother socialized with.

  “Miss Braxton!” the woman chirped as she reached for Birdie’s hands. “Why, it was priceless the way you handled that scoundrel. You must show me how you flipped him down.”

  “I’d be pleased to Mrs. Hellman.” She turned to Tad. “Have you met Mr. Lockhart?”

  “Of course I have. Go to church with his mama.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “We’ve missed you, young man.”

  “Mrs. Hellman. It’s good to see you.”

  “Harrumph. We’d see you more often if you’d come to church.”

  “Ranching keeps a man tied to his homestead, ma’am.”

  She arched an eyebrow and dropped her chin a notch. Surely she didn’t know about Lucy. Shoot fire, the woman knew just about everything.

  He coughed and prayed his face wasn’t as red as it felt. If so, maybe she’d think his temper was out of sorts because of the drunken cowboy. “I promise to do better, ma’am.”

  “See that you do and bring Miss Braxton. She’ll be like a breath of fresh air to the stuffy crowd around here.” She leaned in close to Birdie. “Now, some of the townswomen will look down on you for defending yourself tonight. Don’t fret over their opinions. They’ll come around in time.”

  The band around Ted’s chest loosened a little. He hoped Mrs. Hellman was right. He so wanted folks to accept, Birdie. Hopefully, she’d tame some of her behavior too. Hitting him in the nose, playing baseball like a boy. Like Ethan, he was curious to learn how she’d gotten Jordan to the ground. A grin tickled his cheek. Durn woman was something else. Whoever married her wouldn’t have a dull moment in his life. The thought jolted him like a bolt of lightning and he sobered. Let’s not go there, Tad. But, he already had. He’d even announced it to Birdie this afternoon as they’d left the ball game. Of course, she’d not heard his words, or if she had, they must not have registered, or he’d have received a wicked tongue-lashing.

  “You’re sweet to say so, Mrs. Hellman. I’m looking forward to our visit.”

  “Oh good. Let’s make it next Wednesday, say ten o’clock, and stay for lunch.”

  * * *

  Olivia insisted they go to church the next morning before heading home. Birdie wore one of the dresses Olivia had bought
her. The style required she wear a corset, and she rang for the maid to help her with the ties and buttons up the back. The pale blue pique dress hugged her waist and had an Eton jacket with white rollback lapel and leg-o-mutton sleeves. Not that she knew all the terms but Olivia and the sales clerk had explained them in detail. Supposedly they were the height of fashion. Maybe so, but they were uncomfortably tight; the restriction would drive her nuts. Hopefully church didn’t last long, and she could come out of this rig.

  She twirled in front of the mirror and grinned. What would her fellow ranger, Ted Weaver say if he could her now? Probably bust a gut laughing. This outfit was quite a change from the red dress she’d worn on the sting operation. Her heart dropped into her stomach. What were the captain and others thinking about her back at the station? Did they believe she was dead? And Aunt Patty. She had no one to console her. Oh God! She’d lose Birdie’s Nest. Where would her aunt live? Tears stung her eyes and she fumbled around in her valise for one of those dang handkerchiefs Olivia insisted she carry at all times. How many more years until they started making tissues?

  Birdie dabbed at her eyes and tucked the hanky in the sleeve of her dress. Tears wouldn’t help a thing. She had several years until Birdie’s Nest was built. Hopefully by then she could come up with a plan, one that would prevent the home from being snatched from Aunt Patty. Would she be able to raise enough money to build such a home? Never. Not unless she devised some kind of scheme to make money. She could marry a rich man. The idea gave her the shudders. No, she’d only marry for love.

  Sighing, she plopped a flat straw hat decorated with a blue ribbon, some feathery plume looking thing, and a white paper flower, onto her head. Several long hatpins held the accessory in place. Most of her hair, twisted up on top of her head with a ton of pins, was hidden from view. White kid leather shoes and a frilly parasol completed the outfit. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Who was this woman? She didn’t resemble the Birdie Braxton she’d known for the past thirty years. The lady in the mirror was attractive, well dressed, obviously of the upper echelon of society. Birdie had never given much thought to society rankings. Her life revolved around truth, honesty, and the law. Suddenly, everything familiar to her was gone. Along with her life as a ranger, she’d lost her family, her identity, and her heritage. Could she move on, start anew and write a new chapter in her life? Did she have a choice? No, destiny had decided for her.