Birdie's Nest

by Linda LaRoque

“No, never! But folks could make life mighty uncomfortable for you.” He cocked a brow and grinned. “In doing so, they’d make me mad as all-get-out. I’d sic Mama on the women, but I might end up busting a few noses of the men.”

  “Tad Lockhart, you’ll do no such thing. Lloyd would end up having to put you in jail.”

  “I have an evil temper sometimes, was known to be a scrapper when growing up. Just ask James.”

  She cocked a brow at him. “Are you proud of your fighting?”

  “No, but I guarantee, no one will hurt me or mine and not feel some pain in return.”

  “Tad, believe in me. I can handle whatever they dish out. This case will be over soon. Afterwards, I’ll only help with evidence.” Lloyd needed her right now. They were so close to finding the man cutting up the women. She reached up and caressed his cheek. “Please be patient and give me to until this guy is locked up.”

  He sighed and leaned over and kissed her. “All right, Birdie.”

  “Thank you, Tad.”

  She turned Strawberry around and they rode along in quiet for a while. The sun was setting behind them, casting their shadows on the dirt road before them. Fields of winter wheat grew on either side of the road. Cows or steers, whatever the difference, munched on grass. Life was so different and yet, she couldn’t say she didn’t like the differences. The air smelled cleaner, except for the odor of manure, even in town and life was slower, more laid back. It didn’t do much good to get in a hurry because the speed you got somewhere depended on how fast a horse you owned.

  Just ahead the ranch, cast in a yellow glow, came into view. Birdie drew a deep breath, let it trickle out, then asked, “Tad, where have you been going the last few nights?” His head jerked toward her. His lips parted. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  “Surely,” she said, “you didn’t think your evening trips would go unnoticed, especially when you used to spend that time with me.”

  “It’s… it’s something I need to deal with. I promise, though, I’ll tell you soon.” He didn’t appear defensive, which was a good sign, so she let the subject drop. For the moment.

  * * *

  Tad sat in the parlor of Mrs. Mayberry’s home. Sarah, whose child died shortly after birth, and Nathan had moved back in with her mother after he put Lucy in the hospital for better care. Hopefully, Dr. Franks could control her pain until she passed. The creak of the rocking chair sang a comforting tune as he gazed down at his son. His heart swelled with love and concern. He couldn’t give this baby up, yet he feared Birdie wouldn’t marry him when she found out. What woman would want to raise her husband’s child from an illicit relationship?

  He couldn’t keep Nathan’s existence from her any longer. She had to be told, as did Mama and Bethany. A child needed his family. He prayed Birdie would understand and stick by him. Tonight. He’d tell her tonight. God, he loved her. Shocked at the revelation, because he’d never consciously admitted his feelings before, not even to himself, he lifted Nathan, one hand under his butt and the other around his head, he met the baby’s gaze. “I love you, little man, but I love Birdie too.”

  The baby cooed at Tad and he gasped to keep his heart from bursting with joy. A woman to love, one who he was sure loved him, and this precious child, as well. How many gifts could a man like him deserve? Tears clouded his vision. He had to get a grip on his emotions. He couldn’t go around crying every time he thought of Birdie, or heard this little tadpole coo. A chuckle erupted from him. “You are my little tadpole,” he said, and Nathan’s eyes widened. Tad leaned down, kissed his forehead, and cradled him within the crook of his arm.

  A knock sounded on the front door. Sarah walked past the doorway of the parlor on her way to answer it. “Hello. Can I help you?”

  “Yes. Is Tad Lockhart here?”

  Tad instantly recognized Birdie’s voice. She’d followed him. He froze for a moment, then relaxed. It was time. “Bring her in, Sarah.”

  Birdie stood in the entryway to the parlor, eyes wide, staring at the baby in his arms.

  “This,” he said, his voice husky as he rose to his feet, “is my son. Nathan.”

  She moved closer and looked down at Nathan. A fleeting expression of longing crossed her face before she lifted shocked eyes to him. Her bottom lip trembled. She tried to still it by pinching her lips together, which made her effort to smile a grimace. Oh, God, he’d hurt her so much, and hated himself for it, but he couldn’t regret this child.

  “Birdie, sweetheart, I’d planned to tell you. I just found out about him last week and— I’ve been in shock. I’ve racked my brains, trying to figure out when would be the best time, the best way to tell you. Please, forgive me.”

  Voice choked, she asked, “Forgive you? For what? For waiting until our wedding is two weeks away? Tell me, Tad, did you intend to marry me and then tell me about your love-child?”

  Her body shook. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or despair, but it didn’t matter. He’d caused her pain and could do nothing to make it better. “Forgive me for not telling you sooner—immediately. For allowing you to find out this way. I wouldn’t have waited until after the wedding.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “Surely you know me better than that, Birdie.”

  With Nathan tucked in his arms, he stood. “I’ll take him to his wet-nurse. Please, stay and talk with me.” He passed through the door that opened to the dining room from the parlor. Sarah sat in one of the chairs but stood when he entered. Her smile was forced. No doubt she’d heard every word. She gently took Nathan and raised him to her shoulder. Tad took a deep steadying breath and clasped the doorknob to the sitting room, noticing how his hand shook. Would Birdie still be there?

  She hadn’t moved an inch. He started toward her, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t trust myself to be near you right now.”

  “Will you… will you sit down then? Please?”

  “No, we don’t have that much to say to each other. Why does your son have a wet-nurse? Where is his mother?”

  “Lucy is in Waco City Hospital dying of a cancer on her lung.”

  Birdie closed her eyes for a moment, and then popped them open. A tear leaked down one cheek. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “I can’t give him up, Birdie. He’s my child and I love him.” His heart ached in his chest. Now, seeing it from her point of view, he realized he couldn’t possibly hope she’d marry him. After all he’d said about her needing to lead a more circumspect life, here he was, looking as if he expected her to forgive his own scandalous behavior, producing a child born to his former mistress? “I’m sorry… about not telling you. About… the wedding, but he’s my blood and I have to keep him. I couldn’t let him go to an orphanage.”

  Her face a mask of pain, she wiped at tears. “Of course you have to keep him. I wouldn’t respect you if you didn’t.” Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. “But… but I have to give this some…serious thought.” She took a deep breath and managed to get her emotions under control. “I’ll let you know if we’ll be having a wedding or not.”

  Before he could say more, she turned and opened the door. Back rigid, she stopped for a moment, “Goodbye, Tad,” then left the house.

  * * *

  Birdie’s legs felt like lead weights as she climbed into the surrey with Hank’s help. “Will you take me to the Hellman’s home?” Struggling to keep her voice steady, she rattled off the address. What took ten minutes seemed like a day. Hank cast worried glances her way, but she dared not speak for fear of falling apart.

  In front of the Hellman’s house, Hank helped her down. “I’ll not be returning to the ranch, Hank. Thank you for bringing me in.”

  “Any time, Birdie. Happy to help. I’ll wait right here until you’re inside.”

  She started toward the house, and then stopped. “Hank, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone where we went tonight.”

  “No problem, ma’am. If anyone a
sks I’ll say you had a meeting at the church.”

  “I appreciate it. And tell Tad I’m not sure when or if I’ll return to the ranch.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

  Joseph had the front door open when she stepped on the porch. “Birdie, what are you doing out this late?”

  She turned and waved to Hank and then turned back to Joseph. Voice hoarse, she choked out, “Can I spend the night?”

  He slipped an arm around her shoulder and drew her inside before closing the door. Mattie came through the swinging door from the kitchen and stopped in her tracks, mouth open. “Birdie.” She must have recognized the pain on her face, as she approached her with arms open. Birdie threw herself into the older woman’s embrace. Mattie patted her back and led Birdie to the sofa. “Joseph, will you be a dear and make us a pot of tea?”

  “Be happy to.” He disappeared through the swinging door.

  Mattie took Birdie’s hands. “Now, tell me what’s going on. Did you and Tad have a fight?”

  Birdie shook her head. “It’s much more than that.” She proceeded to tell Mattie the entire story.

  Mattie poured tea as she listened. She handed Birdie a cup and she sipped between tirades. Mattie didn’t interrupt, but when Birdie finished, Mattie closed her eyes and murmured, “A baby. Joseph and I have longed for one for years.”

  Shame washed over Birdie. Here this sweet couple would give anything for a child and she, Birdie Braxton, was devastated because Tad had fathered one. No, that wasn’t the issue; it was the fact he’d kept it from her. He should’ve told her the minute he found out.

  “I’m so sorry, Mattie. I must sound childish.”

  “No, dear. You have reason to be upset with Tad. But, let me ask, do you resent the baby?”

  “Oh, no. He’s innocent in this situation. Truth be told, I don’t know what I’m so hurt about.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe the fact that he’s not my child. Jealousy.”

  “But that’s exactly the point, Birdie. He can be.”

  “Can be what?”

  “Your child, dear, if you but accept him into your life. And into your heart.”

  * * *

  In the Hellman’s guest room, Birdie quickly stripped and washed before slipping into the nightgown Mattie had loaned her. The feather mattress gave with her weight as she lay down and it conformed to her body like a welcoming embrace. Alone, where no one could see her, she curled on her side allowed the tears to fall freely, dampening her pillow. Before her eyes, the scene of Tad rocking his baby replayed in her mind. He seemed so content and proud. Love radiated from his eyes as he looked down at the child. In the few minutes she’d stood there before him, many emotions crossed his face; one was deep regret and sorrow. The image brought fresh tears to her eyes and she sobbed into the pillow. She wanted it to be their child he held and adored. She pounded the pillow with a fist. Life could be so unfair.

  Though he hadn’t said it, Birdie knew he loved her, else he’d never have asked her to marry him. He’d had to make a choice between her and the baby and that grieved him. He hurt because one joy had taken another from him—her.

  She couldn’t love a man who didn’t claim his child. As much as it hurt, he’d made the right decision. The man who’d tried so hard to control her behavior for her reputation’s sake would now be dealing with fallout from his affair with Lucy. She didn’t doubt his ability to handle it. And Lucy? In the hospital dying. She couldn’t fault Tad for taking care of her. He was the type of man who’d do the right thing.

  Tad had said, “I can’t give him up.” Did that mean he planned to bring the infant home? She knew in many cases during the Victorian era men, or women for that matter, would hide their indiscretions. Yet, others gave the child to relatives to care for, or brought a baby—“born on the wrong side of the blanket”—home to be raised by their wives. She could imagine how much resentment the latter caused, but people had rarely divorced then. She shook her head. “Then” was actually “now” and she and Tad weren’t married.

  Birdie couldn’t imagine herself accepting such an arrangement, but then she’d not lived it either. Until tonight. Still, Tad’s relationship with Lucy had occurred before Birdie came on the scene, at a time when he didn’t know her, let alone owe her any fealty.

  What was she going to do? She didn’t think she resented the baby. He truly was an innocent victim. She resented Tad not telling her right away, not giving her time to adjust. Could she forgive him and get past his failure to inform her?

  * * *

  Tad had plenty of time to think as he rode home. He couldn’t feel any worse if his mother was riding with him chastising him about his relationship with Lucy. Mother had warned him, but he’d never dreamed Lucy would get pregnant. He regretted his relationship with the woman, but not the child. Never the child.

  Why hadn’t he told Birdie about Nathan right away? She knew about Lucy. He should’ve trusted her enough to be candid. Why couldn’t she love him enough to accept Nathan? Love? He was a fool. He’d never told her he loved her. Surely she knew by his actions, but women needed to hear the words. She’d said she couldn’t respect him if he denied his own son. Did her phrasing mean she no longer loved him? His head hurt. His stomach hurt. His heart hurt. What was he going to do?

  He rode into to the barn, surprised to see Hank waiting for him. “What are you doing still up?” Tad dismounted and led Brodie to his stall, and breathed a sigh of relief to see Strawberry put away for the night.

  “I need to give you a message.” Hank’s flat tone told him nothing.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I took Birdie in to town tonight in the surrey. Knew you’ve have a fit if she went in alone at night.”

  “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

  Hank coughed. “She didn’t come back with me. Had me leave her at the Hellman’s house.”

  Tad froze in raising his saddle, but recovered and lifted it off Brodie and onto the side of his stall. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sure thing.” Hank remained as expressionless as a wooden Indian “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Tad wiped Brodie down and then grabbed a brush. With slow, deliberate strokes, trying to even out his churning emotions, he curried the animal. When he finished, he gave the horse a ration of oats and fresh water. He turned out the lantern and closed the barn doors making sure the latch fell into place. The small kitchen light appeared a million miles away. He lifted one foot in front of the other and started the loneliest journey he’d ever made.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tad didn’t sleep. He rose early and made his way downstairs to put on a pot of coffee before heading outside to watch the sunrise. Maybelle made her way down the path from her cabin and stopped beside him. She eyed him with suspicion. “What’s wrong, Mr. Tad?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll be in shortly and tell both you and Mother. Can you hold off breakfast for a short while?”

  “Yes, I surely can.”

  He suspected his mother was up and in the kitchen, so he waited long enough for Maybelle to relay the news. When he entered, both women sat at the table with a coffee at hand. One waited for him. He sat down and took a healthy slug, enjoying the heat as it traveled down to his stomach. If only it could warm his heart.

  His mother covered his free hand with hers and squeezed. “What’s going on, son?”

  “Birdie spent the night at the Hellman’s.”

  “Why, that’s nice. Birdie’s lucky to have Mattie as a friend.”

  “She might not be coming back here. There may not be a wedding.”

  “Why? Did you do something, Tad? Is that why?”

  “I guess you could say that, only more like what I didn’t do.” He rose at the sound of a horse approaching the back of the house. It was Joseph Hellman. Tad walked out to join him and offered his hand. “Joseph.”

  He grasped Tad’s hand. “Tad.” He cleared his throat. “I’m real sorry about the s
ituation between you and Birdie.”

  “I—”

  Joseph held up a hand. “I don’t know any of the particulars. Left the two women alone to discuss it. Just know that Birdie cried a lot last night. Mattie sent me here to pick up a few clothes and Birdie’s horse.”

  Pain lanced through Tad’s heart. He rubbed at the spot trying to ease the ache and nodded to Joseph. “Come in the house and have a cup of coffee while Mother gathers the items.”

  “Sounds good. The wind is nippy this morning.”

  When they entered, Maybelle had another cup on the table and set about refilling everyone’s cup. Joseph removed his hat. “Morning, ladies.”

  “Joseph, what’s got you out so early this morning?”

  His brow furrowed, he jerked his head to Tad. Not up to me, his manner said.

  “Have a seat, Joseph. I told them Birdie spent the night at your house.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s right. Mattie send me over this morning to get a few of Birdie’s things, enough to last a couple of days.”

  His mother’s face tightened, her lips forming a stern line. She scooted her chair back and stood. “It won’t take but a few minutes to gather the items. I’ll be right back.”

  “No rush, ma’am.”

  “Joseph, do you mind riding down to the barn to pick up Birdie’s horse? Just tell one of the men what you need.”

  “Don’t mind at all.” He studied his coffee for a minute. “I expect this whole situation will blow over in a few days, Tad.”

  “I expect so.” Lord he surely hoped so. He couldn’t imagine his life without Birdie any more than he could envision it without a small, blue-eyed baby boy whom he loved. The only thing keeping him sane at the moment was the thought of Nathan, the sure knowledge that, no matter what, strangers would not raise his son.

  As soon as Joseph left, Bethany came down the stairs. “What’s all the activity around here this morning?”

  Tad sighed and ushered her to a chair. “I might as well tell all three of you at one time.”

  “Tell us what?”

  Tad cleared his throat. “Bethany, you don’t know this, but last year I was seeing a woman in town. Mother knew and didn’t approve. You see, she’s not the kind of woman I’d bring home to meet my family.”