Birdie's Nest (15 page)

Yeah, she’d see when those snooty old women didn’t shoot daggers every time they peered at her. How they were able to huff up like they did in these tight corsets, she didn’t know. She couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and get out of hers.

When the service was over, several younger couples greeted them. Three of Olivia’s friends approached. Mrs. Smith, wife of one of the bankers in town, Birdie had met last night. She’d not been particularly friendly. She nodded to Birdie and grasped Tad’s arm. “Lauren and some of her friends are having a lawn party next Saturday evening, Tad. They’d love to have you join them.” She simpered. That’s the only way Birdie could describe the woman’s actions. “You’re still considered one of Waco’s most eligible bachelors, you know.”

Tad covered the woman’s hand with one of his. “Now, Mrs. Smith, you know I’m not much into parties.”

“Oh, please come.”

“Well, let me think about it.” He glanced at Birdie. “May I bring a guest?”

Her smile wilted. “A guest?”

“Yes. We do have Miss Braxton living with us, and I’m sure she’d enjoy getting away from the ranch. Bethany also.”

Birdie almost choked at the woman’s expression. The paper fan she used to combat the heat fluttered like it was motor powered. She took pity on her and said, “Oh, no, Tad. You and Bethany go. I’ll keep your mother company.” She had no desire to visit where she wasn’t welcome.

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Olivia. “I am plenty capable of entertaining myself. You young people go and have a good time.” She patted the woman’s hand, expression sweet. “How kind of you and Lauren to include Tad, Bethany and Birdie.”

Mouth pinched in a firm line, Lucinda opened her mouth, and took a deep breath. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, of course, Olivia. We’d be pleased to have them attend.”

“We’ll let you know, Mrs. Smith.” He smiled at the lady before turning away. “Mother, Birdie, do you see Bethany? I want to get home as soon as possible.”

Birdie spotted Bethany with a group of her friends. “I’ll get her. Y’all go ahead to the carriage and we’ll meet you there.” She hustled away but turned back to see if the Lockharts escaped the woman’s clutches. Birdie had no desire to party with a bunch of young people. She giggled. Bet Tad felt the same way. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he’d not be attending.

* * *

Birdie rode down Jefferson until she reached Eighth Street. The Hellman’s white two-story frame home sat back from the street. Trees and shrubs dotted the yard and blooming roses lined the front porch. A mid-sized home, it was inviting.

Mattie charged through the front door before Birdie ever dismounted. “Ride on around to the back. We’ve got a barn where your horse can rest while we visit.”

An older black man dressed in overalls waited for her. Tipping his weather beaten felt hat, he smiled. “Name’s Nehemiah, miss. I’ll take care of your horse. Miss Mattie says for you to go in the back door.”

She slid off the mare and handed him the reins. “Thank you, Nehemiah. Molly would appreciate a little water, but no food. Tad says she eats too much.”

He grinned and noted Molly’s rounded body. “Yes, ma’am.”

Birdie opened the screen door, stepped into a screened porch with several beds. She’d heard about sleeping porches but never seen one. The coolest ones would have been on the second floor, but the Hellman’s home didn’t have a balcony. She stepped across the neatly painted gray batten boards and into the kitchen where a woman dressed in gingham stood kneading dough on the counter of a cupboard.

“Hello.”

The woman jumped, dropping the wad of dough on the board in the process. A cloud of flour flew up several inches. She slapped her hand to her heart leaving a white handprint on her checked apron and drew in a deep breath. “Laws a-mercy, miss, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Birdie Braxton. I’m here to see Mrs. Hellman.”

“She’s right excited about your visit.” She yelled into the other room. “She’s here, Miss Mattie.”

“Come on out here, Birdie. Show her the way, Sadie.”

Sadie waved a flour-covered hand toward to door on the right side. “Down the hall and to the right. She be in the parlor.”

“Thank you, Sadie.”

“Yes, miss.”

Birdie walked down a long, wide hallway with beautiful polished oak floors and turned right into the parlor. Mattie sat on a stuffed horsehair sofa with needlepoint pillows at each end. She waved to a matching chair beside the sofa. “Have a seat, Birdie. Do you mind if I call you, Birdie?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“Good. And please call me Mattie.” She handed Birdie a cup filled with hot coffee. “I hope I guessed right, thinking you’d prefer coffee over tea.”

“You did. It sounds heavenly right now.” She was used to drinking coffee all day long while at the office—a habit she missed.

“Cream or sugar?”

“No, just black.”

Mattie handed her a plate with a variety of cookies. “Thin as you are, I suspect you can eat a few of these without worrying about your figure. The teacakes are an old secret family recipe.” She leaned in. “But, being’s I like you so much, I might share with you.”

Birdie choked on a bite and swallowed a gulp of coffee to clear her throat. “Well, I have to admit, Mattie, I’m not much of a cook.”

“That’ll change. When you marry Tad Lockhart, you’ll be in the kitchen whipping up all sorts of goodies for the man.” She chuckled. “Happened to me and I expect it will happen to you too.”

“Now, Mattie, Tad and I are not getting married. I don’t know where you got that idea.” Face suffused with color, Birdie prayed no one else thought the same thing.

“Say whatever you want, but I saw him last night. The man’s only got eyes for you.” She shook her finger. “And I don’t think you’re immune to him either.”

“Please, let’s talk about something else. I don’t intend to get married. I need to find a way to make a living. I don’t want to impose on the Lockharts forever. They’ve been very kind, but I need to make my own way.”

Birdie tried to remain still under the older woman’s scrutiny. Mattie studied her for several minutes while munching on a cookie. Birdie busied herself drinking coffee and looked around the room, everywhere except at Mattie.

Finally she spoke. “There’s more to this story than you’re telling, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a distant relative of Olivia?”

“No.”

“Did you rob a bank, kill someone, or are you running away from a husband?”

“Mattie! No!” Birdie couldn’t keep from laughing so hard tears sprang to her eyes. Mattie joined in and soon they were wiping their faces with napkins.

“Okay then. Didn’t think so.” She leaned in and patted Birdie’s hand. “When you get ready to tell me, you will. I won’t pressure you.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if you ever need me, I’m here.”

A sob caught in Birdie’s throat, and she croaked. “Thank you, Mattie.”

Mattie slapped her on the knee. “You said you needed a way to make money and get out on your own. I think I have an excellent idea on how you can do that.”

Birdie couldn’t imagine, but she was willing to hear what the older woman had to say. She’s certainly not come up with any brilliant ideas on her own.

A smile stretched Mattie’s face. “You’re going to open a self-defense school for women, and I’m going to be your partner.”

Chapter Eleven

Tad struggled to remain calm. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Birdie.”

“But, it is, Tad. I’ll be making more money and soon be able to get my own place in town.” Dressed in her riding skirt with a bundle of clothes tied behind the saddle, her smile sent his heart skittering. The comment about moving out didn’t calm his emotions either.

“Women don’t have any business living alone.”

He tried to school his features, erase the line he knew furrowed his brow. “We’ve been over this before. Decent women live with their families.” Heck, he knew that wasn’t exactly true. Some lived in boarding houses and the schoolteacher had her own house, but Birdie was different. He didn’t want her off associating with all and sundry—men in particular. She didn’t seem to be a good judge of character if accepting that drunken cowboy’s offer for a dance was an example.

She huffed up and Tad anticipated another blow to his nose or his belly, but she just turned her back and checked the girth on Molly. Her riding skills had improved since being with them. It was good to see she was careful. He liked the way she tended to the horse and tack. No worries there. The rifle she’d purchased from Mr. Hellman rested securely in its scabbard, and he suspected her little Colt was hidden somewhere on her person.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Why is it so important to move out of our home? Aren’t you happy here?”

She whirled, her eyes wide with surprise. “Of course I am. I’ve grown to love your family, but I’m not used to living on charity.”

“Charity? You work for every bite of food you eat and the bed you sleep in. We like having you here, Birdie.” He liked it a bit too much. Seeing her every morning and evening was becoming the highlight of his day, one he’d miss if she moved. “Why is making money so important to you? Isn’t what you make here enough?”

“I don’t think I’ve told you about the home I grew up in, the one on the Brazos River, have I?”

“No, you haven’t.” He suspected he was about to be exposed to more talk of the future. Why couldn’t her memory return with a past he could accept, not more outlandish tales. He cleared his throat to cover his discomfort. “Detective Ethan briefly mentioned it, though.”

She took his hand and led him to a bale of hay. “Let’s sit a minute and I’ll tell you about it.” As she described Birdie’s Nest, her expression fluctuated between joy and worry. “I must get it built by the end of 1892 and during my lifetime find a way to fund its total upkeep.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Or at least develop a plan to keep it intact as long as there is a Braxton to inherit. If I don’t, my Aunt Patty will be without a place to live.”

Tad wasn’t convinced Birdie was from the future, but he could understand her concern for her aunt and her desire to preserve her heritage. Thing was, if she was from the future, she didn’t have a legacy, she had to build one. The entire situation was darn confusing to him, but he wouldn’t cast shadows on her desires. Maybe in time she’d see things differently.

“Perhaps if you marry, your husband will build you a home on the river.”

She snorted. “Not likely. Plus, I’m not in love with anyone, and no one has come calling either.”

That was true, but no doubt if she put her mind to it, she’d have suitors galore. She’d have to change her ways though. Men didn’t like to think their women didn’t need them. She stared outside the barn, eyes on a far target, deep in thought.

“Perhaps if you give up this idea of a self-defense school and other manly pursuits, they would.” Did he want men hanging around, mooning over Birdie? The idea didn’t set well with him at all. Not that he intended to court her because he didn’t, did he? At the July 4
th
picnic, he’d been determined to lay claim to her, but that wasn’t fair. It’d be a number of years before he took a wife. Being tied down just didn't sit well with him.

“I’ll not be something I’m not, Tad, just to find a husband. Especially one I don’t want.”

He swallowed his grin and breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re a nice looking woman, Birdie. Many men in these parts would be honored to have you for a wife.”

“Well, they can just be honored with someone else.” She sat quietly, picking hay from the bale and tossing it on the ground. “How much do you think it would cost to buy land on the river and build a house like I described?”

“Oh, I expect around ten to twelve thousand dollars.” Property along the river was prime and it didn’t come cheap.

Her shoulders slumped; her face lost its determined pose. Chewing her bottom lip, she managed to say, “I’ll never be able to make that much money…not giving self-defense lesson, anyway.”

Tad reached over and rubbed her shoulders. He resisted the urge to allow his fingers to reach up and wrap one of those multi-colored curls around his knuckle, to feel its softness. “It will all work out, Birdie. Now perk up. You’re not one to give up easily.”

She looked up at him, and he noticed moisture sparkled in her blue eyes. He groaned and pulled her head to his chest. This woman was quickly becoming too important to him. Birdie melted into his embrace, and he breathed in her scent—a scent all her own—soap and water with a hint of lilac. He wrapped both arms around her and patted her back. “Don’t cry, now.” The desire to take care of her, kiss away her woes, welled up inside him. Bethany often cried on his shoulder and he’d protect her with his life, but this was different. If he could cushion this woman from the world and its hurts, he would. Hell, it was more than that. He wanted this woman— period—not just sexually, but in his life permanently.

She jerked back and wiped at her face. “I’m not crying.” She stood up and dusted off the seat of her riding skirt. “You’re right. I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way.” She shuddered. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll marry some old rich man and get him to build it.”

Tad bridled. Over my dead body.

* * *

September in Waco in the future could be hot as July and August, but the relief of air-conditioning made the high temperatures bearable. Here in 1890, the heat was downright oppressive and respite was next to impossible to find. Some places had electric fans, but they were few and far between. Plus, the layers of clothing offered little relief. Long skirts, long-sleeved blouses, and petticoats didn’t allow air to circulate.

She now had twenty students. They met in a small unoccupied warehouse on Mary Street. Mattie had rented the space because of its large doors and high windows, which could be opened for ventilation. When people gathered to watch, they’d close the doors and relied on the windows for airflow.

Sweat dripped down Birdie’s brow as she worked out with her intermediate class.

“Why is this necessary again, Birdie?” The small blonde cocked a hip and continued. “I’m afraid I’m going to look like a man.”