Birdie's Nest (8 page)

Tad dismounted and shook hands with the men. They chatted and glanced in her direction before striding toward her.

“Miss Braxton,” called General King.

“General.”

“Are you ready to demonstrate your shooting ability?”

All right
! She wanted her star back. “I am.”

“Good, good. Mr. Lockhart will guide us to a place where we can safely test your skill.”

Detective Ethan joined them and handed her a package.

“What’s this?”

“Your holster. Picked it up yesterday.”

Birdie ripped open the brown paper and fingered the soft leather. “It’s as good as new. Thank you, Detective. I’ll repay you as soon as I get some money.”

“No need, Miss Braxton. It’s a get-well gift.”

“Why…thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Color rose in his face. “You’re welcome.”

Tad coughed and covered his smirk. “Are we ready to go?”

Birdie narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare. Impudent man. Detective Ethan’s gesture was sincere, and she appreciated having her holster back. And he wasn’t sweet on her, was he? She hoped not.

She patted her pocket. “I have my Ruger, but I don’t plan to spend all my rounds. I don’t think .380s will be invented until around 1908.”

General King’s mouth twisted as if biting his lip. “Well, I can’t say I blame you there.”

She couldn’t resist a grin. “I will let each one of you fire a round though, as I know you’re curious as all get-out.”

“Yes, indeed,” blurted Ethan.

Tad shrugged. She’d forgotten he’d not seen her Ruger. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got work to do.”

Bethany had hung back and watched the exchange, until now. “Can I come along, Tad?”

He studied her a minute. “I guess so, but stay out of the way and be quiet.”

They mounted their horses, and Tad led them east, away from the house, barns, and cattle. They rode past fields of maize, feed for their animals she supposed. Barbed wired kept them at bay. Occasionally, an oak tree stood among the crops spreading its shade under its branches. The terrain looked much like the fields in her time, but lacked all the modern additions—paved roads, tractors and other farm implements, and the so-called ranch houses.

Tad turned north and led them toward a creek backed by a tall dirt bluff. Mesquite trees dotted the banks covered with grasses among the sandy soil. They dismounted downstream and tethered their horses where they could graze and drink yet be away from the gunfire.

The men removed rifles from scabbards. Detective Ethan, out of uniform today, wore a gun belt as did General King. Birdie knew it wasn’t legal to wear guns openly on the streets of Waco, but many people concealed them in pockets.

Tad lifted his from his saddlebag and strapped it on. He handed Birdie his rifle. “It’s loaded. Can you handle one of these?”

Birdie examined the Winchester carbine and looked down the site. “Yes, I think so if I can have a few practice shots. Is this a 76 model?”

Tad’s brows rose in question. “Yes. How’d you know?”

“It resembles the ones issued to the Texas Rangers in the 1880s.”

“Have you ever fired one?” asked King.

“No, but it doesn’t look hard.” She glanced across the creek and located a target approximately twenty-five yards away. “I’m aiming for the top paddle of that prickly pear directly ahead.” She cocked the rifle, took aim, and fired. Bits of cactus flew. She’d hit it dead on. She engaged the lever to release the spent shell and ready the carbine for her next shot. Her ears rang, and she wished for plugs or headgear.

King stood at her side. “Need any more practice shots?”

“Nope. Let’s do this. I want my star back.”

“All right young lady. See that empty bird nest on an upper branch in the mesquite tree just to your right?”

She located the target. “Got it.” It was farther away, but still within her range of abilities, she hoped. Be just her luck to not be able to hit a barn with this audience. She took aim, took a breath, and fired. The nest exploded, scattering tiny sticks and cast-off feathers. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Very good, Miss Braxton. Now, see that dead oak above the bank over there? Take off that small branch that’s broken.”

The rifle was heavy, reminding her she’d recently been sick, but no way would she let on she was feeling the effects. Thank goodness for the hat Olivia had insisted she buy as it protected her vision from the sun. Her blouse, now damp, clung to her back. She drew in several deep breaths and raised the rifle, took aim, and fired. Nothing happened. The branch remained intact. Well darn, she’d missed. Then, suddenly, it dropped.

“Good job, Birdie.” Tad patted her on the back. “I bet that was sixty yards.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at King. “Aren’t you going to shoot? I thought this was a contest.”

He scratched his chin as he studied her. “Let’s see what you can do with that little gun of yours first.”

Tad took the Winchester and returned it to its scabbard.

She pulled the Ruger from her pocket. Tad rejoined them and looked down as she clicked the button to release the magazine. “What in tarnation is that?”

“It’s a semi-automatic pistol that shoots .380s, a shell that hasn’t been developed yet.” She removed the bullet from the chamber and dropped it in his hand. He examined it closely before offering it to King.

King shook his head. “Ethan and I’ve seen it. Odd, ain’t it?”

“Sure is.”

Birdie continued her instruction for Tad’s benefit. “This is the perfect size gun for concealment. People with a license to carry a concealed weapon, undercover officers, or officers who are off duty can easily carry this, and no one will know. You’ve seen my leg holster. I carry this when I wear dresses. If I’m wearing pants, I conceal it in some other way.”

The three men exchanged glances. Evidently they didn’t know what to make of what she was saying. She didn’t blame them. It was unfamiliar idea for them.

“This magazine holds six shells though you can buy an extended one to carry more. I always carry an extra loaded magazine in my purse when I carry the Ruger.” She grinned at King. “When I’m on duty and in uniform, I don’t carry a purse as I wear a nine millimeter on my hip, a concealed .38 just above my ankle, and I have a number of other weapons in the trunk of my car.”

Tad threw up his hands. “Just show us how this little toy works.”

Birdie held up the magazine. “This is loaded with six rounds.” She popped it into the butt of the Ruger. “You slide the chamber back to cock it. The Ruger is called a semi-automatic because now I can fire all six rounds without cocking it again.”

She turned and found her target—the prickly pear again. “I’m going to aim for the next paddle down on the prickly pear.” She fired. The bullet caught the outer edge. Not in the center where she’d aimed, but not too bad. “Who wants to go next?”

“I’m next,” barked King. He aimed for the cactus and missed by a hair. “Little gun has a kick to it.”

After Ethan and Tad fired, Bethany approached. “Can I shoot it once, Birdie?”

Birdie looked to Tad for approval. He shrugged.

Birdie asked. “Have you been taught about gun safety?”

“Tad taught me how to load the shotgun and his rifle, but I’ve never fired one.”

“Well, today’s your lucky day. Firing one is almost as important as knowing how to load one. You need to experience the recoil and be able to recover in case you need to fire again.” She placed a hand on Bethany’s shoulder and moved her to stand facing forward, then placed the gun in her hand. “Point the gun at what you plan to shoot. Try something closer than the cactus…the base of that tree stump just across the creek. Keep both eyes open when you pull the trigger.”

Bethany hit the stump. She squealed and jumped around.

Birdie took the weapon from the girl. “Whoa, watch where you point the gun.” She released the magazine, and ejected the sixth shell from the chamber. “You did real well, Bethany.”

“Yes, you did, sis. I’m proud of you.” The girl beamed.

“Let’s head back,” said King.

“What? You said we were having a competition so I could get my star back.”

“No need to waste good ammo. I can see you know how to handle a weapon. Still doesn’t prove to me you’re a Texas Ranger.”

“But…you promised.”

He held up a hand. “Don’t get your dander up. I need to discuss a few things first.” He turned to Tad. “Can we sit at your kitchen table for a spell?”

“Of course.”

Birdie stuffed her Ruger in her pocket and stomped toward Molly. Darn man wasn’t a ranger. He was a politician, and the word of a politician wasn’t to be trusted.

Chapter Five

His mother insisted the men stay for lunch. While putting away the horse, Tad delegated his duties to some of the men. He didn’t shirk his duties often but wanted to be on hand for what excuse General King would give Birdie about her ranger star. The woman wasn’t happy for sure. He’d just finished washing up and sat down when the serving dishes started making the rounds.

Evidently the general and Ethan didn’t get many home cooked meals. They heaped their plates. He caught his mother’s eye. A smile tilted her lips, and she gave a small shake of her head. If it’d been him, she would’ve chided him. Of course he was the man of the house and could do what he pleased, but when it came to the table and the kitchen, his mother was boss.

He had to commend Birdie’s patience. She didn’t interrupt their meal with questions or demands. His mother and Bethany kept the conversation neutral. To give the men credit, they listened politely to his sister’s prattle about the upcoming July 4
th
celebration. Truth be told, he looked forward to it also. They always spent several days in town at the Pacific Hotel, and this year would be no different. Well, except they’d have Birdie with them. He glanced her way. Did she enjoy dancing? Would she take part in the sack races and other games? She didn’t appear to be the type to sit in the shade fanning herself.

General King wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it on the table. “That was a mighty fine meal, Mrs. Lockhart.”

His mother beamed. “So glad you enjoyed it.” Her face flushed with pleasure, she pushed her chair back, rose from the table, and lifted her plate. “I hope you saved room for a slice of my pecan pie.”

King groaned. “Ma’am, I’m stuffed, but I wouldn’t pass up pecan pie. It’s my favorite, one my dear late wife fixed for me often.”

“Bethany. Help me, please.” Mother nodded to indicate the other plates on the table.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bethany got up and cleared the table

Birdie stood. “Can I help?”

“That’d be nice, dear. You can pour the coffee.”

Tad waited until the door closed. “What do you think about Birdie’s story, General?”

He stroked his beard. “Mighty odd, isn’t it? She can handle her weapons, but she could have learned that anywhere. It’s that little gun of hers that confuses me. Never seen anything like it.”

Ethan added. “I’ve seen a lot of weapons in my time but never heard of .380 shot.”

King pulled a gray hair from his beard and dropped it on the floor. It’s a good thing Mother was out of the room, as she’d not approve. Not that she’d say anything, but in his head he could see her lips pursing. Tad swallowed a chuckle. “Do you believe her story, that’s she’s from the future?”

“Nope. Not possible.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to think, but she believes it for a fact. I’ve seen a lot of liars in my day, and she’s not one.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the knock on the head…?”

King drummed the table with his fingers. “Given any thought to what story you’re going to give to folks as to who Birdie is and why she’s staying in your home?”

“Mother mentioned she thought there might be some Braxtons on her side of the family. Guess we’ll say she’s a distant relation who needed a home.”

The door swung open and Birdie entered with a tray of coffee cups, Mother on her heels with the coffee pot. From the buffet, Mother poured the coffee while Birdie handed them around. Bethany entered with the pie.

* * *

All right. At last dinner was over and Birdie was alone with the men. Olivia had insisted Bethany help her with the dishes, but she’d told Birdie to stay put. Now was her chance. “Why can’t I have my star?”

Before the general could answer, Tad stood. “Let’s take this discussion out on the porch where hopefully we’ll catch a breeze.”

“Fine.” Birdie stood and marched toward the front door. Tad offered her a chair, but she crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’d prefer to stand.” Standing might give her some advantage.

“Suit yourself.” All three men found rocking chairs.

King stretched his long legs out, folded his hands across his belly and eyed her. He cocked an eyebrow. “All right, let’s hear it, Miss Braxton.”

She took a deep breath to calm her frustration. “I don’t understand why I can’t have my star back. I worked hard for it.” A lump formed in her throat. “If I can’t get back to my time, it’s all I have left of my previous life.”

Ethan squirmed in his seat, decidedly uncomfortable at her situation. If up to him, Birdie bet it’d be in her hand. But, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to King.

“My dear, I understand your distress, but it just won’t do for you to have a Texas Ranger star. Only men commissioned as rangers by the state of Texas can carry them.”

Heat exploded in her face. “First of all, General King, I’m not anyone’s dear. I’m a commissioned Texas Ranger. That star belongs to me. It’s not my fault I’ve been tossed back into this archaic time period where women are supposedly delicate and need to be set on a pedestal—called ‘my dear.’”

Ethan and Lockhart gaped at her. She sniffed. Guess they were shocked at her tone of voice, but she wasn’t backing down. No doubt they didn’t believe her story about time travel either, but there was no other explanation for her appearance in 1890.

“I assure you I meant no disrespect, my de... err… Miss Braxton.”

“Well, in my time, being addressed as ‘my dear’ by a man who out ranks her is condescending.” She leaned back against the porch rail. “I worked hard for that star. I earned a degree from Texas University in criminal science. I went through the police academy in Austin and spent two years on the force in Waco before becoming a state trooper. The training was rigorous, and I handled it. One hundred-fifty individuals applied for the two ranger jobs open in 2010. I was one of the people chosen. ” She stuck her hand out. “Give me my star.”