Birdie's Nest (12 page)

She shook his hand off her arm. “You and what other ape?”

He’d had enough of this nonsense. He lifted her in his arms and started for the carriage, hoots, hollers, and whistles following in their wake.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put me down this instant.”

Tad didn’t even bother with a response, but strode across the grass.

Pain burst in his nose as blood spurted across Birdie’s dress and down the front of his suit. Why, the harridan had popped him in the nose.

Chapter Eight

Tad stopped and roared. “You hit me, woman.”

“Oops.” Maybe she’d gone a tad too far.

He dropped her and somehow Birdie got her feet under her and landed on them instead of her butt. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose.

“I told you to put me down!”

“I told you to come on, woman!”

She shook a fist at him. “You are not my boss or my husband.” Well, he might sort of be her boss, but they weren’t on the ranch. She’d be darned if she’d let him or any other man lead her around by the nose.

He groaned and mumbled something under his breath. Sounded like, “I soon will be.”

“What’d you say?” She took the cloth and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ow. Be careful. I said, uh ….” He shrugged. “I forget.”

A man shouted, “Better get a handle on your woman, Tad!”

“Woo-wee, that woman’s got a mean right hook!” hollered another.

Titters of laughter and guffaws echoed around them. Birdie couldn’t resist a giggle.

Tad stiffened and removed her hand from his nose. “Let’s go. We’re making an even bigger scene.”

True, they were the center of attention. Most of their audience laughed, but a few old biddies had their heads together, plotting, blackballing her she guessed. Not good, she supposed. Why did the people in this era have to be so uptight about a woman enjoying herself? A sense of regret washed over her. She didn’t want to be a burden on Olivia. Surely Birdie’s behavior wouldn’t reflect on the woman who’d been kind enough to take her in. Darn it. She’d better try a little harder to fit in.

“Well, come on then.” She took his arm and led him to the Lockhart’s carriage. “I’m sorry, Tad. I didn’t mean to create a scene, I just wanted to have some fun.” She looked down at her new dress, now dirty and splotched with Tad’s blood. “I feel so restricted in this time period, like I can’t be myself.”

He squeezed her arm. “I know, but you must learn to fit in if you’re going to be happy and build a life.” He helped her into the buggy and joined her on the padded leather seat. He studied her a moment. “Look at you, dirty and bloody like a misbehaving boy guilty of participating in fisticuffs. Why, you’ve even lost your hat and parasol.”

“Well, why don’t you add a few more jibes to make me feel even worse?”

With a couple of clicks of Tad’s tongue, the horses started forward. He turned them toward Franklin Avenue. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. Heck, I admit, I admire your spunk, but there’s a limit.” He chuckled. “It was fun seeing you hit that homer.” Mouth drawn into a thin line, he turned to face her. “But, I didn’t enjoy seeing every male in the area watching your butt twitch back and forth as you wound up that bat. Nor did I appreciate you exposing your bloomers for every man in the county to see.”

Birdie couldn’t believe her ears. “My butt was fully covered by layers of clothing, not bare!”

He blushed scarlet. Oops, maybe she’d over pushed her point. “Ladies do not discuss nakedness.”

She wanted to weep. “Well, I’m not a lady. In my time women wear bathing suits that show more skin than a danged corset.” She waved her hand. “Why, dresses come up to here.” She drew a line across her thigh.”

His mouth hung open, then snapped shut. Voice low, like someone could hear them over the clomping of the horse, he muttered, “Are you saying you’re a loose woman, Birdie?”

“No!” He’d never understand no matter how much she explained. “I’m saying, in the future, things are different. Women wear a lot less clothes. For that matter, so do men. If we were on a picnic in the future, you’d be wearing pants cut off above the knee and a cotton knit shirt with no sleeves.”

He shook his head. “The things you say are too outlandish to believe.”

“I know, but they’re true.”

They pulled up in front of the Pacific Hotel and an attendant hurried out to take the reins. Tad jumped down and rounded the carriage to help her alight. Inside, ceiling fans stirred the air. The soft breeze cooled Birdie’s heated skin. Guests coming and going eyed her with curiosity. Tad took her arm and hustled her into the elevator. This hotel boasted the first electric elevator in Waco, but many people weren’t comfortable riding in it and opted for the stairs.

The elevator operator greeted them as they entered the cage. Tad nodded to the man and gave him their floor number, but his expression was stony when he turned it on her. His nose was swelling and beginning to bruise. Birdie took his hand, squeezed and whispered, “Tad, I'm so sorry. I acted on impulse, but I'm not in the habit of being bossed by anyone except the captain.” She reached up to touch his nose.

He jerked his head back and muttered, “Don't touch me. It's sore.” He slipped an arm around her waist hugged her close. “Forget about it, Birdie. Just don't do it again.”

Her temper flared. “Well, don't try to boss me around and I won't.”

“Birdie—”

She snapped her mouth shut just as the elevator stopped.

When they stepped out, Tad stopped a maid in the hall. “Please prepare a bath for Miss Braxton.”

“Right away, sir.”

She removed her key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Tad waited until she was inside before striding down the corridor to his room. A few minutes later, Birdie opened the door for the maid. She strode in with a long white robe, toiletries, and several towels. “I’m Sophie, miss. I have your bath drawn. If you’ll come with me, we’ll get you out of this dress and I’ll get it laundered for you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Birdie glanced down at the stains. “I hope the blood will come out.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Birdie followed the maid down the hallway. She laid the towels and bath items on a table then helped Birdie with the buttons down the back of her dress. Birdie slipped into the robe. “Leave the towels in the bathroom and I’ll get them later. Pull the bell if you need anything and don’t forget to lock the door.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

Thirty minutes later, Birdie sat by the open window brushing her hair. With long strokes, she pulled the strands up and away from her scalp. She dropped her head forward and brushed the curly tresses until they hung over her eyes, then flipped them back. When it settled around her shoulders, she ran her fingers through the long strands giving it as much lift as she could. She wanted it to have some curl, but not too much. Why she worried about her looks, she didn’t have a clue. According to Tad, her reputation was ruined.

A knock sounded on the door. Birdie rose and opened it. Olivia stood outside, her mouth pinched in a thin line, holding Birdie’s hat and parasol. “May I come in, dear?”

“Of course.” Dressed in what Birdie assumed was a day dress, Olivia stepped inside and lay the bonnet and umbrella on the bed. Then she moved to sit on the rocker beside the window.

“Where’d you find my things?”

“Detective Ethan had them delivered. I guess he assumed you were sharing a room with Bethany and me. If larger accommodations had been available, it would have been nice for all three of us to be together.”

Birdie wasn’t disappointed at all. She enjoyed Bethany but after a while the young girl’s chatter got on her nerves.

Olivia patted the cushioned chair sitting adjacent to hers. “Come, sit. We need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Here it comes. Birdie might spar with Tad, and any other individual who challenged her, her beliefs and behavior, but she didn’t have the heart to disappoint Olivia. The woman had been kind to Birdie, inviting her into her home, and was doing her best to help Birdie fit in with society. Whether she believed Birdie was from another era was hard to tell, but she had been patient with her.

With a sigh, Birdie sat. “I’m sorry for my behavior today. It’s just so hard for me to give up what I’m used to.”

“I understand. Believe it or not, I was young once, too, and fought against the restrictions of society.” She shrugged. “Of course, then I married and had children to think about. Though I might want to resist on occasion, I know I can’t because others depend on me to be a good example and I wouldn’t want my behavior to reflect unfavorably on either Tad or Bethany.” She snorted. “Not that Tad is concerned about how
his
conduct reflects on us. I about died when that widow woman approached Tad after the race today… in broad daylight. It’s bad enough that he visits her at night on occasion.”

“I take it you don’t approve of the woman.”

“Hardly! I know men have needs, but…” She threw up her hands. “Forgive me. This discussion is inappropriate for your ears.” Pushing on the floor with her toes, she set the chair in motion and rocked for a moment. If Olivia knew what all Birdie’s ears had heard and her eyes had seen in her years in police work, the older woman would have a heart attack on the spot. “Birdie, the manner in which you behaved today, and the way Tad responded, gave people the impression you’re a couple.”

“What? Why would they think that?”

“Because he picked you up in his arms and then you hit him. It appeared to be a lover’s spat.”

Birdie sputtered. “That’s ridiculous.”

“May be, but that’s how it is.” Olivia reached over and patted her knee. “Now, just be sure you don’t give people more to gossip about tonight. They’ll have you engaged and marching down the aisle before breakfast. Not that Tad is a man to be pushed into doing anything he doesn’t want to do, but he likes you and would want to preserve your name and standing in the community.”

“That will never happen. No one will push me in to getting married.” And she’d in no way allow a man to marry her to save her reputation. It would be for love or not at all. Not that she didn’t think Tad a handsome man, because she did. When she got married, it’d be to a man who considered her his equal, one who didn’t boss her around. She snorted. Tad was as bossy as they come.

“I know you’re a good girl and adapting to our ways must be hard. But, you must if you want to be happy here.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

Tad found his gaze returning to Birdie. She was lovely in the mauve dress she’d worn when he fished her from the Brazos. Her hair was lifted on the sides and held up with combs, which allowed curled tendrils to fall down in soft waves. Candlelight caught on the varying colors of her tresses, emphasizing the blue of her eyes.

Bethany caught him staring and grinned. She looked from one to the other and back at him. “How come—”

Guessing the direction of his sister's thoughts, he interrupted. “Birdie, your hair is an unusual color. Did you inherit it from someone in your family?”

“Yeah,” added Bethany, “I’ve been curious too.”

“Actually, if I tell you, you’ll think I’m terribly wicked so maybe I better keep it a secret.”

Bethany’s eyes rounded. His mother’s stare of horror spoke volumes, but she was speechless.

Tad couldn’t believe what she’d implied. “Are you saying your hair color is not natural? That you dye it?”

“Yes.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It’s common in the future for women to dye their hair, to get perms—a treatment originally called ‘permanent waves’ to make it curly. Some wear it very short, as short if not shorten than some men.”

His mother gasped. “Why would they do that? A woman’s hair is her crowning glory.”

Tad had to agree. He loved running his figures through a woman’s hair. His mind had wandered to Birdie’s often enough and had wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Dyed...? He couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, I know that’s what this generation believes, but many things have changed.” She pulled a strand of her hair out and examined it closely. “My natural color is a medium blonde. Every four or five months my hairstylist adds what are called high lights and low lights—high are a lighter color and low are a darker color. They give my hair more texture.”

“I like it, Birdie,” said Bethany. “Maybe when I get older I can color my hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, young lady.”

Tad could see Birdie enjoyed shocking them. Heck, he didn’t know what to think. Was she a harlot? No, she wasn’t. He knew some women colored their hair in the privacy of their own homes and would be horrified if anyone found out. It was something he could see Lucy doing and flaunting. But, Birdie acted as though it was an everyday occurrence, that it wasn’t unusual. He peered at her hair closely. It was very pretty, natural looking. Had Birdie really traveled back from a future era? He liked that theory better than putting her in the same category as Lucy. No, they were not the same.

Grin mischievous, Birdie put her arm around Bethany and squeezed. “Maybe we can talk your mother into letting you get an earring in your nose.”

Tad couldn’t tell who squealed louder—his mother or Bethany. Bethany slapped a hand over her nose and giggled. Birdie laughed out loud and Tad added a guffaw.

“Stop it now! We’re causing a scene.” Mother’s voice demanded obedience but her lips twitched in rebellion. Sure enough, others in the dining room were staring. She leaned forward, closer to Birdie. “You are teasing us, right?”

“Unfortunately, no. It’s horrifying to see what some of the younger generation do to their bodies. Piercing their tongues, their belly buttons, and… other areas.”

What other areas could she be talking about? He could only think of a few body parts that protruded far enough… no, surely not. His gaze whipped to her.

She smirked. “Of course not.”

He blew out a breath. How could someone do that to their body? Better yet, why?

Mother shook her head. “I am flummoxed and can’t imagine such a custom. They actually use earrings?”

“Yes. Mostly studs.” She held up her fingers about an inch or less apart. “You know … a little post with diamonds, or silver balls.”