Birdie's Nest (13 page)

“Dear, I’ve thought hard the last few days about some of the things you’ve told us… and… I have to admit, they sound crazy.” She reached across the table and clasped Birdie’s hand. “But I know you’re not crazy. I just don’t know what to believe.”

“I know the things I’ve told you are hard to picture in your minds, to deem true. If our situations were reversed, I’d feel the same as you.” She pushed food around on her plate with her fork, than laid it down. The utensil clanked against the china. “So much has happened in the last past one-hundred-twenty or so years. Olivia, if you’re worried about my hair color being noticed by others, I can go up and put it in a bun and cover it with something.”

“You’ll do no such thing. If anyone asks, we’ll just say something in the river turned it different colors and you’re waiting for it to grow off.”

Tad snorted. “Then we’ll have all the young misses in the area jumping in the Brazos to create the same effect.”

His mother shot him a chilling glare.

He swallowed his laugh. “You think they’ll believe that story?”

Mother sat up straighter in her chair. “Doesn’t matter whether they do or not. I believe it and they’ll not question my word.” She shook a finger at Birdie. “And you, young woman will leave that beautiful hair alone. I may not understand everything about you and what’s at work here—you being with us and all—but I know you’re a good person, and I’ll not have anyone treating you otherwise.”

When Mother spoke, her word wasn’t disputed. Usually. He hoped Birdie wouldn’t be breaking with tradition.

Chapter Nine

Birdie had never seen the Brazos lit so beautifully. Lights strung around the bandstand and along the bridge glowed dimly, their reflection bouncing off the rippling surface of the river. Surely those weren’t candles—maybe tiny lanterns. She leaned forward to see more closely. “Are those electric lights?”

“Yes. Aren’t they lovely?” Olivia beamed with pride. “Soon they’ll have the entire bridge lit up on special occasions.”

Wow. Who knew they had electric lights in 1890? It’d be easier to imagine if she was in New York, but this was Texas. Birdie knew the hotel had the electric elevator and some electric light, but never dreamed they’d use them for decorations. Maybe they had Christmas tree lights now too. Obviously, her early Waco history was lacking.

The strains of a waltz wafted toward them on the breeze. Tad pulled the buggy into line behind several others. He jumped out and helped them down before turning the vehicle over to an attendant. Birdie resisted a giggle—just like valet parking in the future.

Olivia and Bethany lifted their skirts, and shook them, smoothing out wrinkles. Birdie glanced down at her own frock and decided she better do the same. Would she ever get used to all the frou-frou?

The older woman announced, “Tad, you escort Birdie. Bethany will walk with me.”

Tad winked, eliciting a grin from her. The scoundrel. Did he know how handsome he was? Of course he did. He took her hand and tucked it around his forearm. “Do you like to dance?”

“I love to dance.” She lifted the hem of her dress to keep from tripping as they walked down the slope towards the crowd. “It’s such a surprise to see the electric lights. I didn’t know electricity was widely used in this period.”

“It’s not. Having it at the grandstand and across the bridge is an extravagance. As you can imagine, we’re proud of the bridge and the commerce it brings to Waco. The city council felt electricity on this occasion was justified.” He waved toward the dancers. “But as you can see, we still must rely on coal oil.”

They were close enough now to see that lanterns hung from poles set up around the plank dance floor. “I don’t remember seeing the dance floor earlier.”

“A group of men gathered late this afternoon and laid the two by fours. Cameron Lumber provided the boards. After the dance, the floor will be disassembled and returned to the yard. Monday morning the used lumber will be sold at cost.”

“That’s very nice of him.”

“Sure is. Good advertisement too. Events like this bring town folks closer together.”

Cohesiveness—that was something, in her opinion, the modern world needed more of. Smaller towns were more community minded. No, that wasn’t fair. Larger towns worked hard to do good works with cancer walks and food pantries to name a few.

They stopped at the dance floor. Tad clicked his heels and bowed over her hand. “May I have this dance?”

She smiled and dropped a slight curtsey. Ugh! A curtsey! She was losing her mind for sure. Tad took her in his arms and all humor evaporated. It wasn’t often she danced with a man taller than her, and Tad was. Her head fit perfectly just under his chin. The soft aroma of his spicy cologne or hair pomade invaded her senses; the warm skin of his neck tempted her lips. It would be easy to tilt her head just so and place a kiss under his chin. He was a tempting man and exuded sex appeal. Get a grip, Birdie! A man wasn’t in her future right now, at least not until her goal was achieved. No need to tempt nature. She eased back a little, but he pulled her closer.

“Relax.” His breath rustled the hair above her ear and she shivered. “Mm, you smell nice.” He tugged her closer. If she wasn't mistaken he placed a kiss against her hair.

Her heart thumped in response and she blurted, “You do too.”

Tad startled and missed a step. Did the muscles in his arm tense? She thought she heard a soft groan but couldn’t tell over the strains of
I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.
Her response must have shocked him. Ladies of this time weren't as honest with their thought, but she wasn't about to change to fit in. He was a good dancer, and she relaxed as he led her around the floor, which had been lightly covered with sawdust, so their feet slid easily as they twirled to the haunting ballad.

The song ended and they stepped apart. The audience clapped for the band, and they added their applause as they walked to the side. “They’re very good.”

“Yes. Our symphony is getting prestigious in the area. A few members travel to San Antonio on occasion to sit in with the orchestra there.”

Birdie supposed modern Waco had an orchestra, but her activities ran more toward high school and university athletic activities. Aunt Patty often bemoaned Birdie’s lack of interest in the arts. “I’m impressed. Do you often attend?”

“Nah, but mother and Bethany do.”

The music, a lively song she didn’t know, started up, and Tad took her hand. Before they could enter the group of dancers, Detective Ethan stopped in front of them and tipped his hat. “Evening Birdie, Tad. Birdie, may I have this dance?”

“Of course, Detective.”

He glanced at Tad as if to ask permission.

Tad nodded.

Birdie wanted to blurt she didn’t need anyone’s consent but decided it best to keep her mouth shut.

“Do you think you could call me by my given name? Detective is rather formal.”

She chuckled. “I’d be happy to if I knew it.”

He grinned. “It’s Lloyd.”

“Well, Lloyd,” She nodded toward the dancers. “I’m not sure I can keep up, but I’ll do my best.” As they joined the couples, Birdie glanced back over her shoulder. Tad moved into the throng of people visiting on the grass. She’d have enjoyed another dance with him.

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.