Birdie's Nest (5 page)

“Thank you, but there is no need. I’ll be released in a day or two and look forward to getting back to work. Again, thank you for saving my life.” She extended her hand. He studied it a minute before grasping it. “If I can repay you in some way, let me know.”

“No repayment needed, ma’am. Let me know if I can be of any assistance to you in the future. Just send a message to Tad Lockhart at Lockhart Ranch.”

“I’ll do that.” She released his hand.

Detective Ethan waited until Mr. Lockhart left the room before pulling a chair up to her bed. He sat and removed several items from his pockets. One was her silver star, the other her Ruger.

“Oh, thank God. I’m glad they weren’t lost, especially the star.”

She reached for them, but the man withdrew them and held up the silver badge. “Where’d you get this, Miss Braxton?”

“It was presented to me by my captain when I became a Texas Ranger. You can see the date on the back, and my name.”

“What kind of hoax are you trying to pull off here? Women are not in law enforcement, especially in the Rangers.”

“I assure you they are. The first woman was inducted in 1994.”

His mouth dropped open and he stuttered, “That’s…impossible.”

“No it’s not.” She pointed to the star. “Look at the date. Right there it says September 15, 2010.” He merely gaped at her, brow furrowed. Fear welled up in her chest. Her voice choked, she managed to utter, “That’s right. I’m from the future and I don’t know how in the hell I ended up in what you guys are saying is 1890.” Her tirade ended with a sob. “What am I going to do? I’m not going to a sanatorium.”

“Now, now, miss, don’t get upset. It’s not good for you.”

“Don’t get upset! What would you do if you found yourself in a strange place, occupied by people who dressed like it was the nineteenth century? My house is missing across the river, and I don’t know Aunt Patty’s whereabouts. People look at me like I’ve lost my mind. That’s what you think, isn’t it? That I’m crazy?”

“Well, understandably you’re confused. The doctor informed me you aren’t exhibiting signs of being mentally deranged or dangerous to yourself or others. We’ll get this all straightened out. I assure you in a day or two we’ll have all the answers and your mind will be at ease.”

She snorted. “I doubt it. My mind will never be at ease.” She sniffed and wiped at an errant tear. She didn’t intend to let this man think her weak. “Can I have my things back?”

He tucked them in his coat pocket. “I’m afraid not. I’ll keep them safe for you. Someone from the Texas Rangers will be here in a few days to talk with you and they’ll want to see these and learn how you came by the star and the unusual weapon you were carrying.”

“They are mine. You better not lose them.”

“Understood.”

“Did you clean and oil my Ruger?”

“If you’re referring to your revolver, I tried but must admit I couldn’t figure out how to take it apart.”

She snickered. “It’s not a revolver, it’s a semi-automatic.”

“Yes, well, I did notice it didn’t have a cylinder.”

“Hand it here and I’ll show you how to dismantle it.” He watched closely as she took it apart and put it back together again. He repeated her actions.

“I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

“What about my holster?”

“It’s being taken care of at the saddlers. He’s getting it dry and oiled to where it’ll be good as new. It’d be a shame to let such fine leather dry out and crack.”

“Thank you. I’m quite attached to it.” Plus it was a gift from a good friend. “When I get out of here and find a job, I’ll reimburse you for the cost.”

“Just get well, Miss Braxton, and regain your memory. Folks in Waco are a close-knit group. If you don’t have family, they’ll help you get settled. You might find work as a house keeper or a sales clerk.”

She huffed. “Not bloody likely.”

He ignored her comment and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bring my weapon back with you. I don’t want it to rust because it’s not been cleaned.”

He waved a hand on the way out.

Birdie sighed and settled back against the pillows. She’d not realized how tense she’d held her shoulders until she allowed herself to relax. She rolled her neck and dropped her chin to her chest to stretch the tendon connected to her spine. The stitches at the base of her skull pulled and she grimaced.

How had she landed in such a fix and what was she going to do? Was she truly in 1890? Could she have traveled back in time? Before she accepted that possibility she had to gather more information, put her investigative skills to work so her conclusion would be a well-thought-out one.

* * *

His mother, Olivia Lockhart, listened intently as Tad talked. She enjoyed a good story and his tale of saving Miss Braxton titillated her interest.

“You say she thinks it’s the year 2012?” She fanned her face with her napkin. His mother wasn’t overly large but her face was often red, and she complained about the heat. “The poor dear. Do you think she’s crazy, son?”

“No, ma’am. Her blue eyes are clear as a bell and she talks rationally. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d believe her.” He took another bite of roast beef and swallowed. “She had a gun holster strapped to her leg and a Texas Ranger’s star pinned to it.”

She paled and the fanning increased in intensity. “You looked under her skirts?”

“No, Mother. The nurse who undressed her found it and turned it over to the detective in charge of the case. He showed it to me.”

“Well, thank goodness. All we need is another scandal to tarnish our good name.” She shot him a heated look. “If you’d just settle down, you’d --”

“Mother, don’t start that again or I’ll take my meals in the bunk house.”

She sniffed. “Well, I’m just saying, you’re not getting any younger.”

He laughed. “I’d hardly call thirty-five old.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners and she sputtered. “Well, I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to dandle a grandchild or two on my knee before I die.” She fanned her face again. “At the rate I’m going, it may not be that far off.”

Tad blew out a breath. “Mother, you are not that old. I’ve seen you run up and down these stairs like a woman half your age.”

She pursed her lips and glared.

“When I find a woman who can keep my interest for more than a day, then I’ll marry.”

“What about that woman you’re keeping time with in town. What if she turns up pregnant and expects you to marry her?”

Thank goodness his sister was visiting with friends tonight. He didn’t want her impressionable young ears to be privy to his private affairs, which his mother considered scandalous.

“She’ll be sadly disappointed because I’ll not marry someone I don’t love. Plus, I’m not sure she’d be faithful.” As far as pregnancy, Doc Floyd kept him in a supply of condoms. Odd how the Comstock Law allowed a man to have access to them to prevent disease, but wouldn’t let him use them to prevent his wife from getting pregnant. Didn’t make a lick of sense to him. If he fathered a baby out of wedlock, he’d see the child was well taken care of.

“It’s a sinful relationship. God is going to strike you dead one of these days.”

“Let’s drop the subject, Mother.”

“Mark my words, your clandestine affair will come back to haunt you.”

He didn’t know how secret the relationship was, but if it bit him on the butt, so be it. He was ready to call it quits anyway.

* * *

Birdie’s mauve gown had been washed and pressed. Nurse Taylor helped her dress, but didn’t pull the strings on the corset near as tight as Aunt Patty had. “We had to find new laces for the corset and buttons for the dress. Mr. Lockhart had to open the back of your garments and cut the ties so you could breath.”

“Looks like I’m garnering a large bill here. Who is paying for all this?”

“We have a fund. You can pay us back when you get the money.” She finished buttoning Birdie. “There. You look lovely.”

Birdie smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. Whoever had cleaned it had done a beautiful job. She straightened the lace in the low V of the dress. “Where’s my brooch?”

“You weren’t wearing a brooch, dear. What’d it look like?”

“An oval amethyst surrounded by seed pearls. It was a family heirloom.”

“Oh no. Maybe it’s on the bank of the Brazos. Detective Ethan will take you there today and you can look around.” She squeezed Birdie’s shoulders. “I hope you find it.”

Sitting on the front veranda, Birdie used her toe to set the rocker in motion as she waited. It was a beautiful morning, still pleasant, but by noon it would be over ninety degrees. Nurse Taylor insisted they return by noon so Birdie wouldn’t over-tire. Detective Ethan arrived sharply at nine o’clock with a small buggy. He helped her to step up to the one seat. When she’d settled, he joined her and took the reins. A partial cover blocked most of the sun. Anxious to be on their way, Birdie leaned against the leather seat as Ethan clicked the reins and the horse plodded forward.

The road from the hospital turned into Marlborough Street. Birdie studied the houses as they passed. Many were modest homes but a few were larger Victorian types. At Fourth Street they turned left, crossed Barron’s Branch, and then right on Washington Avenue. When they reached Thirteenth Street, Detective Ethan steered the horse and carriage left onto Austin Avenue. The sound of the horse’s hooves on the packed earth echoed the thumping of Birdie’s heart.

The knot in her throat grew as they traversed the dirt streets with Detective Ethan acting as tour guide. He pointed out landmarks; few of the buildings were familiar to her. On Austin Avenue she searched the sky for the Amicable Building, a mocking cloud occupied the part of the sky where the skyscraper should have been visible. They circled the square on their direct route to the suspension bridge finished in 1870.

The detective stopped the buggy at a grassy spot, jumped down and rounded the vehicle. He reached up, gently caught her around the waist and lifted her down. Legs wobbly, Birdie stumbled as they approached the water. He caught her elbow to steady her. “Are you all right, Miss Braxton? We can return another time if you’re not up to this.”

“No…I need to see now.” She stopped several feet from the river and stared out at the flow, its rhythm one she’d seen and enjoyed her entire life. Nothing on either side of the expanse was familiar now. Smoke churned from chimneys on the far bank and farther to the north a herd of cattle grazed. She allowed her eyes to drift to the torn grass where Tad Lockhart had dragged her from the water two days before. There was no sign of her brooch. She struggled to swallow the knot in her throat and coughed.
I will not cry.

Detective Ethan touched her elbow. “Come along, miss. You don’t look too good. Nurse Taylor will take a whip to me if I deliver you back to the hospital in a faint.”

Birdie nodded and stumbled along beside him. In the buggy again, she slumped against the seat. The trip back to the hospital passed in a blur. The detective cast worried glances her way and urged the horse into a faster clip.

Back in her room, she stood without moving as Nurse Taylor undressed her and slipped a gown over her head. In bed, she curled on her side and prayed,
“God, please let me wake up from this nightmare.”

Chapter Three

With a copy of
Jane Eyre
in her lap, Birdie sat on one of the iron benches outside Waco City Hospital. A light breeze ruffled the pages, the chirp of birds the only sounds to disrupt the quiet. She’d tried to focus on Jane’s story, but her mind wandered to her situation. What was she going to do? She wasn’t crazy, she didn’t have amnesia, and she hadn’t been planted in someone else’s body. Somehow she’d plummeted back to 1890, and she had to figure out a way to return to 2012 and Aunt Patty. No doubt, authorities were dragging the Brazos for her body. She hoped they were, but it’s possible no one saw her being tossed off the side of the Brazos Belle. Lord, Aunt Patty must be worried sick. Birdie’s stomach threatened to choke her, and the leaves on the tree above her head faded in and out. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep to dispel the unsettling sensation before panic caused her to fall apart.
Breathe, Birdie. Distance yourself

At the sound of hoofbeats and the rattle of wheels on packed earth, she opened her eyes and watched as a carriage approached and stopped out front. It was Detective Ethan with another man sitting beside him. Both men hopped down and talked for a minute. The detective stationed himself beside the buggy while the other gentleman started up the walk. Tall, a stately, middle-aged man dressed in a three-piece suit he, for some reason, reminded her of someone. Maybe it was his odd beard—a mid-length bushy goatee, dark streaked with gray. She suppressed a giggle. Though unusual to her, most likely the style was common in this time period. Suddenly his gaze landed on her. Surprised at his perusal, she straightened her back.

He removed his hat to reveal close-cropped hair and with a serious face, approached her. “Miss Braxton?”

“Yes…sir.” It dawned on her where she’d seen him before. A picture of him hung in the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame in Waco. Every day for the past year she’d walked past it on her way to the museum lobby. His distinguished image was hard to ignore. She couldn’t believe her eyes—Wilbur Hill King, adjutant general of the state of Texas, the man who’d supervised the Texas Rangers from 1881 to 1891, stood before her. She rose unsteadily to her feet. “General King?”

His dark brows drew together wrinkling his forehead. “We’ve met before?”

“No sir, but I’ve seen pictures of you in history books and museums…and….” His startled expression stopped her chatter. “Excuse me for going on so. Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes.” He waited for her to sit and joined her. There was something to be said about the manners of men in the nineteenth century, but she’d reserve final judgment until she’d been here a while which she hoped wasn’t long. “So, you know my name. Do you know why I’m here today?”

“Of course. You supervise the Texas Rangers in this time period, and you want to know why I’m in possession of a Ranger’s star dated 2010.”