Birdie's Nest Read online

  He couldn’t agree more and had never understood why women felt the need to cinch themselves in so. When he touched a woman’s waist, he’d much rather feel soft curves than stiff whalebone. “You’re right, of course. Fortunately for us men, the fashions aren’t terribly uncomfortable.”

  His mother stopped in front of the buggy, her expression one of surprise as she looked over their new transportation. “Where did you get this?”

  “I traded our buggy for the surrey, Mother. We could use the extra room and we’ll all be protected from the sun.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” She looked up noting the canopy. “Wise choice, son. I’m glad you selected a plain black one. I don’t think I’d want to be seen around town in one with that awful fringe hanging from the top.”

  “It’s called an undercut. We can fold the top back on cool days.” He gripped her elbow. “Let’s get you in and see how it rides. The suspension is nice and smooth.”

  A man walked out the front door and called, “Tad, hold up a minute.”

  Jim Wallace wasn’t a large man, but Tad knew his build was athletic. He prided himself on staying fit even though his job kept him in the office most of the day. Today his suit was impeccable as usual and expensive. The man did like to dress in the latest styles. His dark auburn hair, combed to perfection, was beginning to gray. “Hello, Jim. I’m surprised to see you home at this hour.”

  “I couldn’t resist getting home to meet Miss Braxton. I’ve heard so much about her from Julie the last few weeks. Jim tipped his hat to Bethany and took Olivia’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, Olivia. I see that Bethany is growing into a beautiful young lady. She looks more like her mother every day.” Bethany blushed and ducked her head. Jim knew how to charm the ladies.

  “Hold the flattery, Jim.” His mother tapped his arm. “I’ve known you enough years to be immune to charm.”

  “Ah, madam, you wound me.”

  Mother snorted.

  “I’d be happy to introduce you, Jim.” Jim released Mother’s hand and turned to Birdie, a beaming smile stretching his face. “Jim, this is our guest and distant relative, Miss Birdie Braxton.”

  Jim nodded and tipped his hat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young woman. I think you’re doing a fine thing by teaching our young ladies how to defend themselves.” He wagged a finger. “Just don’t put too many ideas in their heads—don’t want them starting a baseball team or anything like that.” He guffawed and Birdie’s face reddened. Tad hid his chuckle. Jim better watch out or he’d end up with a bloody nose.

  Birdie raised her chin. “I assure you, Mr. Wallace, that hadn’t entered my mind.” She tapped her chin and smiled. “But you know, your idea has merit.”

  “Ah now, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, Mr. Wallace. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “We better be going, Jim.” Tad shook the man’s hand.

  He tipped his hat at the ladies, turned, and walked up to the porch.

  Tad helped his mother into the back seat and Bethany in beside her. “Birdie, you left in such a hurry some of the ladies didn’t get to say goodbye.” Mother leaned forward patted Birdie on the shoulder. “You were wonderful dear. I think you won them all over.”

  “Yes, Birdie,” Bethany piped up as she sank into the back seat. “I think Mother is going to let me take a class.”

  “Not now, Bethany. We’ll discuss it later.”

  Tad flicked the reins and the horse eased out into the street and then into a gentle trot.

  “I apologize, Olivia, for rushing out.” Birdie’s shoulders sagged and he resisted the urge to embrace her. “I’m not comfortable in these unusual clothes and want to get home and change.”

  “But you look lovely, doesn’t she Tad.”

  “Yes, indeed, Mother. The rose is a very becoming color on her.” Birdie shot him a glare and he swallowed his chuckle. He did enjoy teasing this woman. “But, I do understand she’s not used to the fashions of this time. Just imagine if you went forward to her time.”

  “Oh, land o’ Goshen! From her descriptions, I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

  Birdie tossed her head back and laughed. Her delight brought a smile to his face. “Yes, Olivia, I can see you attending a tea in a turquoise sleeveless dress with a bolero jacket trimmed in white.” She’d turned in the seat giving him a clear view of her face. Relaxed and animated, she continued. “And you, Bethany, you’d be wearing a sundress with a skirt above your knees. Your shoulders would be bare to show off your beautiful tan.”

  Bethany giggled, but Mother gasped. “Say it isn’t so!”

  “It’s true. And Bethany would be wearing strappy sandals. If you were older they’d have four inch heels.”

  “Thank God we’re not living in your time,” piped Olivia.

  He turned to see his mother vigorously fanning herself. “I think it’d be fun, Mother.” Tad had no doubt his sister wouldn’t have much problem adapting. He’d seen her in those blasted dungarees more than once.

  Birdie’s radiance dimmed. “Perhaps for a few days, Bethany. And then you’d begin to miss your former way of life and all you hold dear.”

  She really believes she’s from the future. How could it be possible? Yes, strange things did happen in the world, phenomena that were difficult to explain. But time travel? No, he couldn’t see it. “I’m sorry, Birdie. I know you must miss your home, your family, and friends.”

  She nodded. “Yes, especially when no one believes me.”

  “We need proof, Birdie.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking lately, trying to remember historical events that will take place this year. The only thing that comes to mind is the Massacre at Wounded Knee in late December.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tad’s gaze pierced hers. He didn’t believe her but that was okay. He would when it happened. “Who was slaughtered? Settlers?”

  “No. We, our soldiers, butchered approximately 300 Lakota Sioux—women, men, and children.”

  Olivia gasped. “But why?”

  “The government continued to take their land and the Lakota were forced on to reservations. Bison herds diminished and the people were starving. The U.S. Government failed to keep its promise to provide food, clothing, and housing. Plus, they’d promised to protect reservation lands from further infiltration by settlers and they didn’t. Unrest grew.”

  Tad bristled. “I think you have the story wrong. Our government would not sign a treaty then fail to follow through.”

  “Are you kidding? They’ve done it before now. Maybe you haven’t heard of those times, but I have. We stole this land from the Native Americans.”

  He snorted. “We did not. They’re still here.”

  “Yeah, on reservations, starving to death. Some are being transported to other states—away from their homelands. How would you feel if someone came in and tried to take your home and your land?”

  “I’d fight to the death.”

  “Exactly.” Olivia and Bethany hadn’t interrupted. A sniff came from the back seat. Birdie hadn’t meant to make anyone cry. She turned back to Olivia. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but it’s the truth.”

  “Surely the Indians provoked the soldiers in some way.” It was hard for Tad to accept his people had been less than honorable. As a child in history class, she’d not wanted to believe it either, but it was true. She may not have all the facts correct but the outcome was the same.

  She sighed. “Troops surrounded the compound. Some went in to disarm the Lakota. One blind man refused to give up his rifle. In the struggle, a shot was fired. The army opened fire, the Lakota fired back, and the rest is, well, to me, history.. The Calvary regiment was supported by four Hotchkiss guns and twenty-five of their own men were believed to have died from friendly fire.”

  “Dear, God, that is terrible,” said Olivia. “I pray you’re wrong.”

  Tad sat rigid beside her, his face a mask of anger. “You side with the
Indians?”

  “I side with what is right.”

  * * *

  Birdie breathed in the fresh November air. She tied Molly to a hitching post within easy reach of the water trough and loosened the girth of the saddle.

  Mattie met her at the door of the warehouse. “The new group will be here shortly.”

  “Sorry I’m late. Had to wait for livestock to cross the bridge.”

  “Pshaw! We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Actually, Mattie, I think you could teach this class without me.”

  She flushed scarlet. “No, I don’t think so. I’d forget something.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Think about it. We could possibly have twice as many students.”

  The class went without a hitch. A few of the students were lazy and would probably drop out after the second class meeting.

  In December, the weather turned cold and she and Mattie canceled classes until after the New Year. 1891 was fast approaching and Birdie was no closer to getting her home built. The fact lay heavy on her heart. Her mood matched the bleakness of the winter landscape.

  The Lockharts believed in celebrating Christmas to the hilt. On Christmas Eve, Tad and two of the hands erected a huge tree in a corner of the parlor. Olivia sent Tad to the attic for boxes of ornaments—blown glass all the rage and expensive in the future—and small candle holders that clipped to the tree. They sat around the fireplace to stay warm, and while Tad popped corn, the women strung it for a garland.

  “Tad, you’re eating more corn than you’re putting in the bowl for stringing.”

  He grinned up at his mother. “But, it’s good. I’ll just pop more.”

  “We’ll be here all night and I’d like to get a little sleep before all the festivities tomorrow,” Olivia quipped.

  Birdie had to admit it was lovely with the small candles and nothing but coal oil lamps to light the room.

  Tad glanced at the tree. “You know, in a few years we’ll have a string of electric lights for the tree. Won’t that be something?”

  Bethany squealed. “Yes, but we’ll need two strings because the more lights the better.”

  “I hate to disappoint you guys, but in some rural areas of Waco, electricity wasn’t available until the 1940s and 50s.” Birdie shrugged. “Of course, some areas got it much earlier, but I wouldn’t count on it for at least ten to twenty years at least.”

  “Really?” Tad’s brow furrowed. “That seems like an awfully long time.”

  As is often common in Texas, Christmas Day was warm, in the high 70s. Maybelle and Olivia had spent days preparing pies, cakes, and candy for the festivities. It was their custom to invite all the ranch hands and their families for Christmas dinner. Since the weather was nice, tables were set up outside. Birdie couldn’t remember having a more memorable day, yet her heart ached for Aunt Patty, and she prayed the older woman was managing somehow. During the singing of carols, she couldn’t stop the flow of tears that ran down her face.

  Tad appeared at her side, slipped an arm around her waist, and she dropped her head to his chest. He whispered against her hair. “It’s going to be all right, Birdie.”

  She sniffed, raised her head, and nodded.

  On December 29, 1890, Birdie rode into town with Tad and Bethany to do a little shopping. The air was crisp and whipped color into their cheeks as they galloped along the dirt road. When they reached Austin Avenue, Birdie noticed newspaper boys on the street corners hawking papers. One shouted, “Read all about it. Massacre at Wounded Knee.”

  They stopped in front of the bakery and tied their horses to the hitching post. Tad turned to her and Bethany. “Y’all go inside and get a table. I’ll get a paper and join you.”

  Inside, while drinking coffee and hot chocolate, they hovered around the paper and read the details of the battle. Tad leaned back in his chair, his mouth pinched and face ashen. Birdie reached for his hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Tad.”

  He nodded and tapped the paper. “Here it says only 150 men, women, and children were killed. You said 300.”

  “You’re right. There are conflicting reports, but much of history cites the larger number. Does it matter—150 or 300?”

  “No.”

  “If it helps, Wounded Knee was the last major conflict between the Indians and the whites.”

  “Maybe a little.” He clasped her hand between both of his. She wasn’t a small woman, but his hands swallowed hers causing her to feel dainty. It was nice for a change. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  She knew, but wondered if he’d admit it, say it out loud.

  “We can no longer doubt your story about being from the future.”

  * * *

  Early in February, they were just closing up when Detective Ethan knocked at the door. He touched his hat and nodded. “Ladies. Can I speak to you a moment?”

  “Of course, Lloyd. Come in.”

  He looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. “Doc is the one who asked me to come. I’m not exactly comfortable with the topic.”

  Birdie was surprised to see a flush rise on his face.

  Mattie propped her fists on her hips. “Come on, Detective, spit it out. Are we in violation of some health code or something?”

  “All right, but please pardon me for bringing up this unseemly topic.” Birdie couldn’t imagine what he had to say. “Well, it’s like this. Some of the pros…err…ladies down at the Reservation have been roughed up by customers on occasion. Last night one of the girls was attacked in the garden. Guy beat her senseless, cut her face up, and left her in pretty bad shape.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  “Doc says her body will heal, but she’ll carry scars forever.”

  “Was she raped?”

  “No.”

  Bile rose in Birdie’s throat. Anger heated her skin. Yes, the ladies on the Reservation lived a dangerous life, but she doubted it was one the majority deliberately chose. More than likely it was chosen for them by circumstances.

  “It sounds like a hate crime or revenge of some kind. Or maybe a man unable to have normal sexual relations needing to vent his frustrations on a woman.” There were plenty of the types in Birdie’s time period.

  His face colored at her words. Obviously he wasn’t used to discussing such details with women. “That’s possible,” said Ethan.

  “Did she have any idea who it was?”

  Ethan shook his head. “She won’t talk much either.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the madams went to Doc to see if he’d talk to you about teaching their girls.”

  Mattie’s mouth dropped open and she sputtered. “You can’t be serious. Birdie has no business on that side of town.”

  “Now Mattie. Those women deserve to be able to protect themselves just like everyone else.” Birdie wanted to fit in here, but she couldn’t go against her internal code of ethics—protect and serve.

  “But if anyone finds out, your reputation will be ruined.”

  “She’s right, Birdie.”

  “Well, it’ll just have to be ruined then. I’ll not allow women, regardless of their race, color, or occupations suffer at the hands of abusive men. If I can help them, I will.”

  Mattie wagged her head from side-to-side. “Young woman, you’re too tender hearted for your own good.” She turned to Ethan. “I’ll go. Birdie just got through telling me earlier I could teach this class so I’ll start with the soiled doves.”

  Status in the community was important to Mattie. Birdie couldn’t let her take a chance. “No, I’m going. You have a husband with a business to think about.”

  Mattie shook her head. “If the ladies in this community find out, they’ll pull their daughters out of class. We’ll have to close our doors.”

  Birdie hated to do it as she needed the money, but she couldn’t ignore a plea for help. She handed her key to Mattie. “From now on you’re the teacher here. I’ll disassociate myself so the mother’s can’t complain.”

  Mattie’s f
ace crumpled. Birdie feared she’d cry, but instead she propped her hands on her hips and protested, “You can’t do that. We’re partners.”

  “Ah, Mattie, how about letting me be a silent partner for awhile?”

  The detective faced Mattie. “And please, Mrs. Hellman, don’t tell anyone about the lessons or the attack.”

  “You have my word. I won’t even tell Mr. Hellman. Not that he’s a gossip, but so he won’t worry about Birdie.” She chuckled. “If we’d had a daughter, he’d want her to be just like you.”

  Birdie’s throat tightened, her voice croaked as she spoke. “I’d be proud to have him for a dad.”

  Mattie raised herself to her full height and sighed. “I don’t like this one bit, but expect I can’t change your mind.” She gripped Birdie in a tight hug. “You be careful. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  They walked outside so Mattie could lock up. Mattie strode off down the street toward her husband’s shop.

  “I came over in the buggy,” said Ethan. “Would you take a ride with me, Birdie, so we can work out the particulars?”

  “Yes. Can we tie Molly to follow behind?”

  “Sure.” Ethan helped her into the buggy and then tended to Molly.

  He hopped in and flicked the reins. “I hope you won’t regret today’s decision.”

  “Me too. This is so different from what I’m used to. Of course in my time period prostitution isn’t legal. Anyone caught soliciting is jailed.”

  Birdie knew that Waco was the first town in Texas and the second in the United States to legalize the profession. The city fathers had done so in 1889 to better control the businesses. The madams and prostitutes were required to obtain an annual license and the girls had to undergo a physical exam twice a month.

  “If the girls are found outside the Reservation, they’re arrested for vagrancy,” said Ethan.

  “That’s odd. The city makes money off them and they’re tolerated as long as they stay where they belong.” If prostitution was legal, why couldn’t they move about freely? “Seems like a double standard.”

  “I expect you’re right, but that’s the way it is.”