Birdie's Nest Read online

  Maybelle smiled at Bethany’s enthusiasm and Olivia nodded her approval. Birdie wondered how long Bethany would remain committed to entertaining her nephew. Hopefully until she married and had a family of her own. Not having brothers or sisters, Birdie had missed out on the joys of nieces and nephews. Now she’d have a second chance. “You’re a wonderful aunt, Bethany. He loves you dearly.”

  The young woman beamed. “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Yes, he’s one lucky child to be surrounded with so much love.” Too bad the community hadn’t accepted him as readily. It was their loss.

  Today was August 1, 1891. She’d been here two months over a year and had a year and a half left in which to build Birdie’s Nest. Sometime today she needed to see the architect she’d hired to draw the plans from the crude drawings she’d made. Not that she had the money to start building, but hopefully soon she’d have enough to at least clear the land and start the foundation.

  Birdie wore a light gray riding habit with a white blouse and green and maroon striped tie. While standing, she appeared to be wearing a nice suit, but the full divided skirt allowed her to ride astride. Her matching hat held a few green and maroon blooms for accent. Oh, what she’d give to be able to wear a pantsuit with plenty of Lycra.

  She lifted the amethyst brooch from the box on the chest and held it up to the lapel of her jacket. The stone sparkled, catching the green and maroon of her hat. Should she wear it today? She’d never so much as pinned it on because every time she brought it out, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Why, she didn’t know for sure but suspected she was afraid to wear it. Could it have had something to do with her time travel? She shivered and set it back in its box. As beautiful as it was, she couldn’t take a chance. Her life was here now. If Tad asked why she never wore it, she’d tell him the truth about her apprehension.

  Tad met her in the barn with Strawberry saddled, Birdie’s Winchester in the scabbard and an extra pistol in the saddlebag. Her Colt was strapped to her thigh but Tad insisted she carry an extra revolver and ammo. “You be careful now.”

  “I always am.” She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. He walked her around behind Strawberry and allowed his hands to roam from her waist up to cup her breasts.

  “Is it my imagination, or are you filling out up here?” He unbuttoned her jacket and continued his study.

  “Stop that. You’re wrinkling my clothes.”

  He grinned. “Come on, love, answer me.”

  “Well, I have noticed my bodices are tighter.”

  “Have you been sick in the mornings?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Do you think we might be having a baby, love?” His expression of hope left a fluttery sensation in her stomach. She thought back trying to remember the date of her last menstrual cycle. It was the first week in May. She didn’t worry about it, as she’d never been regular. But, she’d never missed three months either.

  “I’d not really thought about until now, but yeah, we might.”

  He lifted her off her feet and twirled her around. The horses stomped and whinnied in distress.

  “Stop it. You’re upsetting the horses. Anyway, we don’t know for sure.”

  He set her on the ground and lifted her chin. “If you have time, check in with Doctor Floyd. He’s on Twelfth Street and Austin.” He pulled her close again. “Maybe you should let me take you to town in the surrey.”

  She pushed him away. “Now, you listen here, mister. If I’m pregnant, I’ll take precautions, but having a baby doesn’t mean I’m sick or disabled in anyway. You can’t hold me in a gilded cage, Tad. I’m an energetic woman and I’ll not be treated like an invalid.”

  He took Strawberry’s bridle and led her from the barn. “Hmm, well, we’ll see, madam.” He tweaked her nose. “If you’re not home by seven tonight, I’ll send out the posse.”

  She snorted as she mounted her horse. “You do that.” As she reached the road leading to town, she looked back. He stood there grinning like a jackass and waved.

  * * *

  Birdie nodded to Detective Ethan as he testified on the witness stand. Jonathon Douglas, the district attorney, led him through every piece of evidence—the wool fibers, the hair, the torn edge of the receipt—which had been the smoking gun—they’d found in Samuelson’s suit pocket. Added to that was the Fougere Royal cologne. Mr. Douglas called several other officers to the stand and also the shop owner who carried the expensive cologne. Defense attorney Tyler Johnson attempted to trip up the witnesses on cross-examination, but was unsuccessful. It was one o’clock when he finished badgering the shop owner. The DA still hadn’t called the two victims in the case. Birdie glanced around the room and didn’t see them. She assumed they were being held in a private room.

  Judge Tyler pounded the gavel on the sound block. “Mr. Douglas and Mr. Johnson, I suggest we postpone calling the two victims until first thing in the morning. Is that agreeable?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Good. Then court is adjourned until eight thirty in the morning.”

  Detective Ethan walked her out of the courthouse. “Do you have time for lunch?”

  “Sure, as long as it’s a short one. I have several other stops to make today before heading home. Tad has threatened to come looking for me if I’m not home by seven.”

  “I can’t blame him in the least.”

  After a quick lunch at a café on the square, the detective walked her to the livery stable to pick up Strawberry. An hour later she left Dr. Floyd’s office in a state of shock. She was pregnant. Her baby would be born sometime in the middle of February, a little more than a year since Nathan’s birth. The doctor assured her all was as it should be, though what they knew about a woman’s health in the nineteenth century she didn’t have a clue. But, she did know being active helped with labor and delivery and she’d always been the picture of health. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction. She couldn’t wait to share the news with Tad.

  In her state of distraction, she almost forgot to stop by the architect’s office. Mr. Teague had her plans ready. They spent an hour going over them. She asked for several changes. Yes, they were different from her original home but would allow for modernization to be much easier. They left space in the ceilings for air conditioner ducts, space in the walls for insulation, added three small bathrooms and a larger one by the master suite, and she insisted it be wired for electricity even though it might be several years before it would be available to them.

  Mr. Teague shook his head. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Lockhart, but the expense is adding up.”

  “I understand. And if the money is not there to add the bathroom fixtures and indoor running water, the space and plumbing will be there for later.”

  “Do you know when you’ll have the funds to begin?”

  “I have enough for clearing the land and beginning the foundation. Will that be satisfactory?”

  “Yes, that will get us started.”

  She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Teague. I’m so pleased with the plans. You’ve done an excellent job.”

  He beamed. “My pleasure, ma’am. I’ll have a copy of the adjusted plans next week if you want to stop by.”

  * * *

  Tad found excuses to stay close to the barn after lunch in case Birdie came home early. His attention wandered to the road from town more than it should have. Suddenly, there she was, flying down the road. She pulled Strawberry to a stop just outside the barn. Before he could help her down, she’d swung herself from the saddle and threw herself into his arms.

  “Congratulations, my love. You’re going to be a papa again!”

  He caught her to his chest. “Birdie, you’re sure?”

  “Well, Dr. Floyd said so. How much surer can I get?”

  Words escaped him. He tried to talk but a roaring in his ears drowned out his words. The ground was suspiciously moving around him.

  “He
y, don’t you faint on me, mister.” She pulled Strawberry close and propped him up against her.

  “Me…faint? Never.” But his knees threatened to buckle and he grabbed the saddle horn to steady himself.

  “Take some deep breaths. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

  He was already feeling better. “I did not almost faint.” With his free hand, he cupped her face. “Are you pleased, Birdie?”

  She turned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss there. “I’m ecstatic, husband.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tad insisted she learn to handle the surrey and until she did he’d be driving her into town. She’d humor him and then do what she wanted. He slid in beside her at the courthouse. Fortunately they’d arrived early enough to get a good seat. Detective Ethan nodded as they settled in their seats.

  The DA stood. “Your honor, I’d like to offer into evidence several items, all of which were found in Mr. Samuelson’s home.”

  “Proceed, Mr. Douglas.”

  The DA raised each item as he set them on the table. “This is a bottle of cologne, a package of Duke of Durham cigarettes, a knife with blood evidence on it, a gray wool suit with a button missing and a receipt from an exclusive men’s shop in town.” He allowed the jurors to get a good look before he laid them down.

  “Now, I wish to introduce items found at the crime scene and show you their relationship to the articles presented earlier.”

  He carefully opened the bags they’d taken such care in keeping contamination free. With a pair of tweezers he lifted the cigarette butt out and carried it to where the jurors could see the connection. When he came to the small scrap of paper they’d found, he held it to the corner of the receipt found in Samuelson’s suit pocket. Jurors leaned forward to get a close look. “I think you can all see the two pieces are a perfect match.” Some nodded in agreement, others didn’t alter their expressions of reservation. He put each item back in its bag.

  “Now, your honor, I’d like to call Lila Sanders to the witness stand.”

  A bailiff opened the door and Lila, wearing a hooded cloak, walked haltingly through the group of gaping people in the courtroom. One man said quite clearly, “Whore,” with an ugly sneer on his face. Lila stopped midway along the aisle, as if frozen in indecision.

  Another male voice barked out, “Slut!” in a threatening tone. “You got what you deserved.”

  Birdie’s heart jumped into her throat. No, don’t back out now, Lila.

  Judge Tyler hit the sound box once and the crack! resounded around the room. Lila appeared to take a steading breath and continued forward.

  The judge turned to the bailiff, standing to his side. “Did you see who made those remarks?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Escort them from the courtroom immediately.” The bailiff dragged a resisting man from a bench and hustled him toward the door. The other fella, face flaming, stood on his own and walked out.

  The judge peered over his glasses at those present. “You will keep your remarks to yourself. This is my courtroom and when I say no talking, I’ll enforce my mandate to the letter. If you want to get kicked out of here, just open your mouth.”

  Lila entered the witness box and was sworn in. The judge studied her intently. “Miss Sanders, I apologize for the uncouth behavior of those two men.” She turned to him and nodded. “Now, I need you to do two things for me—speak a little louder, and please lower your hood. It’s important that the jurors be able to see you when you testify.”

  She lowered the hood. The scars on her cheeks had healed but left large, ugly welts. Muscle had been damaged on one side, making her mouth slant downward. Big tears rolled down her face and Birdie could see by the movement of her shoulders she struggled not to sob out loud. Women in the courtroom gasped and at the sound of the gavel striking again, covered their mouths to stifle their cries. The men shook their heads or looked away.

  Birdie glanced at John Samuelson to watch his reaction. He didn’t look up, just doodled on a pad of paper.

  “All right then,” said Judge Tyler. “You may begin, Mr. Douglas.”

  He approached the witness box and stood to the side so as not to block anyone’s view, but at his close presence, Lila sat a little straighter. “Miss Sanders, will you relate the events as they occurred on the night of February 3, 1891.” She told how she was grabbed from behind, beaten and then while unconscious, slashed across her face.

  “Were you able to see the man’s face?”

  “No, sir. He wore a mask.”

  “What do you remember most about him?”

  “His height, that he wore a bowler hat and the smelly cologne he wore.”

  Mr. Douglas produced a bottle and using one of the cards provided by the store, touched it to the opened bottle. He waved it in the air before handing it to Lila. “Is this the scent?”

  She held it to her nose, shuddered and quickly thrust it away. “Yes!”

  The sample was passed to the judge. He took a whiff. “Nasty stuff.” Samuelson’s ears reddened at the judge’s remark. Judge Tyler t turned to Lila. “Are you positive this is the right cologne?”

  Lily raised her chin. “Yes, sir. One hundred percent sure.”

  Judge Tyler nodded and then waved for the DA to continue.

  “I might add, judge, the bottle here came from John Samuelson’s home.”

  “Get on with it, Douglas.”

  “Did he say anything to you, Miss Sanders?”

  “Yes. He called me a bitch, whore and a child of Satan.”

  “Were you conscience when he cut your face?”

  “No, sir. He hit me all over my body and face. My head hit something and when I woke up he was gone. It was then I realized my face was bleeding bad.” Lila visibly trembled. Birdie wanted to do something to ease her distress but stayed seated.

  Mr. Douglas patted her hand. “You’ve done very well, Miss Sanders. Thank you for being brave enough to face the courtroom and bear witness against the accused.”

  Judge Tyler cleared his throat. “Mr. Johnson, would you like to question the witness?”

  The pompous man rose and tugged on his vest as he strutted forward. “Yes, indeed I would, judge.” He leaned on the witness box. “Now, Miss Sanders, why should we believe anything you say?”

  For a minute Birdie thought Lila would crumble. But her expression hardened and she glared at him. “Look at my face, Mr. Johnson. Do you think this is makeup I’m wearing? Do you think I’d expose myself to the ridicule of the community for a lie?”

  “Well now, how do we know it wasn’t a purchaser of your… unseemly commodities who did this to you and you’re just trying to blame it on this good man?”

  “If I’d been treated like this in the house, Madam would’ve seen to it that he didn’t rough up another one of her girls. She takes care of her own.”

  “Are you saying he’d have been murdered?”

  “No, I’m just saying he wouldn’t be able to frequent our neighborhood again…if you know what I mean.”

  Face pale, he said, “No more questions, your honor.” He walked back to his table, looked at Samuelson for a moment and then at his notes before sitting down.

  The DA rose. “The defense calls Miss Rose Means to the stand.”

  After escorting Lila out of the courtroom, the bailiff returned with Rose. Her body shook so, he took her elbow to help her make the short walk down the aisle. Mr. Douglas met her and patted her hand reassuringly as he led her to the witness box. The bailiff swore her in.

  “Now, Miss Means, would you describe the events of February 17, 1891?”

  Rose raised her head so all could see her scars. Fortunately they weren’t as bad as Lila’s as muscle and nerves hadn’t been severed. She spoke clearly as if supported by an unseen force. Pride in the girl swelled Birdie’s heart.

  The DA turned to the jury. “You can see her facial scars, but Miss Means has other scars, ones you can not see.” He turned back to Rose. “I hate
to ask, but the jury needs to know. Please describe the hidden scars.”

  Rose took a deep breath. “He cut me across the top of my breasts and down to my pelvis.” With her hand she mimicked the direction the knife had taken.

  One of the ladies in the courtroom fell into the aisle in a dead faint. Doctor Franks rushed forward with smelling salts. A few minutes later her husband and the doctor helped her from the room.

  “Carry on, Mr. Douglas,” ordered the judge.

  “Your honor, with your permission, we’re going to conduct a smelling experiment to further solidify the importance of the fragrance in this case against Mr. Samuelson.”

  Mr. Johnson rose. “I object, your honor.”

  “On what grounds, counselor?”

  “The district attorney is resorting to theatrics.”

  “Overruled, counselor. You may proceed, Mr. Douglas.”

  Mr. Douglas moved a folding screen to separate the table he’d moved perpendicular to the judge’s bench and the witness stand. He lined up bottles of all the colognes they’d presented to the two ladies before they found the Fougere Royal. “I’d like for one of the ladies in the courtroom to come up and help.” He gazed around the room. “Do I have a volunteer?” Several hands went up. “You ma’am, at the very back with the green hat.”

  She stood and walked forward. “Thank you, Mrs...? ”

  “Hoover, Lydia Hoover.”

  “Mrs. Hoover, do you know Mr. Samuelson?”

  “Yes. Mr. Hoover and I attend the same church as the Samuelsons. Is that a problem?”

  “No, not at all. Are you related to anyone on the police department?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What does Mr. Hoover do for a living?”

  “He’s a journalist.” She nodded toward a gentleman on the second row. He raised a hand in greeting.

  “One last question. Have you ever met me before?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “So, it’s safe to say you and I have not collaborated on this experiment prior to today.”

  Her jaw dropped, her expression indignant. “Of course not!”

  “Fine then.” He took her elbow and led her to the table. “If you’ll change these bottles into a different order and then one at a time, dab a little sample of each on one of these cards. Use this pencil to number each one. Don’t open another bottle until the witness has had a chance to smell the first one. Do you understand?”