Birdie's Nest Page 28

  Oh, Lordy I hope everything is all right. “You’re healthy aren’t you?”

  “Oh yes, healthy as a horse.” She leaned closer. “He said I’m almost five months along. Our baby should arrive in late December or early January.” Mattie burst into tears and threw her arms around Birdie. “I’m just so happy.”

  Birdie patted her friend’s back and let her cry. Sadie appeared with the tea tray, large grin stretching her face as she set the refreshments on the table. “She’s been that way since she got the news. ‘Spec she’s about the happiest person in the world…except for Mr. Hellman, that is. You should see him, Miss Birdie.” She sniffed and wiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. “He’s ’bout to bust his vest, so proud he is. Course, I guess Mr. Lockhart is pleased hisself.”

  “Yes, indeed he is, Sadie.”

  “Now you’ll have two babies. You a mighty fine woman to be a mama to that child.” She shook her head. “Nothing like a house full of babies.” She left the room mumbling. “About time this house had some little darlins’.”

  Mattie pulled back. “Isn’t she a mess? Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “She is indeed and you’re lucky she’ll be with you.”

  “Now, let’s eat and you tell me what brings you here today.” Mattie set about pouring tea. It wasn’t Birdie’s favorite beverage but it didn’t upset her stomach as coffee did. She picked up one of Sadie’s teacakes and took a bite letting the crumbs drop into her tea.

  “Mmm, these are delicious. I believe they’re better than the ones my Aunt Patty makes.” At the thought of her aunt not being around at the birth of her child, tears welled in her eyes. She missed the woman so much.

  Mattie set her teacup on the table and put an arm around Birdie’s shoulders and squeezed.

  “Did you hear that the construction crew quit because of me pretending to be Detective Jenkins?”

  “No, you don’t mean it.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Her cup and saucer rattled as she talked. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to get the house built in time and I don’t know how that will affect my future and Aunt Pattie’s past.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Birdie continued her trips to the construction site, each day hoping workers would be busy at work. The lack of progress week after week depressed her and with no job, she struggled to stay busy. She enjoyed taking care of Nathan and helping around the house, but she needed more, something to occupy her mind.

  Today, in late October, she’d dressed in a suit rather than a riding skirt and blouse, as she would visit the bank—the bank owned by Raymond Smith. After the incident at church a couple of months before, she and Tad had discussed changing banks, but Mr. Smith did apologize. It was obvious he’d not been happy about doing so. Most likely his wife had pushed him. The businessman had ridden out the Monday following the insulting episode. Since he’d made the effort, they decided to stay with his bank.

  The ranch hands would expect to be paid this afternoon so she’d withdraw the cash. Tad didn’t like her going alone, but she had her revolver and her Winchester under the seat of the surrey. If Tad sent a guard along, they’d draw attention. First she planned to visit the store to buy a few clothes to accommodate her pregnancy. Fastening her skirt this morning had been difficult. It had been altered twice already. Sarah enjoyed sewing, so Birdie gave in to her plea to help, but she needed to be doing it herself. Ha, like she knew how to sew. Olivia or Sarah would teach her. Birdie doubted she’d prove to be a good pupil but she’d try.

  Birdie pulled her cape around her against the cool wind. Tad said this winter would be colder than the last. Today she’d also purchase a warm coat. She flicked the reins and the horses broke into a slow walk. Tad had insisted she learn to drive the surrey. She wasn’t a quick study but had eventually gotten the hang of maneuvering the horses. On occasion, she rode Strawberry, but not often and not to town. She moved her left hand down and caressed her expanding belly. The baby kicked, reaffirming its existence. Birdie’s heart warmed and she patted the protruding appendage. “Mama knows you’re there sweet thing. I’m going to take good care of you.”

  They turned from River Road onto Bridge Street to cross the suspension bridge. The narrowness and the slight movement of the wooden planks under the horse’s iron shoes made her nervous, and she remained tense until she turned left on Second Street to maneuver around the square before turning right to continue up Austin Avenue. She had to admit, the clip clop of the horse’s hooves, on the hard packed earth, combined with those of the other horses was rather soothing. Folks called greetings to people they knew, but it was nothing like the blare of horns in the future. It was odd not to see the red lights and the city offices where the courthouse now stood. Sometime in the future it would burn and a new courthouse would be built on Washington Avenue.

  She pulled the horses to a stop in front of Goldstein & Migel Co. She remembered to set the brake before she left the carriage. Once she’d forgotten and the horses ended up on the boardwalk. Several men were kind enough to back them up for her. Evidently they didn’t know of her notorious stint as Detective Jenkins.

  Inside a matronly woman outfitted Birdie with four dresses, sleepwear, a petticoat and a navy blue coat that fit across her increasing waistline. The sales lady shook her head and sighed. “It’s not the prettiest thing, but it will keep you and your baby warm. Now, what about a corset for support?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not wearing a corset and cut off my baby’s oxygen supply. He needs it to grow healthy.” She’d also stopped wearing her leg holster, fearing it could reduce circulation in her leg and cause a blood clot or something. She didn’t know a lot about those things but did know her legs were swelling and that something too tight wasn’t good. Now she stored her revolver in a dress pocket and would transfer it to her coat pocket when outside.

  “Well, we have some that are very light weight and support your lower abdomen and back.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m determined. Now, how about some comfortable shoes to wear to church?”

  Birdie walked from the department store wearing the long coat and loaded down with paper wrapped packages. She stopped by the surrey and stored her purchases under the front seat. Before crossing the street to the bank, she waited for the mule drawn trolley to pass.

  Town was crowded today. Maybe folks were getting an early start on their Christmas shopping. Located on the corner with four curved steps leading to the beautiful carved wooden door, Birdie entered and stepped into the shorter of the two lines. The light color granite floor accented the black marble squares reaching half way up the wall. Above the marble, mahogany paneling reached to the ten-foot tin ceiling. They didn’t construct many businesses with such extravagant materials in the future. As she waited in line, the door to Mr. Smith’s office opened and he ushered his wife and daughter, Lauren, out. He looked up, saw Birdie and nodded.

  Something or someone in line caught Mr. Smith’s attention. He urged the two women toward the door. As they reached the exit, a man, dusty from travel, in dungarees, a well-worn black hat and a long coat entered and bumped into Lauren, separating her from her parents.

  Mr. Smith bristled. “Watch where you’re going, mister.” He reached for his daughter but the man stepped between them.

  The man tipped his hat to Lauren. “Beg your pardon, miss.” Before she could respond he spun her about, grabbed her around the neck and pointed a revolver at her head.

  Mrs. Smith screamed.

  Lauren sobbed, “Please…let me go.” She clawed at his arm. “I…can’t…breath.”

  “Shut up and be still. Then I’ll ease up a bit.” She dropped her hands to her sides and her struggles stopped. The crook must have let her have a bit more air.

  Birdie eased her hand into her coat pocket and touched the cold steel of the Colt. Come on, Lauren. Go limp. If you’d taken self-defense classes you’d know that.

  But, she hadn’t.

  Mr. Smith t
ook a step toward his daughter, but the robber waved the gun. “Get back or I’ll start shooting.” He gestured to Lucinda. “Lady, get over there in the corner.”

  “Please…let my daughter—”

  “Shut up! Get moving.”

  Mr. Smith gently pushed his wife. “Go on, dear.” Hand covering her mouth, she stifled her sobs and walked to the corner at the far end of the teller’s cage.

  He waved at the line of people gaping at him. “All of you. Get right over there.” He yelled at someone at the banker’s window. “Get to it Sam, and let’s get out of here.”

  Birdie peered around people to see the man with a gun pointed at the teller. He threw a bag on the counter. “Hurry up, man. Empty both tills.” He gestured at the second teller. “Get out here with the others. Make it fast.” The teller almost ran to do his bidding. The one emptying the cash drawers seemed to be relatively calm.

  The door opened, a man dressed in a three-piece suit entered with his hat pulled down to hide his eyes, and flipped the open sign to closed. He pointed his gun at Mr. Smith. “Escort me to the back and open the vault.” The vault was clearly visible through the bars so depositors could see how safe their money was. The brass six-foot wide, one-foot deep circular door with its round wheel crank looked like it belonged on a ship.

  Mr. Smith’s gaze moved from the vault to his customers cowering in groups. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  The man didn’t bat an eye. He aimed at an older bank customer and shot him in the chest. As the report shattered the quiet, screams echoed throughout the room. They watched in horror as the gunned down man hit the wall and slowly slid to the floor leaving a blood-streaked path. Several men rushed to help, but he was obviously dead. The women, weeping in fright, huddled together in a corner with the men surrounding them as the gun smoke slowly dissipated.

  Mr. Smith’s face was chalk white. “All right, mister, I get the message.” With a gun in his back, Raymond started walking to the vault located behind the teller’s cage.

  Birdie quickly assessed the situation, separated herself from the others and dropped to the floor. “Everybody get down.” They hesitated for a second, and then fell to the floor. The fancy dressed robber was the one to fear. The other two were merely his puppets. She’d have to put them out of commission before tackling the headman. And it would have to be fast because he’d be back in here at the first gunshot. It was days like this that made people wish Waco didn’t have a law against wearing a gun in town. Of course, some carried pocket pistols. Hopefully someone other than herself was carrying.

  The man stopped, studied her a minute and then scowled. “Smart thinking lady. I’d sure hate to have to shoot any more of these nice folks.” He shoved Mr. Smith in the back and they continued toward the vault.

  Sam, the robber at the teller’s window, busily stuffed money into a bag. The outlaw at the door kept checking outside to see if anyone had heard the shot and was coming to the rescue. Birdie made up her mind, drew her revolver and shot him first. Her bullet caught him in the right shoulder, disabling his gun arm. He dropped his pistol and howled, “I’m shot, Gabe! Help me. Oh, God, it hurts.” He released Lauren to use his left hand to staunch the bleeding. She ran to her mother.

  Gabe was already homing in on Birdie. She fell to her left side and fired. A bullet caught him in the chest and he dropped. She rushed to Gabe, took his pistol and shoved it over to the men. One grabbed it and checked the chamber. A young cowboy sprinted from the huddle and rushed to pick up the gun by the door. Before he could get all the way back, a shot rang out from the teller’s cage and caught him in the leg. He scrambled to get his feet to working. Mrs. Smith and a man, crouched low, ran to grab his arms and pulled him to safety.

  Birdie scooted closer to the huddle but kept herself five feet from the others. The two men with guns moved to either side of her.

  “All right you yahoos,” shouted the boss in the fancy duds, “I’m coming out with your banker in front of me. If you don’t want him or another one of you shot, you’ll toss your weapons into the middle of the floor—one at a time.”

  Birdie whispered. “Either one of those guns shoot .38s?” The cowboy nodded, released the chamber, reached over and poured six shells into her hand. She breathed a sigh of relief and filled her revolver with ammo.

  When she nodded, the middle-aged gentleman tossed his gun. It clanked against the granite floor. Before the cowboy’s pistol left his hand, the other man was scooting forward to retrieve his and hustled back. Then he tossed his gun again. Three clangs.

  “Now!” shouted the boss. “We’re coming out. Anyone make a move and I’ll shoot the banker and then you.”

  The outlaw by the door had been watching the proceedings. He hollered, “Hey, boss, it’s—” Before he could finish, the teller in the cage threw a glass paperweight and it caught the wounded robber square on the forehead. He went out like a light. The teller tossed Birdie a grin before he ducked out of sight.

  Mr. Smith appeared first. Red-faced, he looked ready to blow at any moment. Evidently the man wasn’t used to being ordered about or his having his business disrupted. He carried a large sack of money. His gaze caught hers. She covered her heart with her left hand, sagged, and then looked up and slightly tilted her head. Come on now, Mr. Smith, let’s see some good theatrics.” He nodded in response.

  The boss glanced at the two pistols in the middle of the floor. His jaw tightened. “You think I’m stupid, can’t count?” He waved his gun. “Guess I’ll just have to start shooting until I find it.”

  Suddenly Mr. Smith groaned, dropped the sack of money and clutched his chest. “Help…help me….” He fell back against the wall and pulled at his collar. “My heart…can’t breath.” He moaned and fell to the floor.

  His wife screamed, “Raymond, Oh God, somebody please help him.”

  The boss waved the gun, “Sit down woman, before I—”

  Birdie fired off three rounds, each hitting him square in the chest. At the same time the door was kicked open and police and sheriff’s deputies, guns drawn, filled the room. The sheriff also toted a double barrel shotgun. He glanced around the room, took a quick inventory and then issued orders for those hurt to be transported to the hospital.

  The two men flanking Birdie helped her to her feet. Mrs. Smith rushed over and gripped Birdie’s shoulders. “Are you all right, dear? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” Birdie’s ears rang from the shots. She could barely make out Lucinda’s words. The pungent smell of gunpowder hung in the air and on her clothes, stealing her breath.

  Birdie shook her head and placed both hands protectively on her baby. My God. I didn’t think once about my child, just flew headlong into this situation like it was only my life at stake. What was I thinking? What kind of mother am I going to be?

  “No, not the baby. Please tell me you’re not cramping or anything like that.” Lucinda turned and hollered, “Raymond, Raymond, get over here and help me take care of Mrs. Lockhart. Her child may be in danger.”

  The roar in her head grew and her vision dimmed. The last thing she remembered was Mrs. Smith trying to hold her up.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Birdie tried to sit up. “I am not going to the hospital.”

  Lucinda placed a hand on her chest and pushed Birdie back down. “Yes, you are dear. We insist.”

  “I just fainted.”

  “I know, but you need to get checked out to make sure you and the baby are fine. Raymond sent someone after Tad. So he’ll be there soon.”

  Birdie let her head drop. “Oh, God, he’ll never let me leave the house again.”

  The older woman patted her hand. “Now, don’t be thinking like that. He’s going to be so grateful you’re not hurt, he’ll forget all about your actions at the bank. Which I might say makes you a heroine.” She sniffed and wiped at a tear. “No telling what would have happened to our sweet daughter or Raymond if you hadn’t been so smart and skilled.”

  The ambulance st
arted up and Birdie began giggling hysterically. “If I’m not in labor a ride in this thing will sure bring it on.”

  Lucinda grinned. “It is a mite rough.” She yelled to the driver. “Slow this thing down. We’ve got an expecting mother back here.” Birdie was seeing a different side to Mrs. Smith today. She had more spunk and courage than Birdie realized.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry about the bumpy ride.”

  He slowed down and Birdie couldn’t tell which was worse, hitting the bumps and ruts slowly or fast. This ride was uncalled for. Someone could have driven her home in the surrey if they were worried. Of course, getting checked out with Dr. Floyd was the smart thing to do. “Thank you, Lucinda for taking care of me.”

  “It’s my pleasure, dear. After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do.”

  Birdie refrained from saying, “Whatever.”

  When they reached the hospital, two attendants met them and opened the door. Birdie sat up. “Okay, let me out of here. I can walk.”

  “Here we are, Mrs. Lockhart. Your carriage awaits.” Nurse Taylor stood to the side with the antiquated wheeled chair she’d used during her first stay here.

  “I really don’t need it, Nurse Taylor. I can walk just fine.”

  “You let the doctor make that decision after he examines you.”

  “Oh, all right.” Birdie felt ridiculous being made over so. She’d just had too much excitement this afternoon. That combined with her pregnancy and she’d fainted. No big deal.

  Nurse Taylor took Birdie’s arm and eased her into the chair. “Doctor Floyd will be here shortly. We called him as soon as we got Mrs. Smith’s call from the bank.” She turned to Lucinda. “Would you like to wait with her until her husband arrives?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Don’t you need to be with Lauren? She’s had a frightening experience today.”

  “She’ll be fine with her father. I rather think she’s enjoying the attention and the activity at the bank.”

  Imagine that. Birdie wouldn’t have thought the girl gutsy enough. She pictured Lauren boo-hooing and wanting her daddy’s constant attention. Lucinda followed them inside and up to the second floor to the corner room she’d occupied on her first visit.