Birdie's Nest Page 7

  “Tad taught me how to load the shotgun and his rifle, but I’ve never fired one.”

  “Well, today’s your lucky day. Firing one is almost as important as knowing how to load one. You need to experience the recoil and be able to recover in case you need to fire again.” She placed a hand on Bethany’s shoulder and moved her to stand facing forward, then placed the gun in her hand. “Point the gun at what you plan to shoot. Try something closer than the cactus…the base of that tree stump just across the creek. Keep both eyes open when you pull the trigger.”

  Bethany hit the stump. She squealed and jumped around.

  Birdie took the weapon from the girl. “Whoa, watch where you point the gun.” She released the magazine, and ejected the sixth shell from the chamber. “You did real well, Bethany.”

  “Yes, you did, sis. I’m proud of you.” The girl beamed.

  “Let’s head back,” said King.

  “What? You said we were having a competition so I could get my star back.”

  “No need to waste good ammo. I can see you know how to handle a weapon. Still doesn’t prove to me you’re a Texas Ranger.”

  “But…you promised.”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t get your dander up. I need to discuss a few things first.” He turned to Tad. “Can we sit at your kitchen table for a spell?”

  “Of course.”

  Birdie stuffed her Ruger in her pocket and stomped toward Molly. Darn man wasn’t a ranger. He was a politician, and the word of a politician wasn’t to be trusted.

  Chapter Five

  His mother insisted the men stay for lunch. While putting away the horse, Tad delegated his duties to some of the men. He didn’t shirk his duties often but wanted to be on hand for what excuse General King would give Birdie about her ranger star. The woman wasn’t happy for sure. He’d just finished washing up and sat down when the serving dishes started making the rounds.

  Evidently the general and Ethan didn’t get many home cooked meals. They heaped their plates. He caught his mother’s eye. A smile tilted her lips, and she gave a small shake of her head. If it’d been him, she would’ve chided him. Of course he was the man of the house and could do what he pleased, but when it came to the table and the kitchen, his mother was boss.

  He had to commend Birdie’s patience. She didn’t interrupt their meal with questions or demands. His mother and Bethany kept the conversation neutral. To give the men credit, they listened politely to his sister’s prattle about the upcoming July 4th celebration. Truth be told, he looked forward to it also. They always spent several days in town at the Pacific Hotel, and this year would be no different. Well, except they’d have Birdie with them. He glanced her way. Did she enjoy dancing? Would she take part in the sack races and other games? She didn’t appear to be the type to sit in the shade fanning herself.

  General King wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it on the table. “That was a mighty fine meal, Mrs. Lockhart.”

  His mother beamed. “So glad you enjoyed it.” Her face flushed with pleasure, she pushed her chair back, rose from the table, and lifted her plate. “I hope you saved room for a slice of my pecan pie.”

  King groaned. “Ma’am, I’m stuffed, but I wouldn’t pass up pecan pie. It’s my favorite, one my dear late wife fixed for me often.”

  “Bethany. Help me, please.” Mother nodded to indicate the other plates on the table.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bethany got up and cleared the table

  Birdie stood. “Can I help?”

  “That’d be nice, dear. You can pour the coffee.”

  Tad waited until the door closed. “What do you think about Birdie’s story, General?”

  He stroked his beard. “Mighty odd, isn’t it? She can handle her weapons, but she could have learned that anywhere. It’s that little gun of hers that confuses me. Never seen anything like it.”

  Ethan added. “I’ve seen a lot of weapons in my time but never heard of .380 shot.”

  King pulled a gray hair from his beard and dropped it on the floor. It’s a good thing Mother was out of the room, as she’d not approve. Not that she’d say anything, but in his head he could see her lips pursing. Tad swallowed a chuckle. “Do you believe her story, that’s she’s from the future?”

  “Nope. Not possible.”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to think, but she believes it for a fact. I’ve seen a lot of liars in my day, and she’s not one.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the knock on the head…?”

  King drummed the table with his fingers. “Given any thought to what story you’re going to give to folks as to who Birdie is and why she’s staying in your home?”

  “Mother mentioned she thought there might be some Braxtons on her side of the family. Guess we’ll say she’s a distant relation who needed a home.”

  The door swung open and Birdie entered with a tray of coffee cups, Mother on her heels with the coffee pot. From the buffet, Mother poured the coffee while Birdie handed them around. Bethany entered with the pie.

  * * *

  All right. At last dinner was over and Birdie was alone with the men. Olivia had insisted Bethany help her with the dishes, but she’d told Birdie to stay put. Now was her chance. “Why can’t I have my star?”

  Before the general could answer, Tad stood. “Let’s take this discussion out on the porch where hopefully we’ll catch a breeze.”

  “Fine.” Birdie stood and marched toward the front door. Tad offered her a chair, but she crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’d prefer to stand.” Standing might give her some advantage.

  “Suit yourself.” All three men found rocking chairs.

  King stretched his long legs out, folded his hands across his belly and eyed her. He cocked an eyebrow. “All right, let’s hear it, Miss Braxton.”

  She took a deep breath to calm her frustration. “I don’t understand why I can’t have my star back. I worked hard for it.” A lump formed in her throat. “If I can’t get back to my time, it’s all I have left of my previous life.”

  Ethan squirmed in his seat, decidedly uncomfortable at her situation. If up to him, Birdie bet it’d be in her hand. But, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to King.

  “My dear, I understand your distress, but it just won’t do for you to have a Texas Ranger star. Only men commissioned as rangers by the state of Texas can carry them.”

  Heat exploded in her face. “First of all, General King, I’m not anyone’s dear. I’m a commissioned Texas Ranger. That star belongs to me. It’s not my fault I’ve been tossed back into this archaic time period where women are supposedly delicate and need to be set on a pedestal—called ‘my dear.’”

  Ethan and Lockhart gaped at her. She sniffed. Guess they were shocked at her tone of voice, but she wasn’t backing down. No doubt they didn’t believe her story about time travel either, but there was no other explanation for her appearance in 1890.

  “I assure you I meant no disrespect, my de... err… Miss Braxton.”

  “Well, in my time, being addressed as ‘my dear’ by a man who out ranks her is condescending.” She leaned back against the porch rail. “I worked hard for that star. I earned a degree from Texas University in criminal science. I went through the police academy in Austin and spent two years on the force in Waco before becoming a state trooper. The training was rigorous, and I handled it. One hundred-fifty individuals applied for the two ranger jobs open in 2010. I was one of the people chosen. ” She stuck her hand out. “Give me my star.”

  King didn’t move a muscle though his eyebrow rose and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “I assure you I have the utmost respect for your situation and understand your distress. I can’t say I believe you are from the future, as I don’t see time travel as possible. I believe in what I can see and hear. Though I don’t believe you are intentionally lying, I do not believe you are a Texas Ranger. You’d never be able to hold up to the hardships my men undergo.”

  She sputtered, “You don’t know that.
Test me. Put me in a regiment and see how I handle it.”

  “My men won’t let a woman ride with them.” He shook his head. “I can’t in good conscience return the star.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. I will not cry, and I will not screech like a weak woman. She took several deep breaths and turned to Detective Ethan. “I’ll be in tomorrow to file a complaint against General King… for theft of my personal property.”

  The detective choked. He must have swallowed a mouthful of smoke. Tad arched an eyebrow at her. She cocked one back at him. If he thought she was running in for a glass of water, he had another thought coming. He slapped the arm of the chair, stood, and left the porch. He returned a minute later with a glass and pitcher of water. Ethan nodded his thanks and sipped at the beverage. King observed the proceedings with an unruffled smile.

  Finding his voice, Ethan croaked out. “Miss Braxton, you can file a complaint, but it won’t do any good. When it comes to Texas Ranger business, General King is the law.”

  * * *

  Tad had to give it to Birdie. She didn’t cry, beg, or try to cajole. Just propped her hands on her hips and asked, “Is that your final answer, General?”

  “Yes, Miss Braxton. I’m sorry, but it is. I promise it will be in safe keeping with the Waco Police Department.”

  She squared her shoulders and muttered, “Fine.” Then she swept past them and through the front door. The general jumped when the screen door slammed. The man probably knew today’s discussion wouldn’t be the end of the debate.

  The two men didn’t stay long after Birdie’s departure. Tad strolled inside to find her pacing in the parlor. At the sight of him, she threw up her hands. “I have got to find something to do. I’m not used to housework. I need to use my mind or do something constructive.”

  She’d said she had a college education. Would she be able to keep the ranch books for him? He’d much prefer working with the animals than sitting behind the desk doing figures. “How good are you at arithmetic?”

  She stopped pacing and waited, hope lightening her expression. “Very good. Why?”

  “I could use help with the ranch books. How does a dollar a day with room and board sound?” That’s about what he paid his ranch hands, and if she did a good job it’d be worth every penny.

  “Why, it sounds perfect. When can I get started?”

  Tad was surprised at his sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he dreaded the work. “How about right now? I’ve already wasted most of the day. I might as well use the remainder of it getting you settled.”

  “Lead on, sir.”

  His office lay behind the parlor and was usually closed off. He’d threatened to fire Maybelle if she moved one item in the stacks on his desk while dusting. She did her best to dust around the piles. To keep papers from blowing around the room, he stacked a horseshoe on top of each heap.

  Birdie halted just inside the door and took in the scene. He had to admit, it was a mess. He’d not posted entries in the books, paid bills, or filed receipts for a month now. Thank goodness their creditors were accommodating.

  She grinned. “You don’t much like book work, do you?”

  “I hate it.”

  She lifted a bill off the bottom of one stack, read it, and then waved it in his face. “You haven’t paid the grocers in over a month?”

  He caught it and placed it back in the stack. “That’s why I’m hiring you.” He pulled open a drawer and lifted out the checkbook and ledger. “You pay the bills, and I’ll sign the checks. Record the amount, date, and payee in the receipt area.”

  “I know what to do.” She lifted one the ink pens from the ink well and studied it a moment before putting it back. “I think if it’s okay with you, I’ll work in pencil until I get the hang of using a quill pen. I’m used to ballpoints where the ink flows automatically. When the ink runs out you throw it away and buy a new one.”

  “That is wasteful. These pens do have metal nibs and are much easier to use than the old quills.”

  She snorted. “Maybe for you.”

  He remembered how hard it had been for him to learn to use a pen in school. He’d had ink everywhere until he’d gained confidence and skill. “If you want, I could pick up one of the new Waterman pens at the store next time I’m in town.”

  “No, let’s see how I do first. Anyway, on the books I can use pencil for a while but will want to come back later and go over the figures with ink. Of course, the checks have to be in ink.”

  He watched as Birdie sat and rifled through the desk drawer setting two pencils and a penknife out. She set them aside and started going through one pile, organizing the items to suit her. It appeared she had a plan so he’d leave her to work.

  “Mother will know where I am if you need anything.”

  Without looking up, she called, “Okay, thanks.”

  By dinnertime, Birdie had Tad’s desk organized, had recorded the invoices in their proper column and tomorrow would pay bills. She’d played around with the pen and managed to scratch out a legible scrawl without too many smudges, but her fingers were covered with ink. She glanced down to make sure she’d not ruined her blouse. Whew! Spotless.

  Tomorrow, she’d practice a little more before getting down to business. She stretched and, hands linked behind her head, leaned back in the chair. Contentment filled her. She’d found a purpose, a way to earn her keep until she came up with a permanent plan. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be law enforcement, as people in this time period wouldn’t accept a woman as a police officer. Hopefully she’d at least be able to use her investigative skills. Her goal required some thought. She closed her eyes. Yes, she’d think of something.

  * * *

  Tad strode into his office and stopped at the sight of Birdie leaned back in his chair. Arms behind her head, the fabric of her blouse stretched taut across her breasts, fine looking breasts he might add. He’d not given them particular notice before but with them pointed almost to the ceiling, they were hard to miss. My, my, she was a tempting sight. His body hardened with appreciation, and he diverted his gaze to the desk. If Birdie caught him eyeing her attributes, she might pull that little gun on him. He chuckled.

  Her eyes flew open, and she dropped her arms. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He walked around the desk to look over her shoulder. “Caught you taking a nap, didn’t I?”

  She snorted. “Not hardly. Just closing my eyes for a minute.”

  He surveyed the neat desk, the piles of invoices in tidy stacks. “You got a lot done this afternoon.”

  “Yep, have all these invoices recorded and will pay bills in the morning.” She flipped the ledger closed and shoved the chair back to stand. She held her hands out to him. “How long does it take this ink to wear off?”

  “A couple of days unless you want to strip your skin off with some of Mother’s lye soap.”

  Her blue eyes lit with humor. Pink lips twitched into a smile revealing a beautiful set of white teeth. The ripeness of her kissable lips didn’t go unnoticed. He straightened. What was wrong with him? He darn sure wasn’t in the market for a woman and if he showed the slightest interest toward Birdie, Mother would have them married before he could come up with an excuse.

  “I think I’ll let it wear off on its own.” She lifted her arms over her head and twisted from side-to-side. Tad watched, mesmerized. When she noticed the direction of his gaze, her hands dropped to her side like rocks. “I need a walk to stretch my legs. Sitting this long is tiring.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed, I stiffen up like an old man. If you don’t mind, I’ll join you.”

  “Sure.” She strode to the door and waited for him. “Where to?”

  “How about to the stables, so I can check on the horses. By the time we get back it’ll be time to freshen up for supper.”

  Birdie didn’t mince along at a slow pace. Her strides were long and fast. He didn’t know if she wanted to get their walk over as quickly
as possible or what. Should he be offended? He glanced at her to check her expression. Head slightly raised, she appeared to be breathing in the fresh air. Her expression wasn’t pained but one of pure enjoyment. Mother would be complaining about the heat. Bethany wouldn’t, but she was still a kid in most ways.

  “About how far would you say it is from the house to the barns?”

  “A mile, give or take. Why do you ask?”

  “I usually run five miles three or four times a week to stay in shape. I sure don’t want to run up and down this same path all the time. Can you think of somewhere else with pretty level ground where I could run?”

  Good Lord-a-mercy! Run to stay in shape? Her figure looked pretty dang good to him. He didn’t know any men who had to work to stay in shape. Their jobs kept them that way. “Why on earth would you do something like that?” Heck, he doubted the exercise was good for her womanly parts, but no way in thunder would he say so to her.

  “In my line of work, it’s required. I can’t let a perpetrator outrun me. I may have to tackle him to the ground, overpower him, and cuff him.”

  “A perpetrator?”

  “Yeah, you know—a criminal.”

  “Oh.” Tad just couldn’t imagine her doing such a thing. On second thought, he could see it, skirts flying, drawers exposed as she wrestled a big old brute to the ground to cuff. At his loud guffaw, she stopped in her tracks and shot him a steely glare.

  “I can see you don’t believe I’m capable of overpowering a man.”

  He struggled to contain his laughter, as he looked her up and down. He finally managed to answer. “It is hard to picture, even with you wearing your riding skirt.”

  She stuck her chin out and marched ahead. “I guess I’ll have to show you sometime.”

  He hustled to catch up. “Ah now, don’t be mad. You have to admit, it’s not something I’m used to seeing.”

  “Uh-huh. By the way, I want to buy a few things. Do you think I could have an advance on my pay?”

  “Put whatever you need on our account.”

  “If I do that, I’ll pay you back on payday.”