“Take another,” offered James.
“Nope. One is enough.”
James motioned over his shoulder to where he and Lucy had talked. “Nasty business, that.”
“Should have my head examined for staying in that relationship so long.”
“Yep. Guess she wants to get married.”
“Not exactly, but she doesn’t understand why I want to end things.”
“Is it Miss Braxton?”
Tad glanced to where Birdie sat on the blanket. She’d danced a lot earlier and jealousy had gnawed at his insides. “No. I’d made up my mind before she arrived that we needed to go our separate ways. She’d become demanding and frankly, I was bored.”
“I know your mother wants you to get married. You about to make her a happy woman?”
“What?” Tad laughed. “What gives you that idea?”
James shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.” He nodded toward Birdie. “Thought maybe you’d met someone who could hold your attention for more than a year.”
Tad chuckled. “She’d sure do that, wouldn’t she? Course, we might come to blows.”
His friend threw back his head and guffawed. “Thought you already had.” He leaned in close. “How is that nose anyway?”
Tad reached up and gingerly touched it. “A mite sore.”
A commotion on the far side of the dance floor drew his gaze. It seemed a group of men were egging someone on, pushing him forward. Tad smiled. Guess they were helping him gather the courage to ask someone to dance. The cowboy finally rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and strode forward. He cut around the side and stopped in front of Birdie. He bowed and mumbled something. Tad wished he could hear. Birdie nodded and took the outstretched hand. They strolled to the dance floor and were lost in the crowd.
Tad walked over to growl at the boys dancing attendance on his sister. Never hurt to let them know he was on the job, and they were to watch their behavior. They parted as he approached. He scowled for effect and let his gaze roam around the group. “Hey, Bethany, how about a dance with your brother?”
She beamed. “Really?”
“Of course.”
She jumped up before he could help her and wrapped her arm through his. She turned to the group. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
They’d reached the dance floor when a scream of pain bounced back from the water. Tad’s heart jumped into his throat. He dropped Bethany’s arm. "Go back to Mother."
He ran, fearing Birdie was in trouble. Dancing couples stopped and moved back to the sidelines to reveal the trouble.
Birdie bent over a man lying face down in the sawdust. Knee on his spine, she had both of his arms twisted behind his back, his hands up almost over his head. Howls of pain erupted from the man as he spat out sawdust.
Birdie’s voice brooked no argument. “I want an apology, mister.”
Chapter Ten
“I’m…sor…sorry! Please…you’re breaking my arms.”
Birdie released his arms and stood. Moaning, the man worked to get his arms down to his side.
Detective Ethan reached Birdie before Tad did. Heart pounding in his chest, Tad watched as Ethan yanked the man up by his belt. A police officer on duty cuffed him.
“Wait a minute.” The drunken cowboy groused. “I apologized to the woman.”
“Shut up,” barked Ethan. “We’ll talk to you in a minute.”
Tad slipped his arm around Birdie’s waist and pulled her to his side. With his free hand, he cupped her face and tilted it up. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“Of course not. He’s soused. I doubt he could have hurt me sober.”
The two police officers moved them to the edge of the crowd. The band began a waltz and couples made their way to the dance floor all the time casting glances their way. Intent on the detective and his prisoner, Birdie didn’t see them. Tad moved to stand behind her to prevent their scrutiny and returned his attention to the prisoner.
Detective Ethan asked, “What’s your name, mister?”
“Jordan, Nathan Jordan.”
He turned to Birdie. “What happened here, ma’am?”
“He got fresh.”
“Fresh?” The two officers appeared perplexed. Tad was confused too. He’d never heard the expression.
“Yes, you know…” She leaned in and lowered her voice. He grabbed my butt and ground his…err…you know, against me.”
Tad lunged for the man. “You son of a—”
Ethan shoved between them. “This is police business, Lockhart. Behave or leave.”
Jordan snorted. “It’s not like she’s a prim and proper lady.” He smirked. “Showed her bloomers to anyone willing to look today.” He sneered at Tad. “Probably showed you a mite more than that.”
Red bloomed before Tad’s eyes. He fought his way to Jordan and would have made contact if Birdie hadn’t thrown her arms around his chest and pushed him back.
“Stop it, Tad. He’s not worth it.”
“He’s maligning your name.”
“I don’t care what he’s saying, Tad.”
“Well, I do.” He could just hear the old biddies in town gossiping now. It wasn’t fair. Birdie was unusual but she wasn’t a loose woman.
She hugged him and patted his back. “Look, I’m new here and different. It will take time for me to adjust and change to fit the mores of this time. Some people won’t give me a chance, but others, the ones who are important, will.”
He released his pent up breath and enfolded her in his arms. How could a woman with a figure like hers take down that cowboy? Her curves molded to his body, reminding him how well she'd fit against him when they danced, a fit he'd like to explore. He swallowed a guffaw. Lord, he'd probably find himself face down in the dust. Might be worth eating a little dirt.
She stepped back and smiled up at him. “Chill.”
Chill? What the heck did that mean?
At his confusion, she added, "It means relax."
“Miss Braxton, do you want to file a complaint?” asked Detective Ethan.
Tad glanced up to see the other officer escorting Jordan toward town.
“No. I think he learned his lesson.”
“All right then. We’re letting him spend the night in jail and think about his behavior.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
“No problem, Miss Braxton. Maybe you’ll show me that move sometime.”
“Be happy to, Lloyd.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” He tipped his hat and walked away. Before he could escort Birdie to his mother, Joseph Hellman’s wife descended on them. . He’d always liked her. She didn’t mince words, especially with the society ladies she and Mother socialized with.
“Miss Braxton!” the woman chirped as she reached for Birdie’s hands. “Why, it was priceless the way you handled that scoundrel. You must show me how you flipped him down.”
“I’d be pleased to Mrs. Hellman.” She turned to Tad. “Have you met Mr. Lockhart?”
“Of course I have. Go to church with his mama.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “We’ve missed you, young man.”
“Mrs. Hellman. It’s good to see you.”
“Harrumph. We’d see you more often if you’d come to church.”
“Ranching keeps a man tied to his homestead, ma’am.”
She arched an eyebrow and dropped her chin a notch. Surely she didn’t know about Lucy. Shoot fire, the woman knew just about everything.
He coughed and prayed his face wasn’t as red as it felt. If so, maybe she’d think his temper was out of sorts because of the drunken cowboy. “I promise to do better, ma’am.”
“See that you do and bring Miss Braxton. She’ll be like a breath of fresh air to the stuffy crowd around here.” She leaned in close to Birdie. “Now, some of the townswomen will look down on you for defending yourself tonight. Don’t fret over their opinions. They’ll come around in time.”
The band around Ted’s chest loosened a little. He hoped Mrs. Hellman was right. He so wanted folks to accept, Birdie. Hopefully, she’d tame some of her behavior too. Hitting him in the nose, playing baseball like a boy. Like Ethan, he was curious to learn how she’d gotten Jordan to the ground. A grin tickled his cheek. Durn woman was something else. Whoever married her wouldn’t have a dull moment in his life. The thought jolted him like a bolt of lightning and he sobered.
Let’s not go there, Tad.
But, he already had. He’d even announced it to Birdie this afternoon as they’d left the ball game. Of course, she’d not heard his words, or if she had, they must not have registered, or he’d have received a wicked tongue-lashing.
“You’re sweet to say so, Mrs. Hellman. I’m looking forward to our visit.”
“Oh good. Let’s make it next Wednesday, say ten o’clock, and stay for lunch.”
* * *
Olivia insisted they go to church the next morning before heading home. Birdie wore one of the dresses Olivia had bought her. The style required she wear a corset, and she rang for the maid to help her with the ties and buttons up the back. The pale blue pique dress hugged her waist and had an Eton jacket with white rollback lapel and leg-o-mutton sleeves. Not that she knew all the terms but Olivia and the sales clerk had explained them in detail. Supposedly they were the height of fashion. Maybe so, but they were uncomfortably tight; the restriction would drive her nuts. Hopefully church didn’t last long, and she could come out of this rig.
She twirled in front of the mirror and grinned. What would her fellow ranger, Ted Weaver say if he could her now? Probably bust a gut laughing. This outfit was quite a change from the red dress she’d worn on the sting operation. Her heart dropped into her stomach. What were the captain and others thinking about her back at the station? Did they believe she was dead? And Aunt Patty. She had no one to console her. Oh God! She’d lose Birdie’s Nest. Where would her aunt live? Tears stung her eyes and she fumbled around in her valise for one of those dang handkerchiefs Olivia insisted she carry at all times. How many more years until they started making tissues?
Birdie dabbed at her eyes and tucked the hanky in the sleeve of her dress. Tears wouldn’t help a thing. She had several years until Birdie’s Nest was built. Hopefully by then she could come up with a plan, one that would prevent the home from being snatched from Aunt Patty. Would she be able to raise enough money to build such a home? Never. Not unless she devised some kind of scheme to make money. She could marry a rich man. The idea gave her the shudders. No, she’d only marry for love.
Sighing, she plopped a flat straw hat decorated with a blue ribbon, some feathery plume looking thing, and a white paper flower, onto her head. Several long hatpins held the accessory in place. Most of her hair, twisted up on top of her head with a ton of pins, was hidden from view. White kid leather shoes and a frilly parasol completed the outfit. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Who was this woman? She didn’t resemble the Birdie Braxton she’d known for the past thirty years. The lady in the mirror was attractive, well dressed, obviously of the upper echelon of society. Birdie had never given much thought to society rankings. Her life revolved around truth, honesty, and the law. Suddenly, everything familiar to her was gone. Along with her life as a ranger, she’d lost her family, her identity, and her heritage. Could she move on, start anew and write a new chapter in her life? Did she have a choice? No, destiny had decided for her.
From past history, Birdie knew Waco had always been a church town. The big frame church with its balcony and domed ceiling would have been impressive even in the future. What a shame the building no longer remained. Typical of the Victorian era, the woodwork was dark, polished to a beautiful sheen. They stood at the entryway for a moment, their eyes adjusting to the darkened interior. Sunlight through stained glass windows cast prisms of colors into the room. Transoms above each one allowed a slight breeze to waft in, as did the open doorway. The chatter of voices echoed through the sanctuary. Tad ushered them forward. Talk diminished considerably as they filed to a pew near the front of the church.
Birdie kept her chin up, a smile pasted on her face. Some of the younger women smiled and nodded in greeting, while several of the matrons nodded to Bethany and Olivia, but ignored Birdie completely. She wouldn’t let it upset her, but worried Olivia would be distressed. From Olivia’s pinched lips and narrowed eyes, she wasn’t happy with her friends’ behavior.
As they sat, the chatter started back up, but slowly died down when organ music filled the room and the choir marched into the loft. The pastor stepped behind the podium, raised his hands, and everyone stood.
“Please close your eyes and bow your heads while we go to the Lord in prayer.” His prayer was short. Amens reverberated throughout the sanctuary.
“Welcome all. Our house is full today and we’re grateful. Let us introduce our guests.” He waved to someone at the back of the room. “Let’s start with you, John. You and your guest stand up.”
When Tad stood, bent to take her elbow, and pulled her to her feet, she almost croaked. “I’d like you to meet our house guest, Miss Birdie Braxton, a distant relative of my mother’s from East Texas. I hope everyone will help her feel welcome in our community.”
The pastor’s smile beamed across the space to her. Its warmth touched her physically. “Yes, indeed, welcome Miss Braxton. I hear you successfully defended your honor last night when that cowboy acted inappropriately.”
Gasps and titters could be heard around the sanctuary along with guffaws from some of the men. Okay, hear it comes. I’ll be the pariah of Waco and run out of town on a rail.
“I congratulate you.” He glanced down at his congregation. “More women in this community need to know how to defend themselves. You’d all do well to take heed of Miss Braxton’s example.”
A few of the younger women clapped while nodding at her. The mouths of some of the older ladies dropped open and then snapped shut as they rolled their eyes, and dipped their heads to converse with each other. Birdie could just imagine what they were saying.
Wow! The preacher actually paid her a compliment. Most likely the old biddies in the congregation thought him too young to be giving
them
advice and would be bending his ear before the day was over. She suspected him to be in his early thirties. Birdie sat, unable to grasp that he’d actually condoned what she’d done.
Tad put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. He whispered, “It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”