Birdie's Nest (18 page)

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 face 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.”

They’d reached the river and sat gazing out. Sun glistened off the water as it traveled slowly by.

“Where will we work then?” Birdie couldn’t imagine them working outside where anyone passing by could see them.

“Somehow the doc will have to figure out a suitable place on the Reservation. Maybe one of the houses has a basement or a room could be cleared out. If not, the hospital might have an area.”

Birdie couldn’t imagine how the town folk would respond if they found out.

“But, more importantly, Birdie, I’m hoping you can help me with this case.”

Her heart thudded. “Me? Really?”

“Yes, you said you’d been trained in evidence collection. I’m afraid this incident is going to be repeated. I thought you might take a look at the crime scene and be to see some things we missed.”

“Has this been cleared with the chief of police?”

He nodded and held up a piece of paper and grinned. “I even talked him into putting you on the payroll.”

“You’re kidding.” She could use every penny.

“On the sly, of course. No one is to know about you working with us. If word gets out there would be uproar.” He chuckled. “The chief wants you to be in disguise to protect you as much as possible.”

Adrenaline pumped through her veins. “When can we start?”

“How about right now?”

Dr. Franks met them in the lobby and escorted them to his office. “Good to see you looking so well, Miss Braxton. I see life with the Lockharts is treating you well.”

“Yes, they’ve been very gracious. I should soon have enough money to move out on my own though.”

He waved at the chairs. “Have a seat.” He peered at Birdie over the tops of his glasses. “Has Detective Ethan filled you in on what’s going on?”

“Briefly. I want to be honest here, the Texas Rangers don’t handle a lot of assault cases.”

Ethan spoke up. “But you said—”

“Yes, I am trained to collect evidence and think I can help. I would like to talk to the patient and then visit the area where the crime took place.”

Dr. Franks stood. “This way.”

“First though, I’d like to know if you still have her clothing.”

“I’ll ask Nurse Taylor.”

“Do you have brown paper I can wrap them in so they won’t become cross contaminated?”

“Yes.” They followed him up to the second floor to the room at the end of the hall.

The doctor rapped on the door before entering. Nurse Taylor sat by the bed reading a book. “She’s been hysterical on occasion so we’ve watched her around the clock.”

Nurse Taylor stood and grasped Birdie’s hand. Birdie led her to a corner of the room. “Has she said much?”

“No, just cries and touches her face.” She glanced at the bed. “Poor dear. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Birdie drew a deep breath and forged forward. “Did you happen to keep her clothes?”

“Oh yes. They’re right here in the closet.”

“Have they been washed?”

“No, I’d planned to take them by the laundry this afternoon.”

Birdie squeezed her arm. “The doctor says you have brown paper. Can you wrap them up for me please? I’m going to sit and talk with her a minute.”

She approached the bed. Ethan stopped her. “Be careful. She’s fragile.”

“I understand. What’s her name?”

“Lila Sanders.”

Birdie pulled the chair close to the bed and took the woman’s hand and squeezed gently. She opened her eyes, fear tightening her features. “Who are you?”

“I’m Birdie Braxton. I’ve been teaching women and girls self-defense tactics.” She nodded to the other side of the bed. “Detective Ethan is here too. He wants me to ask you some questions in hopes you’ll remember something to help catch this person.”

Miss Sanders closed her eyes, shutting them out.

“Please, Lila. If he’s not caught he could do it again. Next time he might kill someone.”

“I told the detective everything I remember.”

“I know, but he thought talking to a woman would be easier. Would you like for him to leave the room?”

She nodded. Ethan handed Birdie a small tablet and a pencil and then left.

“Now, close your eyes and think. Were you able to see him at all?”

“No, it was too dark. All I saw was shadows.”

“What did you see in the shadows? Could you tell the shape of his hat? Or was he without one?”

“Yes, he wore a bowler.”

“Now, did he say anything to you?”

She covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed, “Called me terrible, vulgar things.”

“What about his voice, was it deep or higher pitched?”

“It was deep and scratchy like his throat was raw.”

Birdie jotted down a couple of notes in the pad. “Could you tell how tall he was, how strong? Did you struggle with him?”

“How can you ask me those things? Of course I struggled with him. Hit him with everything I had, and he just laughed.”

Birdie patted her hand. “I’m not questioning your courageousness. I just need to know if you possibly left marks on him that could be seen by others.”

“I screamed and scratched his face, but I don’t know how good cause he wore something like a scarf with nose and eyes cut out.” She pointed to her cheek just below her right eye. “Tore the mask and made him mad. He slapped me and knocked my head against the wood of the gazebo.”

“Oh that’s good to know. Let me see your nails.” They extended beyond the tips of her fingers about one-fourth of an inch, enough to break the skin. It appeared there might still be tissue, enough to collect. If only they had the means to examine it. “Good, can you guess how tall he was?”

“Not so tall, not much taller than me and I’m five feet, five inches tall.”

“Could you tell if he was thin or heavy?”

“He was thick, not fat, but stocky.”

“Very good. This will all help.” Birdie patted her hand. “What happened after you hit your head?”

Lila shuddered and sobbed. “He started hitting me. In the face, my body, everywhere until I blacked out.”

“Were you unconscious when he cut you?”

“Yes. I woke up in that tall grass. I didn’t know I’d been cut ’til I tried to get up and my face throbbed. Blood ran down my jaw, wetting my clothes.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, wetting the bandages. What Birdie wouldn’t give for a tissue to wipe them away.

“What were you doing outside?”

“It gets so smoky inside to where sometimes I can’t breathe. I just wanted some fresh air.”

“Did you see anyone else out? Someone who might have seen something?”

“No. It’s not uncommon for girls to stroll outside around the gazebo, but last night there was no one.”

“You’re a brave young woman, Lila. I need you to be brave a little while longer. I need to see your bruises.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean you want to look at my naked body?”

“Yes. I promise it won’t take but just a moment. Would you like for me to call Nurse Taylor back in?”

“No, let’s just get it over with.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

Birdie lifted the sheet and raised her gown. The poor girl’s body was almost a solid bruise but it was evident the perp had aimed for breasts, belly, and abdomen. Most likely her kidneys were bruised and she had fractured ribs. She pulled the gown down. “Can you roll over for me for just a moment?” Birdie moved to the side of the bed. “Hand me your far hand and let me pull you over.”