Free Birdie's Nest by Linda LaRoque

mare, already saddled, from a stall. She stopped beside her. “Molly’s a sweetheart, Birdie. I used to ride her all the time until Tad bought Blondie for me.”
    Blondie? What a modern name for this time period, but the animal did have a beautiful blond mane and tail. “Molly will be fine.” To be honest, Birdie wasn’t that experienced a rider so gentle was good. Old was good, too, as she wanted to take this relatively new experience slow. They were leading the horses from the barn when Detective Ethan and Mr. King rode into the yard. Both looked comfortable in the saddle. She supposed the buggy they’d arrived at the hospital in was for town transportation only. They dismounted and approached. Tad must have seen them coming up the road as he rode in not far behind them. He sat his horse like a natural, the epitome of what Birdie supposed a real cowboy should look. She snorted. What did she know about them anyway?
    Tad dismounted and shook hands with the men. They chatted and glanced in her direction before striding toward her.
    “Miss Braxton,” called General King.
    “General.”
    “Are you ready to demonstrate your shooting ability?”
    All right ! She wanted her star back. “I am.”
    “Good, good. Mr. Lockhart will guide us to a place where we can safely test your skill.”
    Detective Ethan joined them and handed her a package.
    “What’s this?”
    “Your holster. Picked it up yesterday.”
    Birdie ripped open the brown paper and fingered the soft leather. “It’s as good as new. Thank you, Detective. I’ll repay you as soon as I get some money.”
    “No need, Miss Braxton. It’s a get-well gift.”
    “Why…thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”
    Color rose in his face. “You’re welcome.”
    Tad coughed and covered his smirk. “Are we ready to go?”
    Birdie narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare. Impudent man. Detective Ethan’s gesture was sincere, and she appreciated having her holster back. And he wasn’t sweet on her, was he? She hoped not.
    She patted her pocket. “I have my Ruger, but I don’t plan to spend all my rounds. I don’t think .380s will be invented until around 1908.”
    General King’s mouth twisted as if biting his lip. “Well, I can’t say I blame you there.”
    She couldn’t resist a grin. “I will let each one of you fire a round though, as I know you’re curious as all get-out.”
    “Yes, indeed,” blurted Ethan.
    Tad shrugged. She’d forgotten he’d not seen her Ruger. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got work to do.”
    Bethany had hung back and watched the exchange, until now. “Can I come along, Tad?”
    He studied her a minute. “I guess so, but stay out of the way and be quiet.”
    They mounted their horses, and Tad led them east, away from the house, barns, and cattle. They rode past fields of maize, feed for their animals she supposed. Barbed wired kept them at bay. Occasionally, an oak tree stood among the crops spreading its shade under its branches. The terrain looked much like the fields in her time, but lacked all the modern additions—paved roads, tractors and other farm implements, and the so-called ranch houses.
    Tad turned north and led them toward a creek backed by a tall dirt bluff. Mesquite trees dotted the banks covered with grasses among the sandy soil. They dismounted downstream and tethered their horses where they could graze and drink yet be away from the gunfire.
    The men removed rifles from scabbards. Detective Ethan, out of uniform today, wore a gun belt as did General King. Birdie knew it wasn’t legal to wear guns openly on the streets of Waco, but many people concealed them in pockets.
    Tad lifted his from his saddlebag and strapped it on. He handed Birdie his rifle. “It’s loaded. Can you handle one of these?”
    Birdie examined the Winchester carbine and looked down the site. “Yes, I think so if I can have a few practice shots. Is this a 76 model?”
    Tad’s brows rose in question. “Yes. How’d you