Birdie's Nest Read Free Page A

the men dressed as impeccably as Samuelson in period gray frock coats and striped trousers. The women’s costumes must have been tailor-made, as they were more elaborate than Birdie’s and complemented their expensive jewelry.
    “Miss Birdie Braxton, I’d like you to meet… ” Birdie listened with one ear, cataloguing the names away for future reference. She wasn’t interested in getting to know them, as she didn’t plan to see them again.
    “What an unusual name,” said the young woman in the red dress. Victorian women wore scarlet during the day? “How’d you come by it?”
    “Birdie is a family name.”
    “How quaint.” She turned to her friend and exchanged an amused glance. Birdie wasn’t exactly crazy about her name, but she carried the moniker proudly. How dare these rich snobs belittle it?
    Discussion turned to the building project. Birdie tuned out their chatter. She nodded and responded when appropriate and started to excuse herself, but froze at the older woman’s words.
    “Young lady, what a fine thing you’re doing selling your property to our corporation so we can build the resort.”
    All eyes regarded her. She waited for Samuelson to correct the woman. She’d made no commitment. He pretended he hadn’t heard and ignored her silent plea. Why, the man was trying to back her into a corner.
    “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, ma’am. I’m not selling Birdie’s Nest and never will. If Mr. Samuelson led you to believe otherwise, he misled you.”
    “Now, Miss Braxton, we’ve not had a chance to talk this evening. Don’t make a final decision yet. After all, you’ll lose your home to back taxes if you don’t take my offer. I think you’ll change your mind after I tell you how rich you’ll become.”
    “I’m not interested in your money. This is my family home, my heritage you want to tear down. I’ll find a way to pay the taxes. You can buy all the land around our five acres and build your resort, but Birdie’s Nest will remain in the very center. And, I believe city ordinances are in place that will control what you place within a certain distance of our home. I’m sure you’re up on those. If not, I’ll have my office direct you to the appropriate agency that can fill you in on the details.
    “In case Mr. Samuelson failed to inform you,” she added to the nearby investors, “I’m a Texas Ranger. Please don’t bother me or my aunt about this again.”
    Six individuals gaped at her. Red faced, murderous expression on his face, Samuelson stood, hands fisted. He’d try to choke the life from her if they were alone.
    She deposited her empty glass on a tray and started for the stairs. Her long skirt swished against her legs as she walked down the steps. She’d rather be below with the help than up there.
    For a short while, she stood and observed the paddle wheel turn, lifting and spilling water to propel them through the current. The odor of fish reached her nostrils. Birds dove for bugs, the resulting ripples forming a slowly disintegrating circle. Heat from the sun blazed down, and she was grateful for the parasol.
    The craft slowed as the captain turned the boat around to travel downstream. What had the river been like in the nineteenth century? Probably not as polluted as today. It would be exciting to visit other cities traveling by paddleboat. What a fascinating life that must have been in the old days.
    The suspension bridge loomed ahead. People milled about peering over the metal sides and dropping bites of bread to the ducks floating below. A small thundercloud formed over the span, threatening rain, casting a shadow below. She hoped it didn’t rain, not until she got home, anyway.
    Twirling the parasol, she walked to the middle of the boat, propped her elbows on the rail and stared out at the passing scenery. A warm sensation tingled against her chest. She glanced down and clasped the brooch. It was warm in her hand. Had it absorbed some of the sun’s heat? That