American Dreams by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page B

they had found and dashed after her.
    When Will Gordon glanced in her direction, Eliza knew there was no escape. Hurriedly, she bent over and worked at lacing her shoes, hoping against hope that if she didn't acknowledge him, he wouldn't find it necessary to speak to her.
    She heard the chorus of young voices, all clamoring for his attention, but she was more concerned by the absence of hoof-beats. He had stopped. She refused to look up even though she could feel the blood rushing into her head, making her face feel hotter still.
    She laced her shoes so tight her feet felt strangled. Aware that she had spent more time at the task than was necessary, Eliza reluctantly sat up and looked directly at Will Gordon. Young Xandra sat in front of him in the saddle.
    "Do you not have lessons in the afternoon?"
    Although the question was directed at his youngest daughter, Eliza knew it was meant for her. With a sinking sensation, she realized that Will Gordon undoubtedly thought she was neglecting her duties—or worse, purposely shirking them.
    "When it is hot in the afternoons, Mr. Gordon, the school becomes quite stuffy. The children find it difficult to concentrate on their lessons."
    "Do you know how a cricket makes that chirping sound, Father?" Xandra tipped her head back to look at him, her face alight with excitement, exhibiting little of her usual reserve. "It rubs its legs together and makes them squeak, like a saw cutting wood. Miss Hall said so. She knows lots of things," Xandra insisted, then paused, turning shy at the discovery that others were listening.
    "When did she tell you this?"
    "This afternoon," Mary Murphy volunteered. "Kipp caught a cricket and he was going to tear its legs off. Miss Hall said he mustn't because they was his musical instrument—like a piano."
    "Were" the teacher reproved. "They were?
    "They were his musical instrument," Mary repeated obediently.
    Will cast a glance at Eliza Hall, prepared to concede that the afternoon might not have been all play. She had definitely succeeded in gaining his youngest daughter's attention. Will had long ago resigned himself to the fact that Xandra lacked the intelligence her older brother and sister possessed. He was convinced Xandra sensed this too, and rather than draw attention to her slowness, she had become shy and withdrawn.
    The buggy rolled forward a few inches, then stopped. "Shawano." Will turned to his guest. Out of deference to his old friend and neighbor, he spoke in Cherokee. "This is the tutor I hired, Miss Eliza Hall, from Massachusetts." He translated it into English for the teacher, adding, "Miss Hall, this is Shawano Stuart, a man who has been a good friend to my family for many years. He and his son will share supper with us this evening."
    "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stuart."
    "My son has spoken of you, Miss Eliza Hall," Shawano replied in stilted English, a familiar humor gleaming in the pale blue eyes that studied her. "He said your hair curled tight like the thin shavings of wood. My eyes tell me that this is so."
    Observing the look of dismay that flashed briefly over the teacher's face, Will suppressed the urge to smile. "Miss Hall plays the piano. Perhaps we can prevail upon her to entertain us with her music this evening."
    "I... would be delighted to play for you, Mr. Stuart," Eliza said, her heart sinking with dread. "Now I must ask you to excuse us. It is time for the children to resume their lessons."
    Will lowered Xandra to the ground. "We will see you at supper, Miss Hall."
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    A cane thumped the dining room floor beside Will as the elderly Shawano Stuart, crippled by a long-ago war wound, maneuvered himself onto a chair. Instinctively, Will moved to assist him, but The Blade was already at his father's side, holding the chair steady and discreetly offering a supporting arm.
    Looking at his friend's son, Will suddenly felt old. Tall and lean, but powerfully built, The Blade commanded