Wind Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

still in the air.
    She stood in the square of light that filtered from the sod window and quickly washed the dust off her face and hands. Feeling refreshed, she dried herself and walked toward the wagon. She felt in the dark for her valise and pulled out the hairbrush tucked inside. It took a bit of determination to work the bristles through the tangled curls.
    The horse nickered softly and pawed the ground. "It's all right, Rutabaga." Not wanting to keep her host and his son waiting any longer, she returned to the house.
    Mr. Tyler waited until she joined them at the table, then lowered his head and said the blessing. She glanced across at Matthew, who was watching her. She'd never seen a boy his age look so somber. She gave him a friendly smile and when it was not returned, she picked up the wooden-handled fork by her plate and took a taste of the steaming stew. The meat was tasty and tender.
    "This is wonderful," she said. "Chicken?"
    "Rabbit."
    Accustomed to the lively political debates that were such an important part of every meal back home, she attempted to engage both father and son in conversation. Her efforts to discuss current events garnered nothing more than grunt from the father and a curious stare from the son.
    She decided that Mr. Tyler might well be the only man in the States to pass up an opportunity to criticize President Grant. Certainly no such person existed in Washington City .
    Wondering what people in Kansas found to talk about, she made a few comments about the weather before giving up altogether and finishing her meal in silence. The rabbit stew provided hearty fare and she soon realized she couldn't possibly finish everything on her plate.
    "Why aren't you eating?" she asked Matthew. He'd hardly touched his food, nor had he spoken a word. Not only was he the most somber child she'd ever met, he was clearly the most silent. When he failed to reply, she leaned toward him. "You're about the same age as some of my students back home."
    "Matthew can't talk," Mr. Tyler said brusquely.
    She drew back, her hand on her chest. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is…is he deaf?"
    "He hears perfectly."
    Sensing her host's reluctance to talk about the matter, she resisted the urge to ask further questions. Instead, she explained how she had accepted a teaching post in Colton.
    "It seems like an odd thing for a woman to do. Travel all the way out here alone. Couldn't you get a teaching post in Washington ?"
    "I was asked to resign from my teaching post there."
    He pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "Why was that, Miss Percy?"
    She cleared her throat. "Some people thought that my…teaching methods were…too progressive." Actually, she'd been asked to leave her post for misconduct, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Besides, was it her fault that the day she took her students to the Senate building was the very same day that pompous senator from Rhode Island got up and gave that horrendous speech against the idea of women having the vote?
    After a half hour of listening to his shocking dissertation regarding women's lack of intelligence, she'd stood in the visitors chamber and, speaking out in her authoritative voice, told him exactly what she thought of him, his speech , and his ideas. Misconduct, indeed! She had done what any sensible person would have done under the circumstances.
    Mr. Tyler studied her from across the table. Never had she been so conscious of her cursed sun-dotted nose and unruly red hair as she was at that moment.
    Holding her gaze, he reached for the bottle of wine. "So why did you describe yourself as a respectable teacher if you were asked to leave your former post?"
    She wasn't usually one to blush, but now she felt her cheeks flare red. She was grateful that he was too busy pouring the wine to notice. "My teaching methods were open to debate, not my respectability." No matter what the newspapers said.
    He set the bottle down. "Since Colton no longer exists, it would appear that you're without