Whispers of Moonlight (41 page)

"In a house by the school," Clayton answered with a smile. Wyatt's was the typical reaction of children his age; they were taken with Jackie's looks. Older children who understood her loss of sight would be watchful, but not openly stare. Clayton looked forward to telling Jackie later how she had caught Wyatt Buchanan's attention. Since her blindness her confidence was a bit bruised; it came with not seeing anyone's face or having eye contact. Knowing that the little boy had stared so sweetly at her would touch her heart.

"Are you boys ready to go?" Travis asked, and Garrett immediately reminded him about the schoolhouse.

"I think we can go if we keep it quick," Travis told him.

The boys tore for the door, ignoring their father's warning to return and say good-bye to the Taggarts and not to run in the church. The look and sigh he threw at Clayton and Jackie told them his boys would hear from him in the wagon.

"They're sure taking their time," Lavena commented to Rebecca when she found her in the living room with a book. As had become a pattern, the
younger girl did not answer unless she was so inclined.

"Why didn't you go?"

Rebecca's eyes had been on the window, but she now turned to the housekeeper.

"I don't have anything to wear."

Lavena snorted as Rebecca knew she would.

"What do you call that lot in the wardrobe upstairs? I wish I had dresses half that nice."

"I don't have a reason to doll up, Lavena." Rebecca sounded tired, but her mind was made up. Indeed, when she'd seen Lucky yesterday for the first time since she'd come back, it had been very satisfying to see the surprise on his face. She knew she looked a hag and was glad of it. However, Lavena was not through.

"That's ridiculous," the older woman nearly spat. "Every woman should try to look her best."

Rebecca's look was telling. "I don't see you dressing up to attract men, Lavena."

"Of course not! I don't have a husband, and I don't want one."

"Well, maybe I feel the same way."

It was such a bald-faced admission that some of the fire went out of Lavena.

"Rebecca, child, you've already got one."

Rebecca's gaze went back out the window. "I'm more aware of that than anyone, Lavena. Besides, I would think you of all people would understand."

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca looked at her. "My father never went into detail, but he led me to believe that your own marriage wasn't exactly a picnic."

Lavena suddenly sat down in the chair across from Rebecca. She lived with them, but she was normally not so familiar.

"You don't know what you're saying, Rebecca."

"I think I do," she said with calm assurance.

"No," Lavena was shaking her head. "There's no comparing Travis to my Frank. Frank was as cruel a man as ever to walk the earth. If I didn't do what I was told, he'd slap me around. He took pleasure in my pain. One time he hit me so hard I didn't wake up for several days." Lavena's face was a mask of pain as she remembered. "In the last few years it wasn't so bad because he was so drunk most of the time he could barely stand. But we had nothing, no food and barely a roof over our heads. Winters were long and cold. He didn't want me to work, and he couldn't. It was a relief to find him dead one morning."

Rebecca had never suspected. Her face was white with her emotions.

"I tell you, Rebecca," Lavena finished softly, "Travis Buchanan is no Frank Larson. You don't know how good you have it, having a man who loves you and provides for you."

L
avena left the room after that. The hand that Rebecca brought to her face shook with suppressed emotions. How could she have known?
Lavena seemed so strong and self-sufficient, but clearly she'd been forced to be. In a way, she had been forced as well, but even at that, Rebecca reminded herself, she had left of her own volition. Her book was forgotten in her lap for many minutes.

"Why are we stopping? I don't see the school. Is it much farther? Can we go inside the school and
see the desks? Are the horses tired? Wait until we tell Mama what we did."

The boys' comments and questions went on for a few minutes, and Travis let them rattle away as they sat on the seat beside him. He had deliberately stopped the wagon a block before the school could be seen. There was no one else around, and Travis felt he'd done the right thing to take them away from the church before he spoke.

"Boys." He spoke the word softly, but his tone was firm. His sons both stopped instantly and looked at him.

"I called to you when you ran from the church to come back and tell Mr. and Mrs. Taggart good-bye. I also called to you about running in the church. I don't want you to run in the church. And when you meet someone, it's polite to say good-bye to them. Do you understand?"

Garrett nodded, but Wyatt looked confused.

"What's the matter, Wyatt?"

"I like to
run."

Travis smiled a little.
"I do too, but we can't run inside the church or we could bump into someone and they might get hurt."

"I did that one time," Garrett volunteered. "I ran down the stairs and fell."

"So you know just what I'm talking about. We're going to go see the
schoolhouse now, but I don't want you to forget that when I talk to you, you have to listen. If you hear my voice or your mother's, you stop and listen to what
we have to say. Understand?"

Again the heads bobbed, and Travis felt he had said enough. How much could they take in at one time? There was so much to be covered. Although Travis tried to concentrate on how well they were doing, it struck him once again that they still had so far to go.

34

"We went inside. We saw the desks. We saw chalk. Mr. Tagged came too, just for a minute."

"Mr. Tagged?" Rebecca turned to Travis.

"Taggart," Travis corrected for them. Rebecca turned back to her ecstatic boys; indeed, they were nearly climbing on her. Travis was again amazed at their excitement. Their little faces were alight with pleasure as they tried to tell their mother everything in one breath. Travis waited until they had wound down some, and then did some explaining of his own.

"Wash up for dinner now, boys," he told his sons before turning to Rebecca. "They asked on
the way to church if they could see the school. Then once we were there, they saw Clayton Taggart and they were more excited
than ever. Have they always been this eager to go to school?"

"Yes. For as long as I can remember. Especially Garrett. I hate to see them go, but I guess it's time."

"I don't think- " Travis began, but the boys returned and cut him off. However, Rebecca caught it. She frowned in her husband's direction as they sat down to
eat. Travis saw it and decided they would have to talk after lunch. The boys were not aware of this plan, though, and as soon as Travis prayed the subject of school came up again.

"Can
we go. Mama? Can we go to school?"

"I think that's a good idea," Rebecca began, careful not to look at her husband.

"Did you hear that, Wyatt?" Garrett began, but Travis cut him off, his eyes sending a clear message to his wife.

"Your mother and I need to discuss this first, Garrett."

"Why?" the little boy turned to his mother and whined. "Wyatt and I want to go to school."

"You'll go to school when your mother and I decide it's time."

"I think they can go now," Travis was amazed to hear Rebecca say. He looked down the table to find her staring at him defiantly. Travis felt the first kindling of anger. He had tried to keep this low key in front of the boys, but Rebecca was bound to have it out now. Travis was just irritated enough to oblige her.

"They can't go now."

"Says who?" Rebecca's voice was belligerent.

"I'd rather we discuss this later," Travis told her, seeing that they were only going to argue.

"No. It concerns the boys; they can hear."

Travis could have throttled her. She was deliberately baiting him and the boys, whose futures were at stake, were taking in every word. He took some slow, deliberate bites of his food and then spoke to the boys.

"So you boys want to go to school?"

"Yeah," they said as one.

"Do you think you're ready?"

"We're ready. We want to."

Travis flicked a glance at Rebecca. "And you think they're ready?"

Rebecca shrugged, still irritated. "I don't know what you mean by ready. They can't read, but that's what you go to school to learn."

"But you think they're ready in other ways? Like doing what they're told? Respecting other people's property? Sitting still for a reasonable length of time in order to do their lessons and learn?"

Rebecca's face flushed with anger. "They're only five, Travis. They'll learn those things along the way."

"I don't agree with you, Rebecca. By the time we're five we're supposed to have those things down." Travis' voice rose as well. "They couldn't even make it through a church service that was an hour long. How do you expect them to sit all day in a schoolroom, no matter how interested they
are?"

"What happened at church?" Rebecca was still angry, but Travis wasn't going to tell her himself. He turned to the boys, who had lost all excitement over school.

"Tell your mother, Wyatt and Garrett. Tell her how it went this morning."

The boys sat silent, their eyes on their plates. Travis let the silence hang for several seconds.

"This is what I'm talking about, Rebecca." Travis' voice was now calm. "If the boys won't do something as simple as talk when they're told to, how can we expect them to go up front and recite their lessons when the teacher asks them?"

Rebecca's face was a mask of frustration. "You must love being right, Travis. It must make you feel good to belittle me."

Travis could have howled in frustration—this was not about them—but instead he forced himself to remain calm.

"Pick up your plates, boys," he instructed them. "Now walk into the kitchen and finish eating in there. Tell Lavena that I sent you, and that if you eat all your food, you can be the first to have dessert."

The boys did this without question, and as soon as they were gone Travis speared his wife with his eyes, his voice low and intense.

"You've turned this into a competition between us, Rebecca, and it's not going to work. We're talking about the boys' future. We can't let our pride stand in the way. If you think I'm so wrong, then get another opinion. I didn't even talk to Clay about the boys attending. If you think they're ready, then take them to school tomorrow and ask him. He's the teacher."