“Miss Honeywell.” Like a shot from nowhere came the voice of Mr. Hudson.
Angelia jumped and noticed a dim outline of a form, there in the dark. A form she assumed was Mr. Hudson. Had he heard what she’d said?
And did it matter if he had? She hadn’t really said anything that could be used against her, had she?
Still, Angelia nervously bit down on her lip before speaking. “Yes, Mr. Hudson? Is that you there in the shadows?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“Very good. Well, as you can see, I’m still here by the fire. Did you wish something?”
“Ah…no,” said the man. “Nothing in particular. I see that you are instructing my children with your lessons, as well as this…ah…Injun.”
Staring up at the thin, balding man who had stepped closer to the fire, she grimaced. Politely, she pasted a smile to her face. “Yes, I am trying to teach them, although I’m afraid that if you look closely, you will see that, in truth, I have put your children to sleep.” Tearing her eyes from Mr. Hudson, she sent a short look to Swift Hawk, and noticing that his eyes were narrowed at the man, she added, “Mr. Hudson, have you been formally introduced to Mr. Hawk? There was barely time over dinner to do so.”
“No,” said Mr. Hudson, “and?—”
“Then let me make the introductions,” Angelia suggested brightly. “Mr. Hudson, this is Swift Hawk, one of the wagon train’s scouts.” She gestured between the two men. “Mr. Swift Hawk, this is Mr. Hudson, who has kindly offered me his protection from…hostile sources…during our journey to Santa Fe.”
Not a flicker of an eyelash gave away Swift Hawk’s thoughts, whether good or bad. He only nodded to Angelia.
Mr. Hudson, on the other hand, seemed disinclined to show even a minimum of civility. “Mr. Hawk, I’d have thought you would have conquered the concept of simple mathematics long ago. How many lessons have you had now?” There was no disguising the hostility in Mr. Hudson’s voice. The fire illuminated the man’s face in reds and oranges as he added, “It seems that you have also charmed my children. I wonder if you did it as easily as you have charmed Miss Honeywell.”
“Mr. Hudson!” It was Angelia speaking. “Like you, Mr. Hawk is here at my invitation. He is a friend of my brother’s, which makes him a friend of mine.” She didn’t say more, though she could have, and she hoped that further explanation would not be needed. “Now if that is settled, would you care to be seated while I finish the lesson?”
He did so, placing his shotgun over his legs, his gaze affixed to Swift Hawk’s.
“Thank you.” Angelia had no choice but to ignore the tension, and placing a finger on the page in front of her, she said, “I believe that we should go over, once again, the definition of division. By division we mean to break something down into parts, and to distribute those parts evenly. For instance if I had four plums and I wanted to divide them equally between two people, I would give one person two plums and the other person two plums. Do you see this?”
Swift Hawk’s nod was stiff.
“Now,” she continued, “not always can one distribute something equally, and so when that happens we use another system that is…” Her voice droned on and on, while Angelia’s thoughts ran riot. What was Mr. Hudson doing here, really? Why was he acting so antagonistically? Was he part of the Vigilance Committee?
Was that why he had volunteered to watch over her? Did he suspect her? Julian?
Or did he have other motives? Did he have marriage in mind? Was he looking for a mother for his children?
More than aware that she trembled, Angelia forgot what she was saying, and she paused midsentence. Delicately, she cleared her throat and gazed down at the mathematics book to find her place. So intent was she upon that book, she was almost startled when she heard a deep voice say, “But simply giving two different people two of the four objects, does not make them equal.”
Oh no.Not another of Swift Hawk’s observation on mathematics. Not now, not here, with Mr. Hudson staring at them. To divert the question, or perhaps to give herself time to think, she found herself saying, “It really doesn’t matter if they’re equal, because?—”
“But it does matter,” Swift Hawk countered. Looking up at him, Angelia could detect no emotion on his countenance, save his eyes, which had narrowed to mere slits. Though he talked to her, he stared at Mr. Hudson. “In all of nature, nothing is equal to another. Let us say you have four ponies. Three are strong, good ponies. One is weak. But you have two boys, and you do not want to make one boy jealous of the other. How then do you divide these horses equally? From what you say, I would give each of them two ponies. But if I do this, will not one boy have two strong ponies, and the other have only one? Would not a better way be to give each of them one? Then you have divided them equally.”
“What a stupid question,” grunted Mr. Hudson.
Stupid?
Angelia’s chin shot into the air, and she turned toward Mr. Hudson. Schooling her voice into an even, calm tone, she said, “There is no such thing as a stupid question, Mr. Hudson. Now, please, no more comments. Let me teach.”
The man said nothing, did nothing, and in his look, he challenged her too. After a few tense moments, he nodded.
Angelia let out her breath, and turning back toward Swift Hawk, she addressed him and only him. “Yes, you are right, that would be a better way. But we are not talking aboutanything specific when we speak of most problems in arithmetic. When we do these studies, we are talking about a mythical world—for the purposes of learning, and in this mythical world, all four of your ponies would be the same.”
Swift Hawk’s gaze came back to her, and he grinned. “Such a place does not exist.”
Angelia took a short, quick breath, and started to defend herself and the subject, then stopped, mouth open. Closing her lips, she said, “Again, you are right. But for the design of my teaching here tonight, let us pretend such a place does exist, that all four ponies are the same.”
“Ah, we are pretending, then?”
