Patricia Rice Read Online Free Page B

house to get his hide whipped off. Resting his head in his hands against the grassy bank, he dozed. His fishing pole went ignored.
    Gradually Pace became aware of a silvery tinkle of song humming in his ears, teasing at the back of his mind in some unfamiliar lilting form. He brushed off the hum as he brushed off the gnats swarming around his face, but its persistence worried at his conscious mind and his sleepiness faded. The sound came closer, a singsong caress in his ears. Nothing dangerous, just a curiosity that grasped his attention and brought him more fully awake.
    He opened his eyes and stared up into the mass of leaves overhead. He could see nothing but thick green shade and the silver shimmer of branches. He listened closer. The sound came from his left, a sliver of song, a tinkle of childish laughter. He smiled, remembering long ago tales of angels and harps he'd heard in the nursery. He sure as hell didn't believe in angels anymore, but the careless innocence of the song pleased his ear. He relaxed and waited for the singer to come closer.
    The little brat must be crawling from tree branch to tree branch. The sound shifted to almost directly overhead. If he looked close, he could almost see a flash of blue that had nothing to do with sky.
    "I shoot bluebirds that wake me up," he called out loud, in his most menacing tones.
    The silvery sound stopped, and he almost regretted disturbing it. Then a maple seed whirligigged down, hitting his nose, and he grinned. "I do believe there must be angels in my maple trees. Oh, woe, what will become of me?"
    Childish laughter floated in pure tones over his head. Pace tried to figure which of the black children from the slave quarters would dare explore this part of the farm, but none of them came readily to mind. He had to develop a new image of a white master like his brother, but he couldn't bully children just yet. The image of Tessie's once-innocent smile now sullen and shamed was still too raw in his mind.
    Two more seeds whirled idly downward, missing his nose but landing on his chest. The laughter was quiet again, tense, as if the child waited for his reaction. He picked up one of the seeds and sent it whirling toward the trickling creek. A shriek of delight accompanied his trick, and he sent the other seed whirling in the same direction. The delight turned into a fey tune sung in accents totally foreign to him.
    Pace struggled to make out the words but couldn’t. Puzzled, knowing none of the slaves could possibly have made up such a song or sung it in such a manner, he strained to see the creature perched above him. He was rewarded with only another flash of blue and white as she climbed higher. It had to be a she. Those were very definitely pantalets, and no male voice could ever make such a pleasant sound.
    "I've heard of little angels breaking their legs by falling from trees," he warned. "You'd best climb down here before you fall."
    "Angels fly." The sound drifted down to him much as the seeds had done. Maybe he'd had too much sun and too little sleep and he imagined this. Wouldn't his brother get a laugh out of him talking to trees?
    "Angels can fall," he replied firmly. "You'd better climb down before I come up and get you."
    Instant silence. Only the rustle of leaves in the breeze replied. Or the rustle of leaves as one mischievous elf scrambled from one tree to the next. The silvery song rang from his right now.
    "I'm staying right here until you come down," he warned, resting his head in his hands and stretching his legs toward the creek bank.
    "Angels sing lullabies," the childish voice announced in full round tones not of this world that he knew.
    Pace grinned and closed his eyes now that she wasn't in sight. "Bluebirds sing lullabies. Go ahead and sing, little bluebird. I'll still catch you when you come down."
    Unconcerned by his threat, she sang. Occasionally he caught threads of her words, familiar sounds about rocking horses and babies sleeping. So