Read Online When Angels Fall by Meagan McKinney - Free Book Online Page A

Ivan Tramore watched the little boy. George scowled, threw his last acorn, and settled himself upon a fallen poplar to brood. But then, as if from years of school-day discipline, the boy took out his dinner pail and began his midday meal. Seeing this, Ivan almost smiled.
    Tramore had been surveying the estate, having takena glossy bay steed from his stables. He had just come into the pond clearing when he saw the lad. Concealed by a clump of yews, he now bent to his two mastiffs who sat obediently at his mount’s flanks.
    “Pups,” he whispered to them, “seek!” He nodded in the direction of the young boy. Immediately upon their master’s command, the two huge canines scrambled for the edge of the pond. They skirted the water and were upon their target almost before the lad had time to look up. Startled by the enormous dogs’ approach, George leaned backward, his dinner pail clutched to his chest. However, the mastiffs politely seated themselves at his feet, wagging their whiplike tails, their eyes glued to George’s delectable dinner pail.
    After giving the dogs several distrustful looks, George relaxed a bit. Once convinced they meant him no harm, he dipped into his tin pail and took out a piece of sausage. The mastiffs’ tails wagged furiously when he offered them each a morsel. As he went to give them another piece, the dogs tried licking his face. Soon he tumbled from the poplar and was on the forest floor squealing with laughter as the dogs playfully competed for a dry spot on his cheeks.
    “Good pups. Now sit.” From the forest, the mastiffs’ owner appeared on his steed. Hearing his voice, the dogs immediately complied and again sat in unison at the stallion’s flanks.
    George looked up at the tall, unsmiling man and scrambled to his feet. With his mouth open, he stared at the wicked scar on the man’s face. Caught in the act, he guiltily looked away, then darted uneasy glances at the intruder as he dismounted.
    “What are you doing here, lad?” Ivan asked, his dark gaze resting on the boy’s face.
    George wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I was having my dinner,” he answered.
    “I see.”
    “Is this your pond?”
    “Yes, it is.” Ivan crossed his arms in front of his chest disapprovingly. “I daresay, lad, you should be having your dinner in the schoolroom.”
    George looked away. “Are the dogs yours too?” he evaded.
    “Everything is mine. All that you see for miles on end. Now I ask you again, shouldn’t you be in school?”
    George scowled. “I’m never going back there again!”
    Ivan cocked one of his jet eyebrows. “If you don’t go to school people will think you’re stupid. Would you like that?”
    Taken aback by this statement, George scrutinized him. “I’m not stupid!” he exclaimed.
    “Perhaps, but the only way to prove that is in school.”
    “I’ll prove it another way!” he retorted.
    “The other way is far more difficult.”
    “Did you go to school?”
    The question took Ivan off guard. His face tensed almost imperceptibly. Slowly he answered, “No, I did not go to school.”
    Perplexed by this answer, George could only stare at him. Finally he asked, “Are you stupid then?”
    Ivan released a black laugh. “I say, lad, you’d best watch your tongue.” With that one statement, George appeared suitably chastised. But perhaps because he seemed so, Ivan felt compelled to answer him. “It may be that I’m not stupid now, but a long time ago, many people thought I was. Poor and stupid go hand in hand, I’m afraid.”
    George looked thoroughly confused now. “But you’re not poor either. You said you own everything for miles.”
    “I was poor then, and not going to school only made things worse.” He nodded his head to the tin dinner pail flung aside near the fallen poplar. “Go fetch your things, lad, and I shall take you back to school.”
    “I’m not going back there! I don’t care if people call me stupid! They call me worse