Corbin's Fancy Read Online Free PDF Page B

against the wall and wept into both hands, overcome by his rancor and by the awful possibility that he knew her, that he remembered.
    *   *   *
    Temple Royce’s woman. Hellfire and spit, it was just his luck! With a flailing motion of one arm, Jeff sent the tray and all its contents hurtling off the side table to clatter on the floor.
    The door of his bedroom opened again, almost immediately, and he lifted his head, expecting Fancy, ready with a fresh spate of scathing invective. But instead of his “nurse,” he was met with the furious azure gaze of his younger brother.
    “What the devil did you say to Fancy?” Keith demanded in an undertone reminiscent of the days before his ordination as a Methodist minister.
    Jeff ached for a fight, but, given his brother’s inclination toward turning the other cheek, there didn’t seemto be much chance of that. If only Adam were around! Jeff’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Fancy,” he bit out contemptuously.
    “Yes, Fancy!” snapped Keith, his jawline tight. “I just found her sobbing her heart out!”
    “A physical impossibility. The slut has no heart.”
    Keith’s effort at control was visible. Perhaps there was hope of a good brawl after all. “Don’t call her that again, Jeff,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Fancy is a nice young woman trying to get by, like the rest of us. According to Mrs. Thompkins, she sends practically every cent she earns to her family—”
    “How noble!” rasped Jeff. And he thought of Fancy lying, prone and lush, in Temple Royce’s bed. The image made him ill. “I want that bitch out of this house, Keith—now.”
    Keith folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side. “This house is mine,” he reminded his brother in even, yet dangerous, tones. “Fancy stays. However, big brother, if you think you can override my decision, you do it.”
    Jeff rose slowly to his feet. “Is that a challenge—little brother?”
    “It’s whatever you want to make it. Fancy needs this job and she stays.”
    “Let’s discuss this outside,” suggested Jeff, a peculiar euphoria sweeping through his system at the prospect of battle.
    “Let’s do. Since Mama isn’t here to break it up with her buggy whip, maybe we’ll get it settled,” replied Keith, gesturing suavely toward the open doorway. “After you.”
    The two brothers walked down the steep stairwaysingle file, both grim with anger. In the kitchen, Mrs. Thompkins smiled, looking pleased and surprised. “Why—” she began, only to fall silent when Keith pushed open the back door with a sharp crack of his right palm and strode out onto the screened porch.
    Jeff followed, ready for what was to come. Relishing it. The sun and the fresh air felt good after his long exile, and the song of the river was pleasant in his ears. None of these things, however, lessened his need for an all-out, no-holds-barred fight.
    In the side yard, Keith suddenly stopped and pointed upward with one imperious hand. For a moment, Jeff thought he was going to call down a thunderbolt or something. “See that?” he said.
    Jeff looked up, puzzled. “It’s the sky,” he answered.
    “I’m glad you remember. You’ve been hiding in your room for so long, I thought you might have forgotten!”
    Shame brushed against Jeff’s spirit, but just briefly. He was scarred for life. He’d lost his ship and the only woman he’d ever wanted to marry. If anybody had a right to retreat from life, he did! “What if I did?” he roared. “Who the hell needs the goddamned sky?”
    Keith stood straight and tall, though not quite as tall as Jeff himself, and shook his head. “You do, Jeff. We all do—we need the sky and the wind and the trees and the land. We need God and we need other people.”
    “How the hell do you manage to turn every conversation into a sermon?”
    Keith shrugged. “Second nature, I guess.”
    “I want to fight!”
    “I know,” replied the pastor, looking pleased and