Fancy Vol 1

By David N. Walker

A 14 year-old girl orphaned by the Civil War must support herself and her baby sister despite having her family farm stolen by a neighbor's chicanery and being constantly hit on by her own pastor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David N. Walker
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301516919

David N. Walker

Born in Dallas, Texas, in 1943, I grew up in Fort Worth and graduated from the public school system there in 1961. I attended Duke University, graduating with a B.A. in political science and a minor in accounting.During my service in the Army, I was stationed at Fort Polk, LA, Fort Sam Houston, TX, and Fort Sill, OK.Most of my career was spent in the insurance business, with a few brief forays into accounting. Although I spent a year in life insurance and a couple of years in financial services, my primary emphasis was health insurance.I served as president of an Optimist club in Lawton, Oklahoma, and another in Fort Worth. I also served as lieutenant governor in each state and held several district committee chairs. As a member of Toastmasters International, I won a district Humorous Speech contest.I am a member of McKinney Memorial Bible Church, where I serve as the leader of my Sunday School class.Hobbies include travel, golf, skiing and flying. I have traveled the nation extensively and have been in or near all the places I use for settings in my books.I have served as vice-president of the Freelance Writers’ Network of Fort Worth and have been a member of the Oklahoma Writers’ Federation, Inc. I also co-founded a novel writers' group called Warrior Writers Workshop.For the last year and a half I have led a small group of published writers in the Fort Worth-Dallas Metroplex.

Book preview

FANCY VOL 1

a Novella by

David N. Walker

© 2013 David N. Walker

Smashwords Edition

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Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge several people without whose help this book would likely never have been published.

First, I'd like to thank my sweet wife Sharon, who has been a faithful cheerleader and encourager as I worked on the project. She has also offered helpful critique.

Next, I want to thank Jillian Dodd, author of That Boy, That Wedding, and other YA novels for talking me into getting back to my craft at a time when I had given it up. Jill has also helped many times when I ran into facets of indie publishing and blog site design I didn't know how to deal with.

Nigel Blackwell and Charity Kountz have been very helpful in dealing with tech matters that are beyond my scope. They've also been constant in their encouragement.

Lara Schiffbauer served as Beta reader and editor, making several important suggestions for corrections, additions and deletions.

Finally, I'd like to thank the bloggers of the WANA community for their unfailing encouragement and support of my blogs and my writing in general.

CHAPTER ONE

Clara Faye Fancy Greene stopped for a moment to wipe her brow. She pulled her hat off to fan herself with it, revealing a head full of rich, thick red hair. She’d helped her father with the plowing for several years, but he’d always take the reins back from her after a few minutes.

Now that he was gone to help the army defend the Confederate States of America, it was all on her fourteen year-old shoulders to run the farm and see to her four year-old sister Darlene Danielle, whom she called Danni. She couldn't afford to stop her work.

She stared up at the deep blue sky, uncluttered by cloud. The sun beat down on her like fire from heaven, causing sweat to pour from every pore in her body.

Although the war had only broken out a month ago and her father had only been gone for three weeks, it seemed like eternity. She knew she had to get the cotton planted soon or it would be too late, so she worked from dawn til dusk in the field, stopping only to share a lunch with Danni, who played nearby. After lunch she warned Danni as she had several times before not to mess up the seeds she’d planted.

As she looked beyond the plowhorses, she saw two men in the distance, sitting their horses and watching her. Pastures and woods abutted her land on three sides, but these men sat between her farm and that of her neighbor, Sylvester Fochs. Everyone called him Sly, and she'd always figured it was a name he deserved. She couldn't tell whether he was one of the men or not at that distance, but she dismissed them from her mind to concentrate on the plowing at hand.

* * * * *

Sylvester Sly Fochs sat patiently watching Fancy follow her plow back and forth across the field, his foreman at his side. Good land there. He swept his hand across the vista. Make a nice addition to my place.

He'd had his eyes on the Greene farm ever since he settled nearby. He'd already bought up all the good farmland in the area, and it represented his only avenue of expansion. The land around him in other directions was too rough for farming and had been left in pastures and woods.

The foreman nodded. Sure would. Too bad you couldn’t get Tom Greene to sell it to you before he left.

Fochs jerked his head around. Who told you he didn’t sell it to me?

Well, I thought you . . .

Don’t think. The boss sounded angry. You’re not paid to think. You’re paid to run my farm for me.

Sure, boss.

Fochs realized he was being a bit hard on the man. See that house over there? He pointed to the Greenes’ home.

Yeah. Old Tom build a nice place for himself. Not near as big as yourn, but nice.

Yep. Fochs nodded. It is a nice place. Maybe I’ll let you move into it when I get the place.

Used to living in a bunkhouse with the rest of the hands, the foreman perked up with immediate interest. You mean you really did buy the place?

I ain’t sayin’ I did or I didn’t. He turned his horse’s head. Come on, let’s get out of here.

* * * * *

Dead tired, Fancy called Danni to follow her back to the barn. She stripped the gear off the horses and rubbed them down a bit. Then she forked hay into their feed troughs and freshened the water in their buckets.

Let’s go in and get something to eat, Danni.

Finally. Danni had been whining about being hungry for an hour or more. What we eat?

The last rays of sunlight showed them the way to the house. We got plenty of eggs and bacon and some leftover biscuits from this morning. I reckon we’ll have that for supper. You go set the table while I get the food going.

They were halfway through supper when Fancy heard a knock on the front door. Now who would be callin’ at this hour of the night? You stay put and finish eatin’.

She picked up the shotgun she kept handy and went to the door.

Who’s there?

Parson Hobbs.

Fancy recognized his voice, but she was less than thrilled. He’d always seemed creepy to her, and since his wife died he seemed to take an unhealthy interest in her.

Little late for a social call, Parson.

It’s never too late for the Lord’s business. May I come in?

Seeing no way around it without being rude, she opened the door and let the man in.

He doffed his hat as he entered, openly ogling her ripe bust and trim waistline. Missed you in church the last few weeks. Thought I’d better ride out and see if you and Danni were okay.

His stare made her stomach curdle. She didn't know whether she wanted to throw up or spit on the man.

We’re fine. She didn’t offer him a seat, because she didn’t want him to stay long. We were just eating supper.

Oh, I’m sorry to have interrupted you. Looks good, though.

She could tell he wanted an invitation to join them, but she wasn't about to give him one. Plantin’ season, we have to put in long hours. Now we gotta finish supper and get ready for bed. Did you need something?

Why don’t you go on with your supper. I can come sit and visit with you there.

Fancy shook her head. Don’t really have the time.

Well, like I said . . . He was a bit off balance due to her attitude. I noticed you hadn’t been to church—

Like I said . . . She interrupted him. Puttin’ in a crop is long hours and hard work.

Well, yes, but after all, you need to rest on the Sabbath. He forced a smile, which didn’t come to him naturally. She noticed the look in his eyes didn't match the smile on his face.

Fancy stared at the man, hoping to disguise her fear. Jesus said man wasn’t made for the Sabbath, but the Sabbath for man. He also said when the ox is in the ditch, you gotta pull it out, whether it’s Sunday or whenever.

Look ma’am. I think we got off on the wrong foot. The thing is, your daddy left you all alone, and you need a man. My wife died, and I need a woman. So I thought—

No, parson. Don’t even think about that. I’m fine. I don’t need a man, and I sure as hell don’t need one your age.

Now Miss Gr—

You’d better leave. She lifted the shotgun from behind