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her, the more she resented her. Betsy harbored all

sorts of ridiculous suspicions. I thought.

"I know exactly what your mother's up to," she

told me one afternoon after she had just had another

argument with her father and Mama had interceded on

her behalf .She came charging out of the house and

found me stacking some kindling wood.

"What are you talking about now?" I took off

my gloves and wiped the sweat off the back of my

neck.

"I'm talking about how she makes herself look

so good and pure to my father just so hell hate me

more "

"That's not true. She's just trying to keep him

from getting sick over the things you do." I put my

gloves back on.

"Oh. brother. You'd defend her no matter what.

You know what?" she said, with her eyes as mean and

cold as she could make them. I turned my back on her

and started on the wood again, but she seized my

shoulder to spin me around. "I said, you know what?" "What?"

"People don't just think you're weird or gay.

They think you and your mother have an unnatural

relationship."

I wanted to reach out and slap her because it was as if she had just slapped me. I couldn't help the

rush of blood to my face. It brought a smile to hers. "Did I hit a sensitive area. Noble man? Is there

some truth to the rumors? Maybe Daddy wouldn't be

so devoted to your mother if he 'clew, huh?" "Shut up," I snapped, and with the small hatchet

in my hand I started toward her with such fury that

she backed away,