"You," he said, his voice rasping. "Where you been, girl? Why weren't you tending to your chores?"
"I ... I was outside," Fran said. She moved slowly to put the kitchen table between the man and herself.
"Outside, eh?" He staggered forward, his gaze baleful. "Just where outside? I been yelling my head off for you. Where's Sammy and Davey?"
"They chased me!" Fran flared. "I walked a piece, and they started chasing me! They're always chasing me!"
"And I bet you like 'em to chase you," Big Luke growled. "Don't try to fool me, you little snip. Don't try to tell me you ain't practicing your woman's tricks on my boys."
Fran felt a hotness leap into her face. "I never do a thing to them!" she protested. "I hate them—Sammy especially. Why don't you tell him to leave me alone?"
"Uppity, just like your ma was, you little—" Big Luke abruptly leaned across the table, and his calloused palm shot out, making a sharp clap of sound as it struck Fran's cheek.
She felt her head jerk around from the force of the blow. The side of her face felt numb and large.
"Don't get sassy with me, girl!" Big Luke snarled. "And next time you go running off when there's work to be done, I'm going to fix you good and proper. You're big enough to take a whip to. I'll have the skin off you, by God!"