Read Online Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) by Erica Graham - Free Book Online Page A

Flynn spoke without
thinking.  Something warmed him about the Major, like the heat of from his
fire.
    Sam clapped him on the shoulder.  “Good.”
    Someone tugged on his sleeve.  Hank looked at him
and smiled shyly.  “Here.”  He handed Flynn the piece of meat he had been
protecting with his life.
    Flynn shook his head.  “I can’t take this, Hank.”
    Hank shook his head solemnly.  “It’s Christmas.”  He
smiled suddenly.  “I told you there would be presents!”
    Flynn’s hand shook as he accepted the piece of
meat.  He nodded.  “Thanks, Hank.”  He took a bite, and as he chewed, he
realized that something had changed in the night.
    He wanted to live.
    Sam smiled at him.  “What’s your name, son?”
    “I’m Lieutenant Robert Sean Flynn, late of the Army
of the Confederacy.”  He swept a mocking bow and winced.
    Hank looked at Flynn with childlike wonder.  “Are
you really a spy?”
    “No.”  Flynn looked away.
    “Leave the man alone, Hank.”
    The short man ducked his head.  “I’m sorry, Major.”
    Sam laid his huge hand on Hank’s shoulder.  “It’s
all right, Hank.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”  He turned to Flynn.  “Hank
here took a bullet in the head.  He’s like a child, now.  I wish I could get
him out of this place.”
    Flynn looked at the river.  “Has anyone tried to
swim that river?”
    The Major nodded.  “A few.  But the current’s too strong.”
    “One party made it, Major.”  Ben turned and stared
at the water.
    Sam shook his head.  “Yeah, but Hank would never
make it.”
    Hank looked ashamed.
    Flynn reached across and touched the older man’s
arm.  “I’m not that good a swimmer either, Hank.”
    Hank smiled at him briefly.
    The Major sighed.  “That Tom Brooks has a large
following.  So we’ll have to post a guard, or our young friend here will wake
up tomorrow with his throat cut.”
    Ben nodded his head.  “I’ll take the first watch,
Major.”
    Sam shook his head.  “No.  I will.  You kept watch
last night and forgot to wake me.”
    Ben’s face reddened slightly.  “You’ve been sick,
Major.”
    Sam sighed.  “We’ve all been sick.  We’ve got to get
off this island somehow.”
    Flynn stared at the river.  “If only we had a raft...”
    Sam looked at him speculatively.  “You have an idea,
son?”
    “Maybe.”  Flynn nodded.  “Let me think about it for
a day or two.”
    Sam nodded back.  “All right, son.  Rest easy.  Ben’s
a good sentry.”
    Flynn smiled.  “Thank you, Major.”  He lay down on the
damp ground.  For the first time since the Battle of Manassas, he slept without
dreaming.
    *  *  *
    The days passed, and Flynn began to think again.  He
spent most of his time with Sam and his men.  He learned that Ben and Hank had
served with the Major and that they planned on forming a wagon train when the
war was over.  He felt a sudden longing to see the west again.  He began to
think of the future, to want and to dream.
    And he began to think about escape.
    He studied the construction of the shacks.  They
were flimsy, easily taken apart.  The boards, lashed together, could form a
make-shift raft.  But there was no place to hide a raft and no rope to
lash the boards together.  He sighed.  Around and around, his thoughts swirled,
like the water that eddied in the center of the channel between the island and
the mainland.
    It was cold that winter, cold and damp.  It rained,
day after day.  Pneumonia spread through the camp like wildfire.  Hank got
sick, and Sam nursed him.  He scrounged whiskey and sugar from the guards. 
Flynn searched the island until he found a willow.  He cut pieces of bark and
brewed tea from it.  He held the tin cup to Hank’s lips.
    Hank spluttered.  “It’s bitter!”
    “I know, Hank.  But it will bring your fever down. 
Now drink it up.”  Flynn spoke to Hank as gently as he would to a frightened
child.
    Hank nodded and drank the