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

helped him sit up.  The younger boy took a sip and made a face.  “Bitter.”
    “I know.  Drink it anyway.”
    Timmy sighed, but he obeyed.  When the cup was
empty, he sighed, and his muscles went slack beneath Flynn’s hands.  Flynn made
a poultice of the moss and bound it to the boy’s inflamed back.  Then, he sat
beside Timmy’s cot, chanting the prayers that Keeper had taught him.
    Night after night, Flynn kept vigil with the younger
boy.  Finally, Timmy’s fever went down and he began to breathe easier.
    Flynn sighed and went back to his own bed.
    For the first time since the ill-fated hunt, he
slept well and deeply.
    *  *  *
    Christmas came.  Using a knife he had stolen from
the kitchen, Flynn carved a dog out of a piece of wood.  He wrapped it in
tissue paper and gave it to Timmy on Christmas morning.
    Timmy’s eyes widened, and he smiled.  “I used to
have a dog.  Thanks, Flynn.”
    Flynn nodded.  His throat was too tight to speak.
    April came, and a warm wind blew from the south. 
Hope stirred inside Flynn like a seedling after a long, cold winter.  That
night, he woke Timmy, and together they descended the stairs silently.  Keeping
to the shadows, Flynn led the way from alley to alley until they reached the
edge of the city.
    The wind blew through the prairie grass, like the
footsteps of an invisible giant.  Timmy stared open-mouthed.  "I've never
seen grass this tall before!  It was always short and prickly."
    Flynn smiled at him.  “Where are you from?”
    “Philadelphia.  We don’t have anything like this in Philadelphia.”
    “What happened to your folks?”
    Timmy’s eyes filled with tears.  “Indians attacked
our wagon train.  They were killed.  The wagon master sent me to the orphanage
with a preacher who was riding this way.”
    Flynn looked away.  He wondered if Pathfinder was
the one who attacked the wagon train.  He sighed.  “We’d better go.”  He led
the way into the tall grass.  With each step away from the orphanage, his heart
lightened.
    The next night, they slept under the stars beside
the Platte.  Flynn sighed.  He felt at home for the first time since he topped
the rise and saw the ruins of his village.  He stared up at the stars, watching
a few shreds of clouds whisk across them.
    He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
    In the morning, a hard, bitter wind roared eastward
from the prairie, bringing with it the scent of snow.  Fear nipped Flynn, like
the Josephsons’ yellow dog.  He woke Timmy.  They ate hurriedly and began to
walk north and west.  Near twilight, they reached a stand of pines.  Flynn stood
and watched as the gray clouds hid the sun.
    Then, it began to snow.  The snow fell so thickly
that Flynn could not see beyond the shelter of the trees, and the wind was so
cold that his hands were numb.  He built a shelter for the night, using the
kitchen knife he had stolen.  It wasn’t as good as the knife Pathfinder had
given him, but it would have to do.  He cut pine boughs and lashed them
together.  They huddled under the makeshift lean-to.
    Beside him, Timmy shivered.
    Flynn built a fire, and the two of them held their
hands over it.
    Two days later, the snow stopped.  Flynn felt weak
and dizzy with hunger, but he gave Timmy the last morsel of their hoarded
food.  Then, he stood and studied the land around them.  He saw rabbit tracks
and grinned.  He started to leave the shelter.
    Timmy grabbed his wrist.  “Don’t leave me!”
    Torn, Flynn knelt beside the younger boy.  “I need
to hunt.”
    Timmy’s large blue eyes filled with tears.  “Promise
you’ll come back?”
    Flynn nodded solemnly.  “I promise.  And we’ll have rabbit
for supper.  And you can eat as much as you want.”
    “Honest?”
    Flynn nodded again.  “Honest.”
    “All right.”  Timmy snuggled down deeper into the
thin blanket.
    Flynn bit his lip.  He hated leaving the boy behind,
but without meat, they would starve.  He drew a deep