Fight for Glory (My Wounded Soldier #1) Read Free

in me at the moment, so I got him a
rag they kept for the dishes and wrapped his finger, then told him to lie on
his little bed there. He did not argue. I knew this kind of sleep, it was not rest but escape.
    I went out then. I
heard the flies as I smelled it, that ripe swell in the heat. I had my shovel,
the one I knew before the war even, and it fit my hand so well. I would like to
put them in the earth quick, but Sheriff Jimmy needed to take note. I spoke to
Bess, for she was patient, but sorely neglected standing in harness. She had
not moved much, too lazy to chase grass here in the yard. I pulled her closer
in, near to the husband, as I’d load him in first. Yes, this kind of weight I
knew. God made me strong, a bull, Ma said, and bullheaded, she said too, and I
went to the barn.
    This man was not
without ambition, but he was no farmer. One did not hang tack like that on a
nail, and his tools were not sharpened or oiled. I did not care for his
arrangement at all, but I wasn’t here to judge. I found what I sought, a cover
for goods, and I took this out and rolled the mister into it. Then I bent my
knees and strained to get him over my shoulder. I bent and lifted him like a
baby. I heaved him into the wagon’s bed and walked Bess to a big Sycamore tree.
I pulled him off then, and worked him straight so he would fit a coffin.
    I left Bess in
that shade then and she could eat the grass there.
    The other body I
dragged around the side of the house. I put him near where she threw her
dishwater. He needed washed of his sins. I squatted near him and studied his
face, or what was left of it.
    He had no papers
on him. No spare flesh either. He’d not taken a good meal in a long time. Teeth so black. Hands that knew work. Shoes wore out, everything thin. He had no money or provision. A bedroll, but traveling light. That saber…belonged to his
daddy I’d bet.
    I was out of time
so I went in the house, looked at the mother. Her eyes were closed, but she
held that child, and it looked to sleep as well. I fetched the bucket and
filled it with water and brought it in the house. I took the knife and cut the
potatoes and carrots into pieces and put some water over them, setting them on
the hob to boil. I found the cellar and added salt and a lid over.
    I went for
Missus’ cup and brought her water. I put the babe back in the drawer. She had
wet on the bed. I figured she could water in the drawer and the clothes would
catch it. I couldn’t fix her yet, but I would shortly.
    I woke the
missus, lifted her little head and held the cup to her parched lips. “Drink
now, lovely,” I said, not believing such came out of my mouth. She’d inspired
such a river of kindness coming out of me, I wanted to get out of here and run
the field.
    I had to down
what she’d left myself . I would fetch her more. It was
the first time I felt the tiredness. I hadn’t moved out of it much since coming
home. I didn’t sleep, just a snatch here and there.
    I wanted a drink.
    He came then, his
big feet on the porch, slamming that ham of a hand on the door. I pulled it
open. His eyes were on fire cause he was itching for
something to happen, ever since he got hair in the secret places and ever since
he decided to be mad he couldn’t go off to war. We’d nailed him to the farm,
Garrett and me, and he intended to make me pay for it. But now he had him an
adventure all right. Now he’d get a taste.
    His words were
all over each other. He’d seen the bodies, the one against the tree and the one
side of the house.
    “Finished?” I
asked him when he had to take a breath because he pretty much ran here once he
found my tracks.
    He nodded, his
mouth open.
    “Drive Bess home. Take this boy to Allie. He’s got a cut on
his finger needs looked after. Keep him there. Tell her to dote on him, not
that you’ll have to tell her. Tell Pa I need me a box for the mister. He has
those doors in the shed, tell him to use those and fasten sides. I’m putting
him in