Saturday, April 11, 2015

Sample Saturday, April 11, 2015

Welcome to Sample Saturday. Today's tidbit from The Zion Trail continues to explore Lije Marshall's relationship with his wounded father, who had just asked him to help him up from where he lies, beaten, in a cornfield.

That, I could do. "Pa, what happened?" I asked first, trying to discover how I might manage to raise him without giving him further injury.

"Two," he managed to get out. "Masked."

"Did you know their voices?" I wondered if I could lift and carry him all the way to the house. I didn't want to risk pushing a broken rib into a lung.

"Young men," he said. "Didn't know them."

From the way he mumbled, I wondered if his jaw was whole. "Where are you hurt the worst?" I asked, pretty sure I knew the attackers now.

"Head. Hit me. Club. From behind." He paused to get his breath. "Punched my face."

I saw bruises on his forearms where his shirt sleeves were folded up. He'd probably tried to cover his head with them, and taken cracks from weapons wielded by Hans and his follower.

"Didn't break my ribs."

Still, he wheezed. He'd taken plenty of punishment, but if he said his ribs were whole, I could lift him.

I set about gathering him into my arms, striving to be gentle, although my blood boiled to see how my father had been beaten. I staggered under his weight as I got one foot under me and pushed up until I had the second unbent as well and could stand. Pa was not a frail-built man, but I was young, and my anger gave me sufficient strength to carry him back to the house.


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