She looked at his leg and silently cursed. It was bent wrong, not terribly but enough to prove his words. She cautiously moved to his side and studied it. There was no bone peeking through and she was grateful for that, but she would need to set it and bind it somehow before she could even think of moving him.
Standing up, she looked around and then moved toward a fallen tree, digging a knife out of her bag. Boards would have been better but sturdy sticks would suit for the short distance she had to move him. Picking two thick branches, she cut off the twigs and branches before returning to his side.
“This will hurt, I fear,” she said as she braced herself to do what needed to be done.
“I ken it. It cannae be helped. Do ye have anything I can bite on?”
Bethoc took the band of leather from her wrist, the only thing her mother had given her. It was thick and the designs etched on it were simply something she had found attractive. “Will this do?”
Callum studied the Celtic runes on the leather band. “My teeth will no doubt ruin this.”
“No more than Margaret’s did.” She pointed out the marks her sister had left on it. “Her teeth were coming in and I had nothing but this to give her.”
“I will try nay to bite through it,” he said as he turned it and placed the barest part in his mouth then nodded at her to begin.
She ran her hand over his leg until she found the exact place it had broken; to her relief it felt to be a clear, simple break. She tore three strips of cloth from her petticoat, set them by her side, and reached for his leg. The deep moan he gave as she worked to straighten his leg nearly made her stop, but she closed her ears to his sounds of pain. The bone had to be put back together to heal. She then wrapped the leg tightly to hold the now aligned bone in place better.
Once she had the sticks tied on either side of his leg, she sat back and took a deep breath before looking at him. He was pale and sweating but still conscious. Bethoc was astonished by his stamina as he was a lean man, his muscles clear to see but not bulky. Setting his leg had caused a lot of pain, excruciating pain, yet he clung to consciousness. After a few deep, slow breaths, he appeared more at ease. She hoped it was because most of the pain had now passed.
He looked at his leg and then gave her a smile. “A fine job, Mistress Matheson.”
“I thank ye. Now, I fear there is more trouble ahead.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I need to get ye somewhere ye can rest and regain your strength in safety.”
Callum tensed, not sure he could trust her. “Why would I need to be safe?”
“Sir, I ken weel the marks of a beating nor do I believe ye hurled yourself into the water. A mon who wants to die doesnae struggle as hard as ye obviously did to get to shore. Someone tossed ye in there. Someone broke your leg ere they did so, which means they planned on ye drowning.” She lightly touched the marks on his wrists and ankles made by the men holding his struggling body. “Ye dinnae need to tell me the why of it, but IkenI need to leave ye somewhere safe. That means a wee cave just up the hillside.” Bethoc pointed up the hill that ran down to the edge of the water.
Staring where she pointed, Callum grimaced. His leg throbbed with pain and he seriously doubted he could make it even partway up that hill with only one leg. The lass had been a great help but he doubted she could carry him.
“My horse,” he said, and looked at her. “Did ye see my horse?”
“Nay, sir, I didnae. Mayhap the ones who did this took the beast. A good horse would be tempting to steal. It could bring them a good price.”
“They wouldnae be able to hold him. Stormcloud is a hard mount to hold on to.”
“Stormcloud? A fanciful name.”
“It suits him in both look and temperament. Unless they were verra alert, the horse would get away from them, and they didnae strike me as being verra quick-witted. Brutish, aye, and good at what they do, but nay more.”
“I shall look for him but first we must get ye to the cave.”
“Ah, weel, I was thinking that would be where my horse might be of help.”
Bethoc thought a moment on having a look for his horse. She could see nothing in the area, not even the shadow of an animal. She looked back at Sir Callum and sighed.
“I cannae leave ye here as I search, sir. I doubt those who attacked ye will return but one can ne’er be certain and ye are unable to defend yourself. I think it best if we get to somewhere safe first. Aye?”
Callum hated to agree, dreading what needed to be done, but what she said made too much sense to argue with it. “Aye,” he agreed, and almost smiled over how sulky he sounded.
“I will find ye a stick to help ye walk. Ye will nay be able to set that foot down just yet.” She grimaced. “Probably nay for quite some time.”
He watched as she returned to the fallen tree. She was not a big woman but he had no doubt she was strong. She moved easily with a child on her back and whatever was in the pack she carried. What puzzled him was that she spoke well yet her clothes were those of a poor crofter, neat but subtly ragged, signs of many patches easy to see.
The other thing that puzzled him was why she was helping him at all. Most women, especially with a child to watch out for, would have fled, not wishing to risk getting caught in the middle of any trouble. She had stepped right up, dragged him out of the water, and tended his wound. Yet she had to have considered the possibility that his attackers might return. A small raven-haired woman would be no obstacle to them.
Callum used the time she was distracted to indulge in a close inspection of his rescuer. It was not easy to judge her figure when she had a child on her back but he could see that she had a small waist. The way her skirts were bunched up made it impossible to judge the curve of her hips but it did reveal strong, well-shaped legs. He smiled, thinking that few women would see that as a compliment.
It was her face that fascinated him, however. There was gentleness there, a calm that soothed him, and something that reminded him of someone else. Callum puzzled over that for a moment then decided he was too tired and in too much pain to care. He fought the urge to close his eyes and give in to his weariness, to gain some respite from his pain through sleep. She needed him to remain aware for a while longer, he thought, even as he closed his eyes.
