Bethoc finally found a thick branch that had a fork at the top. She took the small axe she had brought with her to collect firewood out of her bag and removed the branch from the dying trunk. As she walked back to Sir Callum she hoped it would be the right height. She also wished she had a blanket at hand so she could make a litter for him. Dragging that up to the cave would be a chore, but a lot easier than helping a barely upright, hobbling man.
Once back at his side, she tested the length of the stick, needing to take off only a small bit at the bottom. The man looked to be asleep and she hated to wake him but knew she had to get him hidden away as soon as possible. Kneeling by his side, she gently shook him until his eyes opened.
“We have to try and get to the cave now,” she said.
Callum wanted to say no, to just leave him to sleep, but knew she was right. It was not safe to stay out in the open. He did not really think the men would return but he could not be absolutely sure. Careful not to put any weight on his broken leg, he took the stick from her and settled it under his arm. It was awkward, but he suspected it would still work.
“’Tis nay such a long walk to the cave, sir,” she said, “but I fear it is nay a smooth one, either.”
“Then we had best get started.”
“Margaret, sit up,” she ordered her sister, and then put his arm around her shoulders plus her arm around his waist. “I will try to pick the smoothest parts of the trail.”
“Just pick the quickest,” he replied, and gave her a brief smile before adjusting the stick beneath his arm.
“All I ask,” she said as they began to move toward the hill, “is that ye tell me if ye think ye are going to stumble for I will be walking close to the edge of the path and could fall.”
He made a sound of agreement that was more of a grunt and she knew even the current easy pace they did was paining him. The cave opening was only partway up the hill but she knew it was going to be a long, slow climb for him. Bethoc held him as tightly as she dared, trying to give him as much support as possible, as they began their way up the rocky path to the cave. The fact that she only reached his armpit made that a difficult chore.
It felt as if hours had passed before she got him to the cave. Every step had to be taken carefully and progress was slow. A few times he had nearly stumbled and, although he had warned her as she had asked him to, her heart had leapt into her throat. She could all too easily see herself tumbling down the rocky hillside, a fall that could easily prove fatal.
Carefully propping him up against the rocks at the mouth of the cave, she removed the brush she used to hide the entrance. Not only did it keep her father from finding her hiding place but, she prayed, it also kept her safe from men like those who had beaten Sir Callum. Bethoc helped him inside and settled him on the pallet she had made of old blankets and leaves. The moment she was certain he was simply recovering from the journey, she hurried to pull the brush back into place.
Kneeling by his side, she quickly checked his leg to be certain the bracing sticks and bandages were still in place. Bethoc wished she knew more about broken bones. She had little idea how long he would need to heal. He could be trapped here for weeks. She did not know if she would be able to hide helping him for that long.
“Do ye wish for some food and drink?” she asked as she brushed his hair from his sweaty face, forcing that worry from her mind for she had no choice.
“I suspicion I will soon but dinnae trouble yourself.”
“T’would be nay trouble at all.” She set down the pack and began to pull out some food, a little surprised at how much she had packed.
Callum almost smiled. “I begin to think ye have one of everything in that pack.”
Bethoc felt herself blush and avoided his eyes. She always kept the pack ready, stuffed with all she would need if she could ever make herself desert the others and flee the house. “I try to be prepared.” She did not wish him to know that he was hiding in her special secret place, her private haven, if only because he might ask why she felt the need for one.
“Sensible.” He struggled to sit up and felt her wrap her arm around him to help.
She carefully set a small plate of bread and cheese on his lap and then poured him a tankard of cider. Sitting back on her heels she watched him eat. His clothes were drying out but they would never return to the obviously fine attire they had once been. Bethoc had to wonder exactly why such a gentleman would be riding around the countryside on his own. Most of the ones of his ilk avoided this area or had a strong, well-trained guard with them. Thieves abounded in the area and the river was frequently used for smuggling. A fine-looking gentleman on what she suspected had been a very fine horse would be too great a temptation to let ride away.
As soon as he was done, she took the plate and tankard, cleaned them off with a rag, and stuck them back in her pack. She turned to help him lie down again, trying not to breathe in his scent too much for it made her stomach clench and she was not sure why. Fighting a blush, she briskly told him where the chamber pot was and then where he could find a little more food and drink if he wanted.
“I need to return home now,” she said as she idly straightened her skirts and tried not to resent the loss of the quiet respite she had planned on. She got too few of them. “I will do what I can to find your horse.”
“If he gets loose, he will come back here so I wouldnae trouble yourself o’er it too much.”
“That would be helpful. Sleep, sir. That is the best of medicines. No salve or potion can do better. I will try verra hard to return on the morrow.”
Callum was about to ask her why she was even coming to this place, why she did not just take him to her home, when he realized she was already headed out the opening. He cursed softly and stared up at the stone ceiling. There had been nothing to give him for the pain but he decided that was probably for the best. He was crippled and alone. It would not do to be unconscious as well. He was easy game with his leg broken and saw no point in making himself even easier game by being unconscious.
Why had she not offered to take him to her home? he wondered again. His eyes widened as he suddenly recalled the bruises he had seen. He had assumed they had come from wrestling his body out of the water but now he was not so sure. Now that he was no longer consumed by his own pain and worry about his attackers, he could see the bruises for what they were—the marks of a fist, the injuries of man’s hard grip, and the signs of abuse. Bethoc did not take him to her home because someone there was hurting her.
He pushed aside the anger that always filled him with when he recognized such abuse. As Payton was fond of telling him, he could not save the whole world and had to learn to be satisfied with his small part of it. But since she had been so kind to help him, he could not help but worry about her. It was a fruitless exercise though, he thought crossly.
If nothing else, he was in no condition to do anything about it. Nor had she asked him to, although that was no deterrent his rage would heed. When he recovered enough to move around, however, he would find out who had put those bruises on her and why she felt the need to have a hideaway. Then he would see to it that the one who hurt her paid for every bruise on her fair skin.
Chapter Two
Bethoc felt her steps slow as she approached her home. It angered her that her father made her afraid of a place that should have brought her comfort and safety. For as long as she could recall, he had been the darkness in her life, stealing all the joy, and it had gotten worse as she had gotten older. The few glimpses of a good man there had been became less and less seen, buried beneath the bitterness and anger. It was true that he was harder on the boys if they did not do as he said but, with her and even little Margaret, it appeared that his rages had no reason.
