“That way,” Jamie indicated. “I need some of yer men’s help to get Fletcher free.”
“First things first,” MacGregor answered and kicked his mount into motion, signaling his men to follow. The remaining hounds ran after.
Jamie surged to his feet, appalled they were leaving an injured man behind. “MacGregor!”
The retreating hoofbeats made it clear no one had turned around. Jamie swore then knelt by Fletcher.
“I’m going to try to free ye,” he reassured the wide-eyed older man, whose rapid breathing and sweat-covered face told Jamie that he had begun to panic.
“Ye canna do it by yerself.”
Jamie studied the ground around Fletcher and the horse then pulled his claymore and dug at it. Good. He found a layer of loam of at least a hand’s depth. If he could dig enough of it away around Fletcher’s trapped legs and if the horse’s body didn’t settle into the trenching, he might gain the space he needed to pull Fletcher free.
He set to work, pausing only a moment when shouting and baying erupted, followed by cheers. MacGregor had gotten his boar, it seemed. Jamie shook his head. Fletcher used his free arm and shoulder to shrug, which cheered Jamie. If his efforts had calmed the man enough for him to pay attention to what was going on around them rather than focusing on his pain and entrapment, Fletcher might better tolerate the situation until help returned. Jamie bent back to his digging. It quickly became clear he would not be able to reach far enough by himself, but he kept at it, not wanting to worry Fletcher.
One of MacGregor’s men returned, took a look at what Jamie was doing and spurred his horse back the way he came. In minutes, the rest of MacGregor’s men, followed by MacGregor, now covered in boar blood, arrived.
“What have we here?”
Jamie cut him a sharp glance. MacGregor knew full well what had happened. He’d ridden right past in his pursuit of the boar. But Jamie held his temper. “If yer men can lift the weight of the withers, even a little, I think I can pull Fletcher out. I’ve cleared the loam around his legs as far as I can reach.”
MacGregor waved his men over. They gripped the mane and shoulder and heaved. The horse’s body shifted a fraction, but not enough.
Fletcher groaned but didn’t budge despite Jamie’s best efforts to pull him free. “Again!” Jamie ordered. This time, they managed to clear a bit more and Jamie, gripping Fletcher under both arms, tugged for all he was worth.
“MacGregor, ye, too!” Jamie ground out through clenched teeth.
With an oath, the MacGregor dismounted and lent his shoulder to the men trying to shift some of the weight off Fletcher’s legs.
Jamie tugged harder, ignoring Fletcher’s groans and cries. He managed to move the man a few inches, no more, before the men dropped their burden.
“Again!” Jamie told them. “Get that wither up as high as ye can.”
One of the men moved around the horse, grabbed a foreleg and pulled while the others pushed. This time, it was enough.
Jamie managed to pull Fletcher free. He knelt and ran his hands along Fletcher’s legs. Not broken, thank the saints for that miracle. The soft loam had cushioned Fletcher’s limbs enough to prevent a break, but he would be badly bruised.
“Can ye stand?” Jamie asked as Fletcher sat up cradling his arm.
“I believe so.”
Jamie took Fletcher’s good arm and helped him up, but the injured man cried out and went down again before he fully gained his feet.
MacGregor, whom Jamie had heard ordering his men to retrieve the boar and the tack from Fletcher’s mount, approached. “What’s amiss?”
“My knee’s twisted,” Fletcher panted. “Won’t take my weight.”
“Ye’ll ride with me back to the keep,” Jamie said.
The MacGregor helped get Fletcher settled behind him. “Have the healer take a look at ye,” MacGregor said.
Jamie had no doubt it was an order.
“I’m going to enjoy hacking that boar to pieces,” MacGregor continued. “It cost me a horse and two good hounds.”
And nearly the life of the Fletcher, Jamie thought, but he kept quiet as he turned the horse away and kicked it into motion.
Chapter Nine
