Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  “I am and will be. I just remind myself how I hated sitting round or trying to hobble about on one leg. Nay a thing I want to do again.”

  “Callum!” Simon hurried over. “That fool Graham is back wanting his grandson.”

  Callum cursed and got to his feet. He took Bethoc’s hand and tugged her up after him. Not only did he not want Graham at Whytemont, the man had just ruined his plans to get Bethoc alone for a while. He marched off with Simon, belatedly realizing he was towing Bethoc with him. Just as he was about to apologize for that he recalled her strange ability and decided she might well prove a help.

  Bethoc stared at the large man being held at sword point by two of Callum’s guards. He was at least fifty, probably older, but his body held as much muscle as fat. His face was square with small eyes, or ones made so by the anger he made no effort to hide, and his mouth had a cruel twist to it. The look the man gave Callum chilled her for it told her he would like nothing more than running Cathan through with a sword. She stepped closer to Callum, a little afraid for him.

  “Ye have nay right to keep my grandson from me,” said the man, his voice coldly calm, which made Bethoc even more afraid.

  “His mother is here with him,” said Callum. “She is the one who has chosen to stay away from ye.”

  “Stupid cow,” he snapped. “She kills my son . . .”

  “Now, Graham, that is nay what I heard. Heard your son didnae want ye coming round to his cottage and ye beat him. T’was those kicks to the head ye gave him after he was down that killed him. Ye are lucky ye havenae been hanged. Ye would be if I had more than a little boy and a woman to speak out against ye.”

  “She made him say those things! She also lies. I didnae kick him in the head, either.”

  “Ah, my mistake. Ye stomped on his head all the while yelling how he wouldnae look like his mother anymore. When she tried to stop ye, ye knocked her into a wall. She and the boy ran to me. So, nay, ye will nay see the boy or his mother. If for no other reason than that she still grieves for your son. A true shame that. Ye actually had something good and ye killed it.”

  The man lunged at Callum only to be halted by the swords of his guards. “Ye may be the laird here but ye still have nay right to keep that boy from me.”

  “I do. His mother has sought shelter here and the boy is with her.”

  Graham stepped closer and Bethoc could not stop herself from softly gagging. Callum glanced her way but she had her hand over her mouth and nose. Her face revealed nothing that was telling concerning her emotions. This was not a situation that would leave her looking so placid.

  Noticing that his guards were arguing with the man, Callum leaned closer to Bethoc and whispered, “A smell?”

  “Like a rotting corpse but it could be that he is ill,” she whispered back.

  “Bad smell, bad mon.”

  “Aye, and I do, desperately, want to run away from him.”

  She huddled closer to him when he put his arm around her. Callum stood, frowning in thought, his gaze suddenly fixing on the stables. Bethoc looked that way to see what had caught his attention and could see what appeared to be a woman peering out. Callum moved his arm and, after a quick glance at Graham, made a shooing motion at the woman.

  Bethoc looked back at Graham while Callum had a silent argument with the woman and Simon started to head over to her. At that moment the man abruptly overpowered the guard. She opened her mouth to say something only to see the man snatch up a sword from one of the guards and lunge for Callum.

  “Nay!” Bethoc cried as she moved to shove Callum out of the way even as he started to turn.

  Callum reached for Bethoc just as Graham finished his lunge, his sword penetrating Bethoc’s side. He caught her in his arms as Simon stepped past them. Callum watched his friend take one swing of his sword, neatly separating Graham’s head from his body.

  “Bethoc!” Callum said, suddenly afraid he had misjudged the place where the sword struck her.

  “I have been stabbed!” she said and, despite the weakness in her voice, she sounded outraged.

  He picked her up, wincing when she cried out in pain. His hand was beneath the wound and he could feel her blood soaking through. “We will get ye fixed up first,” he promised, sighing with relief when he saw several women rushing after him as he hurried up the stairs to his bedchamber.

  “Oh, nay!” she cried, coming awake as he was about to lay her down on the bed. “I will bleed on it.”

  “Here, I have something to put under her.” Brenda bustled over to lay down a thick layer of dark blankets. “Now set her down.”

  Callum did so and then frowned at Brenda. “Ye are the cook.”

  “I ken it but I was a healer for these people ere that. Worked with a good one before that, too.” She sliced Bethoc’s gown on her wounded side and parted the material. “Having any trouble breathing, Bethoc?” she asked.

  “Nay.” She took several breaths and let them out. “None.”

  “Then he didnae get your lung. Didnae poke your heart, either, or ye would be bleeding out right now.”

  “How do ye ken that?”

  “Simon had the thought of going to war. Couldnae allow him to go alone, aye? Saw a lot of different wounds. Remembered them all. Now, afraid what comes next is going to hurt.” Brenda stood up and went to wash her hands.

  “Bethoc, what were ye thinking?” Callum asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.

  “That ye were about to be stabbed in the heart from behind?”

  He glanced down at her wound. “Actually, I suspicion he was aiming lower. My liver, mayhap.”

  Brenda showed up beside Callum and nudged him away. “That wound would have taken your liver or cut into your innards. Bad wound. Bad death. Now, Bethoc, do ye want something to bite on?”

  Bethoc glanced up at Callum who nodded, so she nodded at Brenda. A thick piece of leather was put between her teeth. She glanced at the band on her wrist and then at Callum as he sat down beside her. He smiled faintly and, as soon as Brenda urged her onto her side so her wound was facing upward, he clasped her hand. Then Brenda began to work and Bethoc was aware of nothing but the pain until she tumbled into darkness.

  “Ah. Good. She has passed out. How did that old fool get a sword?” demanded Brenda as she began to stitch the wound.

  “I dinnae ken. The guards were knocked down and then he was lunging for me, sword in hand. I was just turning and, if I had done so, if Bethoc hadnae knocked me out of the way, I could have been gutted. Then Simon arrived and lopped off the fool’s head.”

  “Ah, mercy.” Brenda sighed. “He had to kill again.”

  “He has been in a battle or two, Brenda.”

  “I ken it but ’tis different when ye are in the midst of men all fighting to survive.”

  He sighed. “Aye, true enough. But I dinnae think Simon will be too troubled by this. The mon did have a sword in his hand, had just stabbed Bethoc, and was still looking to stab me e’en as I sat on the ground with her in my arms.”

  “I hope ye are right.” She tied off her stitches, bathed the wound again, and then bandaged it.

  “Thank ye, Brenda.”

  “Fah, ’tis nay a bother. Fact is, had to near fight the other lassies to get here. She has a big heart, ye ken, and is free with it. When are ye going to wed with her?”

  “I should, shouldnae I.” With Brenda’s help, he began to undress Bethoc.

  “Ye dinnae love her?”

  “I dinnae ken. What do I ken of love?” He shrugged and lightly stroked Bethoc’s hand.

  “Oh, Callum.” She hurried over to the washbowl to clean her hands. “Ye ken a lot. Ye just dinnae ken it. Ye take in women and bairns, ye collect the lost children and find them good homes, and look at the people ye gather round you. Me, Simon, Uven, Robbie. We are nay here just because ye have a bonnie face.” She walked back to the bed in time to help him tuck Bethoc in. “And then there is this lass. Her and her four lads, two back at her h
ome. And that wee verra determined lass. Bethoc came with ye e’en though ye offered her naught but a bed.”

  “Weel, mayhap she really likes that bed.”

  She shook her head and patted him on the back. “Idiot male. Mayhap ye ought to visit with Payton and Kirstie. There are two people who ken a lot about love and loving.”

  Brenda headed to the door but stopped before leaving, looking back at Callum. “Is Robbie e’er coming back?”

  “I dinnae ken. There is this lass he fancies and he hopes to win,” he replied, then started and turned to stare at her. “Ye werenae . . .”

  “Nay! Oh, I do like him. He has always been there, hasnae he. Always saying ‘I will go with ye,” always watching out for people. I just realized, if he doesnae come back, I will sorely miss him. Is she a good lass?”

  “Oh, aye, but she was in prison when Bethoc was and the sheriff and his guards used her harshly.”

  “Poor lass. Is she bonnie? Big as he is, Robbie is a fine-looking mon. He deserves a bonnie lass.”

  Callum could not help it; he grinned. “Oh, aye, she is bonnie. The kind of bonnie to make a mon stupid. Just made Robbie determined to stay and try his wiles on her.”

  “Wiles? Robbie doesnae have any wiles.”

  “Nay, and, with this lass, that will work in his favor. Dinnae worry about him, Brenda. It was actually looking good for him before we left.”

  Brenda smiled and hurried out. Callum breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there he had been very afraid Brenda had cared for Robbie as more than a friend. He was pleased to avoid that entanglement, more than pleased that Brenda’s concern had been no more than that of a friend who wanted Robbie to be happy.

  Bethoc made a noise and he took her hand in his again. She did not wake, though, and he studied her carefully. She was pale but that was to be expected. There had been a lot of blood loss but he was no judge as to whether it was too much or not. Callum just wished she was not so small, almost too delicate. He bent over and kissed her forehead.

  He was wondering what to do with himself when the door opened and Margaret ran over to him. She climbed up on his lap and stared at Bethoc. Callum wondered just how much he should tell the child.

  “Fix?” Margaret said, clutching his hand.

  “Brenda fixed her, love. She is just sleeping now.”

  “Mon dead.” She ran a finger across her throat and made a grotesque face complete with her tongue hanging out and to the side.

  “Aye,” he replied after forcing down the urge to laugh. “He was trying to stab me but Bethoc pushed me out of the way.”

  “Bethoc save ye.”

  “She did, aye.”

  “Good.”

  They sat quietly together watching Bethoc sleep. She asked no questions and he decided she knew all she felt she had to. A slight shift in Margaret’s weight made him look down at her and he realized she had gone to sleep as well. After debating with himself for a while, he moved to settle the child on Bethoc’s unwounded side. Sitting back down, he smiled faintly when Margaret curled up against Bethoc and, even though still sleeping, she put an arm around the child.

  * * *

  Bethoc woke slowly and the pain slipped in. She hissed but knew there was no way to turn to ease it. Then the whole incident of being stabbed filled her mind and she grimaced. The fool may not have hit her heart or lungs but it was still an incredibly inconvenient injury. It would be quite a while before she could turn or bend without some pain.

  Cautiously, Bethoc eased herself up into a sitting position. It was painful but not too much so. She desperately needed to relieve herself, however, but had the sinking feeling she would not be able to get to the garderobe or chamber pot without help. Wounds stripped one of a lot more than the ability to move. Dignity disappeared as well, she thought morosely as Brenda arrived with a tray of food.

  “Ah, ye are sitting up,” said Brenda. “Need some help?”

  “Aye,” Bethoc said, fighting not to sound cross. “I have to get to the garderobe.”

  “Weel, we have a chamber pot for ye. And a screen for ye to hide behind. I will just set ye down on it and help ye off.”

  “Are ye sure the garderobe wouldnae be better? It is higher.”

  Brenda stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide, then she laughed. “Aye, ye are right. It would be better. Now we just have to see if ye can walk there.” Brenda took her by both arms, ready to help her out of bed. “May need to give Callum a call if ye cannae make the walk.”

  That was a humiliation she was determined to avoid. Bethoc suspected Brenda knew that and was using it to encourage her. It worked. She was determined to get to the garderobe and back without calling for Callum. To her relief no one interrupted as they made a thankfully short walk to the garderobe. Brenda stood guard at the door and Bethoc endured the pain the simple act of sitting caused her. By the time Brenda helped her back to bed, Bethoc was trembling and sweaty.

  “Now for some of my excellent broth.” Brenda set the tray on Bethoc’s lap. “Eat up.”

  Bethoc picked up the spoon and saw her hand shake. Grimacing, she put it down. “I think I had best wait a wee while.”

  “Nay, I will feed ye.” Brenda spooned up some of the broth and put it in her mouth.

  After she swallowed Bethoc had to say, “That is verra good.”

  “Thank ye. Boiled the meat for a verra long time along with a lot of vegetables. Decided that, if ye have to drink your meal when ye are ill or injured, it ought to be as full and rich as the food ye have to chew.”

  “Weel, I think ye have succeeded admirably. Just wish I wasnae so weak. Then I could shove it down my own gullet.” She smiled a little when Brenda laughed.

  “It was a deep wound, ye ken,” said Brenda. “He may nay have struck anything important but he went deep and ye lost a lot of blood. I was surprised ye made it to the garderobe and back. But, ye are right. Much better ye go there then try to squat over a chamber pot. Just dinnae try going by yourself for a while.”

  Even though she hated the idea, the memory of how weak she had felt made her nod in agreement. At least she did not need anyone following her inside. After Bethoc finished with the hearty broth, Brenda gave her a small drink of cider. She found she wanted more but did not ask for any. For now, she wanted to try to avoid having to be helped to the garderobe too often. Then Brenda moved to help her lie flat on the bed again.

  “I need to check your wound,” said Brenda. “It will hurt but I need to ken ye have ceased bleeding, inside and out.”

  “Weel, let us get it done then.”

  * * *

  Gritting her teeth, Bethoc watched Brenda leave the room. The moment the door shut behind the woman Bethoc began to softly swear and kept at it for several minutes. She suspected nothing she could say would shock Brenda but felt that swearing like a fish-gutter was not the way to show her appreciation for all the woman’s work. Brenda had been efficient and gentle. It was not her fault it had hurt.

  She carefully wiped the sweat from her face using the arm on her uninjured side. There had been no sign of bleeding inside or out, and Bethoc knew that was a very good sign. The pain had not faded one little bit though. The tight wrapping that was her bandage did not help but she suspected Brenda was right about it. For now, it was needed to make certain the new stitches held firm and all the bleeding had completely ceased.

  This was going to drive her mad, however, she decided after staring up at the ceiling for a while. She was accustomed to working, to doing something. It was hard to imagine how Callum had stayed trapped in a cave for so long with his broken leg, hiding from his enemies instead of confronting them. He had remained remarkably even-tempered throughout it all. She doubted she would do the same if she did not think of something to do with herself, something she could do in bed and with a very limited use of one arm.

  The door opened and Margaret walked in. Shortly after her came the boys. When they gathered around the bed, staring at her, she began to feel unea
sy. Either they wanted something or she looked far worse than she had thought.

  “I am fine, ye ken,” she said, reaching out to stroke Margaret’s curls.

  “Ye got in the way of the sword,” said Liam, frowning at her. “Saving him.”

  “Ah, weel, if I hadnae he would have been gutted.” When Liam winced she nodded. “An agonizing way to die and it doesnae kill ye quickly.” She touched her bandage. “This hurts so bad I just had a hearty curse”—she shared a grin with him—“but it willnae kill me and it will heal and probably stop hurting so much verra soon.”

  “Then ye willnae be able to curse.”

  She laughed softly and winced. “Dinnae make me laugh.”

  “Weel, we had to come and see you. Brenda said ye were fine and so did Callum but we had to come and see that.”

  “I understand that. So, ye badgered Brenda with questions about me but did ye take the time to get any idea of what she would like in the garden?”

  Gavin grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. “She wants a lot.”

  That started the boys talking. As Margaret crawled up to sit beside her, she listened to all the boys had to tell her. They had settled, she realized. They were making a place for themselves. Soon she would have to push Callum for more than what they had and either get that or leave, before the boys began to accept Whytemont as their home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “There. I now declared ye healed.” Brenda grinned as she threw the newly removed stitches away. “But, and isnae there always one of those, ye must be verra careful. The closed wound is so new ye could break it open again.”

  “Aye, I will be verra careful.” Bethoc smiled. “’Tis what I keep telling Callum, so I had best heed my own advice.”

  “Good idea. And I must tell ye, those lads of yours are a treasure.”

  “A treasure, eh?” She grinned. “There are days I would heartily disagree with ye.”

  Brenda laughed as she went to wash her hands. “Och, they are lads when all is said and done.” She walked back as she dried her hands. “What they ken about gardening is astonishing.”

  “I ken it. They love it. If I didnae ken how much they dislike working in the big fields, like a farmer, I would think they would become ones themselves. I dinnae ken if they e’en ken what they want to be yet. This, though, putting a kitchen garden together makes them happy and keeps them busy.”