Highland Healer

by Florence Love Karsner

  Highland Healer

  a novel

  Florence Love Karsner

  SeaDog Press, LLC

  Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida

  SeaDog Press, LLC

  830 A1A North, Suite 13

  Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida 32082

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For information about special discounts or bulk purchases, please contact publisher @ seadogpressllc.com

  Cover Design: Renu Sharma

  Ship Logo: © Dn Br | Shutterstock

  Ouroboros Design: Elizabeth Pampalone /

  www.JaxComputerChic.com

  Copyright © 2015 Florence Love Karsner

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-943369-08-9

  The serpent is an ancient symbol of healing and is seen in early drawings wrapped around the caduceus of the Greek god, Hermes. Many ancient cultures regarded the serpent as sacred, and used it in healing rituals. A serpent devouring its tail is called an ouroboros. It is symbolic of immortality, the eternal unity of all things, and the cycle of birth and death. It unites opposites such as the conscious and unconscious mind. It has a meaning of infinity or wholeness, and is the Western world equivalent of Yin-Yang.

  CHAPTER 1

  Scotland 1746

  "Don't just stand there looking like the idiot louts I know ye ta be! Move yer arse! Hold his arms! Tighter now!" She screamed at them as if they were miles away, rather than right at her elbows. This young man's strength had amazed her as well as the others who were engaged in keeping their brother still so she could administer the life-saving interventions that only she could.

  The first order of business was to stop the bleeding. Actually, one of the brothers had done a fairly good job of applying a tourniquet as soon as they could get to the lad. But, beyond that, they had no clue as to what to do next. The healer meticulously cleaned the wound and knew there was nothing to be done except the one procedure she most disliked to perform, amputation.

  "Here, hold his head up so I can pour this down his throat. It will ease the pain greatly and, if we're lucky, he'll lose consciousness and we can get on with this amputation."

  "What! Yer going to take his leg off? Ye can’t do that! He's just a lad for God's sake! " yelled the huge brother, called Jack.

  The oldest brother, a man named Alex, was holding the young lad down. He then reached out and lay his hand on Jack's.

  "Jack. The leg's gone, man. There's no choice. It's barely hanging on as it is. We need to let this woman help him, brother."

  The other brother, called Hector, nodded his agreement and Jack turned away as if he couldn't bear to watch. He was closest in age to the youngest brother lying on the table, and felt great responsibility for him.

  Within just a few minutes, the medication began to work its magick and the lad drifted off into oblivion.

  "Thanks be to the Creator," whispered Alex.

  Even though the lower leg was only hanging on by a few tendons and loose skin, it was a gruesome surgical procedure to totally sever the remaining bits of bone and muscle. The bleeding was under control, and the healer worked diligently to amputate below the knee, which was always a much better choice than above it. But, sometimes the situation would not allow this.

  She worked quickly with much experience behind her. Her stitches were even and made with great precision, something she prided herself on.

  "Just one more moment. Hold the upper leg straight! Don't let it move! One more second! Now! There!"

  The only thing left was to bandage the wound carefully and watch the young lad. She would pray that infection would not set in, but working in these less-than-desirable conditions, it often did occur.

  "There. Rest easy now, young laddie."

  They were all exhausted from such a grisly ordeal, more mental and emotional exhaustion than physical, but requiring all their strength and concentration.

  The healer spoke as she turned to face the three men, all brothers to the wounded one. She picked up the bottle of vile smelling herbs she had poured down the throat of the wounded boy, then dropped her hands and arms as if they were heavy weights. Exhaustion had set in now. Her mass of fiery, curly hair, usually pinned up when performing this type of surgery, had begun to loose itself, with small tendrils falling at her face and neck. She brushed it back with her hand and looked up again at the three men who had assisted her.

  "Well, if he survives the night, then maybe he'll make it."

  Those words were spoken in a very deep, harsh, voice by Alexander, the leader of the small band of brothers. He had simply spoken them before the healer had the chance. But her thoughts were exactly the same.

  Alexander's brogue was so strong the healer had to think a moment before she understood what he had said. In fact, all their brogues took some filtering before the words made sense to her. They were all actually speaking Gaelic, even though they could speak English as well.

  Probably a good thing, too, as there were rumors that the Crown would be insisting that all Scots must speak English in future, but that hadn't been declared law just yet. No matter, these brothers spoke their preferred language, Gaelic, as did Caitlin, the healer. She came from the Isle of Skye on the western side of the country, and these men all hailed from the upper Highlands, which was almost a country unto itself in that the brogue was greater, and some of their customs were a bit different than where she came from. Still, countrymen they all were.

  The healer turned around and fastened her gaze on Jack.

  "Now, for you, big brother. You with the bleeding calf. Come over here. Now."

  "I'm all right. Don't need no doctoring. I'll be all right," said the big man.

  "Yes, and I can grow wings and fly. Stop your blustering and sit in this chair."

  The healer took one look at Jack's leg and could see the bullet had gone completely through his calf, which was actually good. If it had lodged, then she would have had to remove it also. But, as it was, she simply cleaned the wound thoroughly and applied ointment and clean bandages.

  "You're right. You'll be fine. But change this bandage tomorrow and put some of this ointment on it." She handed him a tin with some of the medication to take with him.

  Jack mumbled something that may have been his way of saying thanks, but she was still having some difficulty understanding their brogue, and his words were more like mutterings.

  "Now, all of you. Get back to your business, whatever that may be, and leave me to mine, taking care of your brother."

  The healer was quite small in stature, but issued orders as if she were a Captain of the Guards! And, too, the large, black wolf who had not left her side, gave them pause.

  "Go, now. He's going to sleep for quite some time. Check with me tomorrow," she said as she ushered them out of the cave entrance.

  The looks on their faces said they were not too keen on leaving their brother in this cave with just a woman to look out for him. But, she seemed rather adamant about her orders.

  "Remember. Do not tell anyone he is here, and be sure no one follows you when you return. That was our agreement and I'll know if you don't keep it! And, if you don't, I promise I'll let my beast loose on you!"

  The three brothers left begrudgingly, but knew Ian would be better off with her than with them. In fact, they were almost envious of his being with this woman, this healer, as she was a most interesting woman, and none of them had failed to see her beauty, even if she was screaming at them most of the time! When the light
struck her hair, the fire it gave off was stunning. And when she turned her aqua gaze directly on you, you felt her energy coming off in waves. Was she indeed the witch some said she was?

  "Ye don't think maybe we need to stand guard at the cave entrance?" asked Jack.

  This brother was a giant of a man who stood taller than all the others, and tried to use his greater body size to his advantage. His red face indicated he was not at all pleased to be leaving their baby brother, Ian, in the hands of the healer, or witch, or whatever she called herself. All the MacKinnon brothers were very large men, but Jack even more so than the others.

  "No matter, witch or no, Ian lives and she's responsible for that. I need no more explanation," this coming from Hector, brother number three.

  Hector spent much of his time trying to be the peacemaker amongst the four brothers. That could be a full-time job if he let it be. Most of the time he was successful in taming tempers and acting as negotiator, but at times like this, stressful times that is, bridling the emotions of this crew was taxing.

  "We don't know but what she'll cast a spell on Ian and we'll never know what happened to him! I'm telling ye she can't be trusted!"

  Jack was still fuming, his face still glowing as red as his hair. Of the four brothers, he was the only brother with auburn hair and blue eyes. The others were all dark haired with dark eyes, the same as their father. Nothing pleased these fellows more than to tease their overly-large brother about being the "fair" one. That would get a rise out of him when nothing else would!

  Hector realized Jack usually vented his worry and anxiety through angry ranting and threats of violence to someone, anyone! So, as the three of them walked through the trees to where they had hidden their horses, he walked alongside Jack.

  "Brother, she could have refused to help him at the outset, but she didn't. She's a true healer and that's a rarity about these parts. She's already eased his pain and saved his life. Let that be enough for this day," said Hector, throwing his arm around Jack's shoulder, as he was only just slightly shorter, and giving it a squeeze.

  "Pull your bristles back down now, man," he chuckled quietly.

  Meanwhile, Alexander, who talked less than the others, but thought more and was known for his ability to plan great strategy, considered their next actions, or maybe inactions. Much thought must be given to their situation, and after he had figured it out, he would discuss it with the others, but not until he had considered all angles. Sometimes he really wished he wasn't the oldest as the burden could be onerous. But, as Da had taught him early on, there were some things in life that simply could not be changed, so make the most of them.

  * * *

  Back in the cave, Caitlin carefully looked at her young charge, checking him out from head to toe. She pushed at her hair once again, and mopped at her forehead.

  "Oh, my dear boy. However shall I deal with you upon your awakening?"

  The healer had treated the wounded far longer than she cared to remember and some of the memories still haunted her. So this wounded young man, boy actually, was just the latest in a long line of young men whose lives had forever been changed because one country or another, one clan or another, had decided they must annihilate each other rather than try to come to terms that would work for both sides. She often thought the male of the species had something within that prevented their being able to reason with one another. At any rate, they had more difficulty than the females did, or so she thought.

  Caitlin had carefully bandaged the young warrior's leg, or what was left of it. The lad had sustained a mighty slash from a Lochaber axe that literally took off the lower part of his leg. The brothers had all watched intently as the healer had severed the leg, as if to make sure she did it properly. But, no matter how many times she performed that brutal surgery, she always found herself wishing she could do something, anything, to save the limb. However, as any healer knew, saving a life was the most important thing, and sometimes that may require losing a limb in the process.

  After the brothers finally left, with a great push from the healer, she was lost in thought, remembering another young man she had tended. It seemed so long ago, but in actuality it wasn't all that long at all. And she remembered it well.

  CHAPTER 2

  "What have you done?"

  The tall soldier stood in front of her, his highly decorated uniform informing her of his importance, and his face ablaze with anger. He took her by the shoulders, lifted her small frame off the ground, and shook her to the very bone, causing her hair to tumble down her back in a mass of curls.

  "He was alive this morning, and now he's dead! What spell did you concoct to bring that about?"

  When he had asked for her help with saving his son, he had called her "healer," but when she had been unable to save the young lad, he had called her "witch."

  Caitlin had come from a long line of healers. Becoming a healer didn't seem to have been a choice; it was just something that was bred into her very fiber, her very being. Some had thought it was a calling of some sort, but she knew no matter the reason, she was indeed meant to be a healer. But there were those who thought healer was another name for witch.

  She had to laugh just a bit when she thought about that word. Just what was a witch anyway? Someone who had extraordinary powers? Someone who could disappear at will? One who could mix up a batch of potions that could harm or cure? Well, she wasn't aware of any extraordinary powers, and she had not disappeared anytime, but she did mix up potions now and then. Well, then perhaps she was witch, but if so, her powers were always used only for good.

  But even so, using all her powers, she was unable to save this man's young son, as well as the other dozen or so who had contracted a most virulent illness. She had recognized this disease at once, having seen it several times before, and knew perhaps a few of them would survive, but most would go the way of this young one. The disease was most common in warm climates, but it also found its way to cooler climates such as those found in this country too. Something inside, something intuitive, told her there would most certainly be a cure for this devastating illness one day, and she would not stop her efforts to find it. But for now, it still claimed most of its victims. She seemed to be able to fight it off herself, and that told her there was surely something about being exposed to it as a child and surviving that made her impervious to its clutches.

  Learning to administer treatments takes many years, and then figuring out how to battle any new disease was even more challenging, but exciting at the same time. She often had dreams that the future would hold much more information that would bring about cures that now seemed beyond anyone's abilities. Indeed, on occasion, a traveler or bard coming from Edinburgh would tell of the many wonders real physicians in the city were discovering. Caitlin so wished she could learn more and certainly knew there was so much more to learn. But still, her skills had been passed on by those before her, and she was confident in her abilities. Generations before her had used these same techniques, and many of the sick and wounded had survived because of them.

  Caitlin had told this officer, Regimental Commander Bernard Campbell, that his son and most of the other young men that he brought with him, had not survived in spite of her efforts, great though they were. The terrible irony of this was that these very brave young men, all members of the many groups fighting for the Bonnie Prince, had survived the Battle of Culloden and were headed back to their homes in the Western Isles of the country, and some would go on as far as the Hebrides. This Commander Campbell would now be the bearer of this news to the families of the soldiers, an unspeakably difficult task for anyone, even a seasoned soldier such as he.

  As he set her back down, he trembled, his grief palpable. Caitlin sensed his anger. It began to grow as he continued his glaring appraisal of her.

  However, the Commander was not the only person experiencing emotional disturbance. Caitlin's brain was struggling to keep a balance between the fear that was grasping her, and the anger that she
felt building at the same time. Her good sense told her to be very afraid of this man, but her temper was about to get the best of her, and she felt it building up inside!

  "There will be a price to pay for your witchery! We'll exact punishment and you will feel our grief while you burn!"

  Campbell grabbed the healer by the shoulders once again, and as he did so, he yelled out in pain!

  "Ah, you're burning my hands! Stop it! Look! You've caused blisters! Witch!"

  With that, he shoved her back, causing her to land on her backside, and to cry out when she hit the floor. He strode out and quickly jumped on his big mount and galloped away, kicking his horse violently in his flanks.

  "Burning his hands?" Is that what he said? What was he talking about?

  Caitlin vaguely remembered another incident when someone accused her of burning their hands. She was just a girl, about ten years old, and she had come upon Colin Sutherland, a neighbor boy, who had tied a kitten's front feet together and watched as the small kitten cried out in pain.

  "Ha! Let's tie the back ones, too!"

  And Colin proceeded to bring out another piece of string. Caitlin had never witnessed such cruelty to any creature, and something inside her glowed red hot! She reached over to Colin and grabbed his hands in hers, all the while staring at him.

  "You are so cruel, Colin Sutherland! Stop it this minute!"

  Colin tried to break away from her, and then started yelling loudly.

  "You're burning me! Stop it, Caitlin! It hurts!"

  Caitlin had no idea what he was talking about, but she took her hands away and he fled immediately. Caitlin untied the kitten and held it close.

  She had totally forgotten about the incident until now. Had she really burned the Commander and Colin? Then, just as she had done with the first "burning" incident, she tucked the memory of it somewhere back in the recesses of her mind. Perhaps she would think about it again one day. Perhaps not. She shook her head and got on about packing the few items she would take with her.