Chapter 48

They split up to their different tasks. Ailene had the wounded in the parlor where she was treating them. When Isobel found her, Ailene sobbed inconsolably over the body of the man Isobel stitched up. The other three wounded stared at her, unsure of what they should do. Isobel called in male servants to carry his body out with the other dead. Ailene sat upon the floor, unable to stop her tears. Isobel went to her, sat beside her and drew Ailene into her arms where she cried against her shoulder. Isobel patted her back and smoothed her hair.

"Did I not do it right?" Isobel asked when Ailene's sobbing slowed.

"Nay, Lady. You did the best you could. He would have died far sooner if it weren't for you stopping the blood loss," Ailene sniffled. "He lost too much before we could stop it; before I thought to ask for your help. Without a way to replace the blood, there was only a wee chance he could be saved." She wiped at her eyes.

"I came to help you with the other wounded. What can you tell me about them?"

Ailene straightened herself and went back into her care mode.

"Aye, I can. Tis likely these three will come out of this with nothing worse than a few scars to thrill the ladies with. This braw lad is Grant. Did your folks ever accuse you of having a hard head, Grant?"

"More than a few times," he replied.

"Well, they were right. Seems a musket ball bounced right off your noggin. If you look here, Isobel, you can see where the ball tore off a chunk of his hair and scalp. Bled like a stuck pig for awhile, but the bleedings almost stopped. This bandage has very little blood on it since I replaced it about an hour ago. It seems like the bone is okay, but I worry about bleeding on the inside, headaches and the like. We'll have to keep an eye on him for the next couple of days, wake him up if he seems too sleepy. His eyes look fine. One of the ways to check for damage to the head is to see if both eyes look good, the blacks the same size in both eyes and the same as another person who hasn't taken a blow to the head. If you see too much or too little black, it's a sign somethings wrong, but I can't treat that. I wish the doctor would get here to look at him. You let me know if your head starts hurting worse or if your vision gets blurry, right, Grant?"

"Yes, Lady Cameron."

"This young lad is named Lachlan. A musket ball went through his side, in the front and out the back. The hole's usually bigger going out than in. Of course, since it went in the front, you could see young Lachlan was charging the enemy when he was wounded. He's a brave lad, Lachlan is, and the lasses will fair swoon over his tales of the battle. Probably have to beat them off with a stick."

Lachlan blushed and Isobel appreciated how Ailene put them at ease, teased and praised them. She killed three men herself, maybe more than any of them did, but she made sure they realized how brave they were.

"I was frightfully scared myself when we were attacked," Isobel said. "I was afraid what would happen to us. It was so sudden. You lads were tremendously courageous to go charging after them into the teeth of their gunfire." She patted Lachlan's head. "I will be forever grateful for your daring, lads."

"You're welcome, Lady McTavish," Lachlan said, blushing deeper red than before.

"It doesn't appear ball struck anything too important in his side. I didn't notice anything leaking out of him other than blood and that's good," Ailene said. "With wounds such as these, the main consideration is the possibility of blood poisoning. If he starts to suffer a fever, it's important to check the wound site for any discoloration, red or black streaks extending out from the wound. The most I can do then is apply hot poultices to the wound, hoping to draw the poison out. A doctor might be able to cut some of the diseased tissue away, but I can't do that. I'm not qualified."

She went to her third patient.

"This brave laddie is Tam. He took a shot to the upper arm, in the front and out the back. It didn't strike bone, which is good, else we'd be treating a broken arm and trying to dig shards of bone out of the wound. His wound is the least serious, but we still have to keep an eye out for blood poisoning. You'll tell me if you start feeling feverish, won't you, Tam?"

"Aye, Lady Cameron."

"You can see why we're so proud of the fighting men of Cameron Keep," Ailene said. "Tis bravery like theirs lets me sleep at night knowing the foul enemies we have that would attack women. These three are among the finest and the best. Rest up, lads. We've got to get you ready for the next battle. No arguments. I'll look in on you later."

She waited until they put their heads down before closing the door on the room.

As they walked away, Isobel said, "It's nice the way you praised them for their bravery. It meant a lot to them. You could see their chests swell as you spoke of it."

"Aye. I think it's important to praise all the best things in men, especially when they're young. Courage, honor, honesty, chivalry, all of the things that make them noble and worth loving. Gives them something to strive for. Far better that than encouraging greed, corruption, rape, disrespect, cowardice; all the things we despise in ourselves. You need to know that your contributions are worthwhile and valued, else it's too easy to slip into doing the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, become men like Blackthorne or McTavish."

"You're right. I shall make a point of doing more praising myself."

"Let's see if they're coming along in the kitchen, shall we?" Ailene said.

Much of the food was ready to go when they arrived, so they helped carry it out to the workers outside, giving food first to the lads replacing the current pickets. They were instructed to eat quickly, go out and send the others in for their food. After feeding those outside, Isobel brought food to the patients who were very hungry. She checked each head for signs of fever as Ailene instructed. So far, all appeared well with them. She chatted with each of them as they ate, then collected their dishes to bring back to the kitchen. She grabbed some food for herself as Thorburn was ready to call their meeting together in the dining room. After posting guards at the doors, he started.

"Good work, Bjarkë on the fortifications. They'll do until something more permanent gets established. How are the patients doing?" Thorburn asked Ailene.

"Fine as long as they don't suffer a fever. That would be an indication something's wrong. I thought the doctor would be here before this. I'd like him to look them over."

"Aye. I did too. I wonder if he got waylaid as well?"

"Surely, even Blackthorne wouldn't be foolish enough to hurt the only medical help for miles around?" Stuart asked. "Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face."

"I hope not," Thorburn replied. "But I'm not sure what Blackthorne is capable of doing. We'll muddle on best we can with what we've got, and that's a damn fine healer."

"Here, here," Stuart and Frang said together.

"Thank you gentlemen, but I'm only capable of doing so much. If the lads suffer from blood poisoning, I can't do anything but apply a poultice and it may not be enough."

"They're doing fine so far, Ailene," Isobel said, putting her hand over hers. "I'm sure they'll be fine. You're doing a marvelous job."

"The next thing to decide is when to leave, when and with how many men," Thorburn said.

"We can't really stay," Stuart said, "not and be ready for the Midsummer's Festival. We really should leave tomorrow."

"Agreed. Here's what I suggest. We've got 45 men here now. I suggest that Stuart, Ailene and myself return tomorrow with thirty of the men. We'll leave the wagons here, ride horseback only so we can move fast and don't have to follow the road. We'll leave the wounded here for now, unless Ailene or the doctor, if he gets here, says they need to be moved somewhere else. Bjarkë will stay here with Isobel and Frang. We'll leave fifteen of our best archers. With the temporary fortifications near complete and the men here, you should be relatively safe. Because you're better able to defend the house, I think you can pull your pickets back to within a couple hundred yards, as you won't need as much warning nor will you need so many. Bjarkë and Frang will start training men here. The ones showing the most martial prowess and discipline can supplement your return the day before the festival. Hopefully, coming a day early will throw off any potential attackers. I suggest you leave five of our men here with those who won't be traveling. With ten of ours and fifteen of McTavish's best, you should be okay. The wagons can stay for now. Go by horseback, take a longer route if necessary, stay off the roads where you can. Does that sound reasonable to everyone?"

"Sounds fair to me, big brother," Frang said. "We'll be fine, I'm sure."

"We'll leave in the morning after the funeral services," Thorburn said. "I'm off to bed. It's been an exhausting day. Can someone show me to the room?"

"I can do so, Laird Cameron," Isobel said. "Follow me, please."

She led him up to the stairs to his room and showed him in.

"Where are you sleeping tonight, Isobel?"

"I'm going to be in Frang's room."

Thorburn raised his eyebrows.

"It's not what you think. It's not what anyone thinks. Given I was named Lady of the house and Frang is Laird, it would be demeaning for either of us to be with the servants or sleeping on the floor. He's promised not to take advantage of the situation, and I'll have my own room once you leave. That or he'll be dead by morning."

"I don't believe Frang will take advantage of the circumstances, Isobel, so please, try not to kill him."

Isobel laughed. "I hope not, Thorburn. He knows how I feel."

"You intend to remain alone for the balance of your life?"

"Better than being tied to a pig, Lord. No offense to you or your family. Not to say that Frang is a pig, but men have not demonstrated to me any qualities which I feel entitles them to what's between my legs."

"Aye. I can see why you might feel that way. McTavish was an animal."

"And what about the others he gave me to. For McTavish to treat me like a whore is one thing, but all the other men he owed money to treated me no better."

"But wouldn't a pig be more likely to associate with other pigs, rather than horses or sheep. If the man is not a pig himself, would he not associate with men of higher character and better quality."

"By those standards, why did Frang spend so much time gambling with McTavish and his friends? Does he not get tarred with the same brush?"

"Frang does enjoy his gambling, Isobel," Thorburn admitted. "And I suppose you must associate with gamblers to gamble, but he would not and did not associate with him or his like at other times. Nor, had he been like them, would have cared enough about you and your situation to wager for you instead of McTavish's property. Nor once having won you, done nothing to take advantage of that. It's been a misfortune running into a lot of pigs in your life, but not all men are like that. You ran into more than your share due to McTavish. Don't think most men are like him. Some are, but not all. Give Frang a chance to prove himself."

"I've told him I would keep an open mind, but I'm not likely to change it. Too much damage, I think."

"Tis a sad thing, because you're an extraordinary woman, Isobel, and Frang would be fortunate to have you. Any man would."

"Thank you for the kind words, Thorburn. I do appreciate them. I wish things were different as I would be lucky to be a part of your family. You're all unique, but very kind. Most folks would not take in a woman in my circumstances, nor worried over much about the people McTavish neglected. I will forever be indebted to you all and I love you more than my own family, like brothers or sisters, but I'm afraid that is all it will ever be."

"Good night, Isobel."

"Good night, Thorburn."

She left his room and as she walked past Stuart's and Ailene's room she heard them talking, a low murmur of voices filled with joy and laughter. It would be nice to share so much love and affection with another person. They must have come up while she was speaking with Thorburn. Likely, Frang was also in their room. God! How she hated that room. There were so many horrible memories associated with it. She paused before the door, sighing. Any room but this one, she thought. She knocked and waited for his "enter", then opened the door.