Highland Chieftain Read Online Free PDF

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Chapter Three
    Callum opened his eyes and fought to catch his breath. Then he realized he was not in the water, not fighting to get to the surface and precious air, and began to calm down. Slowly, he studied his surroundings as his mind cleared and more memories of the day before returned. He attempted to get up and pain shot through his leg. It was then that he remembered everything. The beating, the river, losing Cathan, and the girl who came to his aid. And, most important, his broken and useless leg.
    He braced himself and cautiously pushed his body into a seated position. After studying his leg for a moment, he tightened the ties on the sticks bracing his leg. Then he looked around for something to use as a walking stick only to find the one she had cut for him leaning against the cave wall within easy reach. His little savior had thought of everything.
    Except how difficult it was going to be to get up from the floor, he mused. Muttering a curse, he inched himself backward until his back was against the wall and he could use it to help pull himself up. The hardest thing to do was to keep all weight off the foot on his broken leg. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the walking stick and began to move. Once he had relieved himself, he slowly hobbled around the cave. It was a good size and surprisingly well equipped. This cave was being made into a place to live. His rescuer must be planning to leave her home. He wondered if it was because of whoever put those bruises on her.
    Finally back at his pallet he began the slow, awkward process of sitting down, which was a bit more painful. A broken leg was a serious problem for him. It ended his search for Cathan and it meant he was stuck in this cave for a long time. He could not even be sure his friends would find him and he was deeply worried about little Cathan. Instinct told him the boy’s kinsmen took him in not because they loved him but because they wanted his inheritance. That greed put the child in danger just as it had killed his father. He looked at his bandaged leg and sighed, because he knew he was useless to the child now and would be for a while.
    Shifting so that he could sit with his back against the stone, he tried to make plans. There were too many indefinites for that to be a useful exercise, however. After several minutes of useless thinking in circles, his mind centered on the woman who had saved him.
    Bethoc Matheson was not hard to think about. She was a pretty little thing. Slim yet curvaceous, long, curly black hair, and wide blue-green eyes. What she also brought was a twinge of recognition yet he was not sure why. He wanted to think on it more as he closed his eyes, feeling tired. Weariness dogged him and he decided he might as well give in to it. If nothing else, a lot of rest was good for healing and he was eager to heal so he could find Cathan and get home.
    * * *
    It was late and Bethoc cursed as she slipped out of the house, Margaret strapped to her back as always. Her father had been ill in the morning and she had been forced to wait on him hand and foot. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to say a word about how his illness was caused by his own drinking. She knew he would have recovered enough to beat her senseless for the remark. He saw any criticism as a lack of respect.
    Now it was the middle of the afternoon and he was finally gone. She would only have a short time to visit with Sir Callum before she had to return to make the night’s meal. Walking briskly but not so fast she exhausted herself, she hurried toward the cave.
    She was almost there when something stopped her. Off to her right was a horse. It was saddled and had saddle packs yet there appeared to be no one around him. Bethoc walked toward the animal, watching closely for any sign that he had an owner nearby. No one appeared and she began to think she had found Sir Callum’s horse.
    As she reached the animal’s side, it looked at her.