Chapter Seventeen
“Allan!” another voice cried, and a woman appeared.
“Ma!” Ada sobbed. “It hurts!”
“Sir, madam,” Mia began, “your daughter is—Oh!”
She let out a cry as the man gripped her arm and pulled her away from the child on the table.
“What witchcraft are ye weaving, woman?”
“N-nothing, sir, I assure you,” Mia said, wincing as he tightened his grip. “Your daughter had an accident.”
“Aye—I heard,” the man growled.
“Allan, please,” the woman said, “why dinnae ye hear what this woman has to say?”
“But that young Calum said—”
“And ye listen to that wee terror? This woman’s no witch, for all that she’s English.”
Dear Lord! As if the marks on Mia’s face weren’t enough to engender prejudice, did these people hate her because of the country of her birth?
“Then what’s that in Ada’s mouth?” The man snatched the willow shaving from the girl’s lips and threw it on the floor. “Do ye taint my bairn with yer poisons?”
Mia wrenched herself free. “Sweet heaven, will you listen to yourselves? Do you really think I’d pick up an injured child and carry her all the way back here just to…
to what? Chant an incantation or two and turn her into a salmon?
” She gestured to the girl on the table.
“She’s hurt—look at her shoulder! I was trying to alleviate her pain with that piece of willow bark that you saw fit to throw onto the floor. ”
“But…” the man began, and Mia folded her hands and glared at him.
“But what?” she said. “Have you believed the rumors about the pockmarked whore rather than formed your own opinion? By all means, take your daughter home—that is, if you wish her to continue to suffer and risk being maimed for life. After all, men care nothing for daughters, do they?”
“M-maimed?” the woman said, her voice wavering, and she rushed to her daughter’s side and took her hand.
“Not if I can help it,” Mia replied. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but this poor girl was injured by others, not by me.”
The man turned to Jamie. “Is that true, lad?”
Jamie nodded, his eyes bright. “B-but we didnae mean to!” he said. “It’s just that Billy—”
“Och, I might have known Billy had something to do with it,” the woman said. “He probably sent Calum to tell us because he was too much of a coward to come himself. What happened, Jamie, lad?”
“I-I dinnae know…”
“Ye’ll not be in any trouble for telling the truth. My Allan will see to that, won’t ye, Allan? Ye’ll have a word with Billy’s da.”
“Aye,” Allan said, after a pause.
“It was Billy,” Jamie said. “He pushed Ada down the hill and she fell. But I”—he glanced at Mia—“I did nothing to stop him.”
“But you stayed behind for Ada, didn’t you?” Mia said. “You’re the only one who helped her.”
“And ye,” the boy said. He turned to the man. “This lady carried Ada all the way here, even though it was a long way, and she nearly fell twice. But I stopped her from falling.”
The man patted Jamie’s head. “Good lad,” he said. He gestured to the piece of bark on the floor. “Willow bark, eh?”
“It helps to relieve pain,” the woman said. “Dinnae ye remember my telling ye about it at school, Jamie, lad?”
The boy nodded.
“Och, lass, if ye were helping our Ada, then Allan’s sorry for what he did, aren’t ye, Allan?”
The man grunted and shrugged. His wife flashed him a look of irritation, but Mia knew that for a man, an apology was often considered a declaration of his lack of manhood.
A grunt and a shrug were, in all likelihood, the most profuse declaration of regret that she was ever likely to witness from these Highlanders.
As she returned her attention to the little girl on the table, footsteps approached and another man appeared in the doorway. Her stomach gave a flutter as she recognized Hamish.
“Laird MacLennan!” The woman dipped into a curtsy and the man inclined his head.
Hamish stepped forward, his brow furrowed into a frown. “What’s happened here?”
“It’s our Ada!”
His frown deepened and he stared at Mia. “What has she done?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Mia cried. “Why must you all assume that I’m trying to harm the poor child? Is this what Highlanders think of women? Or just Englishwomen?”
Hamish’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
“Or,” Mia continued, gritting her teeth as she gestured to her face, “just pockmarked Englishwomen?”
He stepped forward and reached toward her. “I only meant—”
Mia slapped his hand away. “I care not what you meant,” she said. “And I care not what any of you think. All I care about is this child. And if none of you will help me, then why don’t you go to the devil and let me take care of my patient?”
“Fuck,” Hamish muttered, and the woman drew in a sharp breath.
“Fuck!” Jamie echoed.
“Enough of that, lad,” Ada’s father said, clipping him around the ear. “Yer da would beat ye black and blue if he heard ye cursing.”
Ada let out another wail and Mia took another shard of willow from the jar. “Here, sweetheart, take this,” she said. “And if anyone tries to take it from you, I’ll cast a spell on them, turn them into a worm, then feed them to the salmon in the river.”
“What’s wrong with the lass?” Hamish said, approaching the table.
“It’s her collarbone,” Mia said. “It’s out of place and I must move it back. But”—she lowered her voice, lest the child hear—“it’s going to hurt. A lot. So Ada needs to be kept still, and I need no distractions.”
“Then let me help.”
She let out a snort and he took her hand. She caught her breath at the fizz of heat in her blood, but when she tried to break free, he pulled her close.
“Please.”
His emerald eyes shimmered with the soft plea, and, at length, she nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “Will you do as I tell you? I know a man finds it hard to take instructions from a woman.”
“Ma’am, can ye help my Ada?” the woman said.
“Of course she can, Mrs. MacLennan,” Hamish said. “Trust her—as I do. Why dinnae ye hold yer daughter’s hand while I help Lady MacLennan tend to her.”
Lady MacLennan…
“Jamie, lad,” Hamish continued, “do ye think Ada might like some wildflowers to cheer her up? I saw some by the river outside.”
“B-but the lady said I could lay the fire. And I want to help Ada.”
“Why don’t you go and find the flowers?” Mia said. “You can lay the fire when you come back.”
“There!” Hamish said, crouching to take the boy’s hand. “Do as the lady says.”
“Yes, sir.” Jamie dipped his head, then exited the parlor.
“Allan, I think ye should go with him,” Hamish said. “Keep him outside until we call ye.”
The man glanced at Mia. “Do ye trust her, laird?”
“Aye,” Hamish said. “I’d trust her with my life.”
The man nodded, then as soon as he left, closing the door behind him, Hamish touched Mia’s arm.
“What must I do?”
“Hold Ada’s shoulders to prevent her from moving,” Mia said. “Don’t press them too hard, or it’ll hurt. Just hold them still.”
He nodded, moved to the end of the table, and leaned over Ada’s head. “Now, young Ada, lass, will ye be a brave girl for yer ma?”
Ada nodded, her eyes glazed with pain. Then Hamish met Mia’s gaze and gave her a smile.
“On ye go, Mia, love.”
Mia, love…
Tempering the traitorous pulse of hope, Mia turned her attention to the child.
She placed her hand on the girl’s chest where the distended bone protruded.
The skin stretched over the bone, darkening in color where a bruise was already beginning to form.
With her fingertips she explored the ridge of the bone, determining the exact position.
She’d seen Dr. McIver perform the procedure only once before, but he was an experienced surgeon.
Performing the task herself was not the same as watching and taking a few notes. But it needed to be done.
Remember, lass—swift and firm. A sound bone always wants to sit in its rightful place. Ye only need help it on its way.
Ready? she mouthed, placing her hand over the bone.
Hamish nodded.
Mia closed her eyes, then focused on her breathing to temper the tremors in her body.
On the count of three… One, two…
Three!
She pushed against the bone, inward and upward. It gave way and, with a dull crack, moved forward. Ada let out a scream, the piece of bark falling from her lips, but Hamish held her firm while she fought to break free. Then, a heartbeat later, she lay still.
The girl’s mother sobbed and clung to her hand. Shortly after, Ada’s eyes fluttered open and she drew in a shuddering breath.
“Ma!”
“I’m here, wee one,” her mother said.
Mia ran her fingertips over the girl’s chest, lightening her touch as she traced the line of the collarbone. Hamish raised his eyebrows, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and she nodded.
“It’s worked,” she said. “How are you feeling, Ada?”
The girl inhaled then let out a sigh. “I-it’s hurting, b-but not as much as before.” She tried to move, then cried out.
“Careful, sweet one,” Mia said. “Your shoulder will be sore for a while. I’ll need to bind it to let it heal. Mrs. MacLennan, your husband can come back in now.”
The woman nodded and slipped outside. She returned so quickly with her husband and Jamie that they must have been listening outside—a conclusion that was confirmed when Mia saw the boy’s stricken face. Jamie curled his fingers around the white blooms in his hand.
“Ada…” he cried, and Hamish placed a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s well, Jamie, lad.” He turned to Mia. “Have ye bandages?”
“Top drawer in the cabinet.”
He nodded and fetched a roll of bandages from the drawer, then he helped Ada to sit and turned her little body so her legs were swinging over the edge of the table.
Mia wound the bandage around the child’s chest and shoulder, then she fashioned another strip of linen into a sling and looped it over Ada’s body, fixing her arm in place.
“You’ll need to rest your arm for a fortnight,” she said. “Keep it in this position when you’re not in bed.”
“A fortnight?” the girl’s mother said. “Oh my, I—”
“I can send Elspeth to help ye in the house, Mrs. MacLennan, if ye need it,” Hamish said.