Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"How many horses dae ye keep here?"
The breeder, a weathered man named Tormod who'd been workin' MacDougal lands for thirty years, squinted up at the sun as he considered. "This time of year? Maybe forty, fifty. Changes with the seasons."
Alpin nodded, his hand resting lightly on Mhairi's lower back as they walked through the paddock gate. She was taking everything in with wide eyes, watching the horses move through the meadow with obvious fascination.
"They're all so different," she said quietly.
"Aye. Each one's got its own temperament, strengths, weaknesses." Tormod gestured broadly. "Some are bred fer speed, others fer strength. Some are gentle as lambs, others have more fire in them."
"Which would ye recommend?" Alpin asked.
Tormod's sharp eyes shifted to Mhairi. "Fer the lass? Someone steady. Smart enough tae decide on her own if she makes a mistake, but nae so headstrong they'll fight her at every turn."
"I can hear ye talking about me," Mhairi pointed out, though there was humor in her voice.
"Good. Means yer ears work." Tormod's weathered face creased into a grin. "Come on then. Let's see who takes tae ye."
They moved deeper into the meadow. The horses lifted their heads as they approached, some curious, others content to keep grazing. A few young colts pranced at the edge of the herd, showing off.
"Just find one that feels right. One ye can trust."
Tormod had wandered ahead, making low clicking sounds that drew several horses closer. He ran his hands over each one, checking legs and temperaments with practiced ease.
"That bay mare," he called back. "She's a beauty. Four years old, good bloodlines, even temper."
The mare in question was indeed lovely, dark coat gleaming in the sunlight, strong legs, alert eyes. She came when Tormod beckoned, clearly well-trained.
Mhairi approached slowly, extending her hand for the mare to sniff. The horse investigated cautiously, then allowed herself to be stroked.
"She's beautiful," Mhairi said.
"Aye, she is. Fast too, when she wants tae be." Tormod patted the mare's neck. "But there are others if ye want tae look around."
They spent the next while moving through the herd. Tormod pointed out various horses, explaining their traits and histories. Mhairi listened carefully, asking questions about temperament and care.
But Alpin noticed she kept glancing back toward one particular area of the meadow.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
"That grey mare over there." Mhairi pointed to where a younger horse stood slightly apart from the main herd. "Why is she alone?"
"Ah." Tormod followed her gaze. "That's a complicated one, that is."
"Complicated how?"
The breeder scratched his beard. "She's only three years old. Good stock, strong, smart as a whip. But she's... particular about who handles her. Took tae me well enough during basic trainin', but she's nae warmed tae anyone else yet."
"What happens if she daesnae warm tae anyone?" Mhairi's voice had gone soft.
"Eventually we'll keep tryin' different handlers. If that daesnae work..." Tormod shrugged. "We might have tae sell her off tae someone with more time for difficult cases."
Mhairi was already walking toward the grey mare before Alpin could say anything. The horse's head came up immediately, ears forward, watching this newcomer approach.
"Careful, lass," Tormod called. "She's nae mean, but she's skittish with strangers."
But Mhairi didn’t slow down. She moved with the same quiet confidence she used in the healing chambers, her steps measured and calm. When she got close, she stopped and simply stood there, letting the mare decide whether to approach.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the grey mare took one step forward. Then another. Until she was close enough for Mhairi to reach out and touch.
"Well, I'll be damned," Tormod breathed beside Alpin. "She's never done that before."
Alpin watched as Mhairi ran her hands over the mare's neck, speaking too quietly for him to hear. The horse's ears flicked back and forth, listening, and she leaned into Mhairi's touch with obvious pleasure.
"That's the one she wants," Alpin said. It wasn’t a question.
"Aye, looks like it." Tormod tilted his head. "Though I should warn ye, me laird––that mare's nae fully trained yet. She'll need work, consistency, someone willin' tae put in the time."
"Mhairi's got time. And patience." Alpin's eyes never left the pair in the meadow. "What else daes she need tae ken?"
"Standard care––feed her regular, check her hooves daily, exercise when possible.
The mare's already saddle-broke and bridle-trained, but she'll test boundaries until she trusts her rider completely.
" Tormod's expression softened. "But if yer lass can get through tae her like she just did? They'll be good taegether."
They walked out to join Mhairi. The grey mare eyed them warily but didn’t move away from Mhairi's side.
"This one," Mhairi said as they approached. "If... if that's all right."
"More than all right." Alpin nodded to Tormod. "We'll take her."
"Excellent choice, me laird. I'll have her brought tae the castle stables tomorrow, along with tack and––"
"Wait." Mhairi's hand tightened on the mare's mane. "Alpin, this is too much. A horse, equipment––I cannae accept all of that."
"Why nae?"
"Because it’s too much."
"Nay arguments." He kept his tone gentle but firm. "This is happenin'. The only question is what ye're goin' tae name her."
Mhairi looked up at him, emotions warring in her grey eyes. Finally, she turned back to the mare.
"Solas," she said softly. "It means light."
"It's perfect." Alpin reached out to stroke the mare's neck, his hand brushing Mhairi's in the process. "Solas it is."
Tormod cleared his throat. "I'll make the arrangements, me laird. She'll be ready at the castle by midday tomorrow."
"Good. And Tormod? Make sure she gets the best tack we have. Nothin' worn or secondhand."
"Aye, me laird."
As the breeder walked away, Mhairi turned to face Alpin fully. "Thank ye. Ye see what I need before I even ken it meself."
"I’ll dae more.”
Before she could answer, Solas nudged Mhairi's shoulder with her nose, clearly demanding more attention. The moment broke, and Mhairi laughed, returning her focus to the horse.
They walked back toward where Dùbh waited, and Alpin lifted Mhairi back onto the saddle in front of him. They rode toward the castle with the sun sinking low on the horizon.
"Miss? Can ye help with this?"
Mhairi looked up from the mortar where she'd been grinding feverfew to find a young mother hovering in the doorway of the village healer's cottage.
The woman held a small child on her hip––perhaps two years old, with tear-streaked cheeks and labored breathing.
"Of course. Come in." Mhairi set down the pestle and moved to clear space on the examination table. "What's troublin' him?"
"He cannae breathe right. Started this mornin', just a wee cough at first, but now..." The mother's voice cracked with worry. "He keeps makin' this awful wheezin' sound."
Donnach appeared from the back room where he'd been sorting supplies. "Let me see the bairn."
Together, they examined the child. His breathing was indeed labored, each inhale accompanied by a high-pitched wheeze. His lips had a faint blue tinge.
"Croup," Donnach said immediately. "Common in children his age, especially this time of year." He looked at Mhairi. "What's the treatment?"
This was a test. Mhairi's mind raced through everything she'd learned over the past weeks. "Steam inhalation to ease the airway. And... willow bark tea fer the fever?"
"Close. The fever's nae the primary concern yet, it's the swellin' in his throat that's causin' the breathin' trouble.
We need tae reduce that inflammation first." Donnach was already moving toward his supplies.
"Mhairi, start water boilin'. Add chamomile and mint, the steam will help open his airways.
And prepare a honey and thyme mixture fer the cough. "
Mhairi worked quickly, her hands steady despite her nervous energy. This was her first time treating a seriously ill child without Donnach directly supervising every move.
She got the water boiling, added the herbs, and positioned the pot where the mother could hold the child over the steam safely. Then she mixed honey with crushed thyme leaves, creatin' a thick paste.
"Here." She offered a small spoonful to the child. "I ken it daesnae taste good, but it'll help ye breathe better."
The boy resisted at first, turning his face away. But Mhairi was patient, speaking softly, waiting until he was curious enough to try it. When he finally accepted the spoonful, she praised him warmly.
"Good lad. Ye're very brave."
They kept the child over the steam for nearly twenty minutes. Gradually, his breathing eased, the wheezing quieting to occasional coughs.
"He should rest now," Donnach told the mother. "Keep him warm, give him the honey mixture three times daily, and if the wheezin' returns, bring him back immediately."
"Thank ye." The woman's eyes were damp with relief. "Both of ye. I was so frightened."
After she left, Donnach turned to Mhairi with an approving nod. "Well done. Ye kept calm, worked efficiently, and showed good instincts with the child."
She smiled and felt proud of herself
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of patients. A farmer with a badly infected cut on his hand. An elderly woman needing a salve for joint pain. A young girl who'd burned herself helping with bread-making.
Mhairi treated each one under Donnach's watchful eye, her confidence growing with every successful procedure.
By afternoon, she was exhausted but exhilarated.
"Ye're a natural," Donnach said as they cleaned up after the last patient. "I meant what I told the laird, ye could be truly exceptional at this.” The old healer's eyes were knowing. "He cares about ye, that one. More than he's probably willin' tae admit yet."
Heat crept up Mhairi's neck. "He's just bein' kind."
"If ye believe that, yer blindness extends beyond healin' arts." Donnach chuckled. "I've kenned Alpin since he was a lad. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at ye."
Before Mhairi could respond, voices outside drew their attention. Through the window, she could see a commotion in the village square.
"What's happenin'?" she asked.
Donnach moved toward the door. "Come on. Might be important."
"I ken she's been through terrible things, but is she truly worth risin' the entire clan?"
Alpin's voice went cold. "She's proof of what Graham and Ashcombe are daein'. She's a victim of a trade that's stealin' women from all across the Highlands. And if we dinnae stand against it now, how many more will suffer?"
"So, this is about principle?" Malcolm asked carefully.
"This is about daein' what's right." Alpin leaned forward. "And aye, it's also about protectin' someone who's under me care. Someone who's become part of this clan."
Fergus spoke up from his position near the window. "The men are ready tae fight, me laird. I've been trainin' them, and morale is good. They understand what's at stake."
"And what about supplies?" Brodie asked. "If Laird Peadar and Lady Kenina accept yer invitation, we'll have additional mouths tae feed."
"We have enough stores tae manage fer several weeks at least." Alpin looked around the table. "I've already sent the letters tae Peadar explainin' the situation with Graham and Ashcombe. If they agree tae come, we'll coordinate our efforts against both threats."
"And if they dinnae come?" Dougal's expression was grim.
"Then we handle it ourselves." Alpin's voice was firm. "But I'm hopin' they'll see this fer what it is, an opportunity tae finally bring Graham tae justice and stop these auctions permanently."
The Council continued debating for another hour, but eventually they reached an uneasy agreement. Preparations would continue. Messages would be sent. And they would wait for Peadar and Kenina's response.
When the meeting finally ended, Alpin retreated to his office with a stack of reports. Supply inventories. Patrol schedules. Intelligence about Ashcombe's movements.
He tried to focus. Really tried.
But his mind kept drifting to Mhairi. Wondering how her day in the village was going. Whether she was enjoying the work. Whether she was safe.
After an hour of reading the same supply report three times without absorbing a single word, Alpin gave up.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, pushing back from his desk.
He found Callum in the training yard, overseeing sword drills.
"I'm goin' tae the village," Alpin announced.
Callum didn’t even look surprised. "Tae check on Mhairi?"
"Tae... handle clan business."
"Right. Clan business." Callum's grin was insufferable. "And if ye happen tae see a certain healer's apprentice while ye're there, well, that's just coincidence."
"Shut up."
"Ye're smitten, me laird. Completely, hopelessly smitten."
"I'm leavin' now."
"Should I send guards with ye?"
"Nay. I'm just ridin' down tae check on things." Alpin was already walking toward the stables. "I'll be back before sunset."
The ride to the village was blessedly short. Alpin kept Dùbh at an easy canter, his eyes scanning the familiar landscape. Everything seemed peaceful - farmers in their fields, children playing near cottages, normal autumn activity.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.
He reached the village center just as a small crowd was gathering near the healer's cottage. Alpin's hand went instinctively to his sword hilt as he dismounted, his warrior's instincts immediately on alert.
Then he saw what had drawn the crowd.
Mhairi stood in the doorway of the cottage, her apprentice's apron stained with what looked like blood and herbal mixtures. She was speaking to a group of villagers, her voice calm and confident as she gave instructions about caring for someone who'd apparently been injured.
And the villagers were listening.
Really listening, with the kind of respect usually reserved for experienced healers, nae apprentices on their first real day of work.
Alpin felt something warm and fierce settle in his chest as he watched her. This was what she was meant to do. This was who she was meant to be.
Not some nobleman's property. Not a victim hiding in shadows.
But a healer.
A woman who helped people. Someone the community was already beginning to rely on.