Page 44 of Highlander’s Captive

“Aye, mistress,” Caoimhe said. “Do it. I’m ready.”

Amy nodded and smiled to her, although inside she was nervous. Usually, she’d leave the dislocated limbs to the ambulance attendants. But sometimes the dislocation would last for too long, and the muscles and blood vessels would start to atrophy, and the ambulance wasn’t available. Amy had done this three times—twice in a storm and once in a location where she had no signal. Every time it had gone well, but she still could pull too hard or in the wrong way, and do more harm than good.

She needed to be careful. “Right, honey, I’ll need you to lie on the table here. Craig, could you push away the bench so that I can have access to her shoulder?”

“Aye,” Craig said.

He removed the bench and pulled the table closer to the fire.

“Thanks,” Amy said. “Caoimhe, Craig will help you get on the table. Please lie on your back so that your shoulder is to me.”

Caoimhe did as Amy asked. The warmth should help the muscles relax a bit, because they would be stiffening the longer the shoulder was dislocated.

“I’m going to take your arm now,” Amy said. It was important to let the injured person know what would be done to them.

Amy took the girl’s arm and put it into a straight position. Slowly, she rotated it so that it was about forty-five degrees to Caoimhe’s side. Without changing the angle, Amy grabbed Caoimhe’s hand and pulled it firmly. Once the muscle loosened enough, the head of the humerus should slip into the shoulder socket.

Caoimhe’s face gathered into a grimace of pain, and the poor girl cried out.

“I know, sweetie, just a little more.”

The arm moved a little on its own and gave out a barely audible pop.

“Ahhh!” Caoimhe cried.

Amy released the pull softly, and laid the arm on the table by the girl’s side.

“I think it’s fixed. Don’t move though, sweetie, okay?”

Amy felt the shoulder under the girl’s dress, and the bones were in place. She helped Caoimhe sit up.

“Can you move the arm a little for me? It’ll hurt, so gently, please. We just need to see if you can move it.”

Caoimhe nodded, and with a grunt she moved her arm upwards.

“Excellent! Now, please hold your arm like that, close to your body, and support it with one hand, like this.” Amy showed her. “And don’t move it. I’ll fetch a sling for you, and then you’ll be good to return home.”

“Let me fetch it, mistress,” Erskine said. “Where?”

“Oh, thank you, Erskine,” Amy said. “Next door is the kitchen. There should be clean linens in one of the chests there.”

“Aye.”

“Tell them I ordered it,” Craig said.

“Aye, lord.”

Erskine walked out. Amy looked at Craig, and his eyes were on her, heavy and hot. He considered her, looking puzzled, as if she were something wondrous he’d just discovered.

Amy’s throat dried. “What is it?” she asked.

“In the field, we just push the bone back, but it often breaks. Where did ye learn to do it gently like that?”

Amy looked down at her hands. Did he mean it as a compliment? Or was he just curious? “Ah well, you know. You learn things in Ireland…”

She glanced back at him, and although he didn’t say anything else, his green eyes were the color of moss in the sun, and she found herself unable to look away. Her breath caught, bubbles tickling her stomach—just like when she looked at the vastness of the Vermont mountains, just like the first time she’d seen the Highlands. Somewhere deep, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the beginning of a disaster.

And yet she couldn’t look away.