Joan had always been good with the slingshot. A natural talent her mother had claimed. She hit the bird in the head with the first shot and watched with satisfaction as it toppled off its roost and fell. Her satisfaction died abruptly, though, when the damned thing merely landed on the branch below the one it had been on and lay there.
She waited, hoping that given a bit of time, the bird's weight might make it slip off the branch, but when that didn't happen, Joan heaved a sigh and moved to the tree to begin to climb. Never having climbed a tree before, she was surprised at how easy it was. It didn't seem to take long at all to climb up so that the branch the bird had flopped over was at her chest level. Joan reached for it then, but of course it was out of her reach. Quite a ways out of her reach.
Joan debated the matter and then climbed up until she stood on the branch the bird was on. She then eased to sit on it and pressed her hands down on the branch and straightened her arms. The action lifted her behind enough that she could then swing to the side a bit until her hip bumped against her right wrist, then she lowered herself and performed the action again over and over until she had moved herself far enough along the branch that she could reach the bird.
Smiling at the thought of the meal she was going to make for Cam that night, Joan picked up the bird and moved it to lie between herself and the trunk on the branch she was on. She then began to shift herself back the way she'd come. She was perhaps halfway back when the bird she'd thought she'd killed proved otherwise and suddenly fluttered and squawked beside her. Startled, Joan jerked, one hand slipping off the branch, and then she was falling. Crying out, she grabbed for something to stop her fall, and then cried out again as her head slammed into a branch. Pain radiated through her head, and then through her whole body as she crashed to the ground. Joan moaned as darkness claimed her.
CAM WAS PACING THE CLEARING AND FRETTING over what was taking Jo so long when he heard her scream. He whirled in the direction he thought the sound had come from and by the time the second scream sounded, he was running. The problem was he had no idea where she was, and after the second scream there was nothing to lead him to her. Cam shouted her name several times, but got no response, and then simply had to search the underbrush and area along the river. He did so quickly and methodically, aware that the sun was on its downward journey and he had to find her before dark.
Cam had been searching for what seemed like forever, growing more anxious by the moment when he glimpsed what looked like a bundle of cloth under a tree ahead. Eyes squinting, he moved slowly toward it, but then broke into a run when he recognized that it was Jo, lying on her back.
"Jo?" he said, dropping to his knees beside her. When she moaned and turned her head, relief coursed through him like he'd never before experienced. Her eyes were still closed, but she was alive at least, and she was stirring.
Bending, Cam scooped her up in his arms and straightened. The action brought her eyes open and she moaned again and winced as if the light bothered her.
"Oh, my head," she muttered, turning to press her face against his chest.
"What happened?" Cam asked, carrying her quickly back along the river toward the clearing.
"I fell out of the tree," she admitted on a sigh, raising one hand weakly to the base of her skull. Wincing at her own touch, she pulled her hand away and Cam cursed when he saw the blood on her fingers.
"What the devil were ye doing in the tree in the first place?" he asked sharply.
"Trying to get a pheasant," she admitted, sounding weary. Jo blinked her eyes open to give him a wry smile as she explained, "I knocked it out with my slingshot. I thought it was dead, but when I started to come back down the tree with it, it woke up and startled me. I fell . . ." She shrugged and turned her face into his chest again. "Sorry, I guess we won't be having pheasant for supper as I'd hoped."
"I'll find us supper. Ye should ha'e left it to me to begin with."
"You are still healing," she began and then suddenly stiffened and turned her face to his, eyes popping open. "Damn. Put me down. You shouldn't be carrying me. You'll open your stitches. Put me down, Cam."
"Me stitches are fine," he growled, tightening his arms around her and ignoring the pain in his back. "They will no' be fer long, though do ye no' stop squirming."
Jo went still at once, but glared at him for his obstinacy. The sight made Cam smile. She looked so cute with her face all swollen and scrunched up like that. It made him think this must be what little evil elves must look like.
"What are you smiling about?" she grumbled, turning her face away to see where they were.
"Ye do no' want to know, la-ad," he stumbled over the word, barely catching himself from calling her lass. He'd have to be more careful about that, he supposed and shook his head as they reached the clearing.
"Let me see your back," Jo said when he carried her to the river's edge and set her down to lean against a boulder there.
" 'Tis fine," Cam assured her and turned to go find both their bags. He'd forgotten all about the damned things in his panic when he'd heard her scream. He should have hidden them the moment he'd taken them off the horse, he supposed and then shrugged the worry away. He'd found her, and the bags were still here which was fortunate since they needed her medicinals.
"Tell me what I should do," Cam ordered as he returned.
"You should show me your back," she said grimly. "I want to see the stitches and be sure you haven't pulled any of them."
"They are fine," he repeated, dropping his bag at her feet and turning his attention to opening hers.
"Then show me," she snapped, and then grabbed for her bag with annoyance. "Give me that."
"Ye're bleeding," he said grimly and rifled quickly through the bag. Sadly, he didn't know a damned thing about healing, so in the end, merely removed a small swatch of linen and then handed her the sack and moved to the waterfall to stick the cloth under the icy running water. When he turned back, Jo was rifling through the bag herself, retrieving item after item. Cam ignored what she was doing and knelt beside her and reached for her head. "Let me see."
"I am fine," she said sharply, jerking back from him and putting one hand to her hat as if to stop him from taking it off. That was when Cam recalled that there was a long mane of glorious hair hidden under the cap she wore. If he tried removing it, her secret would no longer be a secret.
Cursing, he sat back on his heels and scowled. Let her think she kept her secret or tend her injury?
"I am the healer. Why do you not go hunt us up some supper while I tend this?"
The words were couched as a question,
but the tone was definitely an order. He had been dismissed, Cam realized, and found it amusing, considering that just moments ago she'd been demanding to see his back to ensure it was all right. It seemed that given a choice between ensuring he hadn't split his stitches and keeping her secret, keeping her secret won out.
"Go on, away with you," Jo said, waving him away as if he were a pesky fly.
Cam hesitated, but then nodded and stood. He would let her keep her secret for now. But he would keep an eye on her, and if she showed any signs of serious damage, he would be tending her himself, secret or no secret.
"But I want to see those stitches when you return," she added fretfully as he strode out of the clearing as ordered.
Cam merely grunted and continued until the woods closed around him, blocking him from view. He made a lot of noise as he moved through the brush to ensure she heard him leaving. But after he'd judged he'd gone far enough that she would think he was gone, Cam paused and made his way silently back. Head wounds were a nasty business, unpredictable at best, and he was determined to be sure she was all right before he would be willing to leave her alone for the amount of time it would take for him to scare up some dinner.
Reaching a tree at the edge of the clearing, Cam stationed himself behind it and leaned to the side to peer at Jo. His noisy exit had apparently reassured her, for she already had her cap off. Cam hadn't been able to tell the color last night, since the sun had set and everything had been in shadow. Now he saw that it was a wave of fine spun gold.
"Beautiful," he murmured, admiring the fair color until he noted the splotch of dark red just above and behind her ear. He scowled at the sight even as she covered it with the cloth he'd dampened at the waterfall.
Cam watched for several moments as she cleaned and then explored the area blindly with her fingers. When the worry on her expression eased and she merely applied salve before carefully catching up her hair in the cap and returning it to her head, he relaxed and slid away. Cam still would have liked to see for himself that the wound wasn't a bad one, but he trusted her skills. Besides, she'd only cleaned the blood away once and hadn't had to do it again before applying the salve. That suggested the bleeding had stopped, which was a good thing.