A Voice from the Past

Chapter 7: Randall 1, Randall 2

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They rode three abreast, Frank being sandwiched between two guards, and hemmed in front and rear with more. Half way to their destination, they were ambushed by a mob of deserters. They were surrounded on all sides, and outnumbered two to one. The men were a filthy lot, clothed in stained, frayed uniforms, with a hungry look in their eyes, and their weapons trained on each and every man of Randall's small company.

The leader, a rough looking customer, spurred his horse forward through the formation, and stopped in front of the captain. He smirked, confident of the success of his plan. "Well, what have we here? Captain Randall, is it now? Quite a prize." Looking over his shoulder at the men behind him, he brayed, "What say you, lads? Shall we keep him for ransom?"

The ayes went up all around. He thumped his index finger against the side of his temple, glaring at the redcoats. "But first things first ... Empty your pockets, all of you, and no one will taste a bullet."

Faster than lightning, Randall drew out a pistol hidden in the rear waistband of his breeches, and shot the brigand square in the forehead.

"How does that taste?" he roared.

The remaining deserters were stunned for an instant, then all hell broke loose. The bullets were flying about, and the troopers groaning as the projectiles found their fleshy targets. In the thick of the battle, Randall shouted, "Someone hand Beechum a bloody rifle, for god's sake."

A rifle flew across to Frank, who snatched it up, and began firing. Being an excellent marksman, he picked off two or three of the attackers, almost immediately. His accomplishment did not go unnoticed by the captain.

With Frank firing along with the troops, and hitting one mark after another, the odds were quickly turning to Randall's favor, and the remnant of the ambush party broke, turned tail, and fled back into the hills.

The skirmish had rapidly concluded and Randall was constrained to return to Fort William for the proper care of the wounded ... men and animals.

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Yes, indeed. Beechum, whoever he was, certainly proved his value on the field of battle. From that day henceforth, Randall kept his secret weapon close to his bosom. With every bivouac, every reconnaissance mission, he was certain to have the man always at the ready. That was not to say that he trusted him, though; Frank was guarded continually. He'd also been given a pistol, minus ammunition. If the need arose, a supply could be given to him in short order.

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The verra distasteful task fell to me to take Sassenach to Craigh na Dun. I didna tell her where we were headed 'til the verra stones loomed afore us. I kent as she would be o' two minds 'bout the journey back to her own time, and might fight agin' my decision. Tho' my heart was breakin', I would do what must be doon, heartbreak or no.

I helped Claire down from Donas, and tethered the animal at the base o' the hill. She looked at me, confusion floodin' her eyes. "What are we doing here, Jamie?"

My voice began to crack under the strain, and I forced out, "Ye told me as your Frank is waitin' for ye in another time. I canna keep ye here agin yer will, so I'm returnin' ye to him.

"I expect this is where ye were headed when the redcoats found ye and carted ye off to Black Jack."

I could see it in her eyes. She kent as I spoke the truth.