A Rift in the Fabric of Time

Chapter 17: Frank-Incensed

Chapter 17: Frank-Incensed

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. . . . .

Dawn brought a surprise. Jamie rose early, and the next thing I knew, stamping and snorting commenced outside my window. I heard a rap on the glass. I opened one bleary eye, and there was my lover's face staring through the pane, grinning like a fool. How could anyone possibly be that cheerful so early in the morning?

"Wake up, Sassenach," he brayed. "It's a fine day for a ride. Come wi' me, aye? I brought ye Sally Forth; a gentle wee beast, she is, and Bub for me. Hurry, now-get dressed. Druit!"

It was, as Jamie touted, a fine day, and it was lovely to be astride an animal as beautiful as Sally once more. I was curious about the horses, and asked, "Won't MacGregor be upset when he finds you up and absconded with his prize animals?"

"Nay, he said I could borrow them any time I fancied. He willna admit it, but Mairi told me as he thinks on me as a son. Isna that so, Bub?" He patted the horse's neck, affectionately, as the beast nickered in contentment.

We rode in silence for quite some time, listening to the birds calling one another and the leaves rustling faintly overhead.

Watching my highlander handling his sorrel with skillful mastery, I asked the inevitable, "You miss Trom Laighe, don't you?"

Nodding, he replied, "Aye. He was a grand piece o' horseflesh, and none can compare wi' him, ye ken. I expect I'm spoilt for havin' that fine animal. I can search high and low, and ne'er find one such as he was."

"You know, you never did tell me what Trom Laighe means in English. Can you translate it for me?"

"Aye, it's easy enough, but dinna laugh. It means ... Nightmare."

"Oh, I understand, now. Trom is a stallion."

"Oh, aye he is, for certain. I named him when I was but a wee laddie, and dinna ken as the horse wasna a mare. Ever'one laughed, yet the name stuck, and for'ermore, he was Trom Laighe."

"He is black as night, and scary as a night terror. I think it suits him."

Jamie lit up the sky with a broad smile. "I expect ye're right, Sassenach."

. . . . .

Jamie seemed to know this terrain well, and soon we were trotting right onto MacGregor's property. I'd never actually set foot on the place, and it struck me that Jamie hadn't visited the clinic where I worked either. I suppose we were being cautious in not being seen together. After the near miss of running into Strothers last evening, perhaps that was something we would have to continue if we wished to avoid the bloody police.

My man gave me a tour of the farm after unsaddling the horses. We swept through the apple and peach orchards, and I got a glimpse of the vegetable beds, and newly seeded alfalfa field. One thing was noticeably absent-that notorious grump, Macgregor. The truck was gone.

"He's most probably visitin' the pub." Jamie pivoted his head, looking around at his whereabouts. "Weel, I guess it's the whole o' it, then. I expect we should head back now."

On the way home, an airplane flew overhead. I smiled at Jamie as he looked up at the silver bird without jerking in the saddle. The novelty had worn off after all this time, but I felt a little sad at his reaction. It was almost like a child at Christmas time, no longer waiting up at night, since he'd been told that Father Christmas was but a fairytale.