The Last Sunset (23 page)

“Why the change of dates?”

“Well, ye see, the guy said it was because they
brought in a different calendar back in the seventeen hundreds. For some reason
the old calendar was behind what it shouldae been by eleven days. The guy
explained the reason for it, like, but this wee Shankhill bird was giving me
the eye at the time, so Ah wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Oh my God, he’s right,” breathed Shawnee. “They
changed from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in the second part of the
eighteenth century. When they’d calculated what the date shoulda been since the
birth of Christ, they figured they were slow by eleven days. My dad told me in
some parts of Scotland they continued to celebrate New Years on the twelfth of
January…”

“Ah remember now!” exclaimed Fergie. “That’s
what the guy said! They wouldn’t accept the new dates…”

“…And why the date of the massacre went intae folk
lore as the twenty-first of April instead of the tenth,” said Andy.

“My family used to observe Hogmanay on the
eleventh of January,” Colin admitted, “but ourselves always believed the
massacre took place on the twenty-first.”

“Ye know what this means, don’t ye?” Jamie said
breathlessly. “If this is only the twelfth of April then Culloden hasn’t been
fought yet…”

Andy’s eyes began to widen. “Come on tae hell,
Jamie; don’t even think about it…”

“How no’? Half an hour ago ye thought the
Hanoverian army was gonnae descend on us. Now we’ve got the chance tae stop
them getting intae the Highlands in the first place.”

The flickering glow of the fire seemed to
emphasise the deathly pallor of Andy’s face.

“Fighting for these people is one thing, but
taking on Cumberland’s army… that’s no’ our fight…”

“Seems tae me the choice here is simple,” put in
Rae. “Either we sit here while our guys get wiped out, or we side with the good
guys while they’re still around.”

“It’s just like Ah told ye,” said Fergie.
“They’ve sent us back in time tae sort everything out.”

“In the name of God will ye listen tae
yerselves!” Andy yelled. “We’re no’ talking about a game of football, we’re
talking about an army of ten thousand men.”

“There’ll be a lot less when Ah’ve finished with
them,” Rae smiled evilly.

All four soldiers were on their feet now, their
argument stilling the other voices around them. Macmillan turned to his friend.

“Jamie, for God’s sake, think about this. How
many are ye gonnae have tae kill tae stop Cumberland’s army? A thousand? Ten
thousand?”

“Ah only need one clear shot at that fat bastard,
Cumberland.”

“What happened tae us all being in the same mess
taegether?” yelled Rae. “All that bilge about us getting through it as a team.”

Andy ran a despairing hand through his hair. “In
the name of God, man, Ah wasn’t talking about declaring war on the British Army.”

“Macmillan; ye’re all mouth,” shouted Rae. “As
soon as the chips are down ye turn intae a bloody pacifist.”

Andy’s patience snapped. Savagely he grabbed Rae
by the throat, his fist held like a club above the big man’s head. Jamie and
Fergie came between them, before blows could be traded.

Rae continued relentlessly, the corporal barely
visible in the melee: “Difference between you and me is, Ah got no problem dropping
anyone that gets in ma way… You included.”

“Is this what ye want, Jamie?” Andy’s lip curled
in distaste. “Tae throw in yer lot with this moron?”

“For God’s sake, Andy, this isn’t about you or
him. This is about Culloden. We’ve got the chance tae stop it happening; all
the murder and rape and destruction these animals carried intae the Highlands.
What d’ye think’s gonnae happen tae Achnacon and Ishbel and all the others once
those bastards reach Lochaber?”

Andy realised he and Jamie were clutching each other’s
combat jacket, as if they were about to come to blows.

“If Sam’s right then what dae
you
think’s
gonnae happen if we go swanning off tae Inverness?”

“Those redcoats got a tanking the other day.
There’s a chance they won’t show their faces again, but we all
know
what’s gonnae happen after Culloden. We don’t have a choice here, Andy, and if
you weren’t so wrapped up in yer own guilt ye’d see that.”

Desperately Andy turned to Shawnee, Sam and
Colin. “Surely you can see the sense in what Ah’m saying…?”

Colin seemed to have been awaiting his
opportunity: “At night, from Inverlaragain cottage, the stars are the only
lights you can see. You feel like you’re the last person alive on Earth. That
is what Cumberland and his kind brought to the Highlands. I am sorry, Andy, but
you are wrong about this. If I had to, I would walk to Culloden Moor on my
own.”

“Nice one, wee man,” grunted Jamie.

Colin flushed, aware he’d made himself the
centre of attention. “I have to away and tell Alistair the news…”

The last ounce of Andy’s resistance crumbled
then. Miserably he returned to his seat beside the campfire. The murmur of
nearby voices began to fill the darkness once more.

“What about you, Shawnee?” Jamie asked.
“Whatever’s decided here is gonnae affect you and Sam. It’s only right you guys
should have your say.”

Sam made a point of answering first. “I remember
watching a soccer match on T.V. between your Rangers and your Celtics. I don’t
recall who won, or anything, I just remember the hatred between the fans. I
thought it really sucked. It was so stupid and parochial. I thought; why the
hell are they showing this Scottish crap on American T.V.? This isn’t our war,
none of this matters to us…”

“Ah’m sorry tae have tae tell ye, Sam, but
you’re in the same mess as the rest of us now,” said Jamie indignantly. “Ye
cannae switch this one off.”

The American shrugged his shoulders. “The bottom
line is this fellas; whether Shawnee heads off to the other side of the
country, or whether she stays here to fight these freakin soldiers, that’s
where you’ll find me too.” He stared intently at her. “Fact is, if Shawnee
decided to settle down and raise a family with some inbred Scottish relative in
this craphole, that’s where I’ll be, hanging around like some sad-assed piece
of work, ’cause I got no other reason for being here, and nowhere else to go…”

Shawnee rose from her seat by the campfire, the
back of her hand against her mouth. “Excuse me, please,” she mumbled, the sobs
breaking from her as she disappeared into the darkness.

All eyes turned accusingly towards Sam.

“What the hell was all that about?” said Jamie.

“She’s all right, is wee Shawnee,” Rae added,
shifting his attention from Andy to Sam. “She’s a wee stunner, but she’s got
more balls than anyone else here…”

“Ah, what the hell would you know, y’big ape?”
Sam growled.

Rae took a step towards the American, looking
about to fight Shawnee’s corner. “Ach, ye’re no’ worth the bother,” he decided.
“Where Ah come from you’re still swimming around in yer grandda’s scrotum.”

Sam seemed to find the remark hugely amusing,
although there was a harsh edge to his laughter.

“Yeah, whatever you say, pal.”

In the strained atmosphere that followed, Rae
decided he’d never been at a more boring funeral in his life. With a last
challenging glare at Andy he picked up the beer barrel, and with Fergie in tow
went off to see if things were livelier elsewhere.

Jamie suffered the deadening silence for a few
minutes, before deciding he had arrangements to make for the journey ahead.

“You gonnae be all right?” he asked Andy.

Andy’s sense of betrayal was visible on his
face.

“Just help us get there,” Jamie pleaded. “You
don’t have tae put yer finger tae any trigger. You can leave that tae those of
us that don’t have a conscience.”

Andy snorted in disgust. “Here is where we’ll
make a difference, no’ wandering off intae the swamps like the lost legions o’
Rome.”

Jamie shook his head. “Ach suit yerself. Ah’ve
got things tae do…”

Left on their own, Sam and Andy stared morosely
into the fire, each lost in his own misery. Eventually one of the lassies
brought over another keg of ale.

Andy looked at the American. “Ah don’t know
about you but Ah’m in the mood tae get totally wasted.”

Sam drained the first goblet of beer in one
swallow, and only looked at Andy when he’d half drunk the second.

“Seems we’ve both been dealt a shitty hand,
huh?”

“Life’s not about holding good cards, but
playing a poor hand well. That’s what ma grannie used tae say.”

“Yeah? Just once I’d like to know how it feels
to hit the jackpot.”

Andy looked dubiously at the American. “You
don’t think ye’ve hit the jackpot already then?”

“Shawnee y’mean? Lemme tell you something about
beautiful women, my friend. Most beautiful women don’t know how dangerous their
world is. The lucky ones have schmucks like me riding shotgun for them.”

“Ye make yerself sound like a hired gun.”

“Yeah? I guess that’s how it feels sometimes.”

“Ah take it you guys arenae married or
anything?”

“Hell no, anybody that’s not blood is only
allowed so close.” A poignant smile appeared on Sam’s face. “First time I saw
her she was laying flowers at this little statue in San Francisco. I thought
she had the saddest, most beautiful face I’d ever seen; she was like something
fragile and wounded that y’just wanted to protect, y’know? I think I fell for
her the moment I laid eyes on her…” Sam swivelled round to face the soldier,
and realised Shawnee was standing only a few yards behind him, her tear-stained
face reflecting the faint glow of the fire.

“Andy, would y’mind if Sam and I had a few words
in private,” she said softly.

Andy looked round in surprise, and scrambled to
his feet. “Aye, Ah’ll, eh, Ah’ll have a wander round, see what’s happening.”

Sam waited until the soldier was out of earshot.
“How long you been standing there?”

“His name was John Mclaren,” she said quietly.
“It was the first thing y’said to me; ‘who’s the little guy, is he a relative
or what?’ I told you his name was John Mclaren, and he helped to create Golden
Gate Park. I told y’my dad used to go there a lot. Don’t y’ever listen to
anything I say?”

“Not usually, no,” Sam automatically replied.
“But I remember the Bay area was shrouded in fog that day, and you were wearing
a little white fur coat and hat. You looked like a little Eskimo. And I
remember how pale y’were, and how y’tried to hide the fact that you’d been
crying.”

“Yeah, I seem to do that a lot,” she murmured.

Sam made a faint gesture with his hands, as if a
part of him was trying to apologise. “I don’t know what y’want from me,
Shawnee. I’ll do anything y’say. Go anywhere y’want me to go… hell, I’ll fight
the British, I’ll even wear one of those goddamned skirts if that’s what
y’want… But I can’t make myself into something I’m not. I can’t be one of these
guys. I wouldn’t wanna even if I could. And I can’t be your father. God knows
I’ve tried, but I’m tired of trying to compete with the guy.”

“Is that what y’think?” She shook her head
despairingly. “That I want you to be some kinda substitute for my dad?”

Sam grimaced awkwardly. “It just feels like
there’s only ever been one guy in your life. That the only thing that ever
matters to you is what woulda mattered to him, if he was still alive.”

Sam could see the tears rolling down Shawnee’s
cheeks, and he fought the familiar powerful urge to hold and protect her.

“He was everything to me for such a huge part of
my life,” she said, her voice racked by sobs. “I still miss him, Sam, and it
hurts that I never got the chance to say goodbye. But I love you in a totally
different way, and I just don’t see why there should have to be any kinda
conflict…”

“…One helluva time to finally tell me that,” Sam
interrupted softly.

Shawnee dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of
her jacket. “Tell y’what?”

“Y’know; what y’just said…”

Her lips began to tremble once more, and it was
a while before she was able to answer him. “I didn’t think I needed to spell it
out. Besides,” she added, with a wretched attempt at a smile, “when did y’ever
listen to anything I say?"

Andy had drifted aimlessly around the clachan,
looking for familiar faces amongst the groups of mourners. All who caught his
eye smiled pleasantly or nodded in his direction, but everyone seemed a little
reserved with him, and the experience only heightened his sense of isolation.
Before long he found himself wandering back towards the campfire.

The little peat fires cast a surprising amount
of light when seen from the darkness, and long before Andy had reached the
campfire he could see Shawnee and Sam, framed together in the shifting glow of
the flames. They were kissing with such tenderness that he found himself
captivated by the scene. At last, feeling like a voyeur, he turned away, a
bleak smile on his face.