While I had never been hit by a train before, I imagined that what I was currently feeling was pretty close. Thankfully, that awful clanging noise had stopped. I slowly opened my eyes. Everything looked normal. I reasoned I must have fainted and been out for some time because the sun was higher in the sky than I remembered it being. I forced myself into a sitting position and glanced around for Lottie. She wasn't there. That concerned me. Where was she? Where was I? I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate.

I knew I was atop Craigh na Dun. The stones surrounding me confirmed that much. I had traveled here with Lottie to watch the druids' dance. I remembered Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Campbell dancing in bedsheets wielding torches. It seemed silly, but I was fairly certain I hadn't imagined that. I distinctly remembered having a laugh over it with Lottie. But where was Lottie? The only thing possible I reason was that she had gone to the automobile to fetch something for me when she saw that I had fainted.

A cool breeze seemed to come out of nowhere and I tugged the afghan tighter around my shoulders. I was surprised that with the sun up, the temperature seemed to have dropped. Very odd. But perhaps it was one of those things about Scotland I just never noticed before. I didn't want Lottie worrying about me, so I forced myself to stand. I seemed to have a short case of vertigo, so I leaned against one of the stones in the outer ring. I must have hit my head or something when I fell. I reached up and tenderly felt my head. Aside from the stray grass, there seemed to be nothing amiss. I felt no gashes or blood gushing, which was a good sign. I then patted down the rest of my body to make sure I didn't have any other injuries that might have contributed to my fainting. But I found nothing. As far as I knew Tallmadges weren't prone to fainting spells nor had I ever had one in my life before that moment. That should have been my first clue. But of course, I wouldn't realize that until later.

I pulled my satchel off my shoulder and set it on the ground for a moment. Four books made the thing awfully heavy. I rubbed the shoulder the strap had been resting on, trying to offer it some small relief before I picked the bag up again and walked in the direction of the automobile. Things looked slightly different than I remembered them being, but I reasoned that climbing in the dark accounted for all the changes I thought I was seeing. Everything looked different at night. That should have been another clue. Again, I didn't realize it at the time.

When I came to the bottom of the hill, I was more confused. I looked left and then I looked right. There was no sign of Lottie or the automobile. My first thought was that she had been so concerned for my safety that she had rushed to Inverness to get help. But that didn't make sense. Lottie had gone to medical school and she would know how to treat me. She would also know not to stray far from me. Then where could she be? My next thought was that maybe there was another trail to the top of Craigh na Dun that allowed for car access, which she used to drive to the top so that I wouldn't have to walk as far to the automobile. It was the only thing I could think of that made sense.

So, I walked back to the top of Craigh na Dun. Although, the missing sign for Craigh na Dun, should have been yet another clue.

I reached the top to find a woman with brown, curly hair setting flowers down in front of the stones. She looked like she was fighting against something. I must have stepped on a twig because there was a sudden snapping noise and the woman immediately turned to look at me.

"Lottie!" I called and raced toward her, thankful to have found her. Or at least I thought I had found her. I probably should have realized from how the woman was dressed that it wasn't my Lottie. But my brain rationalized that she could have kept a spare outfit in the automobile.

The woman's bright blue eyes widened as I approached her. Blue eyes. That struck me and stopped me in my tracks about two yards from the woman. Lottie's eyes were green, not blue. This woman's hair was darker, almost black whereas Lottie's was chocolate brown. This woman was older than Lottie. I began to notice more differences. "You're not Lottie," I said.

The woman looked at me hesitantly and then her expression grew more curious. Each time I said Lottie, the woman looked like she had seen a ghost, even though it was more like I was the one seeing a ghost. This woman looked so much like Lottie. So much so that they probably could have passed for sisters with a large age gap or perhaps even cousins.

She eyed me up and down, pursing her lips. I felt self-conscious and tugged the afghan a little tighter around myself. The woman reached out almost as if to touch the woven fabric, but her hand slowly dropped, as she had thought better than to do so. She sighed and pursed her lips again.

"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you," I said, motioning toward the flowers. "I-I was just looking for my friend. You clearly aren't her, so I'll just be on my way then..." I ran my left hand through my hair in frustration. I missed the look on the woman's face at the sight of my ring.

I turned on my heel to walk away when the woman called. "Lass, wait!"

I stopped and turned toward her, my hair blowing in the gentle wind, which still seemed colder than it should have been. The woman didn't say anything more. It was then that I noticed that her clothes were absolutely nothing like mine. They didn't belong in my time unless worn by historical reenactors. Maybe after the druids' dance, there was another sort of 18th-century reenactment for the feast of Beltane. I easily recognized the clothing like that of the 18th century. I had been to many Revolutionary War reenactments with my father growing up. We were quite proud of our heritage.

"Your clothing looks very authentic to the 18th century," I offered genuinely with a small smile.

The woman's eyes widened. She glanced at the large stone in the center of the ring. The one which she had laid flowers in front of before I had interrupted her. She looked at me like she wanted to tell me something, but couldn't decide if she should or not. She fidgeted with her fingers, drumming them against her thigh.

Just then, a man, dressed as a Redcoat crested the hill. This time, the woman actually looked frightened. "Don't speak," she whispered to me before she pulled me behind her, shielding me from the man with her body. It was then that I noticed the woman was quite tall. So tall that when I stood behind her, my gaze was at her shoulders. I had to stand on my tip-toes to see the man approaching. "Good day to ye, Captain Randall," the woman said.

Captain Randall? A Redcoat? He looked remarkably like Frank Randall, the man I had been introduced to the night before. Perhaps he was another reenactor. It wouldn't surprise me since the man was a historian. On my tip-toes, I looked at him. "Mistress Campbell," the man sneered.

I was rather taken aback. While the man looked like Frank Randall, his tone was much colder and his mannerisms seemed much more calculated. He almost seemed to swagger toward us, like he was superior to us and he knew it. Nothing like the Frank Randall I had met last night. I wanted to call out to him, but before I could, he spoke again, in a tone that made me rather uncomfortable.

"My my, Mistress Campbell. What are we doing atop a faery hill on your feast of Beltane? I had heard word of druids meeting here and I find you with this young woman."

"My-my niece," she stammered.

I tried not to show my surprise at the woman calling me her niece. Why would she lie to him? Also, why had Randall called me this woman? He had met me last night. I was certain that as a historian, the man would remember who I was. Especially seeing as I was a Tallmadge. Things were starting to make less sense. I thought as you aged, you gained more wisdom, but I felt severely lacking at this moment.

Randall cocked his head to get a glance at me. He then focused on the woman once more. "That doesn't explain what you're both doing here. Are you druids, Mistress Campbell? You do know what they do to witches, don't you?"

The woman moved one of her hands backward and rested it on my arm, still covered by the afghan. "We are not, Captain Randall," she said with certainty. "This is where I lost my children...to the druids, many Beltanes ago." She then motioned with her hand toward the flowers she had laid in front of the stone.

I wasn't sure if Randall believed her or not. He glanced at the stone and then back at the woman. His expression was one of disgust. "There will be a price for this, you know," Randall said as he narrowed his eyes in our direction. "For you ought not to be here at such a time."

I felt the woman tremble for a second beneath my hands. But as quickly as it had come, so it went. She stood a little taller and slightly nodded her head. "I appreciate your discretion, sir," she said.

Randall looked past the woman, making momentary eye contact with me. I shivered. Even his eyes seemed cold. He then looked back at the woman. "Tonight should be adequate enough time for your repayment."

The woman seemed to hesitate to accept his offer, but after a moment she responded, "Thank you, sir."

"Though, there are two of you out, meaning I require two payments." His eyes flashed toward me. He leaned toward his right to get a better look at me, but the woman turned us so that he couldn't see. He leaned a little further. But again, she continued to shield me.

"I will satisfy both payments," she said quickly. Her hand grasped my arm tighter.

It was then that I knew what was meant by payment. That seemed barbaric. What kind of person was Frank Randall? How could he do such a thing to his wife? My thoughts then turned to Claire. Had she noticed something last night that I hadn't? Why would she even want to be with such a man?

Randall didn't look very pleased with the idea at first, but knowing that either way he was going to be bed twice, he agreed. "Very well then, Mistress Campbell," he said, nodding his head before making eye contact with me again. "Where are my manners? Forgive me, madam." He did a little bow and then stood straight once more. "Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, at your service."

The man wasn't Frank. Thank God. But I had heard that name before. Had Frank mentioned a brother last night? A cousin? He had mentioned some relation to the man, I was sure of it. But this man was abhorrent. Why would Frank want to claim such a relation? Maybe it was a long-lost one and he didn't know any better. If I managed to see Frank in town before he left, I would be sure to tell him of my introduction to this man.

"It would seem that your niece has forgotten her manners as well, Mistress Campbell," Captain Randall said.

"Mute. She's mute, Captain Randall. Please forgive her, she is unable to speak."

Now I was mute? I was concerned about why this woman was creating such an elaborate ruse on my behalf. We had never even met before. But it seemed she wanted to protect me from Captain Randall, who wanted nothing good from me. So I quickly reasoned that I might as well go along with what the woman said for now.

I looked at Captain Randall and nodded my head.

The man scoffed. "Mute? Might as well be a whore then."

The woman, who by this point I assumed was Mistress Campbell, wanted to change the subject from me, lest the captain change his mind about their agreement. "What brought you here today, Captain Randall?"

Randall seemed to straighten as if he suddenly remembered his true purpose for being there. He seemed to puff out his chest as he clasped his arms behind his back. "There has been word of cattle raids in the area. Have you heard or seen anything of the sort, Mistress Campbell?"

"Only that if it were true, I hope they stay away from mine."

Captain Randall seemed to accept that answer with ease.

"Now, if ye don't mind, Captain Randall," Mistress Campbell said. "I would like to see the lass home before she catches cold."

"Very well then," Captain Randall said gruffly. He turned to go, but stopped and looked our direction once again. "I will see you tonight, Mistress Campbell. Same place as before."

I felt my stomach drop. Same as before, meaning this wasn't the first time. The man was vile. He was simply using Mistress Campbell for his pleasure. What sort of gentleman did such a thing? I wanted to lunge at him, but Mistress Campbell held onto me tightly as he was out of earshot.

Then she turned to me quickly. "Ye did well, lass. Ye save yerself more trouble then ye know by listening to me."

It felt as if she were treating me like a child, praising me for a job well done. I was tired of people pitying me. I was a fully grown woman capable of a lot of things. Including remaining silent when told to do so. I folded my arms across my chest. I needed some answers. "Not to sound ungrateful, but what are you playing at?" I asked. "We've only just met. I'm not your niece nor am I mute."

"Listen to me, lass. Ye need to keep yer wits about ye if yer to get by. Captain Randall being the least of yer worries right now."

My brow furrowed. What could she possibly mean by that? What other worries did I have that she could possibly know about?

Like Lottie, it was almost as if the woman was able to read my mind. "I dinna wish to see ye fall into the captain's hands. So it'll be best if ye stick close to me for the time being. I canna do much to help ye should ye part from my side. I can promise ye a roof over yer head until ye sort things out."

"But Lottie..." I needed to find my friend. What if this Captain Randall stumbled across her and she made the same mistake that I did, thinking he was Frank Randall? I couldn't let him proposition her like he had Mistress Campbell. I tried to walk past the woman, but she reached out and stopped me.

"She might have made her way to my home," Mistress Campbell interrupted me. "My house is the closest place from here."

I looked up at her, but her gaze quickly shifted from mine, like she didn't wish to make eye contact with me. "Inverness, I need to get back to Inverness," I told her. "My home is in Inverness, the Arbuckle estate. Perhaps you've heard of it."

Mistress Campbell looked like she had seen another ghost. It took her a moment to compose herself, but after she did, she cleared her throat and pointed toward Inverness. "See that smoke in the distance? That's where I live. It's between here and Inverness. Come with me. It's on yer way, lass."

I couldn't argue with her there. It was on the way, but I also couldn't help but feel a little like Hansel and Gretel being led to the witch's house. But for some reason, I found myself agreeing out loud to follow her. Mistress Campbell offered me a smile and gently held onto my elbow, guiding me down the hill.

"Need to keep clear of the main road," she muttered to herself. I was fairly certain I wasn't supposed to hear that and I now wondered if I had made a big mistake. Perhaps she was going to murder me.

As we continued to walk in silence, I tried to come up with a plan to get me out of this predicament. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. I wasn't sure if I should trust this woman or not. I wished I had gotten to know more of my surroundings the last year instead of caring for Stephen. I knew I played my part as the doting wife well, but staying in the house with him at all hours was not currently doing me any favors.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when Mistress Campbell told me to watch out for a root sticking out of the ground. What kind of killer helped their victims in such a manner? I then began to wonder if this was all a dream. Some elaborate scene I had dreamt up in my head to escape. But another rush of bitter wind told me this wasn't a dream.

"Yer probably chilled," Mistress Campbell said looking at me. "I'll see ye get a cup of tea when we get home, lass."

While I was more of a coffee person, I had learned to enjoy tea toward the end of my time in medical school. A cup of tea sounded good. Maybe it would help me clear my head. A warm drink usually did wonders for me.

True to her word, we stayed away from the main road until we came upon a quaint little home completely surrounded by trees. I doubt anyone would have seen the place unless they had been looking for it. The place couldn't have been more than a few rooms, but Mistress Campbell seemed to beam with pride at the sight of it.

"My Geordie built this place for me," Mistress Campbell told me.

"Is that your husband?" I asked her. She nodded her head. So, I asked another question. "Is he home?"

She stopped walking and looked behind her with a sad expression on her face. "Geordie is away for a time. He should return in a month or two." I must have made a face because she responded, "Dinna fash, lass." I looked her in the eyes. She should have been concerned for her own well-being, but instead, she seemed concerned for me. She patted my arm in a motherly way. Maternal concern was something I had never known, nor did I ever expect to experience. But for reasons unknown to me, it made me trust her It was almost as if we were kindred spirits.

Mistress Campbell smiled at me before she motioned for us to continue up the lane to the house. We were about halfway there when dogs came bounding toward us. "They won't hurt you," she told me.

I nodded my head. It wasn't dogs that I was scared of. Not that I'd ever admit to anyone which creature it was actually terrified me. When the dogs reached me, they jumped up on me and knocked me off me feet. I fell to the ground and landed in a puddle. Mistress Campbell tried not to laugh after she managed to pull the dogs off me.

"It's probably for the best," she said. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant. But she acted like she hadn't said it. Instead, she offered me her hand. I accepted it and stood on my feet, dripping wet. "I'm afraid I only have clothes like..." Mistress Campbell paused and gestured to herself.

I looked at her curiously. Did the Scots have an equivalent of the Amish? If they did, Mistress Campbell certainly had to be one of them. But old-fashioned clothing was better than wet clothing. "That'll be just fine," I told her.

She smiled at me, a smile that I didn't quite understand. If I had, I would have understood that smile to mean I'd be wearing old-fashioned clothing more than I thought I would. But I thought it was just a smile. So, I followed her into the house.

The house was rather dark, but there was a small fire in the hearth. Mistress Campbell lit a candle from the flame. "Follow me, lass," she said before walking into another room.

I was in awe of what I saw. Everything about this place was very old-fashioned. There was no stove, no sink, no electric lights...in America, I probably would have considered Mistress Campbell's way of living as Amish in nature. I made my way to the other room to see Mistress Campbell holding up what looked like a green dress. Although, I was about to find out that the ensemble was far more than just a dress. Some items I knew the names of shift, petticoats, stay, stomacher...but I wasn't an expert at 18th-century clothing.

Thankfully, Mistress Campbell was able to help me dress. She also talked me through what to do with each piece. It was kind of her to do so, but I didn't think I would be going to any reenactments or joining the Amish anytime soon. When I was clad in dry clothes, Mistress Campbell led me back to the main room for a cup of tea.

I sat at the rough table with my satchel at my feet while she boiled some water. I couldn't help but stare at my unfamiliar surroundings. It seemed like right out of a history book. Mistress Campbell walked out of the room but quickly came back in holding the afghan I had once been draped in. She looked at it rather fondly, running her fingers over the woven yarn.

"My friend, Lottie, the one I'm trying to get back to. Her mother made that," I offered gently.

Mistress Campbell nodded her head. She cleared her throat and handed me the afghan back, which had surprisingly not gotten wet after my tumble in the mud. Silently, she then moved to prepare our tea.

"I'm sorry it's not much," she said handing me a small cup.

"It's perfect," I offered. Truly, it was better than nothing.

We sat there in silence for several minutes sipping our tea. I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to engage the woman too much because I wanted to get back to Inverness today yet and I was likely going to have to walk, seeing as the woman likely didn't own an automobile. But Mistress Campbell seemed to watch me with keen interest.
"That's a bonnie ring ye have there," Mistress Campbell said before sipping her tea again. "Did yer lad give it to ye?"

I set my cup down and looked at my left hand. I gasped. The center diamond was missing. Had I lost it atop Craigh na Dun? I wiggled my fingers and then looked back at Mistress Campbell. "My husband, Stephen gave it to me."

Mistress Campbell smiled and rested her hand over her heart. "Is he well? Your husband?"

My brow furrowed as I looked down at the ring once more. I shook my head. "Stephen died nearly six months ago."

The teacup Mistress Campbell had been holding fell to the floor and shattered. She looked very pale all of a sudden. The hand that had been holding her cup was shaking and she looked on the brink of tears. "Dead?" she barely managed to croak out. "He's dead?"

I nodded my head slowly. This woman was close enough to Inverness that she should have heard of Stephen's passing. I knew how quickly word spread through the Scottish Highlands.

Tears began to slip down the woman's cheeks and she began to fan her face with her hand. "If ye'll excuse me, lass. I need a moment.." She then picked up her skirts and ran from the room, leaving me sitting there.

I felt terrible. Mostly because this woman, whom I had never met was reacting more to Stephen's death than I did. Did that make me a terrible person? Truthfully, I cried my tears when he was alive. His passing had been more of a relief.

I could hear Mistress Campbell crying from the other room. I hated when other people, who couldn't help me, heard me cry. So, I decided to leave the house for a few minutes to give Mistress Campbell some privacy. I would then come back, thank her for her kindness, and be on my way to Inverness. I grabbed the afghan for some warmth and left the house.

I followed a path that went east of the house. I walked for some time. I enjoyed walking. I could use the exercise and Mistress Campbell could use the privacy. I came to a stop when I found myself in some sort of pasture with cows. Did they call where I currently standing a pasture in Scotland too? Sometimes, it felt like I spoke a completely different language.

The wind started to blow again as it had atop Craigh na Dun. I pulled the afghan tighter. What was with this wind? The winds of change Lottie had said. I slightly scoffed at the idea.

I stood in the middle of the pasture looking at my surroundings. In the distance, I saw more Redcoat soldiers. One of them was driving a horse and cart. I thought of Captain Randall and shuddered. He was a horrible man. I didn't understand how one could be so horrid following the war. It was almost as if he had never lived through it.

I stopped in my tracks and threw my hands over my mouth in complete and utter shock.

Jonathan Wolverton Randall hadn't lived through the war. He had lived 200 years before the war. The reason Frank and Claire Randall were visiting Inverness was to find out information about him. Then suddenly everything started to make sense. The Redcoats. Randall's attitude toward women. The clothes. No electricity. No Lottie. Oh, God. That couldn't be possible. Could it? It seemed impossible, but it was the most rational thing I could come up with: I was somehow in the 18th century.

And then it dawned on me that if this was truly the 18th century, Mistress Campbell was not nearly as startled by my modern appearance as she should have been.