No-one comes

As the afternoon shadows lengthened Randy became more and more impatient. Where were Marlton's wardens? For a moment he considered the possibility that something had happened to Charlotte on her way home. Black Brand was not the only dangerous villain to hide in the old forests. After a little more consideration he dismissed to idea. Lady Marlton struck him as more than capable of dealing with anything she may encounter. Far more likely was that Marlton hoped to catch him sleeping in his lair and he'd be organizing a dawn raid, probably in conjunction with Lieutenant Easton and scores of men from the 43rd foot.

Suddenly no longer so sure of his position Randy picked up the two muskets and made his way stealthfully away from the overlook at the top of the falls. A far less comfortable shelter lay several hours walk to the East, if he started now he'd be able to reach it while the gibbous moon still partially lit the night sky. That's what he should do, but once Randy determined that he was not being surrounded he found himself making his way back to his original position. Even the faint chance that Lord Marlton would be there was enough of a draw.

In the back of his thoughts slinking about like a stoat after a duckling was the irrational hope that Miss Charlotte Marlton herself would also be on hand to witness the capture of Black Brand. There was something about her that made him hunger for just a glimpse of her long limbed body. With a resigned sigh Randy wrapped himself in one of the quilts and settled in for a long night. He didn't dare sleep at all and so he spent the night in an edgy state of hyper vigilance.

From what he had seen of the men of the 43rd he was not worried about scores of men sneaking silently through the night woods, but Marlton had several experience game wardens and at least one or two of the infantrymen were probably convicted poachers serving their time in the King's Army rather than some dismal goal. The young lieutenant had already nearly trapped him with a double layer of skirmishers. The second rank of skilled woodsmen had been following silently several hundred yards behind the first wave hoping to spot him if he circled behind the first wave of bumbling city-raised infantrymen. Only the bright red of the stealthy soldiers' uniforms gave Randy enough time to spot the trap and get away.

A half dozen times during the night Randy was sure he heard the telltale sound of a trig snapping under a hard-soled boot or the butt of a musket thumping against a tree trunk, but each time he was **** to admit that his imagination was betraying him. By the time the sun rose in the Eastern sky Randy found himself more irritated than ever at Lady Marlton. Why hadn't anyone arrived? What game was she playing at?

Randy didn't dare sleep anywhere near Rainbow Falls. Instead, tired and uneasy he crept away for over mile before rolling out the quilt under the curtain of a great fir tree whose heavy limbs bent to the ground blocking much of the light from the morning sun. When he awoke a little after noon he made his way cautiously back to his hideout expecting to see all of his belongings scattered and burnt. As far as he could tell, no-one had disturbed anything; his curiosity drove him to risk the arduous and damp descent down one of the narrow water-carved passageways that reached the cavern below from the top of the falls.

It took the better part of the day and a new tear in his trousers to determine that his lair had not been touched by anyone since his hasty retreat. Puzzled and grumpy at the good turn of events, Randy ate the rest of his prepared food cold for a second night cursing Charlotte for her cat-and-mouse games that **** him to sleep once again under the great fir.

The next morning he lit a tiny fire for just long enough to brew some tea and boil some oats. Again he approached his lair in stealth and still it was untouched. In an angry fit of defiance Randy spent the rest of the afternoon in his lair, but he could not relax. Most of his time was spent near the entranceway watching for the arrival of Marlton's men. The spray from the falls soaked his clothing as he watched for trouble that never came and by the time dusk arrived Randy couldn't stand living on edge any longer.

"Something has to give." He muttered as he wiped a strand of wet hair from his face. "That minx has me so rattled I'm jumping at shadows and eating cold oats while she and that cold-hearted bastard father of hers are feasting on pheasant and boiled pudding, drinking sherry by a fireplace and laughing at me."