“Okay, I’ll go look on the other side o’righ’?” Rob, who looks like he has a dark blue shirt on, offers a solution then walks around to where the barn door is located.
“Aye, and I’ll go doon this wee bit o’ hill and see whit I can find.”
Melody is not sure what “doon” means, but her suspicions tell her that it may mean down. And down, Tam starts to walk. The dread that slowly dissipated from Melody’s heart, regressing into a light anxiety, now thuds with a loud drum, clashing against her plans to catch a breather.
Panicking at the thought of Tam finding her suspended like meat ready for a barbecue, lunges forward with all the strength God has given her petite body. Her arms fly wild in the air as she fumbles around the branches trying to unhook her foot. Any thought for not being seen has left her mind. She has one goal only, to escape this hill alive.
Now standing at the edge where the hill begins its decline, Tam reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small personal pistol. He cocks it like someone who has handled a gun before then, he starts his descent.
He continues down the hill, looking for anything that might rustle in the bushes. He is yet a ways from Melody, but he is quickly gaining ground. The confidence in his step suggests that he is looking for something specific; a young, American teacher spying on him perhaps? Melody considers.
Still feeling like a sitting duck, Melody knows that if she fails to unhook herself soon, she will be no match for the gun-carrying groundskeeper. With a little more strength and less carefulness, Melody shakes at the branches around her foot. But they do not give; their claws are clenched tightly, refusing to release her from their firm hold.
“Tam!” No sooner does a loud shout bellow through the wind with a tinge of Rob’s familiar vocal chords, than Melody wonders if Rob has reverted sides again to help her.
She continues to wriggle her foot, unconvinced Tam will be deterred from his mission.
“Whit?” Tam shouts back without turning to face Rob. His eyes are firmly planted on the ground before him, scouting for the slightest sign of life.
Fortunately for Melody, the wind is carrying the loud rustles of her shaking at the bush away from Tam. He is just far enough to not hear her, yet.
“I checked aroond and back. There’s nout there.” Rob yells.
“Not even inside?”
“Nothing. Tam, we the only ones up here.” Rob sounds like he’s getting ready to put a stop to the search party. “Come on, I’ll...”
“In a wee bit.”
“I can see the whole hill fae here and I cannae see anything tae worry aboot. It’s probably the wind anyway.”
“Aye,” Tam responds more quietly, now lowering his gun. He lingers and stares down the hill, obviously contemplating if he should go further down the hill or return with Rob.
“Come on then, I’ll buy ya a stiff one. You look like you cud use it.”
“Alright by me.” Tam puts away his gun and returns up the hill reluctantly, then he glances back with a stern look as if to admit defeat followed by resolve to fight another day.
As the two men depart down the path on the opposite side of the hill, Melody notices that in the time she has been in Scotland, she is yet to see a Scotsman refuse a drink.
Still, the suspicion on Tam’s face alerted Melody that this is not over yet. Instead of waiting to find out if the men change their mind and return to the hill, she wriggles more vigorously this time. The branch rewards her persistence and gives, setting her foot free.
Before Melody can begin her celebration, she free falls again, only this time she is rolling on more horizontal ground. Instead of gaining speed down the hill of death that she is certain has caused her more grief than pleasure, she slows down. And as serendipity would have it, her tumble down the ferocious hill completes her round trip to McCorrie’s boat and delivers her a few feet away from the Howling Dog inn.
Unsure whether to thank God that she is alive or shout her peaked frustration at the skies, Melody lays on the ground and opts to release droves of pent up anger through heavy panting. Only five times does she permit herself to do this, then she stands up to avoid unwanted attention.
That’s when she feels it; the sharp sting of pain in her foot accompanied by merciless throbbing from her ankle down to her foot. She cannot stand; she cannot even put weight on her foot. Like rocks falling down a hill, she crumbles to the ground. And just steps away from the warm bath and soft covers that await her in her guest room, Melody is finally overcome by the hill.
The pain in her foot throbbing more fiercely, expressing an anger of its own, thrusts Melody into one final piercing cry for help.
Her voice rides the sea salt-licked air, her shrills penetrate through the stone-washed walls of the Howling Dog and it is Morrison the innkeeper who hears her pleas and races to her rescue.
Soon enough a crowd gathers around to give her cries the attention they commanded, and within the crowd are Rob and Tam with pints in hand, looking like they just received their drinks.
“Wha’ happened to ya hen?” Morrison says urgently, concerned for his guest.
“It’s my foot. I… argh!” Morrison taps her foot with his finger and almost makes the crowd disperse as quickly as it arrived when Melody yelps in anguish. Gasps are heard bouncing in the crowd all the way to the doors of the inn.
“Oh my, you’ve really dun it in haven’t
