Bruar's Rest

down the steps. If fear could be measured her earlier encounter was tiny in comparison with what she felt at the vision of the dead hedgehog dropping onto the bottom step! The animal had been dug out of hibernation, to prove that Bull Buckley was here!
    She threw the bucket, a rook squawked somewhere, then she flew into the wagon, locked the door and piled baskets, cooking pots and anything not bolted down against it.
    Old Mother Foy was sitting up and one look at Megan told her trouble was afoot. ‘I fell asleep for a moment, did I hear a scream?’ Megan’s whiter-than-snow face and staring eyes were enough to tell her how serious the situation was. ‘Girlie, last time I saw such terror was on the face of a rabbit before I throttled it. Quick now, and tell me what’s wrong.’
    With eyes darting from one dark corner to another, mouth curled down at the corners, lips trembling, she just managed to squeeze out the words, ‘We’ve a visitor.’
    ‘This has to do with what ailed ye before, isn’t it?’
    Megan sat close and draped a blanket over the old woman. ‘It’s him!’
    The elderly lady laid her hand on Megan’s. ‘For several days I’ve smelt the murderer, he has an unholy presence, has the Bull. But calm down, ’cause he lives on fear, he does.’
    No sooner were the words spoken, when out of the black night a bloodcurdling scream was followed by mad laughter, which sent both women into a corner of the wagon to huddle like rats. ‘Did this swine do that?’ Mother Foy was pointing at Megan’s hand.
    ‘Like a witch of the mist he appeared, I should have realised when he called out “Hell”, but my mind was full of Michael. When Stephen assured me that it could be some dafty I didn’t bother. Will this madman do away with us?’
    ‘I wouldn’t put anything past him, but I have a feeling he’s playing cat and mouse. If that really was him in the mist, he’d have throttled you, if that was his plan. Now, quiet your tongue and keep your strength, for it could be a long night.’
    ‘He’ll not linger long in such cutting air—in no time his balls will be stone hard.’
    Mother Foy stifled a laugh and said, ‘Them things were kicked flat years ago by a horse.’
    Both smiled at the idea as they huddled close under a large quilt, waiting on a far-off dawn. Each agonising minute slowly ticked down, as they strained their ears, listening. Just like mice in a hole, they knew that he, cat-like, was out there in the dark, but they didn’t know if and when he’d strike. Exhausted and thirsty after a long night, the terror-struck couple, one young, the other old and sick, gave grateful thanks for a glint of daylight at last. Cats sleep most of the day, but would the one from hell?
    They looked at each other as sounds drifted to them in answer. A knife being dragged across the wagon side turned them to jelly, followed by, ‘I’m off now, but keep your eyes in the back of your heads. Oh Megan, I’ll take the high road and you take the low, ha, ha, ha!’
    Ribbons of light coming through the curtains shone fully on her face. ‘This beast insults my land,’ she stood up and shouted to her companion. ‘That’s a song of my countrymen, I’ll kill the pig.’ Her mood turned instantly from cowed terror to anger. That flea-carrying low-life had used a song written for her countrymen. Who did he think he was?
    ‘I’ll rip the bastard’s tongue from his throat,’ she hissed, tearing away boxes and baskets from the door.
    Mother Foy shouted a warning, ‘That’s what he wants, girlie.’
    Too late, her Scottish fire was now kindled. She wrenched open the door, iron poker in hand, and bounded down the steps, screaming. Two hoodie crows shrieked skywards without breakfast. ‘Listen, you horny fiend, don’t ever use words unfit for your shit-pitiful mouth. That song was for Scottish soldiers who never came home to their loved ones, decent people. Come and do your worst, you pus-filled maggot. See if I care. Never again! Do you hear me, never again will I shiver in fear of you or the whole breed of you.’ Taking two steps at a time she was back inside, smiling reassuringly at her friend and brandishing the poker. ‘He’s gone, and I reckon won’t come back near us, or I’ll cave in his skull with this.’
    ‘Oh girlie, you stupid thing. He’s not human, the Bull.’
    ‘I couldn’t give a toss, that’s the last time I spend a night in fear of anybody. Now let’s get out and relieve