Emily’s eyes lit up at her mother’s suggestion. “Yeah, yeah! Isn’t there a book like that, anywhere?”
“Maybe you could ask at the library?” Since moving to Stony Point, Annie had come to depend on the town’s efficient librarians to help her research many of the mysteries that swirled around her. “If there’s a story like that, you can be sure Valerie or Grace can find it for you.”
Emily tugged on her mother’s arm. “Look! Dad’s at the barrel. It’s time to cheer!” She jumped up and down with her arms in the air. “Go, Dad! Throw, throw, throw!”
“He has to get on the barrel first,” Peggy reminded her.
Emily nodded and jumped again. “Jump, Dad! Jump!” The women and Ian clapped along with Emily, their eyes glued to Wally as he gripped a haggis in one hand and prepared to mount the barrel.
“Oh, I hope Wally doesn’t break the haggis open when he jumps,” Peggy worried. “What a mess that would be! I’d be chewing my nails if Mitzy hadn’t worked so hard on my manicure.” Peggy’s sister, and Stony Point beautician, had decorated her nails with a colorful tartan design for the Highland Games.
His wife needn’t have worried. Wally had been springing into boats since he was a youngster, and he easily reached the top of the barrel, haggis intact. Pausing to be sure of his balance, he stood up tall and positioned his feet for the throw. As he took a deep breath, he heard Emily’s voice cheering for him.
Rearing his arm back, he hurled the haggis as hard as his workman muscles allowed. The spectators joined his daughter’s and friends’ cheers as they watched the Scottish delicacy sail through the air and land far beyond the marks of all the previous hurls. The cheers increased when Wally turned toward his family and bowed, his face flushed.
Ian turned to Emily. “Your cheering was very effective! You must come next year if I enter the Bonnie Knees contest.”
Em giggled. “OK, Mr. Mayor.” She tugged on Peggy’s shoulder and beckoned her to bend down so she could whisper, “Mama, how do you cheer for knees?”
“We’ve got a whole year to figure that out, Em,” Peggy whispered back.
They turned their attention back to the few remaining haggis hurlers, keeping their eyes trained on the marker indicating Wally’s results. When every haggis had been hurled, it was clear he had won the audience round.
The announcer called Wally over to him and said, “I’m hard-pressed to remember a better haggis hurling from an audience member, my lad. What’s your name, and where do you hail from?”
Not one to be comfortable speaking to crowds, Wally cleared his throat before he answered, “I’m Wally Carson, and I live in Stony Point.” Then he added, “Maine, of course.”
“Well, Wally from Stony Point, you might consider signing up for the official competition next year,” the announcer suggested. “You’ve got quite an arm.” He opened the sporran hanging from his waist and pulled out a piece of paper. “The Highland Games would like to treat you to a meal at any one of our fine food vendors.” He handed the certificate to Wally as the crowd cheered.
As Wally walked back to his family and friends, the announcer called for the athletes of the next competition, the Hammer Throw. The group gathered around Wally, offering their congratulations. He handed Peggy the gift certificate and picked up Emily, twirling her around. “Em, your cheering did the job! I heard you loud and clear.”
“Mr. Mayor wants me to cheer for his knees next year,” his daughter informed him.
Wally laughed and glanced at Ian. “Good! They’re going to need it!”
“Are you going to take the announcer’s suggestion and enter the real competition next year?” Alice asked. “Your throw really was impressive.”
Wally considered the question for a minute and then shrugged. “Probably not. I’m not thrilled about the idea of jumping onto that barrel in a skirt!”
The first athlete in the hammer-throwing competition, dressed in a black-and-red kilt, stepped into a chalked box and positioned himself with his back to the field, his heels planted near a wood barrier. The announcer reminded the crowd that the feet of competitors were not allowed to move until the throw was completed or the throw would be disqualified. Tuning out the activity around him, the athlete settled the hammer—a 16-pound metal ball attached to a bamboo shaft—on the ground to the right of his body. Bending down, he adjusted his grip on the shaft and then pulled the heavy sphere to the left and into the air. His muscles straining, he swung the weight in a circle three times and released it over his shoulder with a yell.