(lively music) (suspenseful music) (Hamish whooshing) (Jock panting) - Wee Jock.

(Hamish whooshing) - It's great what you see when you don't have a gun.

(Hamish chuckles) - Ah, didn't realize I had an audience.

- Your secret's safe with me.

- Do you want a lift?

(teacher speaking foreign language) (boy speaking foreign language) (teacher speaking foreign language) (kids speaking foreign language) (teacher speaking foreign language) (girl speaking foreign language) (boy speaking foreign language) (teacher speaking foreign language) (kids speaking foreign language) - Oh, Esme.

Educated in their native tongue.

Marvelous.

And do you like speaking the Gaelic, hm?

(girl speaking foreign language) - It's like poetry, isn't it?

- Yes, well start them young.

- Now, I've had the poster printed out for Lochdubh Day.

- Oh, normally just word of mouth.

- Well, you can't plan too carefully.

There's a lot still to be done.

Ooh, I've spoken to Isobel about the choir, and that's all settled.

- Well, it's usually just the band.

- Oh gosh, I must phone Evadne McTurk and confirm.

I'll see you on Thursday, bye.

(speaking foreign language) (kids giggle) - [Esme] Shh.

(engine rumbling) - [Hamish] So, you're a writer I hear.

- Of sorts.

- What sort?

- Nothing you'll have heard of.

- You never know.

- I write under a pen name.

- And what would that be?

- No, really.

- No come on, I'm interested.

- Sadler.

- Eh?

- Chuck Sadler.

(brakes squeal) - Chuck Sadler?

The Chuck Sadler?

- Well yes, I suppose so, yes.

- "Bleached Skulls in the Sunset."

"Dead Man's Gulch."

That book where Luke Kincaid shoots Jedd Mcglowen through the skeleton of the buffalo?

You're a gifted writer, Paul.

- You've read it.

I'm amazed.

- Read it?

I've read them all, me.

Chuck Sadler.

Chuck Sadler?

(Hamish laughs) (tense music) (dogs barking) - Here you are, Rowan.

I've brought a friend for you.

Go on in, Hamish.

I'll fetch the new book.

- Lovely.

(Hamish clucks) Come on.

You've fairly been doing the place up.

- Oh, don't mention it.

Here we are, "The Cowhand's Revenge."

Fresh from the press.

Would you like me to sign it for you?

- Aye.

- To Hamish.

From Chuck Sadler.

(eerie music) - Oh wad the power the giftie give us.

Oh my god, who's been quotin' Burns at ya?

- Hello!

PC Macbeth.

- Hamish, please.

- Now, you'll be coming on Thursday.

- Oh, I'm not much of a committee man.

- No, but we'll need you.

Lochdubh Day's being expanded.

The road will need to be blocked off.

- Normally just park a baler in the middle of the high street.

- Eight o'clock sharp, here's a draft agenda.

What you got there?

- A dead crow.

- [Vicky] A what?

- Must've kicked it out in the garden.

- Well, take it out of here for God's sake.

I must change.

Paul, would you give- - Hamish.

- Hamish a cup of tea?

And wash your hands.

(phone rings) (Jock panting) (tense music) - Some people have got no patience, hey Jock?

(dog barking) - Mr. McCrae!

(sheep bleating) Mr. McCrae!

(tool bangs) Mr. McCrae?

(tool scraping) Can I ask you, Mr. McCrae?

- Aye.

- Aw, what a marvelous shed.

It was lovely early this morning.

- Aye, we'll pay for it now then, hey?

(dog barking) - Could I have a word?

- Aye, talk away.

- I hear that you've got an old hand loom in your shed.

- Aye.

- Yeah, well we've decided to dress up the hall as an authentic weaving cottage, and- - Have we?

- And somebody mentioned the loom, so I thought maybe- - Well, you can see I'm a bit busy now.

It's in the back somewhere, so if you'll excuse me, I'm a bit busy at the moment.

- Ah, please.

It wouldn't take long, surely.

(engine rumbling) (dog barking) (chain rattling) (Vicky yelps) - No, isn't this a blackhouse?

- This is a pile of stones, madam.

- You can't destroy this.

This must be one of the last original blackhouses left standing!

- I'd thank you not to instruct me on blackhouses.

My granny was born in one, and dank, dark smelly holes they are, too.

- Why?

Why?

- I'm putting in a new septic tank, all right?

(engine rumbling) (stones clattering) (engines roaring) To hell with the pile of stones.

What about my tire?

- It's a piece of rubber!

You can't compare it with the heritage your forefathers left you.

Hamish.

- Hamish.

Look, Hamish, I want this lifted for criminal damages to my tractor.

- Will you kindly contact the planning department Inverness.

This man is guilty of destroying a listed building!

- Excuse me, do you know how much a new tire costs?

- Oh for goodness sake, a tire.

- No, Dad, it'll just be a tenner for the puncture.

- Shut up!

- Hardly, are you gonna phone or shall I?

- Why don't we all just calm down?

- I'm perfectly calm.

- Aye, well I'm bloody well not.

- No wonder!

The destruction of a blackhouse- - Don't you dare talk to me about destruction.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, you mentioned a listed building.

- It's not listed.

- Yet.

- And you're talking about what, 10 quid damage to your tire?

- Well, maybe 20.

- Look, Lachie, it is not the money.

It is the principle of the thing.

- Exactly.

- Cup of tea.

(tense music) - Get off.

(Hamish knocks) (dog barking) - Shut up, Rowan.

- Is that Hamish?

- We'll see, dear.

(bells jingle) Yes, it is.

Come in, Hamish.

- Hi there.

For you, Paul.

- Oh, thank you.

(bells jingle) I say, Hamish, thanks so much for smoothing over the tractor incident.

- Oh, it was nothing.

No more dead crows, I hope.

- No, no, no.

- Ah well, then.

- Are you enjoying the book?

- You know Paul, I haven't in a minute.

- I was joking.

- So am I.

It was great.

It's the best yet.

- Oh, thank you.

Come on in.

- [Man] 48 pounds at the gate.

At the town hall- - That'll be the police here to check the books, Cameron.

- Lovely to see you, Hamish.

Now, you sit down here.

- Isobel?

- Hamish.

- Oh, you better put that in the fridge.

Wee joke with a line on it.

- What do you drink, Hamish?

I've heather beer.

- Heather beer.

- Lovely, yeah.

- I was just pointing out that in the last fiscal year, Lochdubh Day returned a deficit of 25 pounds 33 pence.

I view this matter with no small degree of concern.

If our all over budget is to be considered- - For goodness sake, Mr. Dicks, money's irrelevant.

I've been on to Highland Region, and they'll give us a loss guarantee of 2 1/2 thousand.

- Oh, oh I see.

But even so, a loss guarantee is not the same as project funding.

- What's a few pounds matter when your culture's at stake?

- Culture?

Is it not just a piss up at the pub?

(people chuckle) - Oh, Rory.

I know you won't mind me saying this, but that is just the sort of attitude that's left the Highlands in the state they are today.

- Barney and me are happy to open the doors of the hotel anyway, and we've ordered a bouncy castle, as usual.

- Well- - Actually, I've canceled the bouncy castle.

- Since when?

- Well, Vicky here thought- - Respect Agnes, I don't think a bouncy castle's quite the sort of tone we're looking for here.

Now, I've contacted the Sealed Knot Society, and they'll recreate the Battle of the Devil's Hump.

And there'll be a Gaelic cookery competition, the choir'll sing, and then of course there's the traveling tartan road show.

The tourists will love it.

Now, for the ceilidh at night- - Esme usually handles the ceilidh.

We'll be getting Willie Muirhead's band over from Newton, won't we?

- Well, Vicky's been suggesting some new ideas.

(bell dings) But... - Barney.

- What?

- Would you be an angel?

- Aye, right.

- [Dick] How much is all this going to cost?

- I'd already paid the deposit on the bouncy castle.

- I'm afraid you'll really have to ask Vicky.

(people laughing) - [Vicky] Clapshot.

- Sorry?

- Clapshot.

It's boiled cabbage and potatoes garnished with salt and oatmeal.

And this is clootie dumpling.

(phone rings) (Jock barking) (clock ticking) - What?

(Hamish groans) Heather beer.

(machine whirring) (phone ringing) Hello.

Bruce?

(machine beeping) DI Bruce, good morning sir.

No, it was nonstop here yesterday, sir.

(machine beeps) A fax?

No, I don't think so.

Threats to the settlers?

Extreme nationalists, no I don't think so, sir.

Quiet as the grave here, sir.

- [Barney] We'll look and see what we've got in this one.

There's nothin' in it.

(Vicky yelping) - And you snip that there.

Get out of that.

And a wee drop of varnish over there, like that.

And there ya are.

- That's marvelous.

It's nothing like a fly.

(Hamish chuckles) - It's not meant to be a fly.

This one's a wee shrimp.

But it's more the memory of a wee shrimp.

I mean, if it actually looked like a shrimp- - Then you wouldn't catch anything.

- Correct.

Bit bright for the sea trout, though.

Night's best.

- What, you mean you fish in the dark?

- Aye.

Orange shrimp, fly, and an eight or a 10 on a moonlit night?

It's perfect.

- Hamish!

Oh, Hamish, there's a right rummy goin' on down at the pier.

Weapons are being brandished.

- Ah give us a break, John.

There's a rise on here.

- But Agnes is threatening to murder Barney.

- What are they arguing about?

- It's a private matter.

(Hamish sighs) - Over to you, Paul.

- Oh right, okay.

(gulls cawing) Give it a whirl, eh?

(reel clicking) - So what's the big secret?

- Well, Agnes thinks Barney's having an affair with his wife.

- Vicky?

And Barney?

- 2 1/2 hours, 2 1/2 hours you're out there with her!

- She wanted to look at my crew.

- Aye, and more!

- It's true!

She's going to decorate the hall with them.

- Do you think my head's not right?

Don't you walk away from me.

Don't you walk away from me!

- Morning, Agnes.

- Morning, Hamish.

- Any chance of a cup of that lovely coffee of yours?

- For you, Hamish, anything.

I'll see you later.

(people murmuring) Seen enough?

(Agnes speaks foreign language) (dog barking) - Barney?

Please.

I don't want any knife fights in Lochdubh.

- Neither do I.

Go and give us a hand with these, up to the hall.

- You mean Vicky really does want them?

- Aye.

For the ceilidh.

She's going to construct a fishing theme installation.

- All right.

(women singing in foreign language) - No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Now listen, ladies.

You're really going to have to concentrate, okay?

Now, can I have that once more please?

- Do you know, they never really wove tweed locally.

- Yes, it was out in the highlands, mostly.

- That's right.

- Yes.

- Ladies.

- Hamish.

- Oh well, ah.

Will you just stack them over there in that corner please gentlemen, thanks.

- Funny smell in here, you know?

- Thought I smelled something.

- Might be the girls.

- No.

- [Vicky] Well, it's probably the fixing agent.

- Sorry?

- I thought we ought to use a traditional fixing agent for the tweed.

- Traditional fixing agent?

- But was that not- - That's right.

Men's urine.

(women groan) (birds chirping) (engine rumbling) (tense music) (Vicky gasps) - What's wrong?

Hamish?

- Chuck.

- Good morning.

- Hi.

- Look at this.

- Uh-huh.

This is beyond a joke.

- Yes.

Hamish, could you somehow let her know how the village feels?

- A vendetta, against me?

For goodness sake, Hamish.

After all I've done for the community.

Petty jealousies, that's all.

- Vicky, these people can be dangerous.

I mean, they've even threatened to burn people out in other places.

- Darling, a crow is the symbol of death.

- Well, they're not scaring me, or burning me out!

You can't give in to these people.

Now, I didn't intend to take this any further, Hamish.

But if you insist on personalizing it, I'm sure your superiors in Inverness will be very interested.

- No, no, I don't think there's any need to involve them.

I mean if it's a local matter, I'll sort it out.

- Well, you better do it soon then, hadn't you?

(bells jingle) (lively music) (boxes clatter) - [Hamish] Hey, where's your dad?

- Under a tractor last time I saw him.

- Tell him I want a word with him about a letter.

- [Lachie] What letter?

- Just tell him.

(engine rumbling) Hey!

This thing's MOT'ed.

- What?

- MOT'ed.

- No, why?

- Just asking.

(lively music) (gulls cawing) (keys clacking) Isobel, sorry.

Isobel, can I have a word?

- Hang on.

I'll just pop this off to the printers in Holborn.

Be printed up by half three.

- New technology Flora, eh?

Cannae be doing it.

Asked for a police horse, they sent me a Land Rover.

(Flora chuckles) (printer whirring) Have a look at this.

- [Isobel] Let's see.

Very nice.

- Any idea where it came from?

- It's been cut up from an old copy of The Listener.

- Is that it?

- That's about all I can say.

2,000 copies a week.

- 2,000 in one, well that's good.

- What about prints and all that forensic stuff?

Send it off to Inverness.

- No, I'd rather sort this out on me own.

You okay?

Listen, Isobel.

Keep this to yourself, eh?

Oh by the way, I was wondering, you going to the ceilidh?

- Well, I was supposed to be in it.

Why?

- Well, could you look after Wee Jock, 'cause I'm going fishing.

- Course, Hamish, no trouble.

- [Hamish] Well done.

(gentle flute music) (tense music) (rain pattering) (sheep bleating) - Aye, well?

It's not a letter I'd be sending her.

- [Hamish] I'll ignore that.

- I haven't the foggiest idea about that, Hamish.

(Hamish sighs) - You've been shootin' crows, I see.

- Oh, goodness gracious me, yeah.

My freedom to shoot vermin is to be curtailed, is it?

Aye, the ugly face of fascism.

- You're calling me a fascist?

- Well, if the cap fits, Hamish.

- Look, I'll tell you this, Lachlan.

This is bad.

This is very, very bad.

And when I find out who did it, they're in big, big trouble.

- Well don't look at me, Hamish.

I can't even spell.

- Very good.

- [Lachlan] Hamish.

- Yes?

- Half the village wants rid of her, boy.

- Aye, and so does the other half.

- So it's crows nailed to doors and threatening letters now, eh?

- And how do you know about that?

- Isobel told me about the letter.

- And just after telling Isobel.

- She knew already.

Rory told her.

And the postman told him.

And Esme told Agnes about the crow, on account of her niece Kirsty hearing Vicky tell Cameron at the bank.

- Ah, see this place, it's unbelievable.

- I know, I know.

You can't clean your ferret's cage out here without it being on CNN.

You should know that.

If you want my advice, let it all blow over.

- Maybe you're right.

- As long as you can keep Inspector Bruce off your case.

- Bruce?

What do you know about Bruce?

- Oh, he's been screaming for you all day on the radio.

I told him you were out chasing poachers.

- Did he believe you?

- The man's a balloon, of course he believed me.

Specially when I told him you might have a confiscated sea trout for him.

(engine rumbling) - The woman has poisoned the community.

- Aye.

- Here, have another wee drammy, Lachlan.

- Right, cheers.

- She's taken over the ceilidh lock, stock, and barrel.

Esme's fizzing.

- Oh and her such a nice thing, too.

- It's a terrible thing when the powers of darkness invade a man's private business.

(birds chirping) (bottles clinking) - You know she phoned the planning.

- The planning?

She never mentioned my caravan, did she?

- Aye, and her here not five minutes from Kelvinside.

- Morningside.

- Eh?

- She comes from Morningside, not Kelvinside.

- Ach, Morningside, Kelvinside, backside, they're all the bloody same.

Incomers, telling us how to live our lives.

- Aye, and buying up all the good houses so us local people like TV John here have to live in caravans, without planning permission.

- Aye.

- Hey, wait a minute.

I'm an incomer.

- Aye Barney, but I mean, there's incomers, and there's incomers.

(Agnes sighing) - Agnes- - Have you seen Barney?

- No.

Quiet tonight, eh?

Look, I just popped in for a chat.

There's been a wee bit of trouble, you know.

- More than a wee bit, I'd say.

- Look, there's no easy way of asking this, but there's been threats made to Vicky Jeffreys.

- So you think it was me that sent the letter?

- No, no I'm just, I'm just here.

- Hamish, Barney and me, we've been here for five years now.

We're accepted.

We go with the flow.

I have my man, friends.

Now look at it, eh?

Ach, it makes my blood boil to see her march in here and act as though she was the Queen of Sheba.

- Barney loves ya, Agnes.

- So, you think I'm after her, hm?

Well, you're right.

Now prove it.

(lemons clatter) (Lachlan singing in foreign language) (TV blaring) - Oh, god.

Dad!

Dad, stop!

Control yourself, stop!

Dad, no, Dad, Dad, you'll hurt, just stop, stop.

I took the wheel off to fix it!

(Lachlan groaning) (Rowan barks) - Rowan, stop.

Rowan!

Good boy.

(Rowan whining) In you get.

(birds chirping) (sheep bleating) (Lachlan whistling) (engine rumbling) (Vicky singing in foreign language) (birds chirping) (engine rumbling) - Hamish!

Stop!

Hamish.

Hamish!

- Aye?

- I've three rolls of film, and we've run out of developer.

(Vicky singing in foreign language) (car clunking) (lively music) ♪ Going down to the creek ♪ ♪ Going on a run ♪ ♪ Going down to the creek ♪ ♪ Have a little fun ♪ ♪ Going down to the creek ♪ (woman singing in foreign language) (Vicky screams) ♪ Goin' down to the creek ♪ ♪ Have to get a gun ♪ (horn blaring) ♪ Goin' down to the creek ♪ ♪ Have a little fun ♪ (water splashing) (woman singing in foreign language) ♪ Going down to the creek ♪ ♪ Going on a run ♪ ♪ Going down to the creek ♪ ♪ Have a little fun ♪ (water splashing) (Rowan whining) (water splashing) - Rowan?

Rowan!

Rowan!

Rowan's gone off.

You haven't seen Rowan, have you?

Rowan!

(Lachlan grunting) - Can I take a shot of this?

- What?

- Lachlan, Lachlan!

(Lachlan yelling) Lachlan!

(camera clicking) (Lachlan yelling) (Rowan barking) (lively music) You use that photo, and I'll sue ya.

Come on!

Move!

Come on!

(Rowan barking) - It's her that should be charged, Hamish.

The marina's a write off.

- Lachlan.

You know what?

You just can't go round strangling folk like that.

- What way would you like me to strange her then?

- Don't start.

You're bloody lucky she's not pressed charges.

- She made him do it.

- That's right, boy.

- Who unscrewed the wheel?

That's who you should be lookin' for.

- [Lachlan] That's right as well, boy.

- And, how do you know it was unscrewed?

Huh?

- Well, I just...

I just, you know.

I just, I just thought.

- Lachie, are you a complete plonker?

When I get my hands on you, boy- - I thought you'd be pleased.

- Right!

That's it.

You're being nicked.

The pair of you.

You for assault, you for writing the threatening notes, and for nailing crows to doors!

Okay?

(phone rings) (door slams) (phone rings) Hello.

Detective Inspector Bruce, how are you sir?

Settler watch.

Yes, well we did have a small incident sir, but it's all under control now.

A sea trout?

Well, I may just have one for you, sir.

Not at all, don't you mention it.

Bye, now.

- Hamish, come on, come on.

- Hamish.

Look, I did loosen her wheel nuts, a wee bit, but I don't know anything about dead crows, or notes, or.

- The boy's telling the truth, Hamish.

You couldn't spell crow, could ya?

No.

- Beat it.

(Hamish sighs) (lively bagpipe music) - What's wrong with my head?

I've just remembered, Oppenheimer is a sect of the Stewart clan.

If you just wait there, Mr. Oppenheimer, I'll sort you out.

Sling us some short bright red, Callum, will you?

There's a lad.

Oh, there ya are, Mr. Oppenheimer.

Now this is your royal steward's dress tartan.

A very, very special reserve, this one.

And for you?

I think we're talking- - Come on, lads!

Away with us to the Devil's Hump!

(men shouting) (people applauding) - Recovered from yesterday, I see.

- Oh let them come, Hamish, whoever they are.

I'll take them all on.

(lively folk music) - She says it's Lochdubh Day or die.

- Hamish, you think you know a lot about girls, but you don't understand women.

- Oh really?

- She could no more admit she was at fault than fly in the air.

(donkey brays) - Hello.

- [Harry] Is there not a bouncy castle this year, Hamish?

- No, Harry.

Not the right tone, son.

- Will I take Wee Jock now?

- No, fishing trip's canceled.

(men yelling) (lively bagpipe music) (people chattering) (Vicky laughing) - Not coming in, Hamish?

It'll be quite a good show.

- I'm up to my neck in it, John.

Need to sort out this note thing, you know?

- Well, everybody from the village is here.

- No, I'm fine.

(door slams) (people chattering) (Vicky clapping) - Dunno why she's got the chairs out.

It's a ceilidh, not a bloody resuscitation.

- Shh.

(people murmuring) - Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year's belting ceilidh.

You know I've been doing a bit of research, and with the help of Isobel Sutherland.

(people applauding) I have discovered that according to the Lochdubh Listener, according to the Lochdubh Listener of May 1892- - You know, I've just been thinking, Lachie.

- Uh-huh.

- Maybe you could rebuild that blackhouse.

Charge the tourists a five or a skull to sit inside it.

- Do you reckon I'll get a fiver, do ya?

- Oh, maybe even six.

(paper rustling) - It's baffling, Jock.

Pure baffling.

- So to open our musical evening, let us welcome Evadne McTurk of the Northern Amateur Operatics.

(people applauding) Evadne will sing us a Scottish medley.

(gentle piano music) ♪ Ca' the yowes to the knowes ♪ ♪ Ca' them where the heather grows ♪ ♪ Call them where the burnie rowes ♪ ♪ My bonnie dearie ♪ - Hold me back, Agnes.

- Did you hear the planning boy was here today?

(Evadne singing in foreign language) ♪ My bonnie dearie ♪ - Oh what he power of the gift to give us, to see ourselves as others see us.

Gift?

The gift.

♪ Call them where the heather grows ♪ ♪ Call them where the burnie rowes ♪ ♪ My bonnie dearie ♪ (tense music) (bells jingle) - Paul?

(suspenseful music) ♪ My bonnie dearie ♪ (people applauding) - Oh, bloody hell.

♪ We sever ♪ ♪ If it will ♪ ♪ Never met ♪ ♪ Or never ♪ - [Man] It's Willie Muirhead, at last!

- Aye, you may have given me a bit more notice.

- [Woman] Willie!

- [Willie] Here, clear a space on that stage.

Give me a bit of elbow.

- Well, but Evadne hasn't finished and then there's a walking, oh!

Oh no.

- Time and place, Vicky.

- But the walking, the walking!

- The dancing, the dancing!

(people cheering) - Wow.

(suspenseful music) - [Paul] End of the trail, partner.

(gun clicks) - So what was it, Paul?

Another woman?

Boredom?

- No, no, no, no.

I just wanted to get her to stop organizing.

I don't want to move again.

Everywhere we go, she tries to run everything and then she gets impatient when the locals won't follow her, and then we leave.

- So why didn't you say something?

Why didn't you talk to her?

- Talk?

Talked for years.

I thought the letters might frighten her, make her come to me.

What'll happen?

- Well, that'll depend on your wife.

- 1959, that's when it came to me.

I wrote a short story about a half Pawnee half Scotsman.

- Luke Kincaid.

- I've never been there, you know.

The West.

I've never been any further west than Bristol.

(Hamish chuckles) Can't face the ceilidh, Hamish.

- Well, Luke Kincaid would go.

- Would he?

- Absolutely.

(lively folk music) (people clapping) (doors slam) Getting lively in there, Kincaid.

(people whooping) (lively folk music) (people cheering) - Sick and tired of watching you make a total fool of yourself organizing other peoples' lives for them.

Because I was too scared to tell you.

- Tell her now.

- Because I still love you enough to care.

- You didn't say.

- You didn't ask.

- Come on you two, we need an extra couple for the Exham Reel.

Wallie!

- [Woman] Take it away there, Paul.

(lively folk music) (people clapping) - Come on, Jock.

Go and catch a trout and bribe that stupid inspector.

(lively folk music) (people whooping) How mad.

Doesn't get much better than this.

(lively music)