“You can’t swim over there,” he insisted, moving quickly to where she stood. “That water’s freezing and you’ll kill yourself getting up that sheer rock.”
“Lot you know. I’ve been doing this forever. The water’s cold but it’s only about twenty yards to shore and there’s a path that winds up the other side. It’s a little steep but by no means treacherous.”
“What does this have to do with fishing?”
“It’s hard to explain. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Elgin sighed. “Please just take my word for it that it’s important. I’ll be back before you get the lines in the water.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”
“All right, but you better sit down and get comfortable. Might even want to get a beer. It’s a long story.”
With a nod, he turned back and reached for the cooler lid again.
Splash!
By the time he’d stepped back to the side, she was already swimming quickly for shore, her strokes and kick strong, barely disturbing the surface as she moved.
“Come back here, damn it!” he yelled futilely.
For another second he watched her, stripping off his jeans and shirts as fast as he could. He braced himself for the cold as he jumped into the dark water after her.
An instant of body-numbing cold engulfed him as he plunged under the water, the shock literally taking his breath away. Breaking the surface again, his lungs frantically gulped in air and it took several more moments for him to gather himself and set out after her.
With the slight head start and her swimming skill, Elgin came out of the water, threw a quick look behind her and disappeared around a rocky outcropping.
Panting from the cold and the unexpected exertion, Harm had to stop for a few seconds on the little beach to catch his breath.
Beyond the little point, a path wide enough for a small cart began winding up the side of the small island. He couldn’t see her but her tracks were clear in the layer of fine dust over the compacted surface of the trail.
Rounding a sharp bend, he found himself at the top of the island, perhaps a hundred feet above the sparkling water.
Elgin stood beside a large gray boulder lying like a huge block by itself in the middle of a large clearing. Other boulders lay strewn around and on the right side of clearing, almost at the cliff’s edge, stood a huge pile of jumbled gray boulders, almost as if some giant had heaped them there.
“What the hell is…?” he barked as he approached.
“…and to show our gratitude,” she murmured softly, “I leave this small token for your patience and good will.” With a twist of the cap, she put out her hand and poured the smoky amber liquid on the top of the stone, pooling and running off both sides.
“Rest in peace Captain Jack. And thank you.” Elgin shook the last few drops out, replaced the top and turned to face Harm.
“It’s cold. Let’s go sit over here in the sun.”
They walked over to the pile of rocks, Harm feeling again slightly amazed, first at her swimming ability and now as she climbed over the large rocks to a flat one, warmed by the sun and overlooking the water, by her athleticism.
“Now do I get to hear the story?” He no longer felt anger. Only curiosity and a chill. The sun would take care of one; he waited for her to take care of the second.
“There lies Captain John Crockett, late of the Grand Army of the Republic. Gambler, entrepreneur, father of Crockett’s Landing, now known as West Shore and, if local legend is to be believed, drunkard, womanizer and general, all-around scoundrel.
“Came here penniless during the gold rush. Apparently didn’t take long for him to decide taking the gold from the miners would be easier than panning for it himself. So, he opened the first gambling hall/saloon/whorehouse in the area. Became known for honest tables, clean women, and not watering the beer. Overnight, he was the richest man in the territory.
“For twenty years, he was King of the Lake. Nothing happened, big or small, for fifty miles around that Jack Crockett didn’t have his hand in. Had a huge mansion overlooking Crockett’s Landing. Built a little castle right where we’re sitting and this island became his private playground. Every Fourth of July he’d load up ‘The Belle’ with beer and food and fireworks and he and his family and cronies would come out here and party.
“Rumor also had it that he liked to bring ladies not his wife out here for private picnics and nature frolics.”
“Sounds like he had it made.”
“Most people thought so. Then, one night the people in Spirit Cove saw fire coming from the castle. At first, they thought Jack was over here having a little moonlight fun, but pretty soon they realized something was really wrong. By the time they got out here, the castle was ablaze and there wasn’t anything they could do.
“They found Jack’s body, au natural, right over there, near that big rock in the clearing. His head had been blown off by a double barrel shotgun at close range. Only other thing they found was a scrap of lace from a lady’s unmentionable snagged on a bush down by where the dock used to be.”
“Died with his boots off,” Harm chuckled.
Elgin ignored him. “No one ever found out what happened although the stories flew fast and fierce. Most people thought he’d run afoul of a jealous husband or an angry father and pretty much got what he deserved.”
“What about his family?”
“Mrs. Crockett never actually said anything but she made it clear enough what she thought, though. First, she buried Jack right here on the island. Almost the exact spot where he died. Took ten men to move that big old granite boulder over his grave. Only marker she gave him. Then she sold everything he owned for whatever cash she could get, took the children and disappeared.”
“Doesn’t explain the whiskey.”
“Most local people avoid this place like the plague. Down through the years, people have even claimed to have seen Jack’s ghost up here, wandering through these ruins of his castle, imprisoned for all eternity for his black deeds.”
“You believe that superstitious clap-trap?” he asked cynically.
“About the ghost? I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t have enough evidence one way or the other to make a rational decision. I do believe firmly that the soul or the spirit or the life force or whatever you want to call it survives this plane of existence although what happens after, I haven’t the faintest idea.
“Jim always told me that since people can be trapped in this life by their decisions and beliefs and acts, it didn’t seem all that far-fetched to think a person’s soul could be trapped by the same things in the hereafter. If Jack believed he deserved to be imprisoned here because he’d screwed some other man’s woman, or that he’d hurt his own wife and family or even that this is heaven or hell and he never made any effort to get off…well…it’s just complicated.
“So whenever we came here, Jim always brought some whiskey. ‘A neighborly gesture’ he called it. Let Jack know we weren’t trespassing and that we’d appreciate being left alone and to pay him for the fish we took.”
“That is the silliest, stupidest, most ridiculous crock of bull I ever heard.”
Before she could answer, a cold gust of wind whipped up, seeming to circle around them from out of nowhere.
Elgin shivered and stood up. “Come on. Let’s get out here.” She scampered off the rocks, Harm following her quickly down the path and back into the water toward the boat. He remembered thinking that the water seemed colder than it had when he’d first jumped in.
Climbing into the boat, they grabbed towels and began rubbing themselves dry.
“That’s better,” she told him when she’d finished. “I’m going to put my pole in the water and see how long it takes to catch my limit.”