The Cast Net

by Mille West

  “That’s true, but I haven’t seen him for years.”

  “He said that he would help work on a donation to the foundation and he wanted invitations to the oyster roast. Is that all right with you?”

  “You’re running this operation. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  “I also saw someone today that I met at the yacht club at Rockville. His name is Joshua White; he’s an attorney.”

  Cooper paused, “Yes, I know to whom you’re referring; he’s a criminal defense attorney and a very good one—let me see the invitation.”

  She showed him the invitation, wondering why he had changed the subject.

  “This is excellent, Mills. I like what you’ve created.”

  He carefully read the inside of the card. “I think this is perfect.” As he handed the invitation back to her, she asked, “Are you going duck hunting tomorrow?”

  “Yes, very early. I take time off during this time of the year to duck hunt.”

  “I’d like to take you up on your offer to teach me how to shoot a shotgun and hunt birds.”

  “I’ll be glad to. First, I’ll need to check you out on the shotgun and give you some lessons, especially on gun safety. You can get your hunting license at Dawkins’s Market. I’ll take off from work early tomorrow and we’ll get started.”

  “Thank you, Cooper. There’s one more thing I’d like to show you. I went by the Charleston Dispatch, and they ran a press release in today’s paper about the foundation. I plan to submit news releases on a regular basis about our progress.”

  She handed him a copy of the paper and he read the article before commenting, “Well done, Mills.”

  “I hope people read it and don’t stop at the article on the Webb Pharmacy robberies.”

  Cooper turned to the front page. “By Lee Mencken—I’ve become acquainted with that young man in recent months.”

  “That’s what he said about you.”

  “You met him?”

  “Yes, he was turning in the article on the Webb robberies when I was in the Metro office.”

  “A persistent young man.”

  “That’s what his editor said about him.”

  Cooper read through the article on the robberies and said, “Whew, I see I’m not the only one with problems.”

  When he finished reading, Cooper rose from his seat and handed the newspaper back to her. “I’ll walk you to your cottage.”

  As they neared the row of camellias near her home, Cooper stopped her. “Be quiet for just a minute. I thought I heard a noise.” They stood motionless, but there was only silence.

  Mills remembered what she’d seen last night. “Cooper, last evening, as I was walking up from the river, I thought I saw a darkened shape near your house. You weren’t home, and Sam stayed with me.”

  He looked at her with a concerned expression. “If you ever see, or hear anything unusual, please let me know. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  She nodded and he responded, “Good night, then.” Cooper walked down the path and disappeared outside the bushes. Watching for several minutes, she eventually saw him pass down the lane on the return to his house.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Duck Hunt

  M ills ordered the invitations and thanked Mr. Collins for his prompt attention to the print project. Before leaving for appointments in Charleston, she stopped at Dawkins’s Market to buy her hunting license. The man at the counter smiled at her when she tried to explain what she was attempting to purchase. “You’re going to need the federal and state duck stamp if you’re going to duck hunt. You don’t want an unpleasant visit with the game warden. Are you Miss Taylor?”

  “Yes, sir. How did you know?”

  “I recognized you from your description that the ladies at church gave me. They said that Cooper had hired a young lady from Virginia to assist him with his mother’s foundation. My name is James Dawkins, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I think you’re going to enjoy working with Cooper.” He helped her with the paperwork. “This is what you’re going to need—this hunting license is good for both hunting and fishing.”

  The rest of the day was spent making calls for the foundation and, while she had not yet received a financial commitment from anyone, she felt positive about her prospects. At four o’clock, Mills waited for Cooper in the rear courtyard. He came down the driveway in his Suburban and parked in the lane adjacent to the house. Quickly getting out of the car, he walked in her direction and apologized for his tardiness.

  “Don’t worry—you’re two minutes late.”

  “I don’t like to be late for appointments.”

  Wearing a dark suit and tie, he looked professional and handsome. “I’ve picked out a twenty-gauge Remington for you to shoot this afternoon.”

  He took off his Wayfarers and invited her inside while he changed clothes. Waiting for him in the kitchen, she noticed that the door was open to his hunting room, and she went inside to look at his photographs. There was a photo of Cooper with a military haircut. He stood beside a jet fighter—on the fuselage was the inscription, “Captain Cooper Heath.” A nearby photo caught her eye: Cooper, Jeff, and Elise were together in a fishing photo. They were a striking trio.

  “Where are you, Mills?” Cooper called to her from the kitchen.

  “I’m in the hunting room. I’m looking at your photos. I especially like the one of you beside the jet fighter.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cooper now wore blue jeans and a dark green Barbour hunting coat. He joined her in the hunting room and removed a shotgun from the gun case, then picked up a couple of boxes of shotshell before handing her a headset. “Here’s your ear protection. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They got in his Suburban and drove down into the pasture. On their way, Cooper explained that a section of the pasture was set up to shoot sporting clays. He parked his vehicle near a skeet machine. “Mills, the most important thing about using a firearm is situational awareness. Know where you are, who and what’s around you, and if you’re not shooting the gun, the safety should be on. Always treat the gun as if it’s loaded, and never point it toward anyone.”

  He showed her the position of the safety on the shotgun, “Push it forward and it’s off, pull it back and it’s on. Here, you hold the gun and get a feel for it.” She placed the stock firmly against her shoulder. Then she held up the gun, trying to keep the barrel ahead of a bird that she saw flying through the pasture. Cooper came behind her and put his arms snugly around her, helping her hold the gun and aim at the target. After a few minutes, he abruptly stopped and sat down on the hood of the Suburban.

  Mills lowered her gun and turned to face him. “Are you okay? You have an odd look on your face.”

  “Yes, you go ahead and continue to practice.”

  After several minutes had passed, he got up from the hood and walked toward her.

  “Mills, I’m going to help you learn to shoot with the skeet machine. I want you to place the stock of the gun on your shoulder, resting against your cheek. Position your lead foot in the same direction tha
t the bird is traveling. When you’re ready, say ‘pull.’”

  She followed his instructions. “Pull!”

  Cooper released the clay bird and Mills fired the shotgun, but missed the target. They continued to practice until Cooper told her, “Now, I want to see you load the gun without me.”

  She put the shot in by herself and yelled, “Pull!”

  Another bird was released, and Mills fired, smashing the target to pieces.

  Cooper congratulated her, “Well done, Mills Taylor, or should I call you Annie Oakley?”

  She smiled at the compliment, and they continued to practice until dusk. When they returned to his house, he went into his hunting room and returned with a pair of hip waders and a Filson hat and coat. He held the hunting attire in front of her to judge the size and said, “These should work, they belong to my cousin, Blair, and I’m certain he won’t mind if you wear his clothes. I’ll see you in my kitchen at four-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Four-thirty!”

  “That’s late—I’m going to take you to a nearby location.”

  “Four-thirty it is.”

  The morning air was frigid as Cooper’s boat traveled in the darkness toward their destination. Tears formed in her eyes from the cold wind in her face, and within twenty minutes they had reached an island in the river. Familiar with the location, Sam jumped out of the boat and disappeared into the night.

  Cooper helped her out of the boat, handing her a thermos, and then lifted two gun cases and a shell bag onto shore. She watched as he covered the boat with a camouflage net and then she followed him to the duck blind. There was camouflage netting pulled over walls constructed of straw and bamboo. Upon reaching it, Cooper pulled out a large net bag from inside and placed the duck decoys into the water. He softly said, “Winds are out of the northeast.”

  Pouring her a cup of coffee, he asked, “Are you cold?”

  “I was while we were on the river, but I’m warming up.”

  “Good, it’s just a few minutes before legal light. While the temperatures are below freezing, we probably won’t see any alligators, but as spring arrives, they’ll be prevalent. I don’t let Sam go into the water at that point. I’ve never had a problem with an alligator, but be aware, they are present. Never feed them.”

  As they sat quietly in the blind, Mills began to hear a whistling noise.

  Cooper explained to her that the whistle was ducks flying by, and created by the primary feathers on the wing sliding through the air.

  Cooper uncased both shotguns and loaded them. “It will be legal light shortly,” he said rubbing his hands together.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Department of Natural Resources puts out a timetable that states when it’s legal to begin the hunt.”

  “I see.”

  Cooper placed a lanyard around his neck. “This is a teal whistle. I use it to call in ducks.”

  He looked at his watch. “It’s legal light.” He put the whistle to his lips and it made a peep-peep whistle sound.

  The birds were still darkened shapes in the dim light, but to Mills, they sounded like jet airplanes coming in to land.

  “Here’s your shot.”

  She came out of the blind, put the gun up to her shoulder, aimed and fired at one of the ducks, but missed.

  She was disappointed with her inaccuracy, but Cooper interjected, “That was a good try. Have patience.”

  After a few minutes passed, Cooper blew the teal whistle, and ducks began to fly near the decoys again.

  “Mills, I’m going to take this shot.”

  Cooper fired his shotgun and a duck fell into the water with Sam immediately retrieving the bird.

  “The next shot is yours,” Cooper quietly told her.

  Continuing to use the teal whistle, Cooper pointed out three ducks that were flying toward the decoys. Mills fired at one of the birds, but only wounded it. The duck went under the surface, and Sam dove under the water to retrieve it.

  Exhilarated by the hunt, Mills stepped out of the blind to shoot again and struck another bird. Sam retrieved the duck for her and as she walked back toward the blind in knee deep water, an underwater limb snagged her foot. She fell backward into the river and frigid water rushed into her waders. Although breathless from the shock, she still managed to hold the gun out of the water.

  Cooper charged into the river to help her, took her gun, and pulled her up. She gasped as the icy water settled into the bottom of her waders. “I’m freezing, but I didn’t lose the bird,” she said in a quivering voice.

  Mills knew the duck hunt was over when Cooper quickly gathered the decoys and put them inside the blind. “I’ve got a wool blanket in the boat, but I’m afraid the ride back home is going to be cold.”

  He wrapped the blanket around her, then pushed the boat away from the island and started the motor. She huddled inside the craft and pulled her hat down low onto her head. By the time they arrived at his dock, she felt frozen and waddled back to her cottage in the soaked waders.

  Cooper accompanied her up the lane and before entering her home, she asked, “Are my lips blue?”

  He looked at her carefully before responding, “No, not yet—are you all right?”

  “I’ll be okay after I get the waders off.”

  “Please put them on your porch and I’ll come by to get them. You did well today. Don’t let the fall discourage you. That can happen to anyone.”

  She managed a smile and said, “Thank you for taking me hunting.”

  She left the soaked waders on the porch, then stood in a warm shower to unfreeze her limbs. After she dressed, Mills noted that the waders had been removed and an invitation to dinner had been left for her. Teal was on the menu.

  She called Cooper’s house to accept the invitation but had to leave a message on his answering machine when no one picked up the phone. As soon as she hung up her receiver, Collins Printing phoned to tell her the oyster roast invitations were ready. She dressed and drove to the print shop. When she arrived, Mr. Collins placed a large box on the table and showed her the invitations.

  “I’ll have your business card ready next week. Let Cooper know I’ll send him a bill.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Collins.”

  That evening, Mills arrived at Cooper’s house at seven-thirty and was greeted in the kitchen. “Did you get thawed out?”

  “Yes, but it took a while.”

  “I haven’t picked out a bottle of wine yet, would you like to go with me to the wine cellar to choose a bottle?”

  “Wine cellar? I didn’t realize you had one.”

  He led her to a door off of the kitchen, and they descended the stairwell into the cellar. Amazed by his wine collection, Mills took several bottles down from brick holding bins and read their labels. The lights in the room were dim, and she had to look closely as he explained that he had sorted his collection by countries and regions. He picked out a California Petite Syrah to accompany their meal and handed the bottle to Mills so she could read the label.

  Suddenly, the door at the top of
the stairs slammed shut, and she almost dropped the bottle to the brick floor. Cooper quickly explained, “I’m sorry, but that door slams shut sometimes. I hope you’re not frightened.”

  “No, I’m not afraid. It was just the noise that startled me.”

  Cooper ascended the stairs ahead of Mills and held the door to the kitchen open for her. Mills was glad to return to the brightly lit kitchen.

  Cooper opened the wine. “For your dinner tonight, I’m preparing the ducks that you shot. Why don’t you help me?”

  He removed a large skillet from the pan rack above the island, and together, they seared the breasts in olive oil. Mills watched him carefully as she served as his sous chef. When they finished preparing the duck breasts, Cooper added mashed potatoes and a wine sauce to the meal.

  She sampled his delicious creation. “This is wonderful. How did you learn to cook like this?”

  He poured Mills a glass of wine and handed it to her. “Thank you, Mills. My mom taught Beau and me how to cook.”

  “I picked up the invitations to the oyster roast this afternoon and I plan to get them in tomorrow’s mail.” She took one out of her handbag and showed him how nicely they had turned out.

  “This is excellent. Thank you for your hard work.”

  He handed the invitation back to her and there was silence between them for a moment. There was a question that had been on Mills’s mind ever since she had met Charles. “Cooper, how did Charles get that scar on his face?”

  “Charles was a career military man, and he retired as a sergeant-major after thirty years in the US Army. During one of his tours in Vietnam, the Vietcong overran his platoon, and there was considerable loss of life on both sides. He doesn’t discuss his military experiences often, but a bayonet caused the scar. Charles killed his attacker with his bare hands. When he retired, he came home to Charleston to run the farm. I’m fortunate to have him here.”