The Cast Net

by Mille West

  When Cooper brought her lunch to her in the study, she asked him to recount the history of his ancestors mentioned in the letters.

  “My ancestor, Grey Camp, his friend, Edward Goudelock, and his valet, George Camp, had joined Wade Hampton’s forces in Virginia after serving in the defense of Charleston. Grey’s father had already been serving with General Hampton, and the three had joined him near Petersburg, Virginia. Federal forces had attempted to cut the Weldon Railroad, which brought supplies from the south into Virginia. During a skirmish with Union soldiers, Edward Goudelock had been shot from his horse into a ravine. Grey had attempted to save his friend and went down the escarpment after him and was shot several times by concealed Federals.” Cooper paused his retelling and said, “It’s hard to defend against bushwhackers.”

  “No doubt,” she replied. “Poor Edward and Grey!”

  “But the valet hadn’t been wounded. George had hidden to wait until after dark to attempt a rescue. It had been a hot August afternoon, and George said that the Union soldiers had made antagonizing calls for hours to the two wounded men in the ravine. It was only after darkness that George had descended into the gorge. Edward Goudelock had died at some point during the day and George had to pry Grey’s hands off of him.”

  “And then?”

  “Sara Cooper took them in, and after several months, Grey recovered. Both men eventually returned to the Confederate Army, but by then it was at the end of the war. Grey had married Sara’s eldest daughter, Rachel, and remained in Virginia for years after the war.”

  Cooper paused at the end of his story, looking at her thoughtfully. “What happened to Grey’s father?” Mills asked.

  “The day that Grey was shot, he had been given a field command by General Hampton, and he and his father were separated. His father, Michael, was injured in fighting and, along with other wounded men from both sides of the war, they were given respite on a widow’s front porch. A group of northern deserters attempted to rob the widow and Michael tried to stop them—Michael was murdered along with the rest of the Confederates on her farm.”

  “That’s horrible,” Mills responded.

  “It was a brutal war and the suffering continued for years afterward.”

  Mills was quiet as she reflected on what he had told her and then she said, “I read that Grey Camp had foreseen the death of his father in his nightmares. Your psychic ability is an ancestral gift.”

  He looked out the window and softly replied, “Mills, it’s not a gift. It’s a curse.”

  That evening, Cooper sat beside the bed and told her more Low Country stories, but he did not sit on the bed with his arm around her as he had done the previous night. “Do you recall the trestle that you went underneath when you went canoeing on the Edisto?”

  “Yes, the one marked ‘Patterson.’ I had an ominous feeling about it, even in the daytime.”

  “There’s a good reason for you to feel that way. The owner of the bridge, James Patterson, came south from Pennsylvania after the Civil War. At that time, land could be purchased for a fraction of its pre-war value, and he invested in large tracts of Low Country property. The bridge was built to connect his properties in the adjacent counties of Charleston and Colleton, and he became a cotton planter. He also invested in the phosphate business, which had made large profits for some individuals.”

  “What was phosphate used for?”

  “It was used as a type of fertilizer. In 1893, he was about to enjoy the fruits of his labor when a hurricane came ashore, not only wiping out his agricultural investments, but also taking a huge toll on the phosphate industry. Phosphate was mined in trenches, and the mines and equipment were swept away. He went into despair because he could not pay his creditors, and after days of soul-searching, he tied a rope to the trestle over the Edisto and hanged himself.”

  “Oh, that’s awful,” Mills exclaimed.

  “Yes. Utter ruin is terrible. After Mr. Patterson committed suicide on the trestle, travelers on the river reported seeing the shape of a body hanging from the bridge, especially during a full moon. It was under the light of a harvest moon that he took his own life.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before we went canoeing?”

  “You weren’t on the river after dark, and it wasn’t during a full moon,” he said with a smile.

  “Don’t tease me, Cooper.”

  She paused for a moment and then asked, “When did you see the lights at the old mansion ruin?”

  He looked at her intently and responded, “Beau and I were fishing on the river one evening. The lights appeared near the old slave row and we watched them for about fifteen minutes before they vanished. This was a month before Beau and my father died.” They both became quiet until Mills broke the silence by asking him to tell her another story. He thought for a minute before he began. “Ah, yes. The apparition of the Church Street garden . . .”

  In the morning, she woke to a rich fragrance of roses. Glancing around the room, she saw a vase filled with the white blossoms of the flowers from the old cabin.

  Cooper served her breakfast in bed.

  “You’re treating me so wonderfully, I’m not going to want to go back to my cottage.”

  “I care about you very much,” Cooper responded, and their eyes locked. “I’ll get the letters from the trunk so that you can continue to read them.”

  He turned to leave the room, and she relaxed her head on a pillow. Cooper—I’m afraid of what I feel for you.

  Within a few minutes, he returned with the letters and her jewelry box. She opened a letter. As she read, Mills was amazed at the similarities between Grey Camp and Cooper. He was well educated, fluent in French, and well versed in Latin and the classics. He was also generous and self-sacrificing. For Christmas, he had written piano arrangements for each of Sara Cooper’s daughters and then performed the compositions as his gift to them. During that same Christmas, George Camp gave each girl a figurine carved in her likeness and a jewelry box. Mills opened Rachel’s jewelry box and admired the delicate features of the wooden doll. “Rachel, you were indeed lovely,” she said out loud.

  Carved underneath the box was the inscription, “G.C. 1864.” Mills read that George had also created a cane for Grey Camp to help him walk after he was injured, with the handle carved in the shape of an African woman with her hair flowing. Mills rose from the bed and went into the living room. The walking cane was propped against the fireplace in its usual place, and upon examination, she read the inscription, “For G.C. 1864.”

  “For Grey Camp, 1864,” Mills said quietly to herself.

  In one of the letters, Sara Cooper mentioned that Grey and George resembled one another. Mills asked, “Cooper, didn’t you tell me that George and Grey were related?”

  “Yes, they shared the same grandfather, Amos Camp. Amos had a favorite mulatto slave with whom he fathered five children, in addition to the family he had with his wife.”

  That afternoon, Mills asked Cooper to play the sheet music that was inside the jewelry box. The composition had been recorded on what appeared to be stationery, and when he performed the arrangement, the song reminded Mills of Williston’s favorite Chopin classics. “I think you might be the reincarnati
on of Grey Camp,” Mills told him with a smile.

  He laughed before responding, “Anything’s possible. He did, at least, have a long and happy life.”

  “And your name?”

  “It is a southern tradition to give sons their mother’s maiden name. Grey and Rachel Camp had a son named Cooper who was my great-grandfather. I’m named after him.”

  Despite the pain from the yellow jacket stings, Mills had been thoroughly entertained the entire weekend. Sunday evening, when Cooper walked her back to her home, he told her to take the letters and journals from the trunk so she could finish reading them. The rain had stopped, and they stood at the bottom of her steps and looked at each other. They began to talk simultaneously, then stopped and laughed at each other.

  “You go, first,” Cooper said, still laughing.

  “Thank you for helping me this weekend, and for the treasures from the attic.”

  “Mills, you are welcome.”

  They continued to look into each other’s eyes and then Cooper broke the silence. “We’re going to be very busy with the harvest in the weeks ahead. If you’d like, you can work with Marian and the girls in the kitchen for the next several days until those stings heal. They’re going to be canning vegetables, and I know they could use another hand.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “Oh, Murphy notified me that I will finally be closing on the old Camp plantation that I’ve had under contract for about a year. You witnessed the contract extension in my office. Remember?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Hopefully, by the end of the week, the property will be back in the family again. Well, goodnight.”

  She waved goodbye from the top of the steps and then thought about the day she had witnessed the contract extension. It was the day that Lee Roy Mullinax had come into their lives.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Harvest

  M ills had taken deliveries from Camp Hardware and met with a representative of Edisto Tomato and Produce before seven the next morning. As Fritz and his crew arrived to work, Mills helped some of the farm workers move produce into the kitchen for the day’s canning.

  Fritz called to her, “Miss Taylor, stop and take a drink of water from Mr. Heath’s well. You are going to become dehydrated if you don’t slow down.” As she walked to his side, he raised his chin up to look at the sting marks on her face. “I’m sorry about the yellow jackets. Mr. Heath told me about what happened to you on Friday.”

  Fritz went to his crew’s supplies and removed a clean cup to obtain water for her. After he pumped the manual well handle several times, water began to flow from the spout and he filled her cup.

  “I have noticed that you have an outstanding work ethic. Now you must pace yourself, and don’t spend too much time in the heat. It is still early in the day, but it is already eighty-five degrees.”

  “After I finish this, I’ll be inside the rest of the day,” she responded.

  “That is wise.”

  He took his handkerchief and pushed back his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Miss Taylor, I will miss seeing you when we finish our work here. Do have a good morning.”

  Fritz turned and walked away toward the boathouse, and Mills responded, “I hope you have a good morning too.” He continued to walk, but pulled his hat off and waved it in the air.

  During the week after the yellow jacket attack, Mills helped Marian and the girls in the kitchen while they canned fruits and vegetables. She was impressed by how hard the girls worked. They required little instruction and had more knowledge of the canning process than she did. As their work continued, representatives from the local churches came by the house to pick up donations of goods.

  In the afternoons, Mills took the girls swimming in the pool, which provided a lot of joy for all involved. On Friday afternoon, as they swam, she looked into the western sky and saw that it was obscured by a line of black thunderclouds. A jagged bolt of lightning erupted from the base of the clouds, and the sound of thunder followed.

  “Janie, Lizzie, I think we’d better get out of the water.”

  As soon as she had spoken those words, a strong blast of wind came from the advancing storm and blew leaves into the pool. The gust was so powerful that deck chairs were overturned.

  Marian met them at the rear courtyard with the news that a severe thunderstorm warning was in effect for Charleston County, and she hustled the girls into the house. Mills dashed to her cottage and watched large drops of rain hit the lane as Fritz and his crew ran past on the way to their trucks. There was another boom of thunder, and the lights went out in her cottage.

  In the darkened room, she changed out of her wet bathing suit and examined the sting marks on her body. They were healing, but some of the marks were still sensitive and itched. She rubbed ointment into the stings and dressed in shorts and a polo shirt.

  The phone began to ring and when she answered, Cooper’s soothing voice said, “I hope you’re all right out there on the farm. I understand there’s a severe thunderstorm in the Edisto area right now. I hope we won’t have much damage to the crops.”

  “Yes, several minutes ago, we lost electricity.”

  “Well—I called to let you know that I am now the owner of the old Camp Plantation, Crescent Hall. I met with Mr. Cusworth’s heirs and legal counsels this afternoon at Murphy’s office—they’re a difficult group. Each of them brought their own attorney and heavily scrutinized the proceeds. There was no trust between them.” He paused before continuing, “Fritz sent his crew to repair the fire damage at the Freedom School. Would you like to go with me this evening after the weather passes to take a look at it?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  On the way to the Freedom School, they saw leaves and debris strewn all over the roadway. Dime-sized hail had been produced by the storm, and the outside air temperature had plunged. Before they left the farm, Cooper inspected the fields with Charles—while there had been some damage to the crops, he told her that it could have been much worse.

  When they reached the school, an occasional echo of thunder could be heard from the storm, which had moved out to sea. The damage that Lee Roy had inflicted on the building had been repaired, and once again, the structure stood clean and white against the darkened sky.

  “Fritz and his crew did a good job on the repairs,” Cooper said.

  “I didn’t realize they were working on the building.”

  “Yes, this is the busiest time of year for many of us who worked on the restoration. With the harvest under way and my work at Heath Brothers, I just couldn’t contribute my time right now. Insurance should handle most of the expenses, but any additional costs will be handled by a few of us in the community.”

  “I’m thankful that Lee Roy wasn’t able to destroy the building.”

  “Me too.”

  Thoughts of Eula and her children went through her mind. Poor Eula. Lee Roy has not destroyed the hope she instilled in her children—her dreams will live on through them.

  Cooper unlocked the front doors, and they walked inside the tiny building. Even in the fading light, the heart pine floors gleamed, but a sli
ght smell of smoke still lingered near the front of the structure. Cooper ran his hand across the top of an oak desk and said, “I would like to ask you for your help on a Heath Brothers’ project. Ian wants to do a direct mail to our clients about our business agreement with Perret International and the expansion of our Newark terminal. I was hoping that you would help me create a brochure.”

  “I’ll be glad to help you. What if we work on it next week? I’ll come by Heath Brothers after my farm responsibilities and we’ll get started.”

  “Thank you.”

  After they locked the doors to the school building, they viewed the storm damage of downed limbs and debris that lay in the schoolyard. Cooper smiled and said, “The old Camp plantation returns to my family, and all hell breaks loose from the heavens.” He laughed and opened the truck door for Mills.

  One Monday morning, Mills assisted Charles with a delivery of a tractor implement and then dressed to go to Charleston. She wore a navy dress and put on Rachel Camp’s pearls, admiring the necklace in the mirror. Cooper said the pearls should be enjoyed.

  When she arrived at Heath Brothers, Cooper was in a meeting and she took a seat in the hallway outside his office. As she sipped a cup of coffee, she could hear his voice.

  “Ms. Burris, I appreciate your taking your time to let me know about this property. My first cousin, Jeff Radcliffe, always helps me with my real estate purchases.”

  “Mr. Heath, I know Mr. Radcliffe and his partners, and I do not have a listing on the property. I was hoping to show it to you personally.”

  “I see. When you are able to secure an agreement that can include your company and Jeff’s, I will be glad to look at it.” Mills heard his chair move, and he continued, “Here’s my cousin’s business card.”