“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.”

“Sounds good.”

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” she chuckled. “After the way you pissed Jack off up there, I don’t think you’re going to have any luck at all.”

“A coincidence,” Harm insisted flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. “That’s all. End of story.”

Elgin and Fisher exchanged quick, knowing glances.

“I dunno,” Jim replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin stubble with his long fingers. “Sounds to me like Ellie could be right. I mean about you pissin’ Captain Jack off like that. Talkin’ so disrespectful right there in his castle, practically on top a his grave. That wind comin’ up when there hasn’t been a breath all day and then you not catchin’ any trout in the best fishin’ spot in the lake.”

“Not even a bite,” Elgin chimed in giggling.

“Well, doesn’t sound natural to me,” he concluded.

Harm continued to sip his coffee and glanced out to the vast black expanse of lake and listened to the other two laughing and talking.

Coming in from the lake, Elgin had run right to Fisher, showing him her creel packed with the limit of beautiful lake trout and losing no time in spinning her ghost story. They’d laughed about it as he’d gutted and cleaned the fish for her, bringing them down to this gorgeous spot by the lake as he’d made a campfire and prepared their dinner.

He had to admit that the fresh trout, French fries made right at the fire, baked corn on the cob, and even the canned pork and beans had been a wonderful meal. Strawberries fresh from a neighbor’s garden and heavy cream whipped by hand and not out of an aerosol can had completed the perfection.

Now, under a canopy of stars sprinkled like powdered sugar and a second cup of fresh coffee, he could almost forget the humiliation of the afternoon. And he could understand Elgin’s need to flee here to this peaceful, safe place.

“Moon’ll be up in a little while,” Fisher commented, looking toward the east. “Full too. Air’ll be full a souls tonight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Harm asked, instantly interested.

“Didn’t you tell this slicker anything?” Jim teased Elgin.

“What’s the point?” she sighed wearily. “He doesn’t believe in things like that. He’s thoroughly modern and scientific.”

“Which makes me all the more curious about your primitive superstitions.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to hamper your scientific research,” she giggled.

“You go on and tell him, Ellie. You can explain it better than this poor old, ignorant hillbilly.”