plants. That he pretty much got the better of us.”
“In that case,” said Theodosia unfastening the bungee cords. “We’ll just have to prove him wrong.”
They leveraged the canoe off the Jeep and into the water. A skim of green parted as the canoe sluiced through. Dragonflies buzzed about pleasantly.
“You jump in first,” Theodosia told Drayton. “You can be the bow man while I take the stern.” She climbed onto the back end of the canoe, stabilizing the craft for Drayton. “Stay low.”
“You realize I haven’t been in a canoe since summer camp,” said Drayton, as he clambered toward his end. “And I’m not about to tell you when
“Paddling a canoe is a lot like riding a bike,” Theodosia told Drayton as she tossed in his collecting baskets, then pushed off from the grassy bank. “You never forget the basics.”
“But the consequences are significantly different,” said Dayton. “If you fall off a bike you get a scraped knee or, at worst, a banged-up elbow. Fall out of a canoe and you drown.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Theodosia assured him.
They paddled along, Drayton splashing away happily in the bow of the canoe.
“Feather the paddle,” Theodosia advised him. “Like this.” She held the flat blade of the paddle perpendicular to the water to make it more aerodynamic.
Drayton turned to watch her execute a few strokes, then caught on instantly. “Ah,” he said. “I see. Less wind resistance.”
As they continued to paddle along, the stream widened out considerably. Now it was more of a pond punctuated with stands of reeds. Carolina wrens flitted about, stands of tupelo and gum lined the banks. The occasional heron skimmed down to grab a shimmering little bream for lunch.
“What if we should run into an alligator?” asked Drayton.
“I think gator habitats are a lot farther south than this,” mused Theodosia. “Down closer to Savannah where the water’s considerably warmer.”
“And snakes?” asked Drayton.
Theodosia stared straight ahead. “Let’s not get into that.”
“Oh, oh,” said Drayton, as they rounded a bend and dozens of little inlets and tertiary streams came into view. “Now what?”
“This time I did bring a compass,” said Theodosia. “Plus you’ve got your map.”
“That was just to get us to the launch site,” said Drayton.
“No X marks the spot for exotic orchids?”
“Sorry, no,” said Drayton. They paddled some more. “So what do you think, just keep going straight?”
“For now,” replied Theodosia. “Depending on what kind of plant life we encounter.”
“Or don’t,” said Drayton.
But as the sun rose higher and stands of bog rose began to appear, luck was with them. And it wasn’t long before Drayton’s keen eyes spotted bright blooms through draperies of green vegetation.
“Can we edge in closer to the bank?” he asked. “I’m awfully sure that’s a Showy Orchis.”
Theodosia maneuvered the canoe in closer. The water had again narrowed to a stream with a fairly strong current. It made paddling easy, but pulling over a little trickier.
“Yes,” came Drayton’s excited voice. “It’s definitely a Showy Orchis.”
“That’s good?” asked Theodosia as she drove the canoe into the muddy bank where the bow made a dull thud and then stuck fast.
“A fairly common variety,” said Drayton. “But still a beauty.” He stepped carefully from the canoe, then leaned down and grasped the bow, pulling it up onto the bank a bit more so Theodosia could hop out without getting her feet wet.
“And you’re going to collect it?” asked Theodosia. Drayton was tromping around, looking extremely pleased.
“Oh, absolutely. If only to display in the tea shop.”
Theodosia’s eyes searched the area for more orchids. It was damp and shady here, with stalks of puttyroot, too. Probably conducive, she decided, to native plant life. “Look at all this moss,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” At her feet were large lumps of bright green moss.
“Cushion moss,” said Drayton. “Technically Leucobryum.”
Loosening a clump with her hand, she scooped it up and hefted it gently. “It’s like a big, fuzzy Christmas tree orna-ment.”
“Very whimsical,” agreed Drayton. “We should definitely collect some of the moss.”
“Can’t you just see these moss goobers as centerpieces at the tea shop?” asked Theodosia, still charmed by the balls of moss. “Four or five in a wicker basket, maybe surrounding a small bouquet of violets?”
“Or tucked into pots with some of my Japanese bonsai,” said Drayton. “To lend the feeling of a Zen garden.”
“What a great place,” declared Theodosia. “Your friend with the map was right on. Hey, can I use one of your collecting baskets?” Theodosia had already grabbed one and had it half filled with moss.
“Feel free,” said Drayton, plunging his trowel into the soil for about the fourth time. “While I try to disengage this rather large root ball from the soil.”
Straining, Drayton bent into his task again. “Tough,” he said.
“Want me to help?”
Drayton wiped at his face. “Maybe grab that other trowel and give me a hand.”
“Sure,” said Theodosia. “No problem.”
But as they both bent forward, a loud pop split the air.
Drayton’s head popped up like a startled gopher. “Huh? What?”
“Get down!” hissed Theodosia, clawing frantically at his sleeve. She knew there was only one thing in the whole world that made a loud, instantly identifiable report like that.
“What’s wrong?” asked Drayton, still trying to straighten up for a look around.
“Get down, get down!” hissed Theodosia. “I think someone just took a shot at us!”
“They took a . . . what?” exclaimed Drayton. “Good heavens, is it hunting season?”
“C’mon,” urged Theodosia, grabbing wildly for collecting baskets and equipment. “Back into the canoe!”
The canoe lurched wildly from side to side as Theodosia scrambled in first, hurling her daypack and baskets into the center. Drayton got his feet soaked as he pushed off fast then hefted himself in, shoving his paddle into the sandy bottom of the stream.
Settled onto her seat, trying to stay low, Theodosia struggled to swing the canoe around. She knew if she could get them out of the area, maybe slip down one of the smaller tributary streams, that would afford them some cover.
“What now?” asked Drayton, fear evident in his voice.
“Paddle!” came Theodosia’s terse instruction as she headed them away from the bank. “Paddle now and paddle hard!”
Another shot zinged over their heads as the two of them dug in, paddling like crazy, trying to put some distance between themselves and the gunman.
“Holy smokes!” gasped Drayton. He was leaning low, his strokes coming frantically. And already breathing hard.
Theodosia dug deeper, worried at Drayton’s ability to maintain this frantic pace. Drayton wasn’t a young man and Theodosia had no idea how heart-healthy he was.
As they splashed frantically downstream, Theodosia caught sight of a faster-moving, burbling stream that split off to the left. They could veer off into that channel, she decided, or take their chances and keep heading down the main stream.
“Which way?” screamed Drayton.
Theodosia snuck a quick glance over her shoulder. The right river bank was flatter and a lot more open, certainly more conducive for a gunman to run alongside and track them. But if they took the left stream, they’d be plunged into dense undergrowth which would, hopefully, slow their pursuer and afford them some cover.
