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“We are a small group of women. What harm can we do?”
“Don’t you know that the previous lighthouse collapsed into the river thanks to erosion?”
Louise did not, but she saw no relevance in this point. “I’m certain a small group of women were not responsible for undermining the structure.”
“Footsteps break down the surface of the dune, making it easier for the sand to slide downhill.”
The hulking man was grasping at straws, and she had no intention of letting him push her from her purpose. Ordinarily she preferred calm to the storm, but this man was utterly unreasonable.
“Fine. I will speak with Mr. Blackthorn, then.” Louise began walking in the direction of the lighthouse, expecting this newcomer, whoever he might be, to stand aside.
He did not. “I will speak to Mr. Blackthorn. If he approves your study, I will personally deliver that news to the school. Until then you may return to your classroom.”
Odious, impossible man! She pointed her magnifying glass at his far-too-broad chest. “There are no plants inside the classroom. That is why we are in the field.”
“Then choose another field outside government property.”
“This happens to be the sole specimen of artemisia campestris within easy walking distance.”
He bent to grab the plant, as if to yank it from the sand.
“Stop!” Louise grabbed his hand and was shocked by its warmth and strength. “Don’t kill it.”
“It’s a plant.”
She removed her hand and felt the heat flood her cheeks. What had possessed her to touch a man she didn’t even know? A handsome man. A man that her students found more than attractive.
The whispering behind her had begun again. She could just imagine what they were saying. Priscilla might consider it a breach of etiquette. The girl could make trouble for her—or for the school.
“Are you all right?” The man peered at her.
She looked at the dune, at the sky, at anything other than the comely visage before her. She pressed a hand to her midsection, though it was her heart that raced.
“Perhaps I did overexert myself.”
His lips twitched, as if a smile wanted to break out. “In that case, let me escort you down the dune. Simply point out the building where your school is housed, Miss...?”
He must be terribly new to town if he didn’t know that Mrs. Evans’s School for Ladies was the closest building to the lighthouse, excepting a lumber warehouse and the second sawmill.
He extended an arm. “Miss?”
She cleared her throat, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself. “Mrs., actually. Mrs. Smythe. I’m widowed.”
My, that had come out just as flustered as she felt. And her cheeks must be blazing red. What an outstanding mess of things she’d made.
The twittering behind her had stopped, so she hazarded a glance at the man. He was smiling—no, grinning—as if he thought he’d triumphed by making her blush!
Louise squared her shoulders again. She would not let this giant of a man affect her. “I thank you for your offer, but I am greatly recovered. Once we complete our field examination, we will be off your precious dune.”
She then held up her magnifying glass and turned to the girls, who were huddled together, many of them slack-jawed and more than one starry-eyed. “Ladies!”
The group shot to attention and pulled out their magnifying glasses.
“We will examine the flowers of the tall wormwood first,” Louise instructed. “Use your glasses to determine if it is in bloom or has gone to seed and then draw a likeness in your field notebook.” She held up her well-worn notebook that contained sketches and notes on each species she encountered.
Not one girl moved.
“Come now, don’t be afraid.” Louise motioned in the direction of the plant and then turned toward it only to find herself looking at the buttons of the man’s shirt not one foot from her nose. “Oh, you’re still here.”
“And you’re still trespassing.”
“As I said, we will be done shortly and then will vacate the property. If you have a problem with that, then I suggest you bring it up with Mr. Blackthorn.” She ducked around the man and began demonstrating the use of the magnifying glass.
Priscilla marched past the man, but not without casting a flirtatious look his way. Since she led, the others followed, with Dinah dragging her feet in the rear. Her gaze lingered on the man, as if he was an oddity. Perhaps one could say he was, for Louise had never seen so tall a man, especially one who looked so perturbed.
“Mrs. Smythe.”
“Sir?” she answered. “I have introduced myself, but it seems you have neglected to do likewise.”
This time his color heightened, bringing giggles from the girls.
“Mr. Hammond. Mr. Jesse Hammond, Assistant Lighthouse Keeper.”
Each word came out so stiffly that a laugh bubbled to her lips. “Are you always so formal?”
He looked affronted. “I am precise, Mrs. Smythe, to the letter of the law, which I have sworn to uphold.”
“Really, Mr. Hammond, this is getting tedious. As I said, Mr. Blackthorn will have no objection to us hiking upon the dune to further our education. I promise we will not go near any of the buildings. You are quite safe.”
His color heightened. “I am not concerned about my safety, madam.” He sniffed the air.
Louise sniffed too. Something was burning.
“Fire,” Mr. Jesse Hammond said even as he scanned the horizon in all directions.
Louise looked back at her students only to discover a dried leaf aflame at Dinah’s feet. “Dinah!”
The girl shrieked and jumped, thankfully in the right direction. The other girls followed suit.
“Put it out, Mr. Hammond,” Priscilla pleaded with several well-timed bats of her eyelids.
Before the man could issue yet another reprimand, Louise strode over, lifted her skirts slightly and stomped on the leaf until the flame was extinguished.
“There,” she noted, spinning to face Mr. Hammond. “The problem is solved.”
“This time, but it demonstrates why you shouldn’t be here.”
My, that man could aggravate! Louise focused on Dinah. “How did this happen?”
The girl had gone pale as snow. “I—I was just lookin’ at things like you told us to do.”
“Looking?”
“Aye.” Dinah demonstrated holding out her glass.
“Your magnifying glass!” Louise turned so she stood in the same direction Dinah had been standing when the leaf caught fire. She held out her own magnifying glass. Sure enough, the sun’s rays reflected and concentrated on the surface in a bright dot. “That’s what happened. The sun must have reflected off the glass at just the right angle to set the leaf ablaze.”
“Carelessness,” Jesse Hammond stated. “Unchecked, it could have damaged one of the outbuildings or even spread toward town.”
Louise was about to counter that statement with the obvious truth that a sea of dry sand lay between the burnt leaf and any building, but the girls had begun murmuring amongst themselves again.
Priscilla smiled coyly at Mr. Hammond. “What would we have done without your assistance, Mr. Hammond? We are ever so grateful.”
Louise gritted her teeth. Pointing out that she had put out the fire would not endear her to Priscilla or Mr. Hammond. Since the girls’ attention was lost, nothing more could be learned today.
“Very well, ladies, we shall shorten our study today.”
That drew a grudging nod from the man. “I will hold you to that, Mrs. Smythe.”
“And I will speak with Mr. Blackthorn at first opportunity.”
He nodded again. “Please excuse me, ma’am. Ladies.” He then strode off toward the lighthouse without a single backward glance.
Louise didn’t know what she’d expected. The warmth of his hand and moment of compassion had vanished under the weight of his adherence to regulation. Jesse Hammond was a most unreasonable man.
“Isn’t he about the most handsome man you ever saw?” Linore sighed.
“Too tall,” Priscilla noted, as if she hadn’t done her best to attract his attention.
Certainly he had towered over Louise. Now that he was gone, her limbs set to trembling. The sheer force of the man brought back terrible fear. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, telling herself to forget the past. Jesse Hammond was not her late husband. Other than stature, they likely shared nothing else. Moreover, she had no connection to this man. She need have no dealings with him.
In the future she would avoid any possibility of crossing Jesse Hammond’s path.
* * *
Jesse had never been so skillfully outmaneuvered, especially by a tiny slip of a woman. He could appreciate that she’d stomped out the burning leaf rather than cry out like the girls, but that sensible act had only reminded him of his failure. He hadn’t leapt into action—not six years ago and not now.
Moreover, Louise Smythe had managed to counter every argument he put forth. She was probably right that the keeper wouldn’t mind. Blackthorn didn’t follow every regulation exactly as written. Sometimes, he didn’t follow them at all. That was a problem. A keeper was responsible for lives.
The smallest missed detail could lead to disaster, as Jesse well knew from that horrible night on the Sultana. The steamboat had left Vicksburg and then Memphis severely overloaded with soldiers eager to return home. They’d ignored the crowded conditions and sagging decks. After all, they’d endured the horrors of the prisoner of war camps. What was a little temporary discomfort when they soon would be home? Then came the explosion.
The memory still shook him from deep sleep, drenched in perspiration. Why had he survived when so many had died? He, above all, should have perished. Jesse asked God for an answer, but he’d received none. The best he could do was save others. In the lighthouse service, he could warn ships of danger and rescue people from foundered vessels.
Blackthorn’s indifference to regulation rubbed him wrong. Such callous disregard had cost lives six years ago. Jesse would make sure that never happened again. So, even though allowing a few ladies to walk across government property seemed innocuous, that burnt leaf pointed out how something small could lead to disaster.
Jesse located the keeper in the oil shed, drawing oil for the lamps. There wasn’t enough room for two small men inside the shed, least of all someone his size, so he waited outside.
Blackthorn capped the brass transfer can he used to transport oil. “What can I do for you, Jesse?” He rose with the exaggerated groans of a timeworn elder. “Bones are getting creaky.”
Jesse hoped that meant Blackthorn was considering retirement. It had surely led to the placement of an assistant, though Blackthorn had refused to relinquish many duties thus far.
Jesse returned his attention to the matter at hand. “I found some women walking on the dune just below the lighthouse.”
“Any pretty ones?”
Jesse felt the heat rise and coughed to hide his discomfort. “They’re young. Students.” And thus far too young for him. Mrs. Smythe, on the other hand, was rather attractive, though he could never condone her disregard for rules.
“Must be the girls from the boarding school.” Blackthorn exited the oil house and pulled the door shut. He then reached above the door, where he kept the key on a hook, and locked the door before putting the key back on its hook.
Jesse had tried to change this procedure, saying it didn’t do much for security to keep the key within reach. By now, the whole town must know it was there. But his pleas had been met with a laugh and an assurance that “we’ve always done it this way.” Blackthorn was too set in his ways. The lighthouse needed fresh eyes willing to see things in safer and more efficient ways.
“Was their teacher with them?” Blackthorn asked.
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Smythe.” Blackthorn shook his head. “Odd sort, that one. She’ll spend hours staring at a clump of dune grass, making notes in some book of hers.”
No doubt that was the journal she’d waved at her students. It looked well-used. Louise Smythe was not the type of woman he’d expected to find in a town like Singapore.
“She has an unusual interest in science.” That had intrigued Jesse.
Blackthorn squinted at him. “You don’t say. The lady hardly says a word.”
“That’s not my experience. She said plenty to me.”
“Maybe she’s getting more like the rest of the women she came here with.”
“The rest? There’s more like her?”
Blackthorn chuckled. “In a manner of speaking. Back, oh, I’d say a year ago, Mrs. Smythe arrived in town with Pearl Lawson, Amanda Porter and Fiona O’Keefe. They were answering an advertisement for a bride.” Again he laughed.
“That’s humorous?”
“It was at the time. Seems they all thought Roland Decker was the prospective groom when in fact it was his brother Garrett. You should’ve seen them running from one man to the other. Fact was, neither brother wanted to get married.”
“Then why place an advertisement?”
“They didn’t.” Blackthorn began walking back to the tower. “Turns out Garrett Decker’s children did. They wanted a new mama. Got one too. And Roland Decker and Sawyer Evans claimed two of the other three. There’s only Mrs. Smythe left. Of course, she’s the oldest. Must be around thirty.”
Then Jesse hadn’t been mistaken about her age. “What else do you know about her?” When Blackthorn gave him a quick look, Jesse regretted his question. “I need to know how to deal with her,” he added, feeling the heat again creep up his neck. “She’s...difficult.”
“Is she? Always seemed quiet as a mouse to me. Would rather poke her nose in a book than speak to anyone. Skips most of the church suppers and the like. Maybe the missus knows more.”
They’d reached the lighthouse. Rather than enter the tower, Blackthorn stuck his head into the door to the keeper’s quarters.
“Jane!”
Jesse waved his hands, trying to get Blackthorn to stop. He did not want Mrs. Blackthorn involved. She would start matching him to every eligible girl in town.
