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The Rancher's Dilemma: Love in Disaster, Book 1 (Volume 1)

By Cynthia Hickey

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Kauai, Hawaii 1924
Lucy Dillow lay on her narrow bed, listening to the waves crash against the beach and tried to figure out what had woken her before the sun was fully risen. She swung her legs off the side of the bed. A slight vibration tickled her feet. Another tremor. She sighed. They were becoming all too familiar.
The aroma of frying sausage and sweet bread greeted her as she padded out of her room and into the small kitchen nook. “Good morning, Mama.” She planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek.
Mama took one glance at her bare feet and frowned. “You know I don’t like you walking around like one of the natives.”
“I just woke up. Did you feel the quake?” Lucy snatched a piece of sausage out of the pan, tossing it into her mouth before it burned her fingers.
“Who didn’t? It seems as if they arrive every morning.”
“And throughout the day.” Lucy moved to the window. The sight of the ocean and the scent of the salt-filled breeze greeted her every morning. “I’d like to take a walk up to the volcano and see what’s going on.”
“Too dangerous.” Mama handed her a plate. “You’ve work to do and students to teach. Your father is already out visiting those we minister to. You mustn’t shirk your duties.”
Lucy quickly ate before shoving her feet into the simple leather shoes her mother relented on letting her wear. If she had her choice, she’d run barefoot all day like the children she taught. After securing her hair in a bun and dressing in a simple navy skirt and white blouse, she grabbed her bag of teaching materials and headed out the door. She didn’t have far to go. The tiny one-room schoolhouse was next door. Even at work, she couldn’t get far from the demanding eye of Mama.
Pasting a smile on her face, she stepped into the school and wrote the day’s vocabulary words, in English, on the board. When she realized she was writing words that had to do with love and romance, she started over. Finished, she wiped the chalk off her hands and stood in the doorway, ready to greet her students. Romance wasn’t something she would find on the island. Not as a foreigner, anyway.
A man on a large red horse rode by. The sun cast highlights of blue on his black hair. His dark eyes were friendly as he gave her a nod. That was the type of man she wanted to marry someday. A strong man, a paniolo, a cowboy, but unfortunately, he looked like a native, and the natives didn’t marry haole’s, foreigners. She tossed him a smile and withdrew into the shadows of the schoolroom.
God had a husband for her, surely. All she needed to do was keep the faith and keep her eyes open. Her future could very well land in her lap. She might miss it if she wasn’t paying attention.
She glanced at the gradual rise of land to her right. Smoke billowed from the crater of the Kilauea Volcano. Nothing new. The crater was always smoking, but the sky looked darker that morning.
A military jeep from Fort DeRussy rumbled past with several civilians as passengers. They drove toward the plume of smoke. Geologists? No matter about Mama’s warning, Lucy was going to the crater when school ended that day. She wanted to see for herself whether there was anything to be concerned about.
Her twelve students arrived, all around the age of eight, sporting smiles and fresh-washed faces. “Aloha,” she greeted. “Welcome.” In order to teach all the children who needed her, she taught different ages in the morning and afternoon and on alternate days of the week. The small building wasn’t big enough for more bodies at one time.
The children took their seats and pulled out their slates and chalk to write down the vocabulary words. They spent the next hour going over the words and their meanings in English. The students soaked up her teaching like suntanned sponges.
By the end of the day, exhaustion rested on Lucy’s shoulders like a wet woolen shawl. Still, she hadn’t changed her mind about visiting the volcano. She set her bag of supplies in her bedroom, grabbed her boots which were sturdier than the slippers she wore, and snuck past her mother cooking in the kitchen.
Outside, she removed her shoes and started the long walk up the road toward Kilauea. Another military truck rattled by, the soldier giving a friendly honk on his horn before stopping beside her. “Can I give you a ride?”
“No, thank you. It’s a lovely day to walk.”
“If you’re heading to the volcano, it’s quite a hike.”
“I am, and I’ll be fine.”
He roared away, covering Lucy in a thin layer of volcanic dust. She brushed at her skirt and continued toward her destination. Dirt washed off easily enough, there was no cause to be offended by his leaving so quickly. He hadn’t meant her any harm.
She lifted her face to the late afternoon sun. Life on the island was good, peaceful. There was no other place she ever wanted to live, although a short visit to the mainland wouldn’t be a bad idea. She could replenish her school supplies and keep up on current worldly events. She sighed. Mama and Papa would never allow such a trip. Not alone, anyway. And, if Lucy were to go, they’d most likely ask her to stay there.
The air began smelling acrid the closer she got to the crater and pebbles littered the ground. She stopped to put her boots back on. By now, a crowd had gathered on the road, all heading toward the towering smoke. Behind them, rode the man Lucy had spotted that morning. He had donned a black cowboy hat to shade his face and made an imposing figure as he made his way to the top of the hill. He reminded Lucy of a general riding behind his army.
She smiled at her silliness and finished lacing her boots. Hiking her skirts, she dashed after the crowd.
Several men converged at the crater’s mouth, arm movements and body language signifying they were in deep discussion. They stopped talking when Lucy approached.
She stepped forward and peered into the crater, the heat forcing her to step back. “What happened to the lava?”
“That’s what we want to know, little lady.” An older gentleman smoothed his mustache. “We’re geologists here to find out what happened. Step back, now.”
“The seismic activity has been increasing the last few weeks,” the cowboy said, tilting his hat back. “While she’s always expressed herself with smoke and fire, the ground shakes several times a day. Those rocks,” he pointed to a couple of fist-sized rocks. “weren’t there yesterday.”
“Now, Mr. Garrison, it’s quite possible somebody put those rocks there,” the geologist said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. These tourists are always picking up something as a souvenir.”
“I’m not jumping to anything, Mr. Woodward. This island is my home. I know this mountain. Don’t discount my observations.” Mr. Garrison stiffened. “Are we in danger of an eruption or not?”
“It’s too soon to tell. “We’ll know in a few days, after we do some tests.” Mr. Woodward slapped a hat on his head and pushed his way through the crowd.
Lucy dashed forward. “Mr. Garrison, please tell me what you know.”
“You heard the man. We don’t know anything.” His dark eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.” He turned and marched away.
“I have as much of a right to know what is going on as you do.” She ran to catch up with him. “Are you sure the rocks came from the volcano?”
“Yes. I’ve come here every day since April first.” He swung into his saddle. “Go home, Miss—”
“Dillow. Lucy Dillow.”
“The missionary’s daughter?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’ve heard about you. The keiki love you.”
Her heart swelled. She knew the students enjoyed school, but to know they were talking about her filled her heart with joy. “As I do them.”
“Good. Stay away from the danger up here and focus on your teaching.”
She gasped and stomped her foot as he rode away. What an arrogant man. Focus on her teaching indeed!
*
Jack rode away from the volcano with a smile on his face. He’d made quite the impression on Miss Dillow. Stubborn girl. Why was she concerned about the volcano? Wasn’t she busy enough with her teaching? An active geological site was no place for a young woman.
He didn’t have time for missionaries and the way they wanted to immerse themselves into everyone’s lives. Teach the gospel to those willing to listen, school the young, and leave the rest of the islanders alone. That was his philosophy.
With the occasional glance over his shoulder at the plume of smoke and ash that grew taller daily, he made his way to his ranch and handed his horse to a stable boy. He rubbed his boots on a patch of tall grass before entering the house. Aneke, his cook and housekeeper, would tan his hide if he dirtied her floors.
He sniffed, the tantalizing aroma of grilled marlin greeting him. Aneke was the best cook he’d ever known. His stomach rumbled in response.
“Is that my Jack?” She’d called him that ever since his parents and fiancé died in a boating accident almost ten years ago. She had stepped in as a surrogate mother without hesitation, and Jack loved her for it.
He strolled into the kitchen and snagged a bite of the pineapple she was chopping. “Smells good in here.”
She swatted at him with a towel. “My food always smells good. What have you been doing?”
“I went up to the volcano.” He sat on a stool next to the counter. “It worries me, Anake.” He’d called her aunt since he was a child.
“Ah, that thing has been talking for ages.”
“I don’t think we should discount the warnings this time. It is bringing in more foreigners.”
She waved a wooden spoon at him. “Your papa was a foreigner once. Be nice. They bring in needed money. Off with you. I have work to do.”
He snagged the plate of pineapple, winked, and headed out the back door. His home faced the ocean and all its glory. To the east grazed some cattle, to the west lay acres of sugar cane. It was a good life, if a lonely one. He popped a piece of the tart fruit into his mouth.
A breeze ruffled his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the salt and seaweed. A shout from below caused him to open his eyes. An elderly man in a straw cone hat walked the shallow water and peered into a bottomless box in search for flounder. A woman, his wife maybe, picked up seaweed from the beach.
His life was peaceful, if only for … he glanced at the smoking volcano, and sighed. There was nothing he could do except watch it closely for signs of an eruption. If it did, they were all doomed.
As he continued to watch the waves and beachcombers, Miss Dillow, her dark hair hanging loose down her back, stopped to speak with the old woman. From that distance, she almost looked like a native, except for the more modern clothes and boots dangling from her hand.
He turned away, having no desire to get to know her, pretty as she was. When his fiancé had died, he’d sworn off women. Life on the island was hard. It took a certain type of woman to survive. If a native couldn’t, then what made a petite thing like Lucy Dillow think she had what it took?
She laughed, the sound like music drifting to where he stood. He shook his head and marched to the barn. Time spent currying his horse might put his mind back where it belonged.
The ground rumbled under his feet. He stopped to see whether it would worsen. When it stopped altogether, he continued to the barn. Kilauea was only grumbling, but Jack intended to follow the geologists for a while the next day. Maybe he could find out whether there was cause for concern.
After grooming his horse, Jack headed back to the lanai and glanced toward the beach. Lucy sat on a patch of beach grass. Curiosity getting the better of him, he headed to join her.
She sat with a sketch pad on her lap. She paused in her drawing. “Good afternoon.”
Her clipped tone alerted him to the fact that she wasn’t feeling particularly friendly, at least not toward him. “What are you drawing?” Maybe kind words from him would soothe the hurt of his words earlier that afternoon.
“That flower. What’s it called?”
He squatted next to the shrub with drooping pink blossoms and silvery heart-shaped leaves. “It’s abutilon. You’ve captured it perfectly. You’ve a talent for drawing.”
“There are so many exotic plants to entice me to wile away many hours.” She closed her pad. “I spotted a sea turtle yesterday, poking its head above the waves to look around. It’s like a slice of heaven here.”
He held out a hand to help her to her feet. She frowned and accepted, sliding her hand from his almost immediately.
“My apologies for earlier,” he said. “I’m only looking out for your welfare.”
“I can look out for myself, thank you.” She turned the most amazing hazel eyes on him. Colors of green and gold flashed as her cheeks flushed. “I’m not a child and do not deserve to be treated as one.”
“I said I was sorry.”
She tilted her chin. “And so, I shall forgive you.” She gathered up her shoes and shook the sand from them.
“Do you come here often? I haven’t seen you on this beach before.”
“I move around to keep my creative juices flowing.” She straightened. “Is this a private beach?”
“No.” He fell into step beside her as she headed up the hill.
He should let her go on her way without imposing his company, which it was clear she didn’t want, on her. But, the lovely young woman intrigued him. Pretty, demure, with a love for her students, she showed fire under her calm exterior, and he found himself wanting to know her better.
A dangerous thing. While he might only be half native, he’d always thought he would stick to Hawaiian women … until this raven-haired beauty came into his life to challenge his resolutions.
The volcano rumbled. Lucy took a deep breath. “What do you make of it? I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake to my floor shaking.”
“It’s up to something.” He put a hand on her elbow and guided her over a rough patch of ground. “I wish I knew whether it was a false alarm, like so many times before, or whether she’ll blow.”
“Will they evacuate?” She stopped and stared at him, then back at the volcano. “I don’t think I’d want to go. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime to see something so grand, so violent, yet so beautiful.”
“You’d stay and put yourself in danger?”
“I’d keep a respectful distance.” She shook the sand from her skirts. “Thank you for accompanying me, but I’m expected home for dinner.” She held out her hand. “It was nice talking to you, Mr. Garrison.”
“Please, call me Jack. We don’t stand on formalities on the island.”
“Then, I’m Lucy. Unless you’re one of my students.” She flashed a quick smile and headed down the road, arms swinging and her hair swaying with each step.
Jack watched until she was out of sight and headed to his own meal. He had no intentions of evacuating, either, if things came to that. He had a plantation to save. While he admired Lucy’s spunk, her family didn’t belong there. Everyone knew people from the mainland weren’t as hearty as islanders. They’d perish for sure. He would need to convince her, somehow, to leave if the need arose.
“Who was the woman?” Anake handed him a plate.
He sat at the polished wood table. “The missionary’s daughter, Lucy Dillow.”
“Ah, she teaches the little ones English. Very pretty.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“No matchmaking.” He pointed his fork at her. “I gave up such notions a long time ago.”
“But you are so young. Not even thirty. You need a woman and children.” She filled a plate for herself and joined him. “I worry for you.”
“I’m fine.” More than fine, actually. The plantation kept him plenty busy.
“This house is too big for the two of us.”
Jack knew Anake was lonely after the death of her husband two years before, but he couldn’t marry just to assuage the loneliness, hers or his. He would only marry for love, and to a woman who loved the island as much as he did. He bit into the savory pineapple covered pork, the tastes bursting on his tongue.
A fragrant breeze blew through the window. A bird sang from a tree outside. He had all he needed. Why borrow trouble?
When he’d finished, he took a mug of coffee to the lanai and sat in a curved wooden chair as was his nightly custom. He glanced again at Kilauea. The sky burned a deep orange above the crater.
The sleeping giant was definitely waking up.

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