“I know about the Clark House. It’s part of what I’ll be overseeing.” Luke strained his eyes at the lights in the east. Would they ever get there?

Theodore Sedgwick showed up with another cup of coffee for Luke. “Oh, I see you already found the coffee.” He frowned in the glow of the firelight.

“Archie here was good enough to bring me one, but thank you.”

“Are you two discussing the railroad?” Sedgwick asked, looking for a place to set one of the mugs. He finally settled on a nearby deck stand.

“We were talking about the Clark House,” Luke replied, then took a long drink of the hot black liquid. It was perfect and gave him a momentary warmth that had been missing.

“Ah, the new hotel Mr. Cooke arranged.”

“Yes. I was just about to tell Archie that I won’t be staying at the boardinghouse with the others, but rather at my brother’s house. He lives near the lake, as he is a fisherman.”

“I just heard the storms of the last few days claimed many a boat and crew,” Sedgwick said. “I pray your brother was not among the lost.”

Luke frowned. He’d heard rumors about the storm, but no one had mentioned deaths. “I didn’t realize things were as bad as that.”

“Yes.” Sedgwick nodded and sloshed his coffee over the side of the mug. He ignored the mess and continued. “A few dozen boats were lost, as I understand it. The storm came up quickly. I think it was maybe three days ago. Many of the men were caught out on the water with miles to go before reaching safety.”

Luke nodded. “I suppose we shall know soon enough what has happened.”

He left the fire and walked to the deck rail to gaze out across the water of the St. Louis River. From the look of the lights glowing across the water, it appeared that Duluth sat on the left, down by the water’s edge. It then rose up the hills behind. Scott had told him it was a sort of terrace town, and the lights seemed to prove this true. To the right was Superior, Wisconsin. It was very close, and in that moment, Luke finally understood the rivalry. They were truly sister cities, separated only by a small opening of water.

As they slipped from the St. Louis River into St. Louis Bay, Luke strained to see out into the darkness. Reaching out from the Duluth side, Luke had been told, was Minnesota Point—a long bar of land, at the end of which sat the lighthouse. This natural breakwater not only offered protection but stood ready as a permanent gatekeeper into Superior Bay. Jutting out from the opposite side was another bar of land called Wisconsin Point. Each state had made a stand, declaring their territory, it seemed.