The wait for a reply was almost interminably long. Marty had always considered himself a patient man until now. He had bitten his nails to the quick and found himself pacing up and down every day as he awaited the delivery of the days post. Every day with no response made him more and more sure that the mystery woman had condemned him to the fire as a tedious bore.
“I have never seen you look so glum,” Dr Piper said as he stopped by to deposit his patient’s fees for the week. “Are you quite well?”
“I am Winston, just a little tired. I have been awaiting some news and it is still not forthcoming.”
“I do so hope it will come soon. It would not do for you to become unwell. The town needs its bank, and you.”
Marty thought about that as the young man left and he made his way into his private office. It was true, being the only man who worked here meant that should anything happen to him that the bank would have to remain closed. He pulled out the ledger for the banks own accounts and studied them carefully. There was more than enough money for him to take on a clerk and still continue to make a tidy profit that he could reinvest in his business. He quickly penned an advertisement to place in the window, and sent a letter to the Gazette in Dallas enclosing enough money to pay for the same wording to be printed in the very next edition. It would be nice to have a colleague, someone to share the workload with and to chat with in the quiet times as they got on with their work.
The bell above the door jingled to let him know someone had come into the bank. He rushed to greet whoever it might be. “Marty, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Dylan said reaching over to shake his hand. He pumped it up and down, over and over. Marty was a little confused, he could not remember having done anything that could warrant the look of absolute joy on his friend’s face.
“I am glad to accept your thanks, though I do not know what I have done to deserve it,” he joked.
“You told me to go and meet with Catherine. I did, and she is here and now she is with child. She wishes to throw a party and I want you to be there,” Dylan gushed uncharacteristically.
“I am glad you are still so content with one another, and I would be honored to join you in celebrating such glad tidings,” Marty said grinning. He truly could not be more happy for his friend. He worked so very hard, and his life had been so very lonely at times out there on his ranch. Having a bride who was his helpmeet and friend had increased Dylan’s happiness no end. He just wished his own life might be similarly blessed in time.
“You should see her,” Dylan continued breathlessly. “She is glowing and Kyle is utterly delighted that he shall be a big brother.”
“Now that is the very best of news. You are blessed to have such an amiable son.”
“Now I must go, but here,” he said thrusting a package of letters at Marty, “I brought these from Dallas as Bill hadn’t been in for days apparently. Do you know if he is alright?”
“I had not heard anything. I will stop by on my way home and see,” Marty assured him. “Go and be with your mother to be. I will see you at the ranch later.”
Dylan rushed out, and Marty did not know whether to laugh or frown. He was of course more than happy for his friend, but the news that Bill Masters, the stage driver, had not made it to Dallas for the mail worried him. The man was strong as an ox, and drove better than any man he had ever known. He grabbed his keys and locked up the bank carefully before hurrying down Main Street to the little cottage Bill shared with his wife Marie.
He knocked on the door and Marie answered. She looked pale and very tired. “Marie, whatever is the matter?” he asked as she almost collapsed against him. He put his arms around her and held her comfortingly.
“Marty, it is young Craig. He has been so sick. We haven’t dared to leave him.” Craig was the couple’s eldest child. He was usually the leader of all the youngsters in the town, hale and hearty and full of mischief.
“Has Dr Piper seen him?” She shook her head. “But why not? If he is sick, then ...”
“We cannot afford his fee,” she wailed.
“This is not a time to count the cost Marie, and I am sure that Dr Piper would say the same thing. A stubborn look came over the poor woman’s face as she pulled away from him and put her clenched hands upon her hips.
“We’ll not take charity.”
“It is not charity. Between you and Bill there is nobody in this town that does not owe you such kindness. You have helped every woman in town through every pregnancy and birth. Bill has helped raise every building along this street. Neither of you ever ask for a thing in return. Believe, me all of us would be glad of the chance to repay your kindness, your generosity.”
She sank into the chair by the fire. It was a plain, upright chair with no fancy paintwork or carvings. The rest of the house was much the same. Marty couldn’t help but feel guilty for the little luxuries he enjoyed that these good people did not. They both worked so hard, tirelessly in truth, and yet seemed to have so little. Bill appeared in the doorway. “His fever is up love,” he said, his grey face beaten down with his sorrow.
“Let me fetch Dr Piper, please,” Marty pleaded with them both. “I will pay his fee, though I doubt he will charge one.”
“We have no choice Marie,” Bill said looking at his wife’s stern face. “We’ll lose him otherwise. Do you want that? He’s been sick for days. He is not getting any better, despite everything you have tried to do for him.”
“Go Marty,” Marie said wearily dragging herself out of the chair and filling a bowl with cool water. “I’ll go and sponge him down again.”
Marty hurried down the Main Street, and burst into Dr Piper’s office. “Gwen, we need you and we need Winston now,” he said to the young woman who acted as his nurse and his secretary. “It is Craig Masters. Apparently he has been sick for days. They were worried about your fee, wouldn’t call you.”
“I would never charge them a penny. Without Marie I would be all at sea when it comes to assisting at births. She has forgotten more than I will ever know, and without Bill I would not have an office or a home. I have told them a hundred times, but they are both so stubborn,” Winston said as he grabbed his black bag and the two men hurried down the street, Gwen tailing behind them.
Back inside the cottage, Winston headed into the parlor where Marie and Bill had set up young Craig’s bed, away from his four siblings in the upstairs room. “We sent them off to my sister when it looked like he wasn’t going to get any better,” Marie admitted, “But he seemed more comfortable down here and it made it easier not having to run up and down the stairs.”
“How long has he been sick Marie?” Winston asked her gently as he began to examine the poor lad.
“Days, weeks. I don’t know. I lost count. His breathing has been bad, and he’s been barely able to speak, his throat is so sore. I’ve never known anyone get so hot and it just doesn’t stop,” she cried, clearly feeling utterly helpless.
“He has a pale coating on his tongue,” Gwen noted.
“Has he been coughing and sneezing a lot?” Winston asked. Bill nodded. “You did the right thing to move your other children to your sisters. I think it may be diphtheria,” he said sadly.
“So what can be done?” Bill asked hopeful that a diagnosis would mean Dr Piper knew what could be done.
“I am so sorry Bill, but though colleagues of mine all around the world are working night and day to find a cure, or a way to prevent this terrible disease we are a long way from either right now. I am afraid that the only medicine is time. Keep him as cool as you can, bathe him often. Do not let anybody into the house, except for myself. Try and get him to drink as much boiled water as you can, and simple broths if he can manage them to keep up his strength. We will just have to pray he is one of the lucky ones who survive. I am so very, very sorry.” Winston hung his head and Marty could feel tears pricking at his own eyes. Craig was such a spirited lad, to see him so lifeless and pale did not seem right.
“Thank you Dr Piper,” Marie said quietly. “I suspected as much.”
“I will stop by every day, I promise,” Winston assured her as he, Gwen and Marty left the couple to their grief. There was no knowing if Craig would make it, and now they themselves would have to be alert to any symptoms too.
Marty went back to the bank and stared at the pile of letters on the desk in front of him. They had slipped his mind completely, but what he saw at the very top of the pile was a personal letter, with a return address in Providence. The name on the envelope was of a Georgina Chappel. He ripped it open, hoping this was at last word from his mystery lady but he put it back down on the desk almost immediately. What if he had contracted the dread diphtheria whilst trying to do something good? What if the receipt of this letter was made utterly pointless because of his concerns? But he knew that he could not wait until he was sure that he was well to find out what she had to say.
Dear Mr Shaw,
Thank you so very much for your response to my advertisement. I do so hope you will not think me some brazen hussy for doing such a thing, but suppose that you would have been unlikely to respond if you did. I am so very glad to hear of your friends, that they have found partners in this manner too, it is so encouraging to hear of peoples’ happiness don’t you think?
My best friend, well my only friend if truth be told, is about to be wed to the man who has held her heart for over a decade. Sadly he only seemed to notice her recently, but I am sure they will be very happy. We have both been brought up to be proper parlor misses, and she does it all so much better than I.I am afraid to say that I am a hellion, or as my Mama would call me, a hoyden. As such, I would be most delighted to be given the opportunity to drive your phaeton some day. I do so enjoy driving, and am rather a neck or nothing rider – but my family has a staid old landau. It would be quite the revelation to drive something light and fast.
I attended a recital of Mr Beethoven’s Pianoforte Concerto, the Emperor, just last evening. I do so love the drama in his works, don’t you? But I also love Chopin and Clementi too. It all depends upon what kind of a mood I am in. Please do tell me of your favorite works. I would very much like to know.
It must be rather interesting to run a bank. My Papa has always said that it would have been most propitious if I had been born a man, that sadly I lack all womanly graces – but would verily have made an excellent economist. I like to think that I have tried my very best to learn to be a respectable woman in Society, but I will admit to never having felt comfortable there. I do not know why but I have always longed to be more like my Papa than my Mama. To be able to go out to work, to be whoever and whatever you desire to be seems a luxury I am doomed to never know.
However, I do all the dutiful charitable works and offer my ability with numbers to assist in the running of many worthy endeavors. I sing, passably I am told and I can paint rather well. So, I am not entirely manly!
I do so hope my revelations will not shock you, but I do strongly believe that it is important for any relationship to have a basis in honesty and trust, do you not agree?
I do look forward to hearing from you once more,
Yours most gratefully
Georgie Chappel