I realise I've got a little bit of the timing wrong here, in that I know Matthew didn't become Sheriff until 1871, nor was Johnny Reed hanged until then - sorry! Also, Preston's bank isn't really a branch of his fathers, but I think I have a way to get around that coming up in later chapters. And the suggestion about epilepsy...you were close but not quite:)
"This really isn't necessary," Rebecca protested as Robert E and Michaela helped her into the clinic. "Really, I'm fine."
"Help her up onto the bed," Michaela instructed Robert E who touched his cap politely once he had done so and quietly left. "I'm just going to take a listen to your heart, Rebecca. If you wouldn't mind unbuttoning your dress." She turned to lift her stethoscope from the table.
Rebecca made no move to do so, "Michaela, I don't need an examination."
"Well, I'm a doctor and I say you do. People just don't faint like that for no good reason."
"No…I mean I don't need an examination because…because I already know what's wrong with me."
Michaela looked at her in surprise, "You do?"
Rebecca sighed heavily. This was the last thing she wanted to have to do, explain her frailties. She had tried so hard to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and deal with the attacks as and when they came. She had never wanted other people to know. "I have a problem with my heart," she began. "The doctors in Boston think I've had it since birth."
"You've seen doctors in Boston?" Rebecca nodded, "What did they conclude?"
"They couldn't be entirely sure but they believe that my heart suffers from a weakness caused by a build up of some substance in my…I think they said…arteries. It means that the blood flow to my heart is restricted and…well…that can cause the fainting spells as well as pain and shortness of breath that I experience from time to time. Apparently, there's a great deal of research been done at the moment but…"
"But they could offer you no cure." Rebecca shook her head. "And they believe you've had this since birth?"
"They said I may have inherited it from my mother."
"Your mother had the same symptoms?"
"Well, of course I don't know personally, but my father said that she frequently suffered from fainting spells and shortness of breath and pain. He believed that was what killed her in the end. Her heart wasn't strong enough to withstand the pregnancy and labour."
"Did they prescribe anything for you?" Michaela asked, sitting down at her desk.
"I take digitalis as and when it's required. I've taken it after each of my attacks this week."
"Do you usually have such frequent attacks?"
Rebecca looked down at the ground, "No. I thought it was maybe just the stress of coming back here and all the work with the farm…"
"Well that can't be helping," Michaela interrupted, "if stress and anxiety are things that can exacerbate the condition…"
"Everyone gets stressed and anxious from time to time," Rebecca said, "it's impossible to prevent it. I just have to learn to…to manage my condition and…take the proper precautions."
Michaela looked at her, "Such as?"
"As you say, trying to reduce my stress and anxiety would be a start. Once the farm is back on its feet, I'll be able to relax a little more. And as for the future…" she broke off, thinking about the promise she had made to herself and yet had been so quick to forget when she had returned to town, had allowed herself to imagine having a normal life. "I don't want to end up like my mother," she looked at her friend, "she was my age now when she died. I can't risk ever becoming pregnant which means…well…I really can't risk ever falling in love with anybody."
"Rebecca…"
"When we were talking at the café about which eligible young man I could marry in Colorado Springs? In that brief moment, I allowed myself to think it was possible. But now…"
"There's no reason why you couldn't have a normal, married life," Michaela said, "new treatments for conditions are being developed all the time. I can wire some doctor colleagues in Boston and find out about the new research you mentioned…"
"And in the meantime?" Rebecca looked at her, "I don't even know if I'll still be here in a year's time, Michaela. The next attack I have could kill me. What man would want to take that on?" She stood up and straightened her dress. "So you won't have to worry about Matthew. In fact, you won't have to worry about any of the men in this town." With that, she opened the door of the clinic and hurried out.
XXXX
The following morning, Rebecca slept late. She didn't intend to, but after her conversation with Michaela at the clinic she had felt physically and emotionally drained. Returning to the farm, she had intended to rest, but as she looked around the property slowly being brought back to life, anger had overtaken her and she had viciously began chopping wood for the fire. She didn't realise how much time had passed until the sky began to grow dark and she realised she was freezing. She had treated herself to a hot bath and then fallen into bed. Lying in the dark, she had listened to the beat of her heart and cursed it for letting her down so badly.
When she woke, it was after nine-thirty and, realising that Preston would be at the farm in under an hour and a half, leapt out of bed to make sure it looked as presentable as possible. She had swept and dusted the interior, rearranged the furniture at least three times, lit the fire and put some tea on to warm. Then she had wrapped her shawl around her and gone outside to ensure that everything looked as it should. The new fence at the corral looked perfect as did the exterior of the house which Matthew had painted. There was a new door on the barn which she had begun painting on Saturday but had given up due to the rain. It wasn't completely finished, but it was getting there.
At precisely eleven o'clock, just as she had finished putting some fresh flowers at the kitchen window, she heard the sound of horses hooves and looked out to see Preston riding up towards the house. Suddenly feeling very nervous, she took off her apron and opened the front door.
"Miss McKendrick," he greeted her, touching his hat.
"Mr Lodge," she replied, "exactly on time."
"I'm rather a stickler for punctuality," he replied, "my own and others." He stepped forward to her, "How are you feeling this morning?"
"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, wishing to gloss over the scene at the café.
"Apparently you took quite a tumble yesterday."
"Yes, but I'm fine now," she replied firmly.
Preston appeared to understand the meaning of her tone, "I'm glad. Well, I must say that the place is looking decidedly improved."
"Thank you," Rebecca replied with a smile.
"Much better than the last time I was here."
"The last time?"
"I rode up here a few months ago after the repayments stopped. The place was in a terrible state. But you appear to have rejuvenated it."
She wasn't entirely thrilled by the prospect that he had been prowling around the property, but she chose to ignore this and accept the compliment. "Thank you. It's not quite finished yet, but I still have seven weeks to go."
"Exactly," he agreed, smiling at her, "I have the agreement we discussed right here." He patted his pocket, "May I request a tour first?"
"Of course." Rebecca showed him around the outside of the farm, pointing out the various improvements that had been made. She took him into the corral and then into the barn. "Once the work has been done, I can concentrate on acquiring animals and re-establishing my father's business contacts."
"It will take some doing."
"I know that, but I'm not afraid of hard work."
He looked at her, "I can see that."
She met his gaze for a moment before looking away, "Would you like to see inside the house? I took the liberty of making some tea."
"That would be lovely, thank you." He followed her back inside the house. "What a charming entrance way," he observed. "Indeed, the whole place is charming." She led him into the kitchen where she busied herself making the tea. "It must bring back happy memories being back here."
"Of course," she replied.
"Do you regret staying away so long?"
Rebecca paused for a brief moment, guilt flooding through her again, "Yes. But at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing." She turned and passed him a cup.
"And now you think it was the wrong thing?"
"If I had been here, all this would never have happened. But then, I don't believe my education in Boston was wasted."
"Of course not," Preston replied, "Rather unusual though. A farmer's daughter from Colorado Springs attending school back east."
Rebecca bristled slightly at the implication that she wasn't good enough to have done so. "My mother was originally from Boston. She moved out here when she married my father. He said it was always her wish that I be educated there."
"Really? Your mother's family name?"
"Spencer."
"I know the Spencers'" Preston said, "Jewellery, isn't it?"
"Yes," Rebecca smiled, "my grandfather was one of the city's most influential jewellers."
"Barton Spencer."
"That's correct."
"He designed my mother's engagement ring."
"Really?"
Preston nodded, "It's a beautiful ring. Two cut diamonds in a truly unique setting." He looked at her, "I had no idea you were his granddaughter."
"You mean you find it hard to believe," she replied with a smile.
"Not at all," he assured her, "I had heard that Barton's daughter had left town to marry a farmer. I just hadn't put two and two together. It must have been like a homecoming for you to return to Boston."
Rebecca's smile slipped at the memory. "Not really. My grandfather died shortly after my parents got married. His estate was shared between my mother and her sister. After my mother died, the money passed to my father and he used it to pay for my education. I was so excited at the prospect of seeing the city, of visiting museums and theatres. Unfortunately the reality was less exciting."
"How so?"
"People made fun of me because of my accent and my clothes. When they would talk about places they had been and things they had seen, my biggest contribution was a monthly trek to Soda Springs to the cattle auction." Preston laughed. "I felt so lonely and unhappy and I was going to come back home, but then I received a letter from my father telling me how proud he was, and how proud my mother would be, that I couldn't leave. So…I bought nice dresses, I took elocution lessons and slowly…I left Colorado Springs behind. Too far behind," she added.
"You did what you had to do to fit in. No-one could blame you for that."
"My father was dying and I didn't even bother to come home," she looked up at him, her eyes shining, "they can blame me for that. Anyway," she said, coughing to cover her embarrassment, "you said that you had brought the agreement."
"Yes, yes of course," Preston reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I'm sure you'll be in agreement with its terms."
Rebecca took it from him, opened it and started reading. It all appeared to be in order, the time scale, the monthly repayments, the overall total figure…At this, she paused, "Are you sure this is right?"
Preston looked at her, "Am I sure what's right?"
"This overall total figure," she looked up at him, "it can't be right, surely."
"I've calculated what's due to the bank with the requisite interest," he explained, "I can assure you that it's accurate."
"Interest?" Rebecca looked at him.
"Yes." She felt her stomach drop. In all her own calculations she had managed to omit one thing. Interest. With it added on, it took the overall total repayment figure to several hundred dollars more than she had anticipated. "You do agree with the figure," Preston asked, "don't you?"
"Well it's…" she paused, "it's a little higher than I thought."
"You'll see that I've provided a breakdown of the figures on the back…"
"Yes I can see that."
"It really is the best offer I can give you."
"I'm sure it is." She stood up, "Well, I shall just have to wire the bank in Boston to send me more money.
"Miss McKendrick," Preston stood up also, "I can assure you…"
"You don't have to say any more Mr Lodge," she replied, "I understand that this is a business agreement which I will honour. Do you happen to have a pencil?" He produced one from his pocket and she signed the document quickly. "You'll have your money by the agreed date." She held the paper out to him.
Preston paused before taking it from her, "I admire you, Miss McKendrick, I really do."
"For what?"
"For taking on such a challenge, especially in light of your…other difficulties."
"I don't have…"
"But I would hate to see you make yourself unwell…out of guilt." He looked at her meaningfully.
Rebecca glared at him, "Why I have chosen to do this is none of your concern. My reasons are my own and I would thank you not to comment so freely on them. Perhaps it was wrong of me to divulge so much about my past to a man I barely know and one who could very well take all of this away form me! And I am not unwell, as you put it."
Preston moved to the door, "My apologies once again Miss McKendrick if I have offended you. Perhaps it may be better for me to allow you to progress with your repairs to the farm without further involving myself unless and until it is required."
Rebecca felt instantly shamed by her overreaction. She was angry with herself, not with him. "It's not…I mean…I don't…"
"Good day, Miss McKendrick," Preston touched his hat and then swung himself onto his horse. "Thank you for the tea." With that, he turned and started making his way back towards town.
Rebecca sighed and leant her head against the doorframe. "You're very welcome."
