“Hopefully just until the end of the month,” Riley replied. “Perhaps mid-August at the latest.” Riley Rafferty, also known as Saint Riley of the Kerry Patch, was at the center of the meeting with several other members from his Committee of Public Health. A fine black hat covered his blond hair, and he wore a dark suit that turned him into a fine gentleman, befitting his role as a leader. Even so, his muscular form and weathered skin gave away the fact that he was a laborer and wagonmaker.
Since the beginning of the month with the decision to cut back on drinks made with malt, the supply of beer had dwindled. Now with the committee’s decision, no one could serve any beer. Doing so would bring stiff fines. Regardless ofthe bad news, most members of their community respected Riley for his efforts in trying to fight the cholera.
Not only were the tavern owners affected but so were the breweries. In fact, the ordinance would likely hurt the breweries, like the Meiers’, even worse since at least the taverns could continue serving food and other drinks that weren’t made from malt.
Bellamy hadn’t seen Zach Meier since that day the Whitcombs had left by steamer for Iowa. Perhaps the news today of the banning of beer would be the excuse Bellamy needed to pay the Meiers a visit and in doing so find a way to encourage Zach not to give up on Deirdre.
Whatever the case, the newest regulation would be hard on all of them. But the truth was, the men at the impromptu street meeting today were willing to make sacrifices in order to put an end to the cholera epidemic. They were all desperate to keep themselves and their loved ones safe, so even if they didn’t like having to stop selling beer, they would do it.
“The death toll is decreasing every day.” Riley’s voice rang out above the crowd, his presence as commanding and energetic as always. “That means the measures we’ve implemented are working.”
The Committee of Public Health had been laboring tirelessly to clean the city, carting away accumulated trash and waste and sending around street inspectors to fine those who didn’t comply with new cleanliness regulations.
The committee had also ordered the burning of purification fires to fill the air with smoke and fumes. They believed doing so would help kill the miasma of the disease that might linger in the air. They were also trying to provide pure water for residents and had opened up more water hydrants.
Riley and his committee had made a great deal of progress in a short amount of time, including providing more hospital beds and getting the ill the care they needed. They’d even started Quarantine Island to the south of St. Louis where all incoming steamboats had to stop, be inspected, and deposit their sick in the hastily built quarantine wards before being allowed to dock in St. Louis. Since cholera was raging in Europe as well, the hope was to prevent infected immigrants arriving via New Orleans directly from Europe from spreading the illness.
Riley was right that the numbers of those dying from cholera were finally decreasing. If they could just continue their efforts to stop the spread, maybe they would be able to bring the living nightmare to an end and no longer have to worry if each day would be the last with the people they loved.
People they loved.
Zaira’s face flashed to the front of Bellamy’s mind as it had dozens of times since the party at Oakland two evenings ago—her heart-shaped face after he’d kissed her, with her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.
She’d been the most beautiful woman there. Not only had her gown molded to her exquisite body, but the blue had also made her red hair striking and her green eyes vibrant. From the moment he’d arrived, he’d been attuned to her every move, almost to her every breath. He’d tried to ignore her while talking with the fellows, but even then, he’d been drawn to her, wanted to stare at her, and admired everything about her.
Sitting down to dinner had been even more difficult. He’d been so near to her and yet tried to keep from being obsessedwith her. At the close of the meal when her hand had brushed against his, he hadn’t stopped to think, had simply reacted by grazing her finger with his. He was fairly certain she’d felt the same attraction to him he’d been battling with her—the attraction that he’d been working hard to contain ever since meeting her.
As he’d gotten down on his knee and slipped the ring on her finger, that attraction had flared up again between them. He’d felt it. So when the calls had started up for them to kiss, he’d done so all too willingly. She’d kissed him in return with a fervor that told him she hadn’t been pretending—at least in that moment.
That realization had scared him, and he’d pulled back and put their relationship into its proper place as a fake relationship that couldn’t have a future. The rest of the evening, he’d kept busy talking and mingling with everyone but her, and she’d seemed to want to stay away from him too. At the end of the evening, her good-bye had even been somewhat cold, which hadn’t bothered him, at least not much.
It was all too easy to let his desires for a woman like Zaira flood him so that he wasn’t thinking rationally. Maybe that had been the problem with the men in his family, letting themselves get carried away with the physical attraction to a woman instead of ensuring they were compatible in the ways that truly mattered. Maybe that’s why the matchmakers had always made massive mistakes with their own matches. After all, it was a universally known fact that it was easy to spot the problems of others at a distance but fail to see the problems right under your own nose.
The truth was, even if his desire for Zaira was growing, he wasn’t about to throw away all caution and embrace areal relationship based on his physical desires. No, he had to stay in control of himself, and he couldn’t forget they would only be together for a short while before going their separate ways. Then Zaira could find a man who would give her a happy and fulfilling marriage.
A hand clamping on his shoulder brought Bellamy back to the street and to the meeting that was adjourning. Riley stood before him, grinning.
“So, what is it you needed to talk to me about privately?” Riley asked. “Are you wanting my help in plotting how to get Zaira to the church so you can marry her right away?”
The young man was obviously referring to the way Bellamy had finagled Finola into going to the church for their wedding. Bellamy had indeed worked magic—or at least it had felt a wee bit that way—to bring the two together after having them walk away from each other and their relationship on multiple occasions.
“I saw the way you were looking at her,” Riley teased. “And I’m guessing a wedding sooner rather than later is in order.”
Bellamy’s insides tightened at the direction of the conversation. He wanted to blame the tautness on frustration, but he couldn’t deny that just the thought of having a wedding to Zaira, then a wedding night afterward, was more than a little appealing.
“In fact,” Riley continued, “everyone is putting bets on how long the two of you will hold out before having the wedding.”
Bellamy had heard a few comments about the betting, but he hadn’t known the gossip was so widespread. He offered Riley a smirk, knowing he had to play along ratherthan burst out in denial. “I’ll not be telling you and have you winning the bet.”
“Why not?” Riley’s grin widened. “I’ve got money on a week. Just tell me this, will it be less than that?”
Did people really think he was that enamored with Zaira that he couldn’t wait more than a week to marry her? He almost sighed, but he kept his smirk in place. “You’ll have to wait and find out just like everyone else.”
“You’re not holding the new ordinance against me, are you?”
“We all have to do our part.”
“Thank you for understanding.” All humor dissipated from Riley’s face as he glanced to the few lingering men from the meeting.
