‘We’ve been waiting for you, doc.’ Yorkie Oldroyd stepped forward, calling down to Caleb from the verandah of the hotel. ‘Is it true? Is Dr Bowen really dead?’

Caleb nodded. ‘We laid him to rest at Shady Creek this morning.’

A murmur went through the crowd and once again all eyes turned to Oldroyd, who seemed to have been appointed an unofficial spokesman for the crowd.

‘Were it the drink?’

Caleb frowned. ‘Why do you want to know that?’

‘Cos that’s the story going around.’

In a loud, clear voice Caleb said, ‘No. He died of a brain haemorrhage. Any other story is false.’

The crowd seemed to visibly relax, murmuring among themselves.

A woman with a baby held to her pushed her way to the front of the group. He had treated the baby for croup. She now seemed well, sleeping peacefully in her mother’s arms. ‘You’ll be stayin’ on though, won’t you, Dr Hunt?’

‘We don’t want no one else,’ Oldroyd said.

‘I have agreed with Mr Russell I will stay in an acting capacity until another doctor can be appointed,’ Caleb said.

The murmur grew louder and Caleb held up his hand. ‘You have my word, I’ll not leave Maiden’s Creek without a doctor.’

That didn’t seem to satisfy the crowd. ‘There’s work enough for two doctors,’ a man said.

‘I agree with you and you also need a hospital, but that is conversation to be had with the council another day,’ Caleb said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired and dusty and longing for my own bed and a beer.’

The woman with the baby nudged a basket at her feet. ‘This is for you, doctor. Enough for your supper and something for your breakfast.’

Caleb picked up the basket and lifted the cloth. The smell of hot pie rose enticingly.

He thanked her and the woman coloured. ‘Least I could do. If it hadn’t been for you, little Eve here’d be dead.’ She looked at the babe in her arms and smiled.

Oldroyd cleared his throat. ‘I saw what you did with that smallpox scare.’ He waved a hand at the hotel. ‘There’s a room at the Britannia you can use for a proper surgery. You can set it up with a desk and whatever else you need. We need proper medical care here and we’ve agreed that we’re going to get together to raise money for a hospital.’

‘Then you need to speak with Mr Russell. He would support such a proposal.’ Caleb spread his hands. ‘I see you folk have it all organised. Thank you, Yorkie, a proper surgery will be a godsend and thank you kindly for the supper, ma’am. It smells good. Now perhaps, if you can let me through, we’ll see what the morning brings.’