Martha's Dilemma: What happened to her Papa in 1893 ... and Why?

By Jerry Ziemer

Join Martha Maria Darby as she travels around the country in search of the four men who may have all the answers. She’s attempting to find out what actually happened to her papa David Winchester Darby, in the Fall of 1893. Was he mauled to death by a Grizzly bear in the mountains of western Massachusetts as they’ve been told, or, as she was told by a strange, smelly little man from Saddle Ball Mountain four years later, was he shot in the back of his head, near his hunting cabin up in the mountains. Martha uses the five W’s – Who; What; Where; When; and Why, in her pursuit of the truth. Martha’s Dilemma is written in the Epistolary style, using diary entries and letters to and from home. As you read of her adventures, you’ll feel as though you’ve been by her side for the entire journey . . . and you’ll be stunned by what she discovers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385021406

Jerry Ziemer

Jerry Ziemer was raised in Milwaukee, WI. He spent his junior year of high school in Los Angeles, California, and his first year of retirement with Julie, his wife of fifty-seven years, living near their oldest son in Manhattan, New York. They have three children, thirteen grandchildren, and sixteen great-grandchildren. Jerry has published three books - Blind Faith? Not a Chance! (five true stories) through Christian Faith Publishing, Twist of Fate (Finding Meaning through Life’s Ups and Downs) through Orange Hat Publishing, and The Journals of Zacharia 1905-1985, through Black Rose Writing. Jerry hopes you’ll enjoy meeting Martha.

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Copyright © 2024 Jerry Ziemer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 979-8-3850-2139-0 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-2140-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024905240

WestBow Press rev. date: 04/30/2024

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

January 1898

February 1898

March 1898

April 1898

May 1898

June 1898

July 1898

August 1898

September 1898

October 1898

November 1898

February 1901

March 1901

April 1901

MAY 1901

Epilogue

Afterword

Corpse revivor –

Dedicated to anyone who’s ever written in a Diary,

or made Journal entries . . .

and all those who love to read them.

Acknowledgements

To my lovely, unfailing, and encouraging wife Julie, who

understands Martha’s Dilemma better than anyone. To my

coach Michael Giorgio, from All Writers Workplace and

Workshop, in Waukesha, WI, and to my daughter Karen,

who has fallen in love with Martha and her son Bernhardt.

David Winchester Darby

approached the

Pearly Gates

with a well earned

feeling of Remorse!

Darbyville Daily News

Massachusetts Second Oldest Daily Paper

Saturday September 16, 1893

David Winchester Darby was found near his hunting cabin

Camp Dream on Saddle Ball Mountain, on Thursday, apparently

mauled to death by a grizzly bear. David, the heir to the Darby

Manufacturing Empire, DME, was soon to be named the

Empire’s President. He was found by his one true friend, who

wished to remain anonymous, who had an incredibly hard time

understanding how any bear could get the best of David Darby!

Funeral arrangements are set for Friday, September 22, 11:00 a.m.,

at the Darbyville Memorial Chapel on Mountain View Boulevard.

The family asks for your prayers and any monetary donations to be

sent to St. Upstans School for Unwanted Children, in Springfield.

David was born in Darbyville on March 2, 1841. David is

predeceased by his papa, Captain Walter F. Darby, and is survived

by his wife of nineteen years, Sylvia, mother Elizabeth, brother

Robert, brother Charlie, sister Mabel (Crampton), brother-in-law

Gilbert, and eighteen year old daughter Martha Maria. David was

an avid hunter, self-taught taxidermist, talented piano player, good

chess player, amateur psychologist, and all around nice fellow.

********

Thursday, September 14, 1893 –

Papa died today. They say a grizzly bear killed him. I don’t believe them. He was much too intelligent. He never would have let a bear sneak up on him. I used to love going to Camp Dream but now I never want to see it again! I don’t know why he named it such a weird name anyway.

Friday, September 22, 1893 –

We buried Papa today. Mother wouldn’t let anyone except Grandma see him. She said the bear did terrible things to him, so she kept the coffin closed. I should have been with him, maybe then the bear would have killed me instead of him. I loved Papa.

What am I going to do now?

Saturday, September 23, 1893 –

I’m going to stop writing. Possibly forever. I tried to stop breathing last night, but God told me to keep living.

Why?

What does He care anyway?

Four Years, Three Months, and Five Days Later -

I don’t know why you were told a bear killed your father. David Winchester Darby would never had let a bear get him. I knew him really well, the smartest fella I ever knew, smarter than any bear. I know he got shot in the back of his head with a rifle. The day after he died, I found this spent cartridge fifty yards away from where he laid. I think it’s from a Model 1876 Winchester rifle.

I’ve had a lot of time to think this over, and I’m giving you this key to safety deposit box 21564 at the First National Bank of Boston. Inside the box you’ll find four envelopes sealed with a wax imprint. On the front of each envelope there will be the name of a man, and the city he lives in. Inside there will be a letter for him. They may be able to help you figure this whole mess out.

Your father was a real swell fella. We hunted many times together up in those mountains. Those other folks at the Darby Manufacturing Empire aren’t to be trusted, at least some of them aren’t. I’m sorry it took so long to send you this note, but I’ve been scared for my life also.

Sincerely,

Your Father’s one true friend.

PS – Him and me killed a lot of wild animals up in the mountains. He was one smart fella; no bear could have gotten him.

Six Days Later -

JANUARY 1898

St. Upstans School for Unwanted Children

Springfield, Massachusetts

Dear Miss Chamberlin, Monday, January Third, 1898

Something has come to my attention that I need to deal with. It is an important family issue which has to be solved, and I believe I am the best person to do that.

I’ve enjoyed living and working here at St. Upstans. I’ve tried my best to be a good example for the children, while teaching them cooking, cleaning, and crafting. I enjoy the memories I’ve made here, and the friendships I’ve developed, especially my dear friend Abigail.

I started here right after graduating from high school. As a young woman, the idea of helping unwanted children, appealed to me. My grandmother, Elizabeth Darby, instilled that in me; however, now I have a more urgent family responsibility to deal with.

With kind thoughts, and some regrets, today will be my last day.

Sincerely,

Martha Maria Darby

Tuesday, January 4, 1898 –

I went to the DME Board of Directors with the news from Papa’s one true friend. Poor Grandma, she turned white as a ghost, and then she fainted. Before anyone was able to help her, she fainted, right there in front of us all. Generally she’s like a rock, nothing bothers her. It surprised me. Uncle Robert tried to hold back his emotions, but he finally started crying. I’ve never seen him cry before, I actually had tears when I saw him crying. Uncle Charlie choked, let out a groan, and starting smirking. I think he wanted to laugh it all off. He’s the only person I’ll never be able to completely understand.

Papa’s best friend Omar, put his head into his hands, bent down onto the table, sobbed a little, and then left the room cussing about something I couldn’t understand. Papa always referred to him as the better looking brother, even though they weren’t related.

Aunt Mabel broke her pencil in half, let out a wail, and ran out of the room clutching her mouth. I believe she was going to be sick. This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen her do that. Her husband Gilbert Crampton, the creep who never should have been in the family, or on the board, started sweating, and I noticed his eyelids start twitching. I’ve never trusted that man!

Papa would be president by now if he had lived. He would have taken the job, even though he didn’t trust some of the members. He would have straightened out DME. Grandma always said Papa was so much like Grandpa, work, work, and more work.

I remember all the times he’d take me to work with him on Saturdays when I was little. I always felt like a queen. He’d let me type on one of their typewriters, and pretend to be his secretary. He always looked so handsome with his pipe between his lips, and one of his fancy suits on. Then he’d always tell me some funny secret about one of the men who worked out in the shop. I’d feel like I was the only girl in the world he cared about. I miss him so!

Friday, January 7

I went to look in on Grandma today. She never believed the story that Papa had been mauled by a grizzly bear. Grandma looked for the Camp Dream tattoo on his right arm, but with all the torn bruised skin, and exposed bones, when she tried to find it, she said she fainted. She never believed Gilbert’s excuse about being out of town when Papa died. She actually called Gilbert a liar one day and slapped him, but Mabel agreed with her creepy husband, so Grandma had to keep quiet.

Grandma has no idea who’s going to get control of DME after she’s gone. She wants me to try and get control. She said she’s sure Omar and Robert would go along with the idea, so I’d have three votes. She’s not sure about Charlie, Mabel, or Gilbert. I laughed, and thought how silly of her. I told her that I had to find the safety deposit box in Boston, and left her room.

Saturday, January 8

The aroma from Uncle Robert’s freshly prepared meal filled the room and made me happy, (it’s been a while), but the silence was deafening. Until, at supper, Robert started talking about exhuming Papa’s body. Much to my disappointment, Grandma cleared her throat loudly, and abruptly left the table, with her glass of wine in hand. We know she’s completely against the idea. She thinks, after four years, it would be too painful for her and Mama.

Mama and Mabel sat there looking like two porcelain dolls, with no intention of confronting Grandma. They never could hold a candle to Grandma. Secretly, I imagined six of my girlfriends and I, with lanterns and shovels in our hands, ready to discover the truth.

At Robert’s house last night you had the opportunity to agree with him about exhuming Papa’s body. As usual, both you and Mabel just sat there and said nothing to Grandma. I’ll never understand the hold Grandma has on you both. I love her dearly, but I hope I never fall under her spell. Sorry if I’ve upset you, but that’s how I feel.

Much Love,

Your daughter,

Martha Maria

Sunday, January 9

I met Omar right after church today. He’s still cussing, and he won’t tell me anything about it. He used to own a model 1867 Winchester, but it disappeared about two months before Papa died. Now he’s trying to remember who may have taken it. I wish he didn’t drink so much; he’d be more helpful. I do love him though. I love him the same way I love my Uncle Robert.

I often wonder why he never married. I believe he’s handsome enough. He claims he’s never found the right woman. He says he wasn’t as lucky as Papa. I think Papa was more than lucky; I think he was in love with Mama!

Monday, January 10

Met with Omar again today. I wanted to know if he was Papa’s one true friend. He thinks he was Papa’s best friend, but Papa had some old mountain man he’d meet up in the mountains once in a while. The old man taught Papa almost everything he knew about hunting and wild animals. Omar said Papa really liked the old guy, and always referred to him as a true friend. Omar’s still cussing. He’s trying to remember what happened with his rifle, he says it was just too long ago.

I had half a mind to kick him; I think he’s hiding something.

Wednesday, January 12

I tried to meet with Uncle Charlie today, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with the entire situation. He says what’s done is done. I don’t really trust him, but I don’t think he’s smart enough, or brave enough, to kill anybody. He never seemed like a true Darby to me, but he is Papa’s little brother. Papa sometimes kidded Charlie about being the runt of the litter, then Papa would wink, give Charlie a bear hug, slap the side of his leg, and walk away laughing.

Uncle Charlie tried to kiss me once. I never told Papa. When I was fifteen Uncle Charlie tried to put his tongue into my mouth. I think I took a little chunk out of it. I still laugh to myself when I think about it. Such a dope he is.

Thursday, January 13

I’m having dinner with Aunt Mabel and Gilbert tomorrow. She’s such a softy. Not anything like the rest of the Darby family. I have no idea how she ever got mixed up with Gilbert. Papa said he thought she became pregnant by Gilbert so he could get into DME. Apparently, after they were married, Gilbert did something to kill the baby before it was born. I never could believe it . . . at least not until now.

Friday, January 14

Gilbert never showed up. Mabel and me, alone, in their huge three story house. What a shame. It never did seem like a home to me, just this huge old house. Most of the time the curtains are drawn day and night. At night, whenever I walk past the house, there’s hardly a light on inside. I believe the upstairs rooms have never been used. Gilbert won’t let anyone even go up the steps.

Papa always kidded about all the dead bodies up there. It always scared the daylights out of me when I was little. Sometimes I’d have dreams that woke me up crying, and my bed wet. Maybe there never was any love in the house. I don’t know, all I know is Grandma loves Mabel, and she can’t stand Gilbert. She said I’m the only person she ever told, but I don’t believe her. She gossips sometimes.

Saturday, January 15

God willing, and the creek don’t rise, Sylvia and I are leaving for Boston tomorrow morning. I’ll get the safety deposit box, and find out what happened to Papa, if it’s the last thing I do.

Why do I sometimes call Mama Sylvia?

Friday, January 28

Sylvia came down with a fever, a cough, and shivers. Doc Barns told her she couldn’t travel for two weeks, so we’ve been delayed. Mama’s always been on the weaker side, not strong like Papa was. Grandma tried to get DME to pay our expenses, but no luck. Grandma, Robert, and Omar were for it, but Charlie, Gilbert, and Mabel (poor soul), were opposed. Grandma’s come up with all the money anyway. She claims she wants me to find out what happened to Papa, no matter the cost, but for some reason she won’t exhume his body.

Omar pleaded with us to come along. He thinks two women going alone, all the way to Boston, is dangerous. He thinks whoever killed Papa might try to harm us. I told him it happened almost five years ago, but he reminded me that I received the letter from Papa’s one true friend just one month ago.

I’m not sure what to do. He and Mama have been seeing more of each other lately. I actually saw them holding hands and laughing the other day. Maybe he would be a big help. Or would he be a hinderance?

Sylvia and I leave tomorrow morning. ALONE!

Saturday, January 29

I noticed a sliver of sunshine coming up over the trees when I boarded the train this morning . . . ALONE. I left a note for Sylvia on my dresser; I’m sure she found it when she went looking for me. Mama has never been very brave or strong, and right now I need to be both. Last night I told Grandma what I was doing, she gave me her blessing, and all the money I’ll need. She can deal with Mama without me around.

I’m a little nervous.

Please don’t hate me.

I’m leaving this morning before anyone wakes. I know we had this planned together; however, I feel it will be easier for me to work this all out if I’m by myself. You know how you always spend so much time thinking everything over. How many times I’ve heard you and Papa arguing about making decisions quicker. He was always so quick with his decisions, and you’d get so mad at him. You know how much I take after Papa. That always has been a sore spot between us, but you also know I love you dearly!

I’ve hired a carriage to take me to the train station in Mansfield, where no one will know me. From there I’ll board the early morning train to Boston, and I should be in Boston this afternoon. I have no idea what I’ll do after I go to the bank, and find the safety deposit box. Only Heaven knows.

I believe, as you think this over, you’ll come to realize I’ve done the proper thing.

Your loving daughter,

Martha

Sunday, January 30

Boston . . . incredible! What a city. My hotel room is fabulous; with clean sheets every day, it’s better than home. There’s actually an underground train, completely underground. I was a passenger on it today. It only lasted three minutes; I’ve never seen anything like it, amazing, absolutely amazing. Being Sunday, the bank was closed, so I’ll go there as soon as I can tomorrow morning. I wonder if Papa ever visited Boston? No, he would have told me . . . I think.

Monday, January 31

This won’t be quite as easy as I thought. The banker wanted a note, but since I’m already here, a telegram from DME giving him permission to open the safety deposit box for me will work. The banker vaguely remembers the strange fella who mentioned something about someone being shot in the back of the head, instead of being kilt by a bear, while he made out the paperwork for the box.

The banker said the man looked like he just came down from the mountains. He wasn’t sure if he should trust him, except he had, what the banker called, a wad of money thicker than a bottle of bourbon, so he did as requested. He told me to come back in two days. He thinks he should have the telegram by then. I left frustrated.

FEBRUARY 1898

Wednesday, February 2

I arrived at the bank first thing this morning, unfortunately, for some unexplained reason, the banker had to leave last night for New York City. His assistant had the telegram from DME, but it was addressed to the banker, so the assistant didn’t know what to do. I tried to convince him I had every right to open the box, but he kept telling me the telegram wasn’t addressed to me. He said the banker will be back Friday afternoon, and I should come back then, or he’d call the police on me.

With a chill in the air, snowflakes falling all about, and the smell of fresh saltwater, I donned my wool scarf and visited Faneuil Hall, where Samuel Adams once encouraged our independence from Great Britain. I’ll end today with hot chocolate and brandy.

Ignorant Banker!

Friday, February 4

My shadow was directly below me when I returned to the bank today; however, the banker didn’t show up until just before closing, when my shadow made me twelve feet tall. I’m getting a little tired of snobby, overly refined Boston, and the apparent lack of concern for us folks from the mountains. That’s exactly what the assistant called me Wednesday.

Inside the safety deposit box there were four sealed envelopes, with names and cities on them. Unfortunately, I’m not familiar with any of the names. One is in North Napa, that’s just a few miles north of Napa, and Camp Dream. One is in Albany, New York. One is in Baltimore, and the last name is in Missoula, Montana. Also in the box was a copy of The Lord’s Prayer, the words for the hymn Amazing Grace, and the sheet music for What A Friend We Have In Jesus.

I need to find Papa’s one true friend. I need to know what’s going on. How did Papa die . . . and why?

Sunday, February 6

After church this morning, I swear I saw Gilbert coming out of the train station. I went into a little café, ordered some hot tea, and hid for a while. Why were my hands shaking? What would Gilbert be doing in Boston? Maybe he was just a lookalike. Maybe I’m too untrusting. Maybe I need protection. Maybe I should have brought Omar along, or, then again, maybe I think too much or . . . maybe not.

I do believe this entire ordeal is having a profound effect on my disposition. I’m not sure I like it! Not one little bit. I’ve never been scared before, at least not this way.

Tuesday, February 8

When I got home, I asked Mama if Gilbert had left Darbyville. She had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. She said Gilbert has been spending every single day at DME, sometimes until midnight. Mabel’s ready to shoot him. Mama said Gilbert’s trying to look better than Robert and Charlie, so he’s promoted to president. Grandma can’t stand him, but she does admit Gilbert’s An extremely good worker.

I asked Mama if she’d like the job. She let out another laugh and said, You’re the one who ought to be running DME. You and your papa come from the same mold. You’re the Darby, I just married one. I think Mama would be great at it, after all, she’s heard Papa talk about DME every day of their marriage.

Thursday, February 10

The smell of cedar logs burning in the old river rock fireplace, the