Kansas Courtship (4 page)

“No,” she said. “It’s a fact. I’ve been tested by male arrogance every day for three years. Compared to some of the men I’ve dealt with, you’ve been a tea party.”

Zeb had been called a lot of names in his life, but
tea party
wasn’t one of them. He didn’t care for the comparison, either. He’d been harsh because he wanted her to leave. “Life here isn’t a party, Doc. If Dr. Dempsey hadn’t passed on, you’d be leaving with the Crandalls.”

“But I’m not, am I?”

“You should be.” His voice rose with irritation. “You tricked me by using your initial instead of your real name.”

“You tricked yourself,” she said mildly. “You jumped to a conclusion.”

“A logical one.”

“A biased one,” she countered.

“You
knew
I’d think you were male.”

“You’re right.” She wrinkled her nose like a little girl. “I apologize.”

She looked downright cute. Zeb wanted to kiss her. The thought made him crazy. What was he thinking? She was an uppity know-it-all woman like Frannie. She had too much education and too much ambition. The next woman he kissed would be his future wife, either Winnie or Abigail, whichever one annoyed him the least. Dr. Mitchell annoyed him the most. “You’re hired for one month. Make it work or get out.”

“I’ll make it work.” She meant it. He heard the fight in her voice.

Zeb headed for the door. He couldn’t get back to the mill quick enough.

“Mr. Garrison!”

He stopped and faced her. “What is it?”

She looked into his eyes, staring hard as if she expected him
to read her thoughts. Oddly, he could. She’d traveled a thousand miles and had arrived to a disaster. He hadn’t offered her a meal, even a cup of water. He’d been a jerk and they both knew it.

She spoke in a gentle tone that shamed him more than sarcasm. “Tell me, Mr. Garrison. Are you
always
this mean?”

“You bet I am.” Determined to have the last word, he walked out the door, leaving Dr. Mitchell adrift in the sea of broken glass.

N
ora hugged her waist and shivered, but not from a chill.

She shouldn’t have touched Zeb Garrison’s arm, but she’d seen the trauma in his eyes when he’d spoken of the tornado. When he turned to the window, she’d felt compelled to comfort him. She didn’t know about tornadoes, but she understood suffering. She wanted to dislike Mr. Garrison for his arrogance, but that moment had peeled back his bitter facade and revealed a genuine concern for High Plains.

“Not that genuine,” she said out loud.

She hadn’t been fooled by his acceptance of her offer. He’d agreed to the one-month trial out of desperation, and because he didn’t think she could find a suitable office. Like most men, he’d underestimated her.

So far, she hadn’t seen anything that couldn’t be fixed. The cracked windows could be tolerated, and she could scrub away the dirt. The broken apothecary jars could be swept into a bin, and she could wax the floor herself. Nora glanced at the ceiling. He’d told her the roof had a hole, but he hadn’t said how big it was. Considering his eagerness to get rid of her, he’d probably
exaggerated the damage. If necessary, she’d put on pants, climb a ladder and cover it with a tarp until she could hire someone to replace the shingles.

When that would be, she didn’t know. She had just enough money to get back to New York and didn’t want to use her emergency fund. Even if she found a different office, she couldn’t afford the rent. The salary she’d negotiated would pay her living expenses, but money would be tight until she had patients. Everything depended on the condition of the roof.

Something rattled on the second floor. She looked up and saw a huge watermark. Her heart sank, but she refused to give up hope. The size of the stain didn’t have to match the size of the hole. Rainwater could have puddled and spread. She had to make this office work. If she didn’t succeed in High Plains, she’d end up back in New York married to Albert Bowers.

She walked to the stairs and started to climb. As the risers creaked, she heard the chirp of birds. The twittering reminded her of a truth she’d almost forgotten. The Lord had His eye on the sparrow. He knew every hair on her head. Surely He’d provide for her.

Hope welled in her chest, but so did fear. Had she been crazy to think the Lord had led her to this place? Had she been too prideful to listen to her father? Fear dragged her down the road that started with her brother’s death. She’d been so sure God had called her to heal. She’d fought to go to medical college. She’d prayed. She’d worked. Most of all, she’d trusted.

Alone in this dirty building, she felt her faith withering like a drought-stricken vine.

The chirping intensified into a symphony of sorts. Nora whispered a prayer. “I need Your help, Lord.”

Peering up the stairs, she made a decision. If she could cover
the hole with a tarpaulin, she’d stay. If it was beyond repair, she’d consider going back with the Crandalls.

She climbed the stairs slowly, gripping the railing because she didn’t trust the steps. She reached the first landing and looked up into darkness. A good sign, she decided. If the roof had been gaping, there’d be light. She climbed the second flight. It ended at a closed door that explained the darkness.

With a prayer on her lips, she opened the door and saw a shaft of light. A hundred birds took flight, funneling upward through a hole the size of a bathtub. The fluttering wings stole her breath, her dreams, and she burst into tears. She couldn’t do it. She could scrub and clean, but she couldn’t fix the roof.

She slid to her knees and wept. Zeb Garrison had won. Unless something happened, she’d be leaving High Plains with the Crandalls. With her face buried in her hands, she cried out in groans beyond words.

Why, Lord? Why did you bring me here?

Something birdlike touched her shoulder. Startled, she looked up and saw a girl with white-blond hair. She guessed her to be fifteen years old, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. The child didn’t speak, but her blue eyes shimmered with intelligence. In that silent exchange, Nora received more compassion than she’d experienced in months. Her tears didn’t shame her. This child understood and wanted to help her. Then the danger of their situation struck home, and Nora gasped. There were on the upper level of a storm-damaged building, standing on a floor that had been compromised further by water from a leaky roof. They needed to leave straightaway before one—or both—of them fell right through the floor. Nora took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm and not spook the girl.

Nora wiped her eyes. “Hi. I’m Dr. Nora.”

The girl nodded but didn’t speak. Perhaps she was deaf.
Nora’s feet were tingling from a lack of blood, so she slid to a sitting position. “What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer.

“Can you hear me, or do you read lips?” Nora tried again.

The girl opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She looked down at the floor then looked up at the sound of a bird chirping on the roof. Well, that answered
that
question.

“That’s good,” Nora said, encouraging her. “You can hear pretty sounds, like music and birds.”

The girl smiled at that, then tipped her head, as if to ask a question.
Why are you here?

Instead of answering, Nora did a cursory assessment. The girl could hear, and seemed to want to speak. If she’d been born mute, the instinct to open her mouth to reply to a question wouldn’t be there. Her neck showed no sign of injury, an indication her vocal cords hadn’t been damaged. Without an apparent physical cause, Nora suspected her muteness had hysterical origins, perhaps related to the tornado. The pieces clicked into place. This was the girl the Crandalls had told her about.

“You’re Bess,” Nora said. “Bess Carter.” The girl—Bess—nodded.

“Are you in town with your sister?” The Crandalls had said that Bess’s sister Emmeline had married town cofounder Will Logan, and that they all lived on the Circle-L ranch, outside of town.

“I’d like to meet her.”

The girl shrugged as if to say okay, then pushed to her feet. Nora stood, too. “I’ll follow you.” And do her best to make sure Bess wasn’t injured on her way out of the rickety building.

As the girl led the way down the stairs, Nora took in her appearance. She was so slight the risers didn’t creak. Blonde and pale, she had a serenity that reminded Nora of a painting she’d
seen at medical college. The artist had depicted angels guarding a surgery from above. Bess had the same expression.

The realization blasted through her like Gideon’s trumpet. God had sent a child—a damaged child—to keep her in High Plains. Bess needed help. No way could Nora leave. She couldn’t work in this building, but surely the Lord would provide a place for her. As she followed Bess to the first floor, Nora nearly danced with joy. She belonged here. She had a purpose.

A woman’s voice drifted in from the street. “Bess! Where are you?”

The girl scampered outside. As Nora came down the last step, Bess dragged a dark-haired woman through the door.

“Bess!” the woman scolded. “You shouldn’t be in there. It’s dangerous!”

“I agree,” Nora called from the stairs. “Let’s talk outside.”

The woman peered into the gloom. When she saw Nora, her eyes widened with curiosity. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Dr. Nora Mitchell. I just arrived, and you’re right. This building isn’t fit for pigs.” As she crossed the room, Nora brushed the dust from her skirt. “You must be Bess’s sister.”

“I am.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Nora smiled, but Emmeline didn’t see it. She’d turned to her sister and was tipping up Bess’s chin with her index finger, forcing the girl to look into her eyes, as if she couldn’t understand any other way. “You scared me, Bess. Don’t run off, okay?”

The girl pulled back and turned to Nora. Her eyes told a story, but Nora couldn’t read it. She only knew Bess had something buried in her psyche. Nora had never been shy, particularly when it came to children.

“What were you doing in there, anyway?” Emmeline asked Bess, though she clearly didn’t expect an answer.

“That would be my fault,” Nora replied. “I went upstairs to check the roof. She followed me.”

The woman looked at Nora as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re the new doctor, the one Zeb’s been bragging about.”

“He’s not bragging anymore.” Nora indicated her dress. “He wasn’t expecting a woman.”

Emmeline laughed. “I wish I could have seen his face! I like Zeb. He’s my husband’s best friend, but he’s got some wrong ideas, especially about women.”

Nora wanted to hug Emmeline Logan. For the first time, she felt welcome in High Plains. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Logan.”

“Call me Emmeline.”

“Then I’m Nora.”

The brunette patted her sister’s arm. “I want to talk to Dr. Mitchell. Go find Will, all right?”

Bess turned to go, then looked back at Nora as if they had a secret. Nora supposed they did. Bess had seen her at her weakest point since leaving New York. That moment made them friends. Nora waggled her fingers. “Bye, Bess. I’ll see you later.”

After waving back, the girl scurried through the door. Emmeline followed her with her eyes, then turned back to Nora. Her eyes glistened with the desperation Nora saw every time she tended an ailing child.

“Please, Dr. Mitchell,” she said quietly. “Will you help my sister?”

Nora’s doubts about staying had already burned to cinders. Emmeline’s plea blew away the ash. “I’ll do my best. How long has she been mute?”

“Just since the storm.”

“Was she injured?”

“Not exactly,” Emmeline replied. “Doc Dempsey examined
her, but he didn’t find anything wrong. I keep wondering if it’s in her head, or if she’s hurt and can’t tell us. Maybe she—”

Nora interrupted. “Can she cough?”

“Yes.” Emmeline’s brows collided. “What does that mean?”

“Coughing indicates functional vocal cords. I suspect Bess’s problem is psychological, and that it’s related to the trauma of the tornado.”

Emmeline bit her lip, then spoke in a low, frightened tone. “Do you think she’s gone crazy?”

“Far from it.” Nora had seen the girl’s intelligence, her compassion. “In some ways, her reaction is logical. Not speaking keeps the memories of the tornado from surfacing. Do you know what happened to Bess during the storm?”

Emmeline bit her lip. “I can barely talk about it myself.”

Nora hated to push, but she needed Emmeline’s help. So did Bess. “I know about the twins.”

“Mikey and Missy have been missing for weeks now.” Emmeline turned to the open door. Sunlight silhouetted her upswept hair and the slope of her shoulders. She spoke to the sky to keep from looking at the damage still evident on the street. “The twins are orphans. My parents took them in for the trip to Oregon. We think Bess saw the twins get snatched.”

Nora pictured flying bodies and shivered. “I see.”

“We were headed to Oregon with a wagon train, but we’d separated from the rest of the group when they stopped to wait out the storm while we pushed on ahead. When the storm flipped our wagon, my father was crushed under an ox. After that, we saw Kansa warriors—” She bent her neck. “I just want to forget.”

“So does Bess,” Nora said gently. “But she won’t recover until she lets herself remember.”

Emmeline shuddered.

Nora stepped to her side. “I have a colleague in New York who’s an expert in problems like Bess’s. With your permission, I’d like to write to Dr. Zeiss about your sister.”

Tears welled in Emmeline’s eyes. “I’d be grateful if you would, but I’m afraid to hope.”

“I’m not.” Nora thought of her little brother. “What scares
me
is doing nothing.”

Emmeline turned back to the inside of the building. Instead of focusing on Nora, she scanned the glass on the floor and the dirty walls. “Zeb doesn’t expect you to practice here, does he?”

Nora looked at the mess with Emmeline. “He doesn’t expect me to practice anywhere. If he has his way, I’ll leave tomorrow with the Crandalls.”

“He refused to hire you?” Emmeline’s brows shot up. “That’s just plain stupid! I don’t care if you’re a woman. This town needs a doctor. And Bess—”

Nora held up her hand. “I’m not leaving. He agreed to a one-month trial, but there’s a catch. I have to find my own office.”

“Maybe Will can help.” Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “He’s my husband.”

“I’d appreciate anything he could do.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Emmeline said. “But there’s something else I have to say.”

“Of course.” Nora appreciated frank talk.

Emmeline paused to measure her words. “Zeb’s not a bad person. He’s just…troubled.”

“I’d have said prejudiced.”

“Maybe,” Emmeline replied. “Mostly he blames himself for what happened after the storm. Doc did his best, but he couldn’t keep up and people died. If Zeb had found a new doctor sooner, lives might have been saved.”

Nora understood guilt. She felt responsible every time she lost
a patient until she remembered only God had the power to give and take life. She thought of Zeb Garrison’s eyes, the same color as the broken glass on the floor, and she wondered if his bitterness ran deeper. “Did he lose someone special in the tornado?”

“No,” Emmeline said. “But he lost someone in Boston.”

A wife? Was he a widower? Nora’s heart clenched for him. “Please, give him my condolences.”

“Oh, no!” Emmeline corrected herself. “It’s nothing like that.”

Then what is it?
Nora wanted to know more, but she couldn’t ask without being guilty of gossip.

The brunette shook her head. “I’m talking too much. It’s just that I like Zeb. He can be difficult, but deep down he’s a good man.”

Nora gave a wry smile. “Considering the deal we negotiated, I’d say he’s a bit of a scoundrel.”

Emmeline grinned. “He is, but in a good way.”

A good scoundrel? Nora had seen the two sides of the man for herself. His prejudice toward women annoyed her, but he cared deeply about High Plains. Beneath his arrogant gaze, she’d seen suffering. Instead of disliking him, she found herself worrying about him. Not wise, she told herself. She had a practice to build and people who needed her, including a girl who couldn’t speak. She didn’t have time to worry about a man who was determined to dislike her. She decided to change the subject.