Kansas Courtship (6 page)

“Starved is more like it,” Nora admitted.

“We’ll eat together, and I’ll tell you about High Plains.”

As the cook ladled soup into bowls and sliced bread, she told Nora how the town had been founded on Christmas Day almost two years ago. Will Logan and Zeb Garrison, boyhood friends, had come West to pursue their dreams. They’d picked the spot on the High Plains River and contracted with the New England Emigrant Aid Society for funding. When spring arrived, dozens of folks from Bellville, their hometown near Boston, followed the men to the Kansas Territory.

“My Pete is a blacksmith,” Rebecca explained. “Will and
Zeb especially wanted him to come West.” In between spoonfuls of soup, Rebecca told Nora how Pete’s first wife had died in childbirth. When the cook finished the story, she looked at Nora with a gleam in her eyes. “I don’t care what people think, Dr. Mitchell. Pete and I want you here. You won’t have an easy time. I know, because I didn’t either. More than once, I’ve been called a dirty immigrant.”

Nora’s family had sailed with the Pilgrims, but she and Rebecca had something in common. “We’re both outsiders, aren’t we?”

“Very much.” Rebecca fetched the teakettle and refilled their cups. “That’s why I want to talk to you about the Ladies Aid Society. Matilda Johnson is president. She and her husband own the mercantile.”

“I already met Abigail.”

Rebecca sat down. “She and her mother are very much alike, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

The cook’s brows hitched into a scowl. “I’m not fond of Mrs. Johnson and she’s not fond of me.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

“Pete and I were alone in a cellar during the tornado. She accused me of immoral behavior and spread rumors. I couldn’t walk down the street without getting ugly looks.”

Nora knew the feeling. “I got plenty of stares in medical college.”

“But we survived, didn’t we?” A smile lit up Rebecca’s face. “Pete married me to stop the talk. We didn’t know it, but God had plans for us. What Mrs. Johnson meant for harm turned into the greatest blessing of my life.”

Envy stabbed through Nora. She loved being a doctor, but she wanted a husband and children of her own. “Pete sounds like a good man.”

“He is.” Pride rang in her voice. “Most of the folks here are decent, but a few cause trouble.”

“Like Mrs. Johnson?”

“I’m afraid so.” Rebecca’s eyes glinted with anger. “She’s telling folks you asked Abigail an indecent question.”

“Illness is indecent,” Nora countered. When a woman fainted, all possibilities—even indelicate ones—had to be considered.

Rebecca’s eyes twinkled. “
I
know why Abigail swooned. She’s set her cap for Zeb, that’s why.”

“I thought so,” Nora said casually.

The blonde studied Nora from across the table. Both women stirred their tea until their lips tipped up in unison. When Rebecca gave in to a grin, so did Nora. The cook spoke first. “Are we thinking the same thing?”

“I don’t know,” Nora answered. “What are you thinking?”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “I’m thinking Abigail Johnson has some competition, and I’m glad for it. If Zeb didn’t notice that pretty hair of yours, he’s blind.”

Nora’s cheeks turned pink. Zeb Garrison, for all his faults, had excellent vision. When he’d looked her up and down in the office, he’d noticed her hair and the dress, too.

“It doesn’t matter what he sees,” Nora insisted. “My gender has nothing to do with my medical skills.”

Rebecca grinned. “True, but you’re still a woman and I’m sure he noticed.”

Nora felt herself blush, but she shrugged off Rebecca’s comment. “Abigail doesn’t need to worry about competition from
me.
I want a husband and family as much as any woman, but I’m here to be a doctor.”

Rebecca’s hand went to her belly in the way of expecting women, or women with that hope. “We need you, Dr. Nora.”

“And I need an office,” she replied. “Do you think Mrs. Jennings would let me use a room here?”

“We’re full to the rafters.”

“Is there space at the church?”

“I don’t think so,” Rebecca replied. “Why don’t you do what my grandmother did. People didn’t come to her. She went to them.”

The idea had merit. She’d see where people lived and get to know their families. Her patients wouldn’t have privacy, but the plan would give her a start.

“I’ll do it,” she declared. “I’ll visit every person in High Plains.” Everyone
except
Zeb Garrison.

Rebecca raised her cup in a toast. “To you, Dr. Mitchell. May God bless your efforts.”

“Please, call me Nora.” She lifted her teacup in a salute to the future. She’d knock on every door. She’d call on every family. She wouldn’t skip anyone. Like Joshua circling Jericho, she’d walk circles around High Plains, seven times if that’s what it took to win the town’s trust. Zeb Garrison wouldn’t run her out of High Plains. She wouldn’t allow it.

“To success!” she said.

As the women toasted with their cups, Nora felt blessed. Surely the Lord would guide her steps.

“C
assandra, don’t.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” his sister replied. “If I want to see Percival, I will.”

Zeb pushed back from the breakfast table. Thanks to his sister, he had indigestion in spite of Mrs. Wright’s perfectly fried bacon. The woman had been with the wagon train, traveling West with her husband and grown son. The men had died in the storm, leaving her as alone as a woman could be. Zeb hired her to cook and clean. With Cassandra busy getting ready for the school year, he needed the help.

What he didn’t need was his sister’s interest in Percival Walker. An attorney by trade, Percy had been hired by the New England Emigrant Aid Society to keep an eye on their investment. The man came from Boston money and it showed. Zeb disliked him, not because he had money but because of the way he threw his weight around.

The way you did with Dr. Mitchell.

He stifled a groan. Why wouldn’t his conscience shut up? Four days had passed since her arrival, and he’d awoken each morning with a sense of guilt. He’d been a brute. He knew it.
He owed her an apology, but he wasn’t about to seek out the woman who kept winking at him in his dreams. What had she meant by that wink? He didn’t know and he refused to care. Right now, he had to deal with Cassandra, who’d just announced she’d be “lunching” with Percy. People in Boston “lunched.” People in High Plains broke bread. Zeb preferred breaking bread.

He looked down at his sister, still seated and defiantly sipping tea from a porcelain cup. Cassandra set the cup down with a plink, then looked up at him. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you like Percy?”

“He’s a dandy.”

“He’s a businessman,” she insisted. “Like you.”

“He’s nothing like me.” Zeb paced to the window. Turning his back, he rubbed his eye to stop it from twitching. He’d downed four cups of coffee, but the hot brew couldn’t replace a good night’s sleep. He’d been awake long past midnight, working on plans for the mill. As soon as High Plains was strong again, he planned to change the saw blades into millstones.

He didn’t have time to waste arguing with his sister, especially when his opinion didn’t matter. If it had, she’d have already married Clint Fuller. Zeb liked the cowboy. The man worked hard on Will’s ranch, then came to town to help at the mill. Zeb knew he had his eyes on Cassandra because the cowboy had asked for permission to court her as soon as he had some money saved. Percy hadn’t shown that courtesy. Just like a Boston bigwig, he’d presumed his attentions would be welcome. Unfortunately, from Cassandra’s perspective, he’d been right.

Zeb turned away from the window. “I have to get to the mill.”

His sister pouted. “Suit yourself.”

Her tone irked him. “Do you think I
like
working sixteen hours a day?”

“No, but—”

“It’s necessary, Cassandra. Winter’s not far away. People need houses. I said the town hall would be done by the jubilee and I meant it.”

“I know, Zeb. It’s just that I’m so confused. Dr. Mitchell says—”

“What?”

“She came to the schoolhouse yesterday. We talked about Clint and Percy. She’s smart and she has such
lovely
clothes. She says—”

“Hold on,” Zeb ordered. Why was Nora Mitchell visiting his sister? And what kind of nonsense was she spouting? He got impatient with Cassandra, but he loved her and wanted her to have a good life. They just disagreed on what counted as “good.” Considering Dr. Mitchell’s background, he felt certain she’d side with Cassandra.

He crossed his arms. “Why were you talking to her?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“She’s visiting everyone in town and introducing herself. I figured you knew.”

Zeb only knew she’d winked at him, and in his dreams he winked back. “I don’t know what she’s up to. I thought she’d leave by now.”

“Why would she do that?”

He said nothing.

“Zeb!” Cassandra scolded. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Now
he
sounded pouty. Annoyed, he lowered his arms and struck a more casual pose. “She needs a place to practice. Doc’s office is a wreck, and she can’t work in our parlor. I told her she’s on her own. I can’t help her.”

“You mean you
won’t
help her.”

“I’m busy.”

His sister shrugged. “It’s all right. She doesn’t need your help. I told her I’d ask Percy to find an office for her.”

That figured. The Easterners were ganging up on him. “What’s he going to do?” Zeb sneered. “Give her his office?”

“I don’t know,” Cassandra replied. “But he’ll be polite about it, which is more than I can say for you. The whole town knows you yelled at her.”

“Did the
whole town
tell you she yelled back?”

Cassandra’s eyes twinkled. “I hear she put you in your place.”

Zeb said nothing.

“You deserved it,” she added. “Why would you show her Doc’s place? It’s a mess.”

He’d hoped to run her out of town, but he couldn’t admit that foolishness to Cassandra. She had him cornered. He couldn’t lie and the truth condemned him again, so he took a side road. “She deserves to know what she’s up against. Another tornado could hit. Indians could strike. You know the risks.”

Her eyes misted. “You’re thinking about the twins.”

Those lost children were never far from his mind. Everyone in High Plains had helped with the search, to no avail.

Cassandra stood and lifted their plates. “I think about them a lot. Tornadoes don’t hit in Boston. Sometimes I want to go home so badly—”

“I know, Cassie.” He used the pet name she’d asked him to forget. “Just don’t do it with Percy, okay?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She scrunched her face as if she were five years old again. “Percival treats me like a lady. He likes music and sometimes he quotes Shakespeare. But then there’s Clint…He doesn’t know about any of those things. He’s gruff and tough and barely talks.”

“A man doesn’t need words to show what he means.”

Cassandra looked at him as if he were crazy, but Zeb knew what he meant. He understood Clint just fine. The man loved Cassandra. He was working extra jobs to be able to marry her. That said “love” to Zeb. He knew because he’d loved Frannie with the same intensity. He’d never love like that again. He rubbed his jaw and felt bristles. Shaving took time he didn’t have. So did speaking with Cassandra, but he wanted to know more about the lady doctor. “What else did Dr. Mitchell say?”

“About Percy and Clint?”

“About everything.”

“Mostly we talked about clothes.” Cassandra sounded dreamy. “She has wonderful gowns.”

“I didn’t notice,” he said in a mocking tone. Of course he’d noticed. When he blinked, he saw green silk.

Cassandra ignored him. “I asked if she’d met Percy and she said yes, that he seemed like a gentleman.”

“A fellow snob is more like it.”

Cassandra sighed. “You don’t know him at all.”

“I know enough,” Zeb argued. “The man hasn’t done a day’s work in his life. Now, take Clint—”

“Clint thinks he knows everything. Percival doesn’t tell me what to do.”

Zeb had to grit his teeth. “Clint’s just trying to keep you safe. And so am I. I can’t stop you from seeing Percy, Cassandra. Just be careful.” He hated the thought of his little sister getting her heart broken by someone like Frannie.

Cassandra stood with the dirty dishes in hand, a reminder they hadn’t always had servants in spite of her snooty tone. “If you don’t mind, Zeb. I’ll take Dr. Mitchell’s advice instead.”

His jaw tensed. “What did she tell you?”

“I won’t say.” Cassandra put her nose in the air. “You’d just get mad.”

“I’m mad already.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I want to know…
What did she tell you?
”

Cassandra had him by the scruff and she knew it. Chuckling, she headed for the door to the kitchen. “If you want to know what she’s saying to people, ask her yourself.”

Zeb didn’t think folks would take her side, but he
had
been rotten to her.

Cassandra watched him thoughtfully. Then, as if she knew something Zeb didn’t, as if that brazen redhead had enlisted his little sister in her army of pushy women, Cassandra winked at him. “See you later, big brother.”

She swished through the doorway, leaving Zeb mad enough to hunt up Dr. Mitchell himself. Not right away. He had work to do. But later…after he’d counted to ten a dozen times and figured out what he wanted to do besides kiss her. He had to find a replacement so she could go back to New York. If she didn’t leave soon, the town would go crazy and so would he.

“Everyone means everyone,” Nora said out loud as she left the boardinghouse.

She’d finished a late breakfast and was headed to Garrison Mill. Its owner would doubtlessly bite her head off, but she had to take that chance. In the past few days, she’d visited everyone in High Plains except the man who’d hired her. Pete and Rebecca had been kind and she’d had a good visit with the Logan clan at the Circle-L, but most people had been reserved at best. A few had been hostile. As Nora turned down Main Street, she recalled various comments.

Mrs. Morrow, the dressmaker, had looked her up and down.
I’m in perfect health, miss. You should try another town.

Winnie Morrow, her daughter, hadn’t said a word. She was either shy or unfriendly.

Worst of all had been her visit to the mercantile. Mrs. Johnson had not so subtly questioned her morals.
A woman in medicine? That’s indecent.

Nora had run into
that
criticism before. Yes, she’d seen the male body, but there was nothing handsome about an old man with pleurisy or a young one who’d been gut shot. When it came to matters of life and death, Nora didn’t see male and female. She saw suffering.

Last night, exhausted and despairing, she’d opened her Bible to the verse about loving her enemies as herself. She didn’t want to be at odds with anyone. Instead, she found herself at odds with almost everyone and especially Zeb Garrison. As his name came to mind, she’d thought of her promise to visit
everyone
and had accepted the inevitable. She had to call on him at the mill.

What she’d say, she didn’t know. She only knew she had to make this effort or face going home in failure. At the thought of marrying Albert Bowers, she shuddered. Zeb Garrison had his faults, but being stodgy wasn’t one of them. She’d been up half the night arguing with him in her head. Sometimes she won the argument and walked away. Sometimes he winked and asked her to supper. Sighing, she scolded herself for such silly thoughts. Zeb Garrison didn’t like her and never would.

As she neared the schoolhouse, Nora recalled her first meeting with Zeb’s sister. Pete had asked Edward Gunderson, his helper and brother-in-law, to take her to nearby ranches. At the Circle-L, she’d visited with Emmeline and met Cassandra and a cowboy named Clint. Cassandra had taken a day off preparing for school to visit Emmeline. She’d been friendly and full of questions about New York. The girl had also mentioned Percival Walker, the town attorney, at least five times.

Nora had met Mr. Walker and been unimpressed. He’d
struck her as shallow and vain. On the other hand, she’d enjoyed Cassandra and had promised to loan her a
Godey’s Lady’s Book.
She had it tucked in her medical bag now.

“Dr. Nora!”

She turned and saw Cassandra waving her arm as she crossed the mill road. Nora stopped in front of the schoolhouse and waved.

When the brunette reached her, she held out her skirt to show it off. “How do I look?”

“Lovely.” The rose-colored gown had a striped bodice and white sleeves. A straw bonnet with pink ribbons gave a sheen to the girl’s dark hair.

“Do you think Percy will like it?”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Good. We’re having lunch today.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “He asks me every Wednesday. This is the fourth time.”

“Are you courting?”

She blushed. “I hope so.”

What would that be like, Nora wondered, to blush at the mention of a man’s name? How would it feel to be pursued? Maybe someday she’d know, but she had to dampen those thoughts until she succeeded as a physician.

Cassandra adjusted the tilt of her bonnet. “No matter what happens with Percy, I’m taking your advice.”

Nora recalled chatting with the girl but not offering guidance. “What did I say?”

“That a woman needs the courage of her convictions.”

“That’s right.”

She’d been talking with Emmeline and Cassandra on the porch. Bess had been with them, listening to every word as Nora described her struggle to become a doctor. Indirectly she’d been reaching out to Bess. Fear had stolen the girl’s
voice. Only courage could bring it back. Looking at Cassandra, Nora wondered why the comment had hit home.

The brunette took a breath. “You inspired me. I’m thinking of going back to Boston.”

“You are?”

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” Nora couldn’t imagine leaving High Plains. She already loved the high sky and rolling hills.

Cassandra’s eyes lost their eagerness. “Zeb won’t like it, but I don’t care what he thinks.”

Nora held in a groan. Unknowingly, she’d given Zeb Garrison another reason to resent her. He’d no doubt consider her a bad influence on his sister. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s a long trip,” Nora said. “Do you have family in Boston?”

“Not anymore.”

“Then how—”

The brunette blushed. “Percy’s going back in a month, just as soon as he settles some business.”

Nora envied the blush of excitement on Cassandra’s cheeks, but she questioned the girl’s wisdom. Did she have genuine feelings for Percy, or did she miss Boston? Nora suspected the latter and regretted sharing the
Godey’s Lady’s Book.
The pictures in the magazine would make Boston shine. She considered reneging on her promise to share it, but Cassandra’s eyes drifted to the bag. A promise was a promise, so Nora opened the case. “I brought the
Lady’s
book.”