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.
“I’ll write to Dr. Zeiss tonight,” she said to Emmeline.
“I’d be grateful. We’ll pay you, of course.”
As much as Nora needed patients, she couldn’t charge the Logans. She had an interest in psychiatry, but she didn’t have the expertise to consider Bess a patient. Helping the girl was an act of friendship. “Bess’s situation is unique,” she said. “There’s no charge.”
“But—”
“I insist.” Nora never took money from her friends. “When can I visit with her?”
“Anytime,” Emmeline answered. “She helps Rebecca at the boardinghouse. You’re staying there, aren’t you?”
Nora recalled Mr. Garrison’s original plan for room and board. “It’s my new home.”
“Then you’ll see a lot of her. I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Mitchell.” Emmeline held out her hand. “Welcome to High Plains.”
Nora gripped Emmeline’s hand in both of hers. “I’m Nora, remember?”
“How about Dr. Nora? I like how that sounds.”
“So do I.” She beamed a smile.
As the brunette headed for the door, Nora followed her outside to the boardwalk. The ping of hammers pulled her attention to the half-finished building across the street. Judging by the size and location, she was looking at the new town hall, a building Mr. Crandall had described during the trip.
Two men stood on scaffolding about six feet apart, each holding the end of a board and nailing it in place. A third man stood below them, shouting instructions over the racket. She recognized Zeb Garrison and felt the low beat of anger in her pulse. She could tolerate his rudeness. It came with being a woman in a man’s world. But how could he justify running her out of town? High Plains desperately needed a doctor. With the construction, men were sure to have accidents. Emmeline Logan had recently married. God willing, she and her husband would start a family of their own. And Bess…who would help her speak again?
The more Nora thought about Bess and Emmeline, the hotter her blood ran. Instead of treating her like a quack, Zeb Garrison should have been helping her find a suitable office. He deserved an earful, but she couldn’t escape the memory of her father’s voice.
Before you speak your mind, daughter, count to ten. If that doesn’t settle you down, count to a hundred.
The harder she tried to calm herself, the angrier she became. Emmeline saw the good in him, but Nora saw the arrogance. “Help me, Lord,” she murmured. “I don’t want to turn the other cheek. I want to tell that arrogant, self-righteous scoundrel what I think of him.” She wanted to fight. She wanted—
Before she could finish the thought, he turned and caught her staring. He smirked. Furious, Nora started to count. “Ten, nine…Forget it!”
With her temper flaring, she headed across the street to give Zeb Garrison a piece of her mind.
Chapter Five
Zeb saw Dr. Mitchell coming straight at him and felt the uncomfortable urge to run away. He enjoyed a good fight as much as any man, but he didn’t want to argue with her. A few moments ago, Will had taken him to task.
You showed her Doc’s place? Are you stupid?
No, just hopping mad. She’d tricked him by using her initial, then she’d had the audacity to be poised and pretty about it. Why couldn’t she have had warts on her chin…warts with hairs growing out of them? Warts so ugly he wouldn’t keep smelling lavender and recalling her hand on his arm and the kindness in her blue eyes.
He’d argued with Will for two minutes and ended up feeling like an oaf.
We need a doctor, Zeb. I don’t care if he—she—whatever—is wearing skirts. I’ve got a family now. So does Pete.
Where am I supposed to put her? She can’t work in my parlor!
So find someplace else. We help each other in High Plains. Have you forgotten that? It’s called Christian charity.
Will was right. The town needed Dr. Mitchell until he could find a replacement. And whether he liked it or not, he owed her amends for his surliness.
Tom Briggs, his foreman, called down from the scaffolding. “More lumber tomorrow, boss?”
“Plan on it.”
“Good.” Tom’s hammer pinged on a nail. “We’re about out.”
The demand for lumber kept Garrison Mill running from dawn to dusk and Zeb looking at ledgers well past midnight. Folks chipped in what money they could spare, but Zeb cheerfully absorbed most of the costs. He could afford it and others couldn’t. With good weather and a little luck, the town hall would be finished and High Plains would celebrate a full recovery with a summer jubilee. If he had to work like a mule to make it happen, so be it. He didn’t have time to eat or sleep, much less deal with Dr. Mitchell, but she was coming at him like a summer storm.
“Mr. Garrison!” she called. “I need a word with you.”
He did not want to have this conversation in front of a work crew, but he couldn’t avoid her without looking cowardly. “Get back to work,” he said to the man. The hammering resumed, but in a slower cadence.
As she hurried in his direction, he heard the rustle of her skirts and the scuff of her shoes, sounds that should have been drowned out by hammering, but Tom and the other man had stopped working. Zeb felt their eyes on his back, turned to glare at them and realized he’d been wrong. The men weren’t looking at him. They were gawking at Dr. Mitchell.
Briggs, a married man, went back to work. The other fellow looked like a starving man at Sunday supper.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“Thank you for speaking with me.” Panting for breath, she put her hand on her chest in an Abigail-like gesture.
He hadn’t judged her as prone to vapors. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I came to thank you for setting me straight.”
Zeb liked this kind of talk. “About what?”
“
What it’s really like in High Plains. How hard my life would be here.” She bit her lip, then blinked as if fighting tears. Her eyes had a shine and he wondered if he’d made her cry. He hoped not, but the sheen revealed a simple fact. If Doc’s office could drive her to tears, she didn’t belong in High Plains.
He crossed his arms over his vest. “It’s tough here. That’s a fact.”
“It’s such a warm day! Too hot for a woman to be hurrying, don’t you think?” She took a hankie from her pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “I thought I could hire someone to fix the roof, but the hole’s too big.”
“I know.”
“I went upstairs to check for myself. There were birds everywhere.” She indicated the smudges on her skirt. “I ruined my best frock!”
Well, what do you know? Dr. Mitchell had just proven him right about women. Knowing she wouldn’t stay longer than necessary, he could afford to be magnanimous. “I’ll pay for the laundering.”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m not worried about the dress.”
“Then what is it?”
The simpering female vanished in a blink. “I came to tell you that you’re a fool, Mr. Garrison. I am not the shallow woman you’ve assumed me to be. Being who you are—a town leader, someone who’s responsible and intelligent—you know High Plains needs a doctor. You should be helping me, not running me out of town! It’s reckless. It’s selfish. It’s—”
“Stop it, Doc.” Belatedly, he saw through her act. The woman was playing him. “You’ve made your point.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Garrison.”
“I do.”
“You owe me an apology.” She stood tall, her head high and her eyes burning with outrage.
Zeb said nothing.
After twenty seconds, she gave up. “Don’t think you’ve won. At the very least, I deserve courtesy. As for your respect, I intend to earn it. When the time comes for you to eat crow, I’ll expect that apology.”
“You won’t get it.”
“It’s not for my benefit,” she said. “It’s for yours. I’m assuming you do have a conscience?”
Zeb had a conscience, all right. It prickled every time someone in High Plains caught a cold. It twitched when he thought of his men working double shifts and ignoring their own families. It burned like fire when he thought of the tornado and how it had stripped High Plains bare. He’d picked this spot to settle. The death and destruction were on his hands. So was rebuilding. How dare this woman judge him? “You don’t belong here, Doc. Go back to New York.”
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