Kansas Courtship

by Victoria Bylin

  Clint started to pace. “Percy’s got Cassandra tied in knots. He’s nothing but a big talker, I tell you. I’d like to—” Clint sealed his lips.

  “You should be talking to my sister,” Zeb replied. “Not me.”

  “I’d marry her tomorrow if I could.” Clint looked as starry eyed as a moonless sky.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “Money.”

  Zeb saw a solution, a quick one that would save Clint’s health and keep Cassandra in High Plains. “How much to you need? I’ll loan it to you.”

  Clint shook his head. “Borrowing’s not my way.”

  “You’re being prideful,” Zeb insisted. “Take it.”

  The cowboy’s eyes glinted with unexpected wisdom. “You’re one to talk about pride.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I like Dr. Nora. So does Cassandra and everyone else. You just can’t admit you’re wrong about her.”

  Zeb’s thumb throbbed. “What’s your point?”

  “None, I guess.” Clint coughed. “I better get busy.”

  “Forget it. I’m loaning you the money. You can pay me back later.”

  “I said no.”

  Zeb wanted to argue some sense into him, but he saw another way out. “I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give you a way to earn it fast.”

  “How?”

  “I hear you’re the strongest man at the Circle-L.”

  “That’s right.”

  “At the jubilee, sign up for the arm-wrestling contest. There’s going to be a prize.”

  Clint’s eyes widened. “How much?”

  Zeb did some quick calculations. Clint clearly already had some saved, but he needed money for a ring, a place to live in town and a bit extra for Cassandra’s taste in clothes. “The winner’s going to walk off with twenty-five dollars. Think you can win?”

  He put his hands on his hips. “You bet I can.”

  Zeb saw another problem. “Do you think you can outdo Percy when it comes to romancing my sister?”

  The cowboy looked sheepish. “Don’t tell anyone, but Mrs. Rebecca’s been giving me lessons in being mannerly.”

  Zeb admired Clint’s effort. “That’s good.”

  “She’s taught me about using a napkin and not gobbling down my food. I’ll never be a high-class man from Boston, but I know how to treat a lady.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Zeb said. “Now get some rest.”

  “All right, I will.” Clint indicated a saw frame, the one without a blade. It had broken, again, and Pete had repaired and delivered it late yesterday. “Before I go, how about I help you mount the blade? It’ll be ready when the crew gets here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Zeb and Clint put on heavy leather gloves, lifted the blade and attached it to the frame. Zeb insisted on doing the balancing himself, then he checked the fasteners.

  “Want to test it?” Clint asked.

  Zeb didn’t want to keep the cowboy around, but Clint knew the millworks better than the workers scheduled for the day. “Sure. Go pull the brake.”

  Clint went outside, unlocked the waterwheel and came back. With Zeb watching, the gears picked up speed and the blade spun in a perfect circle.

  Satisfied, he shouted to Clint. “Shut it down, will you?”

  “Sure.” The cowboy went outside to set the brake. A rattling drew Zeb’s gaze to the pivot above his head. The pivot transferred power from a horizontal shaft to the vertical one turning the blade. He looked up and saw a loose pin.

  Zeb had tremendous respect for freshly honed metal, but he also knew the continued motion would cause the pivot to fly apart. The blade would wobble and possibly break. Fighting impatience, he eyed the shaking wood. With each spin of the waterwheel, the wobble increased. He looked down at the blade. The speed had slowed, but it was still spinning at a dangerous rate. As Clint came around the corner, the blade slowed enough so that Zeb could see the metal teeth in a two-toned blur. In a minute, it would come to a halt.

  He set his foot on the frame. At the same instant, the pivot broke and the saw went askew. Metal sliced through his boot, then into skin and muscle. As a cry exploded from Zeb’s lips, he fell back on the floor. With a shout of his own, Clint sprinted to his side.

  Blood ran from the gash in the boot. Dark and sticky, it soaked Zeb’s pant leg and formed a maroon pool. He tried to wiggle his toes and felt only searing pain. With each beat of his heart, blood poured from the gash, widening the puddle into a circle. If he didn’t get help, he’d die. He’d bleed out on the floor of the mill.

  Clint yanked off his shirt, ripped off a sleeve and tied it above Zeb’s knee. The gush turned to a trickle, but Zeb was already light-headed.

  Clint’s face turned from feverish to ashen. “We’ve got to get you to Dr. Nora.”

  Zeb tried to sit up, but the room spun in a crazy mix of black and white, the same color as the debris-filled wind of the tornado. Fighting to stay conscious, he sucked in air. As his stomach rebelled, he shouted a curse. Of all the foolish things…A cry exploded in his mind. Why, God? What more do You want from me? He wanted to shake his fist at the Almighty. Instead, he felt Clint’s strong hands hoisting him upright and balancing him on his good leg.

  Clint half carried, half dragged Zeb into the yard where he’d left his horse. He put Zeb’s good foot in the stirrup, hoisted him on to the gelding, jumped up behind him and gave the horse free rein. With each stride, Zeb felt more light-headed. Shock faded to unbearable pain and he moaned like a baby. The cry destroyed the last of his pride. He no longer cared about Dr. Nora Mitchell’s gender. He just wanted to keep his leg.

  “Doc!”

  Nora didn’t recognize the male voice bellowing in the yard, but she knew terror when she heard it. Dropping the bandage she’d been rolling, she hurried out the front door. In the yard she saw Clint on the far side of a black horse, but she couldn’t see who he’d hauled from the saddle until she rounded the horse’s rump.

  “Zeb!” she cried. “What happened?”

  “He’s cut,” Clint answered. “A blade clipped him below the knee.”

  Nora looked down and saw the tourniquet, Zeb’s flapping boot and the bloody pant leg. “Get him inside,” she ordered.

  She sounded in control, but her thoughts buzzed like a swarm of frightened bees. This was Zeb—the man she was starting to love, the man who didn’t trust her to remove a splinter. When Clint sagged beneath his weight, Nora wedged herself under his other shoulder. As she took his weight, he moaned through gritted teeth. Together she and Clint carried him into the house.

  As they thudded into the parlor, Carolina burst out of the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “He’s cut.” Nora clipped the words.

  Carolina flung back the curtain to the exam room. With the nurse’s help, Nora and Clint maneuvered Zeb onto the exam table. He tried to stifle a moan, but it came out in a hiss through his clenched teeth. Carolina looked to Nora for direction. Nora looked at Zeb’s leg. The tourniquet seemed to be holding.

  She touched his cheek. “I have to remove your boot. Do you want laudanum?”

  “Not now.” His body tensed against the table. “I want to know what’s happening.”

  They both understood the magnitude of the injury. If the saw had severed tendons and arteries, he’d lose the leg now. If the blade stopped short of the bone, he’d be in for a battle against infection. Carolina retrieved the amputation kit from the cupboard. Nora prayed she wouldn’t have to use it.

  She took a knife, slit the boot from top to bottom and removed it as gently as she could. Pain hissed through Zeb’s teeth, but he didn’t cry out. As she dropped the boot to the floor, Clint shuddered. Nora had forgotten about him. He looked helpless, pale and flushed. She aimed her chin at the door. “Go get Cassandra.”

  “No!” Zeb said. “I don’t want her here.”

  Nora stood over him, matching her eyes to his. “I might have to make a hard decision. If you pass out, I
want her here.”

  Clint took off like a rifle shot.

  Zeb shook his head. “No—”

  “Yes.” Nora clamped his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. Tears sprung to her eyes. Of all the tests she’d faced as a doctor, this one pushed her to the edge of her faith in a loving God.

  “Listen to me, Zeb.” She kept her voice steady, but her heart was fluttering like a trapped bird. “I haven’t seen the leg yet. We might be able to save it, but—”

  “Save it,” he muttered. “Please.”

  The plea tore at her heart. “I’m going to try, but if it’s impossible—if the bone is broken and the arteries are severed—I’m going to save your life instead.”

  She waited for a nod of agreement. Instead, he looked into her eyes, then touched her hand with his. “I lost the deal with Will, didn’t I?”

  Nora smiled through a haze of tears. “If you can make a joke at a time like this, you’re going to be fine.”

  His eyes drifted shut. “Don’t do it, Nora. Not yet.”

  “I might not have to,” she answered. “I have to clean the wound to see the damage.”

  Zeb clenched his jaw, then nodded.

  Nora and Carolina blotted blood with white rags. Red stains bloomed like roses. Zeb groaned, but he didn’t thrash. Nora had to admire his self-control. Other men would have cursed and kicked. When she finished cleaning the wound, she forgot everything except her anatomy class.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  The blade had cut an inch into the side of his calf, closer to the knee than the ankle. Mercifully it had missed the Achilles tendon and the tibial nerve and artery. If he survived the inevitable infection, Zeb would walk again. Healing would take time and he might have a limp, but for now she had hope. “The cut’s deep,” she told him. “But it doesn’t go to the bone.”

  Zeb panted for breath. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you don’t have to…amputate.”

  “Not yet,” she said quietly. “But we both know what lies ahead.” Infection would set in. He’d grow feverish and the wound would fester. He’d be at risk for blood poisoning. If the infection spread, she’d have to cut off his leg.

  She looked into Zeb’s eyes. His pupils, dilated with pain, turned his green irises into narrow bands. She prayed she wouldn’t have to amputate his leg. Zeb would never be the same.

  She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the corners of her mouth turned down with suppressed tears. Zeb touched her cheek. “Cheer up, Doc. You’re going to save my leg.”

  The words of respect should have thrilled her. Instead, she felt the burden of truth. The odds were against them. If she waited too long to amputate, Zeb would die. If she took off the leg to save his life, would he still trust her? She doubted it. She took his hand and squeezed. He had a long, painful journey ahead of him, one that could still end in tragedy. “Close your eyes,” she said. “I’m going to sew up your leg.”

  As trusting as a child, he obeyed. Nora went to work with a needle threaded with catgut. As she sutured muscle to muscle and skin to skin, she heard Alex on the porch. Aware of Zeb’s injury, he told everyone who came to see her about the accident. Within an hour, all of High Plains knew Zeb had been seriously injured and could lose his leg.

  As she placed the last suture, a buggy rattled into the yard. When a man coughed, she recognized Clint. An instant later, she heard Cassandra speaking with Alex, then the whoosh of the front door as the girl raced inside, calling her brother’s name.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Nora called through the curtain.

  It opened anyway and Cassandra came into the exam room. Her eyes went to the bloody leg and she gasped.

  “Get out of here,” Zeb growled.

  The color drained from Cassandra’s face. Fearing the girl would faint, Nora spoke firmly. “Wait in the parlor. I’ll explain everything when I’m done.”

  As Cassandra left, she pressed a white handkerchief to her eyes. Nora thought of the cotton she’d use to bandage Zeb’s leg. It wouldn’t stay white for long, but she’d work day and night to keep the wound clean and free of infection. With Carolina’s help, she wrapped clean bandages around Zeb’s leg. Satisfied she’d done all she could, she washed her hands and took off her bloody apron. Before leaving to speak with Cassandra, she rested her palm on Zeb’s forehead. She felt perspiration but no fever. The infection would come later.

  He swallowed hard. “Thanks, Doc.”

  Emotion clogged her throat. She nodded and went to the parlor where she saw Cassandra huddled on the sofa. Clint was standing across the room, staring out the window.

  “How is he?” Cassandra asked.

  As Nora sat next to Cassandra, Clint cleared his throat. “Clint, sit down,” Nora said. “Considering you saved Zeb’s life, you’re part of this.”

  The man turned but didn’t budge. “I’ve got a cough. I don’t want Miss Cassandra to catch it.”

  “Of course.” Nora thought of the toll today had taken on him.

  Cassandra looked at him with a new respect. “You saved Zeb’s life?”

  Clint shrugged.

  Nora jumped in. “Clint’s too modest to tell you, but he made a tourniquet out of his shirt. If he hadn’t been there, Zeb could have bled out. At the very least, he’d have gone into shock.”

  Cassandra looked at Clint with a new respect. “You should have told me.”

  His face turned even redder. “I did what had to be done.”

  “And you’re sick, too.” Cassandra’s voice filled with sympathy. “And you’re working too hard…just like Zeb.” She turned to Nora. “I was at the Circle-L. Clint brought me, but he should be in bed himself!”

  The cowboy stifled a cough. “Don’t baby me, Cassandra. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m trying to help you!”

  “I don’t want help,” he argued. “I want to take care of you.” He sealed his lips, but a moment too late. Embarrassed, his eyes hardened as he looked at Cassandra. “I do what has to be done. Right now, that means helping you and Zeb.”

  Nora recognized the curious lift of Cassandra’s brow, the question lurking in her mind. She’d worn a similar expression just before Zeb kissed her. Whether Cassandra knew it or not, she was in love with Clint, not Percival Walker. The attorney had filled her head with the glamour of Boston, but he didn’t leave her spinning like the cowboy did.

  Envy made Nora tremble. Today Zeb had shown respect for her work, would the respect last if she had to amputate his leg? She doubted it. No matter the cost, she’d save Zeb’s life. She could only hope saving his life wouldn’t cost her a chance at his love.

  Nora focused on Cassandra. “I’d like to keep Zeb here for a few days, maybe a week. He needs bed rest.”

  “He won’t like that.”

  “No, but the wound will heal best if we keep the leg still. I don’t want him hobbling around on crutches and risking a fall.”

  “Of course not,” Cassandra agreed.

  Clint interrupted. “Tell him not to worry about the mill. I’ll see to things.”

  “But you’re sick!” Cassandra protested.

  Clint looked pained by his weakness but pleased with her concern. “Don’t worry about me, Miss Cassandra. I’m going to be fine. I feel better already, as a matter of fact.”

  Cassandra wrung her handkerchief, then gave Clint a hard look. “You take care of yourself, Clint Fuller! I don’t need to be worrying about two men.”

  “I will.” He sounded solemn.

  Their gazes met from across the room. Clint lowered his arms to his sides. Cassandra took a breath and her lips parted. Quietly Nora stood and went back to the exam room. As the curtain swished behind her, she heard Cassandra telling Clint to sit down, then the creak of a chair and the soft hush of a man and a woman getting to know each other.

  Nora wanted that sweetness for herself and Zeb. Would it grow between them? Maybe, but firs
t she had to save his life…and his leg.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Several hours later, Zeb woke up in a bed in a small room next to Nora’s surgery. The only part of his body that didn’t hurt was his thumb. He held it up and saw one small stitch. Nora had taken advantage of his exhaustion and removed the splinter while he slept. He could only shake his head at his stupidity. He should have asked her to remove the splinter days ago.

  Leaning back on the pillow, he thought of his bias against female doctors and felt ashamed of himself. The woman was far more competent to practice medicine than Doc Dempsey had been. Zeb had been a fool to think she couldn’t face the rigors of medicine, and a bigger fool to think she’d leave High Plains at the first sign of trouble. The woman ran to problems, not away from them. A smile curled on his lips. She wasn’t timid and she wasn’t Frannie. She never had been.

  Zeb felt a peace he’d never known before now. For the first time in his life, apart from being a babe in his mother’s arms, he could do nothing to change his circumstances. For years he’d striven to succeed. He’d fought his way out of the Bellville Mill. He’d worked night and day to build High Plains, not once but twice. With his leg a bloody mess, he could do nothing but ride out the storm as Noah had ridden out forty days and nights on the ark. Zeb’s fate was in God’s hands, not his own. He could only pray for a mercy he didn’t deserve but desperately wanted.

  Somehow he’d found peace in Nora’s sickroom. He’d forgotten Frannie, which he supposed was a kind of forgiveness. As the anger left him, he saw Frannie’s rejection in a new light. What he’d considered to be a terrible loss had led to the best things in his life. If he’d married Frannie, he wouldn’t have come west with Will. He wouldn’t have the dreams and friends he now treasured. Most important of all, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Nora Mitchell, a fine doctor and a woman to be admired.

  Humbled and full of gratitude, Zeb bowed his head. Thank You, Lord, for steering me to Kansas. Thank You for protecting me from my own stupid mistakes and stubbornness. I’m not a perfect man, Lord. But from now on, I’ll do my best to honor You. Amen.”