Kansas Courtship

by Victoria Bylin

  “He’s fighting the infection.”

  Mrs. Johnson planted the broom like a flag. “You can tell me the truth, Doctor. Zeb and Abigail are very close. I hear he’s dying.”

  Nora had to bite her tongue to keep from lecturing the woman. “Cassandra is Zeb’s only family. I’ll discuss his condition with her.”

  “Of course,” the woman said too sweetly. “I just hope you don’t have to cut off his leg. That would certainly kill him.”

  Nora didn’t trust herself to speak. “Good day, Mrs. Johnson.”

  With her temper seething, she left Winnie with a nod and paced down Main Street. Everyone she passed asked about Zeb, and she began to wonder if she’d been foolish to come to town. Over and over, she gave the same report. Yes, the leg had become infected. No, he wasn’t dead. Desperate to escape, she raced to the church. The bell tower pointed to an azure sky and the white paint gleamed in the sun.

  Tense and trembling, she walked up the steps. As she opened the door, cool air rushed from the shadows. She took in the diamonds of light on the floor, then she dropped down in the back pew, the same pew she’d shared with Zeb before he’d kissed her, before she’d fallen in love with him.

  Nora buried her face in her hands. Please, Lord. Save his leg. Save his life!

  Her prayers came in silent waves. She wanted to trust in the God who made the blind see and the lame walk. She did believe. She believed in God’s sovereignty, His wisdom. Heaven offered joy and freedom, untold beauty, everything good in this life and more. It was a far better place than the here and now, but she couldn’t bear to see Zeb leave for eternity just yet. High Plains needed him. She needed him. And Zeb needed his leg.

  “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Be merciful.”

  Tears ran down her face, taking with them the tension that had kept her upright from dusk to dawn. Exhausted, she curled on her side on the pew, closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Sometime later, Nora awoke to the creak of the door. She heard footsteps, manly ones, and figured they belonged to Reverend Preston. She started to sit up, but stopped when she heard female footsteps.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Abigail said to the minister. “It’s urgent.”

  “Of course,” he answered. “I’m sure you won’t mind if Mrs. Preston joins us?”

  “That would be fine,” Abigail replied.

  “I thought she’d be practicing the piano,” he said. “I wonder where she is.”

  “Here I am,” his wife called. “I was sorting through the music in your office. What can we do for you, Abigail?”

  Nora didn’t want to eavesdrop, but neither did she want Abigail to see her looking grim and disheveled. It seemed likely the blonde had come to discuss the jubilee, so Nora stayed hidden on the pew.

  “Shall we step into my office?” the reverend asked.

  “No,” Abigail said hurriedly. “If what I’m hearing is true, we don’t have much time.”

  “Time for what?” Mrs. Preston asked.

  “I’m so embarrassed.” Abigail’s voice cracked. “I—I made a mistake. That is, Zeb and I—we did something we shouldn’t have. Something…personal.”

  Nora’s eyes popped wide.

  “You can tell us,” Mrs. Preston said in a low tone. “Even good people make mistakes.”

  Abigail sniffed. “It happened after the tornado, we were both upset and worried. We—He—Now I’m—I could be—” A choked sob finished the confession.

  Nora’s body turned into a bag of sand. Heavy and lifeless, she fought to drag in air.

  “You poor girl!” The words came from Mrs. Preston. Nora heard the rustle of skirts and imagined Abigail clinging to the minister’s wife. Tears filled her own eyes. Not for Abigail but for Zeb.

  The reverend cleared his throat. “We need to be clear, Abigail. Are you with child?”

  “I—I could be.”

  Trembling inside, Nora weighed the facts. The day she’d arrived, Abigail had swooned and Nora had suspected pregnancy. She’d seen how Zeb had looked at the blonde, the familiarity between them. Most haunting of all, she knew him to be a passionate man. Nora didn’t doubt his character, but she knew the frailties of being human. If Abigail offered temptation, especially in the aftermath of the tornado, Zeb could have fallen. To keep from crying out, she crushed her knuckles to her mouth.

  “It’ll be all right,” Mrs. Preston crooned to Abigail. “I’m sure Zeb will do the right thing.”

  Nora cringed with the obvious truth. If she didn’t lose Zeb to death or the amputation, she’d lose him to Abigail and his sense of honor.

  Reverend Preston cleared his throat. “Does he know?”

  “I haven’t told him,” Abigail confessed.

  “I see,” said the minister. “Before we move forward, I’d like a word with Zeb in private.”

  “There’s no time!” Abigail cried. “He’s dying!”

  The reverend interrupted. “I saw him a few days ago. The leg was healing nicely.”

  “The infection is spreading. Mother heard it from Percival.”

  The attorney had no doubt heard the news from Cassandra. Nora wanted to lecture him on respect, privacy and real civility.

  Abigail continued in a whine. “That awful lady doctor is going to amputate his leg. If the infection doesn’t kill him, she will!”

  Reverend Preston took a breath. “Now, Abigail—”

  “You have to help me,” she cried. “If Zeb doesn’t marry me, I’ll be ruined. I’ll have a child! His child. That baby deserves to inherit all that he’s worked for.”

  Nora’s hackles rose. So did her suspicions. Was Abigail lying to get her hands on Zeb’s money? She wouldn’t put anything past the woman, even scheming to deceive a man on his deathbed, then later claiming a miscarriage.

  Mrs. Preston’s voice broke in to her thoughts. “What would you like us to do, Abigail?”

  “I want Reverend Preston to come with me to see Zeb. He could marry us on the spot.”

  “I see.” The reverend sounded wary. “Shall we go now?”

  “Yes, please.” Abigail sniffled. “He has to marry me. If he doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

  “I know Zeb,” Reverend Preston said with confidence. “He’ll do what’s right.”

  Nora knew him, too. Zeb had his flaws, but he’d keep his word. When a man took advantage of a woman before marriage, even if he surrendered to her seduction, he made a promise of sorts. Spoken or not, Zeb would keep his word.

  The Prestons left with Abigail, but Nora stayed in the church. She didn’t want Abigail to upset Zeb, but the woman deserved to be heard. If she was carrying his child, he needed to know. As much as Nora wanted to protect him, she didn’t have the right to deny him this knowledge…if it was true. In the gloom of the church, Nora prayed. “Please, Lord,” she said out loud. “Let Abigail be lying. Save Zeb’s life and let the truth be revealed.”

  Zeb felt like a corpse on fire. He didn’t want visitors, but someone was making a commotion in the parlor. Carolina spoke with calm authority. He heard a faint rumble of a male voice, then the door to his sickroom opened and Carolina came in looking distressed.

  “It’s Miss Johnson,” she said curtly. “I told her to leave. She says it’s urgent. Reverend Preston is agreeing with her.”

  “Not now,” Zeb muttered.

  As the nurse backed out of the room, Abigail pushed through the door. “I have to see you, Zeb. It’s important.” She charged to his bedside as if she belonged there. She didn’t. He had to make that point clear. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it without loose ends.

  He looked at Carolina through the haze of fever. “It’s all right. I’ll speak with her.”

  The nurse’s brows hitched. “If you’re sure—”

  “I am.”

  Propriety called for Carolina to leave the door ajar and she did. Abigail waited a moment, then tiptoed to the door and closed it. She had that look in her eyes, the one he�
�d ignored in the foolish weeks he’d entertained thoughts of marrying her. Trepidation swept over him. “What do you want?”

  “I want what you promised.” The words rattled off her tongue.

  “I didn’t promise you anything.”

  “We were courting,” she said in a rush. “At least we were until that lady doctor showed up. You owe me, Zeb.”

  “I don’t owe you a thing.”

  “Oh, yes, you do!” Her face darkened with anger. “You’ve humiliated me! Everyone’s talking behind my back.”

  Zeb focused on Abigail through his fever-glazed eyes. “I don’t care what people are saying. I considered courting you, but we never even kissed. You know that.”

  She looked smug. “No one else does.”

  A chill shook his bones. “What are you saying?”

  She spoke in a hissing whisper. “I want to be Mrs. Zebulun Garrison, and I know how to make you say yes.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, sounding coy. “I told Reverend Preston I’m carrying your child. He’s outside. He can marry us right now.”

  “You what?”

  “You heard me.”

  Zeb pushed up to a sitting position. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t care. “That’s a bald-faced lie and you know it!”

  “I know it, but people will believe me. After we’re married, I’ll have a convenient miscarriage—”

  “Abigail, you’re crazy!” Zeb had never witnessed such selfishness. Had he ever thought she had pretty eyes? A pleasing smile? He’d been dead wrong. Looking at her now, he saw raw greed. Abigail wanted more than his name. She wanted his money. What he didn’t understand was why she thought she could pull it off. “You’re not carrying my child and we both know it. There’s no way I’ll marry you.”

  Her face turned ugly. “Face it, Zeb. You’re going to die. If the infection doesn’t kill you, the amputation will.”

  Blood leached from his face.

  “If you don’t marry me, I’ll make life miserable for your beloved Dr. Nora.” Sarcasm curled her lips into a snarl. “She humiliated me. So did you. You’ll be long gone, but I’ll make her pay in your place.”

  Zeb stared in disbelief. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very.”

  “So am I.” He would have given a year of his life to be able to stand. He settled for aiming his finger at the door. “Get out.”

  “But—”

  “I said get out!” When she didn’t move, he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Carolina! Get in here!”

  The nurse whipped through the door. Zeb saw Reverend Preston behind her. He considered calling Abigail a liar in front of the minister and the nurse, but he didn’t want to repeat her ugly lies for fear of gossip. Carolina wasn’t known to be a talker, but juicy tidbits had a way of spreading like a prairie fire. The best way to stop gossip was to shut up, and that’s what Zeb intended to do with one exception. He’d speak his mind to Reverend Preston.

  He focused on Abigail. “Leave. Now.”

  She burst into tears and ran. Zeb made eye contact with the minister. “I need a word with you.”

  “Of course.”

  He told Carolina to leave and shut the door, then he indicated the chair. “Sit down, Reverend.”

  The man dropped down on the seat. “Is she lying, or do you have an obligation?”

  “She’s lying.” Suddenly dizzy, Zeb settled back on the pillow. “I’m not a perfect man, but I never touched her.”

  “It’s your word against hers.”

  “Yes.”

  “So she wants your money,” the reverend surmised. “And your good name.”

  “Exactly.” How could he have considered marrying such a woman? He’d been crazier than a loon.

  The reverend’s brows knit together. “Have you considered the possibility that she’s carrying another man’s child?”

  “She’s not,” Zeb answered. “She admitted she’s planning a miscarriage.”

  “I see.” Reverend Preston tapped his fingers on his thigh. “It seems to me your path is clear. You need to live and you need to wait. The truth will come out.”

  “It’s not that simple. She’s threatening to make trouble for Nora.”

  Reverend Preston grimaced. “Maybe you should tell Nora what happened today.”

  Zeb thought for a minute. If he lived, he could handle Abigail himself and not involve Nora. If death approached, he’d tell her everything, including how much he loved her. “Not yet,” he said to the reverend. “But if something happens to me, I’m trusting you to make things right.”

  “I’ll look out for Nora,” he answered in a solemn tone. “Right now, I’m concerned for you.”

  Pain knifed up Zeb’s leg and he groaned. “The leg’s bad. I might not make it.”

  The minister had preached at a dozen funerals after the tornado. He knew death well. “Is there anything you’d like to get off your chest?”

  “Plenty.” Zeb felt the weight of every mistake, every regret. “I settled my differences with the Lord the other night, but I’ve stumbled. If I could change anything, I’d treat Nora with respect from the day I met her. We’d already be married.”

  The reverend smiled. “I figured as much.”

  Zeb thought of the night ahead. “I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to lose my leg.”

  “And if you do?”

  “I don’t know.” He licked his dry lips. “I have to be ready. I need to make a will. Would you write it for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Zeb indicated a tablet and pencil on the nightstand. Until a few days ago, he’d been using it to jot down notes about the mill. “Use this.”

  The reverend propped the tablet in his lap.

  “Write this down.” Zeb’s voice stayed strong. “I, Zebulun James Garrison, hereby leave half my worldly possessions to my sister, Cassandra, and the other half to Dr. Nora Mitchell.”

  The reverend’s brow shot up. “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t say a word to anyone,” Zeb cautioned. “I love Nora. If I die, I want her provided for.” Even more important, he wanted her to know how he felt. If he died, naming her in his will would say that he loved her in the best way he knew. He’d be taking care of her.

  Zeb continued with instructions for Will to look after Cassandra and to keep the mill or sell it, whichever he preferred. Zeb’s heart sank at the thought. If he died, he wouldn’t even leave sawdust behind. He’d have no legacy at all.

  The reverend must have read his expression, because he lowered the tablet. “You’re staring down the road to eternity, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “It’s dark now, but it won’t be that way in the end.”

  Zeb’s heart pounded. “How do you know?”

  The minister sat back in his chair. “I could quote Scriptures to you, Zeb. I could tell you about my own brush with death. But mostly I believe in Heaven because of my ma. Just before she passed, she cried out the name of her Lord. The smile on her face was a sight to behold. I haven’t doubted since.”

  Zeb didn’t doubt in Heaven anymore. He just wasn’t ready to make the trip. “Cassandra needs me. The town needs me.”

  The man lowered his chin. “So does Nora.”

  Zeb’s heart beat like crazy. All his life, he’d fought to be the best man he could be, to make choices that would lead to a better life. Sometimes he’d been right, and sometimes he’d been wrong. Either way, he’d been in control until he’d put his boot on the saw frame and the pivot had broken. At that moment he’d been knocked flat in body and soul. Lying in Nora’s sickroom, he faced a humbling truth. He had no control over life, death and the hard times in between. All he could do was fight for what he loved.

  He looked at Reverend Preston. “Promise me something.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I don’t make it, protect Nora. Don’t let Abigail get away with her lies.”

 
; “I promise,” the reverend answered. “But I want a promise in return.”

  “What?” Zeb asked.

  “Don’t die with regrets. Tell Nora how you feel.”

  Zeb grimaced. “I’ll tell her I love her, but I won’t ask her to marry a cripple.”

  “That’s pride talking.” The minister spoke with quiet wisdom. “I won’t push you, Zeb. But I’m urging you to think long and hard about what you say to Nora. I guarantee you, she’s a lot less interested in your leg than she is in your heart.”

  “I know, but I…” Zeb couldn’t think. It hurt too much.

  The reverend stood. “If something happens, I’ll take care of things for you. But I’m praying you’ll live and do it yourself.”

  “Me, too,” Zeb answered. He wanted to live and he wanted to walk. He wanted to marry Nora, have children and leave that legacy he treasured. After the reverend left, Zeb tried to pray but couldn’t. Instead, tears leaked from his eyes. He hoped God would hear a prayer without words.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The instant Nora got home, Carolina asked for a private talk in the kitchen. The nurse told her about Abigail’s visit, how Zeb had ordered the blonde to get out, and how the reverend had spoken to him in private.

  “I tried to stop her from upsetting him,” the nurse said. “But he wanted to speak with her.”

  “It’s his business,” Nora answered. Her throat felt parched, so she poured herself a cup of water. She’d slept longer on the pew than she’d thought, then she’d waited awhile before coming home. She’d wanted to give Zeb privacy while he dealt with Abigail, and she didn’t want him to see her face until she’d composed her thoughts.

  She drained the cup of water, but the liquid didn’t wash away her worries.

  Carolina gave her a motherly look. “Sit. You need to eat.”

  “I have to check Zeb.”

  “I just did,” she answered. “He’s dozing. Have some of Rebecca’s pie.”

  The last time Nora had tasted the pie had been with Zeb. Would they ever share meals as man and wife? As Carolina put a wedge on a plate, tears pushed into Nora’s eyes. As she took a bite, the sweetness hurt her tongue.