Kansas Courtship

by Victoria Bylin

  Carolina touched her shoulder. “Talk to me, honey. It’ll help.”

  “I can’t.” Not about Abigail and what she’d overheard. She didn’t want to spread gossip. Maybe the blonde had lied. Maybe Zeb would keep his leg and they could take that buggy ride. She wanted to believe, but she couldn’t see through a sudden veil of tears.

  Carolina sat in the second chair. “Pretend I’m your mother. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Tears spilled down Nora’s cheeks. She imagined her mother’s smile, the scents of lavender and linen. For the first time in weeks, she wanted to go home. She wanted to be twelve years old and full of dreams instead of wisdom. Her resolve crumbled like a dam made of sand. In a choked murmur, she told Carolina what she’d heard in church.

  The nurse gripped her hand. “I know people stumble, but I don’t believe Abigail for a minute. She’s told lies before.”

  “As big as this one?”

  “I don’t know,” the nurse answered. “But I wouldn’t put anything past her. Before you came, folks figured Zeb would marry her. That all changed when you arrived. He loves you, Nora. But something’s holding him back.”

  “I thought it was because of his leg.”

  “It could be,” Carolina replied. “You deserve the whole story. I think you should ask him straight out if Abigail’s claim is a possibility.”

  Nora couldn’t stand the thought. “If there’s a child, he’ll have to marry her. His honor would demand it. So would mine.”

  Carolina nodded in that calm way of hers. “The truth will come out.”

  Nora’s temper flared at the injustice. “It would come out now if Abigail would let me examine her. I can just see it…she’ll fool Zeb into marrying her and claim to have a miscarriage.”

  The nurse nodded. “You need to speak with Zeb.”

  “I will,” Nora answered.

  “Tonight?”

  “It depends on the leg, the fever.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to have this conversation when he’s fighting for his life.”

  “You’ll know when it’s right,” the nurse said. “Maybe Zeb will tell you about the visit.”

  Nora hoped he would. If he told her about Abigail’s claim and disputed the lies, Nora would be at peace. Instead, her insides were in a jumble. She stood up from the table. “I need to check Zeb.”

  “One more thing.” Carolina stepped to the counter and retrieved an envelope. “Pete stopped by. He picked up a piece of mail at the mercantile.”

  As she took the envelope, Nora recognized Dr. Zeiss’s penmanship and opened the envelope eagerly. He’d written a missive on hysterical mutism. Later she’d read it more carefully and write back about Bess. At the end of the letter, he’d added a P.S.

  I have another reason for writing. Geneva Medical College has received a sizable endowment, and I’ve been given permission to hire an assistant. I’d be honored if you’d return to New York and share my work. I can offer you a respectable salary and a chance to serve all humanity with our research.

  Nora stared at the letter. A few months ago, she’d have danced around the room with joy. Now it held a consolation prize. As much as she appreciated Dr. Zeiss’s offer, she wanted to stay in High Plains and marry Zeb. The two desires were completely entwined. If she and Zeb couldn’t be man and wife, she’d have to leave High Plains.

  Shaking, she left the letter on the table, excused herself from Carolina and went to examine Zeb’s leg. The minute she stepped into his room, she smelled the sweetness of increased infection. With her stomach churning, she sat on the chair next to his bed.

  He opened his eyes. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she answered. “How are you feeling?”

  He stared at her face as if he was memorizing it. She felt the same need, but instead of seeing his handsome features, she saw the glassiness of fever. A bead of sweat swelled on his temple, broke away and trickled into his thick hair.

  He aimed his eyes at the ceiling. “The fever’s worse.”

  “I can see.” She raised the sheet from his toes and rolled it up to expose the wound. The smell gagged her, but the sight of an abscess filled her with hope. Her gaze went to his knee. This morning she’d seen a tiny red line, a sign of blood poisoning, snaking up his leg. Now she saw a slight receding in the redness. The fever was high, but Zeb’s body was rallying against an enemy. If she lanced the wound, the infection would drain. She’d have to cut away dead tissue, but she saw a real chance to save his leg.

  “What’s the verdict?” he said to the ceiling.

  Was he hiding his eyes because of Abigail, or because he feared her answer? Nora resisted the urge to hold his hand. She no longer had that privilege. “I see improvement.”

  His throat twitched. “How much?”

  “Enough to put off amputation.” She wished he’d look at her, but she feared what she’d see. Guilt over Abigail…the lost cause of their future. “I’m going to drain the wound and debride it again. If the fever breaks, you have a good chance at walking out of here on both legs.” He’d be on crutches and he might have a limp, but he’d walk.

  He closed his eyes. “Do it now.”

  “It’s going to hurt,” she said. “Do you want chloroform?”

  “Save it.”

  They both knew he could still lose the leg. If she had to amputate, she’d use the drug then. She ached to comfort him with a touch. Instead, she carried her instruments to the kitchen where she instructed Carolina to boil them for five minutes. Next she put on a clean apron and washed her own hands in the hottest water she could stand. The nurse plucked the instruments from the boiling pot with a pair of tongs and placed them on a tray covered with a white towel. Together they went to Zeb’s room.

  Nora tried to make eye contact, but he’d sealed his eyelids and was breathing deep. When he heard the clatter of the instruments, he turned to Carolina. “Cassandra’s not here, is she?”

  They all knew he’d do some yelling in the next hour.

  Carolina wiped his brow. “Will and Emmeline are in town. They took her to the boardinghouse for a meal.”

  “Good.”

  And so the procedure began. For what felt like an eternity, Nora cleaned the wound of pus and rotting tissue. Zeb moaned like a dying animal, but he didn’t fight. Twice tears pushed out of his eyes. It took a lot to make a man cry, but Zeb had entered that humbling darkness where a man turned into a needy child. Pushing her feelings aside, she did what had to be done.

  By the time she finished, her body ached with tension. Instead of suturing the wound, she left it open in case she had to debride it again, and so air and sunlight could dry the tissue. She had one more painful task to perform. “Hold tight, Zeb. I’m going to wash it with whiskey and then we’re done.”

  Groaning, he clutched the bedsheets. As she irrigated the wound with the alcohol, he arched his back and cried out the Lord’s name in a forsaken prayer. Tears filled Nora’s eyes. Causing pain served a purpose, but it shook her to the core. Attempting to ease the sting, she rapidly fanned the leg with her hand. If the rush of air helped, she couldn’t see it. Seconds of groaning turned into a full minute. When the worst of the stinging subsided, Zeb relaxed against the mattress. “Nora?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you…for everything.”

  “I just hope the fever breaks for good.”

  “Me, too.” He looked at her then. “I need to talk to you. Not now. I can’t think straight. But soon.”

  Why had he said talk? Why had he sounded so defeated? Her heart clenched. Surely he’d have said something more promising if they had a future together.

  “We’ll talk when you’re able.” She sounded like a doctor addressing a patient, not a woman in love.

  In the next breath he surrendered to exhaustion and passed out. Carolina touched her shoulder. “I’ll stay with him. Go change your dress.”

  Sweat trickled down her back. “Thank you, I will.” Nora left the room, passing through the parlor where she sa
w an unexpected gathering that included Cassandra, Percival, Emmeline and Will.

  Will looked ashen, but he stood tall. “How is he?”

  “I’m hopeful,” Nora said. “The fever spiked, but the wound is draining. I think he’ll make it.”

  “And his leg?” Cassandra asked in a hush.

  “It’s looking good.”

  Will blew out a breath. As Cassandra wept into her hankie, Percy patted her back. Emmeline reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed. “We’re all grateful.”

  Nora felt near tears herself. “Would you like some tea? I could make—”

  “No.” Emmeline waved her hand in protest. “We’re here to help, not make work. Rebecca came by. She left supper on the stove.”

  The food smelled wonderful. Nora surveyed Zeb’s friends with a lump in her throat. They were her friends, too. She’d lose them if she lost Zeb to Abigail. “Let’s all have supper.”

  Percy stood. “I appreciate the offer, but I have a commitment.”

  “Are you sure?” Cassandra protested.

  “Sorry, Cassandra.” He touched her shoulder. “Business comes first.”

  Nora wondered what Zeb would say about the easy way Percy touched Cassandra. She figured he’d be annoyed. As the attorney left, Nora and the women went to the kitchen. Cassandra spotted the letter from Dr. Zeiss on the table. The job offer was in plain view for the girl to see. Her eyes widened. “You’ve been offered a position in New York!”

  “That’s right.” Nora turned to the cupboard to hide her face. The offer filled her with a mix of pride and dread. Dr. Zeiss’s respect pleased her, but she didn’t want to leave High Plains.

  “Are you taking it?” Cassandra asked.

  Nora weighed her options. If Zeb had to marry Abigail, she would go back to New York with her heart in tatters. She’d pour her soul into her work. If Abigail’s claim proved to be a lie, Nora would turn down the offer. Right now, she didn’t know what the future held.

  “I don’t know,” she said to the women. “I love High Plains, but a person has to do what’s right.”

  “Of course,” Emmeline answered. “But we want you to stay.”

  Cassandra sighed. “I’d go to New York in a heartbeat.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Emmeline replied. “If you loved a man in High Plains, you’d stay forever.”

  Emmeline had been speaking of Will, but Nora felt the same way about Zeb. She reached for the supper plates stacked neatly on a shelf. She wanted to be putting a meal on the table for a family—for Zeb and their children. She also wanted to adopt Alex. If she had to leave, she hoped to take him with her to New York. Surely Zeb would grant her that consolation.

  Cassandra came to her side and took the plates. “I want you to stay, but a woman has to have the courage of her convictions. You told me that.”

  Nora thought back to that early visit to the Circle-L. Today the words cut deep. “I did, didn’t I?”

  Emmeline stirred the stew warming on the stove. “When will you decide?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mercifully, someone knocked on the parlor door. Nora opened it and saw Bess. The girl hugged her hard, and together they went to the kitchen. Nora, Emmeline and Cassandra traded looks that finished the conversation about her possible departure. No one wanted Bess to worry, so they talked about Rebecca’s good cooking, Zeb’s recovery and the summer jubilee.

  For Nora, supper passed in a nerve-racking storm of small talk. She loved these women and the details of their lives. She loved Zeb and wanted to stay, but only if he could love her back. When the meal ended, the women did the dishes and left. Nora checked on Zeb. He was snoring soundly and the wound looked clean, so she went upstairs to bed.

  In spite of her exhaustion, she couldn’t sleep. Between Zeb’s health and Abigail’s claim, she spent the night considering a list of what ifs. At best, she could hope to catch Abigail in a lie. At worst, she’d be going back to New York alone, without Alex for consolation. At dawn she dressed and crept down to Zeb’s room. In the dim light she stood in the doorway, watching him sleep. Pewter light bathed his face in shadows, softening his features beneath the bristle of his dark beard. His skin looked cool and dry. Closing her eyes, she listened to his soft snores filling the room. The fever had broken. He’d live. He’d keep his leg. But the fight for their future remained treacherous.

  The woman in her wanted to awaken Zeb with a touch of her hand, a kiss to his forehead so she could feel the coolness on her lips. The doctor knew he needed his rest, so she went to the kitchen and had a cup of tea. When she finished it, she checked Zeb again and saw him sprawled on his back. Out of the blue, he let out a snore that raised the roof. The rumble made her smile. It also filled her with a longing for a future with this man and the knowledge that her hope could be lost.

  She went back to the kitchen, where she met Carolina. “I’m going to visit Cassandra,” she said. “Will and Emmeline stayed with her in town. They’ll want to know how Zeb’s doing.”

  “Enjoy the fresh air.” Carolina had already washed Nora’s dishes. “I’ll keep an eye on our patient.”

  Nora thanked her, then left through the front door. Zeb’s house lay to the west, but she had to pass the mercantile before she turned on the road that led to the two-story home she’d only seen from a distance. The sight of the store filled her with disgust. She wanted to go inside and demand to confirm Abigail’s claim with an examination. The allegation could be proved or disproved in minutes, though another angle had to be considered. She could be pregnant, but not with Zeb’s child.

  As her stomach twisted with worry, Nora looked down Main Street. Thanks to a community effort, work hadn’t stopped on the town hall. She could see glass windows and the first coat of whitewash. The building stood strong and bright, a tribute to the people of High Plains. Nora ached to be part of this town. She wanted to put down roots and stay forever.

  “Dr. Nora?”

  She turned and saw Winnie Morrow approaching from across the street. She had a basket on her arm and a sweet smile on her face. Nora smiled back. “Good morning, Winnie.”

  “How’s Zeb?”

  “The fever broke.” Nora enjoyed sharing happy news. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh, good!” Winnie shifted the weight of the basket. “The jubilee committee met last night. We were deciding what to do about the celebration. If Zeb had died…” She shook her head. “This town needs him.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Winnie heaved a sigh. “Abigail will be glad. I suppose you heard the news?”

  Please, Lord. Let the news be about the jubilee. “I haven’t heard anything.”

  Winnie looked smug. “Frankly, I don’t care. My mother wanted me to marry Zeb, but I like someone else.”

  Nora’s stomach turned to acid. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m surprised Zeb didn’t tell you. He and Abigail are getting married.”

  Nora’s world spun into a gray mist until she steadied herself with sheer discipline. The rumor could still be a lie. It had to be a lie. “How do you know?” she asked. “Did Abigail announce it?”

  “Mrs. Preston told my mother.” Winnie stepped closer, as if they’d become best friends. “Abigail’s with child. Can you believe it?”

  Nora had overheard the conversation with the Prestons. So far, Winnie hadn’t said anything that proved Abigail’s claim. Needing information, Nora turned professional. “Is Abigail sure?”

  A smug smile crossed Winnie’s face. “At the meeting last night, she excused herself twice to be sick. My mother says she has ‘the look.’”

  Nora knew that look well. Expecting women often had a glow. “I see.”

  With Nora struggling to stay calm, Winnie described the conversation with the Prestons, then related Abigail’s visit to Zeb’s sickbed. “At first he yelled at her to leave. He tried to deny it, but then he spoke with Reverend Preston and made arrangements.”

  Yesterday Zeb h
ad been close to death. Had he been planning a wedding or his funeral? Nora refused to give up hope. Until she spoke with him, she wouldn’t believe a word of gossip.

  Winnie sighed. “A wedding makes sense. Before you came to High Plains, everyone expected Zeb to marry her.”

  “I see.”

  “Frankly,” Winnie replied, “the Johnsons deserve the embarrassment of a shotgun wedding. The way they treated Rebecca was shameful. Now the shoe’s on the other foot.”

  “We’ll see,” Nora said diplomatically. Until Zeb told her to pack her bags, she wouldn’t trust a word anyone said. Surely he’d tell her the truth. But he was a man of integrity. If he had to marry Abigail, he’d do it.

  After saying farewell to Winnie, Nora looked down the road to Zeb’s house. Before she spoke to anyone else, she wanted to hear the truth from Zeb. Rather than visiting Cassandra as she’d intended, she turned to the river where she could walk alone. She also needed to pray. Somehow it seemed fitting to do it at the foot of the waterfall.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Zeb woke up with a smile on his face and Cassandra at his bedside. He wanted to speak with Nora, but she’d left the house for a breath of air. He knew how fast rumors could fly through High Plains, and he wanted to speak with her before Abigail launched her next attack. He still felt weak, but the fever had broken. His leg hurt, but the pain no longer felt like a beast in his flesh. Gratitude flooded his soul and he silently thanked God for His mercy. In a few days, he’d walk out of Nora’s house with crutches or a cane. In a week or two, they’d take that buggy ride and he’d propose to her.

  Now, though, his sister needed his attention. Zeb hadn’t paid much attention to her romantic quandary in the past week, and he wondered if she’d come to her senses. “So how’s Clint?” he asked.

  Cassandra’s eyes lit up with pleasure, then dimmed to an everyday brown. “He’s fine. Dr. Nora gave him cough medicine, and he rested like she said.”

  “He’s a good man.” Zeb thought back to the conversation in the mill just before the accident. “I don’t suppose he’s asked you any important questions?”