Kansas Courtship. Victoria Bylin

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СКАЧАТЬ he’d seen the medical bag, he’d felt like a love-struck adolescent. Her blue eyes, wide and innocent, had a spark of daring he admired. When she’d lifted her lips in a smile, he’d thought of kissing her and wondered if his search for a wife had come to an end. Then Abigail had faked another swoon and the woman had grabbed that heavy case.

      “Zeb?”

      “What?”

      “You didn’t answer the question.” Pete’s lips turned up. “What is she like?”

      “Normal, I guess.” Except for that hair. He’d never seen anything like it.

      Pete pulled the metal from the fire, inspected it and went back to hammering. “Normal is more than I can say for that last fellow.”

      Zeb had to agree. Not one of the four men he’d interviewed had met his standards. They’d nicknamed the last one “Dr. Gruesome” when he’d talked about exhuming graves for his “research.” No way could Zeb see him birthing babies.

      He could see Dr. Mitchell at a birthing, but did she have the grit to cut off a man’s leg? Of course not. Zeb had seen mill accidents in Bellville, including a mistake that had cut off Timmy Cooper’s hand. A woman wouldn’t have the stomach for such things. Most men didn’t, either. He didn’t, though he’d witnessed his share of injuries.

      Pete held up the piece of iron and looked again at the color. The orange had cooled to red, so he put aside the hammer, lifted a chisel and began to shape the edge of a hoe blade. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

      “So,” he said. “Just how normal does the lady doctor look? Is she pretty?”

      Zeb scowled. “She’s pretty enough, not that it matters to you. You’ve got Rebecca.”

      “And no woman’s lovelier,” Pete replied. “I was thinking about you.”

      “Don’t.”

      Pete chuckled. “The whole town’s in on it, you know.”

      Last month Zeb had let it slip to Pete he was considering marriage. Abigail’s mother, Matilda Johnson, had overheard and started pushing Abigail in his path. The Ladies Aid Society had started buzzing and Zeb had received six supper invitations in two days. The attention irked him. “I wish I’d kept my mouth shut,” he said to Pete.

      With his arms crossed over his chest, he told his friend about Abigail faking another swoon, how the lady doctor had jumped to her rescue and how Abigail had taken her down a peg.

      Pete’s brows snapped together. “I don’t like the Johnsons. I never will.”

      “I don’t blame you.” Zeb knew the history. After the tornado, Mrs. Johnson had accused Pete and Rebecca of immoral behavior in the storm cellar where they’d taken shelter together. She’d said hateful things about Rebecca until Pete proposed marriage to stop the talk. Still grieving Sarah and their child, the blacksmith had taken the high road when he’d done nothing wrong. Zeb admired his friend’s integrity and wanted to match it by providing a real doctor. Unfortunately, the only doctor within a hundred miles was female.

      The blacksmith looked Zeb in the eye. “If the lady doctor stood up to Abigail, she’s got my vote for staying.”

      “I don’t know, Pete.”

      “What’s the harm in giving her a chance?”

      Zeb shook his head. “What if she kills someone with her incompetence?”

      “She just might be a good doctor,” Pete replied. “Besides, Doc did that already.”

      Zeb looked beyond Pete through the open door and flashed back to the day of the tornado. Doc did his best, but people had died because he couldn’t move fast enough. Zeb’s gaze narrowed to the backside of Dr. Dempsey’s former office. The tornado had damaged the roof, so Doc had used a closet at the church as an infirmary. Zeb had a place for the new physician, but his plan wouldn’t work with a female.

      “You got any ideas?” he said to Pete.

      “Hire her for a month,” the blacksmith replied. “See how she does.”

      The idea had merit. Zeb could place another ad in the Kansas Gazette. While he waited for replies, the lady doctor could treat sore throats and hangnails. “It would buy time,” he said. But where could he put her for that time? No, his first instinct was right—the best solution would be for her to leave in the morning with the Crandalls.

      “Who knows?” Pete replied. “She might work out just fine.”

      Zeb doubted it. Thanks to Frannie, he knew all about women like Dr. Nora Mitchell. She was ambitious. She’d do anything—even twist the truth—to get her way.

      With sweat beading his brow, he recalled the day Frannie left him standing on the church steps, engagement ring in hand. Plain and simple, she’d jilted him for her career. Losing the love of his life had changed him the way Pete’s pounding had shaped the hoe. Like the iron, Zeb’s heart had been red-hot and pliable. He’d have done anything for Frannie. After being jilted, his heart had cooled to black.

      So had his soul. In Zeb’s opinion, the Almighty was either lazy or cruel. Zeb had no love for a God who ignored tornadoes and let children be snatched away. He feared Him, though. Who wouldn’t?

      He wondered what Dr. Mitchell would say about such matters, then decided he didn’t care. Aside from telling Pete about the lady doctor, he had other business with the blacksmith. With the need for lumber, Zeb was running the mill eighteen hours a day. Long hours meant more stress on men and equipment, but he had no choice. A half-dozen buildings needed major repairs before winter, and he’d vowed to finish the town hall in time for a summer jubilee. He had a month to go and needed the sawmill at full power. But with the long hours, there were equipment breakdowns at least twice a week.

      “A blade lost a few teeth yesterday,” he said to Pete. “Can you fix it?”

      “Bring it tomorrow.”

      Pete inspected the hoe, set it down and whipped off his heavy gloves. “How’s the town hall coming along?”

      “It’s framed,” Zeb answered. “I’ve got a crew working on the roof.”

      The men slipped into an easy conversation about wood and welding, things they understood. Women weren’t on that list. Zeb opened his pocket watch, a gift he treasured from Mr. Gridley, and saw he had two minutes to get to the boardinghouse. “I’ve got to go see that lady doctor.”

      The blacksmith put his gloves back on. “Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

      Zeb doubted it, but for his friend’s sake he’d give her a chance. For her sake, he intended to spell out what she’d be facing. Once she saw the tornado damage, particularly Doc’s old office, she’d be crazy to stay in High Plains.

      Considering she’d been crazy to become a doctor, the thought gave him no comfort.

      With her medical bag in hand, Nora knocked on the front door of the boardinghouse. No answer. She knocked again, more boldly this time.

      A middle-aged woman with a tight bun flung СКАЧАТЬ