Kansas Courtship. Victoria Bylin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ both.” Nora tried to disarm her with a smile, but she had no expectations. In her experience, older women were as resistant to a female doctor as men, even more so.

      The woman appeared honestly confused. “Does Zeb know about this?”

      “Yes.” Nora spoke through tight lips. “You must be Mrs. Jennings.”

      “That’s right.” She buried her hands in her apron. “The room I’ve got is plain at best. You’re not going to like it, miss.”

      “All I need is a bed and a dresser.” Nora had had fine things in New York. She’d enjoyed them, but she didn’t need high-class furniture to be comfortable. She indicated the duster. “I’m meeting Mr. Garrison, and I’m eager to freshen up. Could you show me to my room?”

      The woman hesitated, then heaved a sigh. “I guess. You’ll need to sleep somewhere.”

      Nora followed her into the entry hall. To the left she saw a parlor with an upholstered divan, side chairs and tables decorated with lace doilies. The room could have been in a Boston town house except for the smell of Kansas dust.

      Mrs. Jennings indicated a row of hooks by the door. “Put your duster there.”

      Nora set down her medical bag, slipped out of the filthy garment and hung it up. Later she’d shake out the dust. Satisfied, she picked up her medical bag and followed the landlady up the stairs.

      Mrs. Jennings ran her hand along the railing. “I’ve got to warn you, miss. This town’s not expecting a lady doctor.”

      “I understand.”

      “Zeb must have had a fit when he saw you.” The woman looked over her shoulder, as if she still couldn’t believe her eyes. “I don’t know if you heard, but Dr. Dempsey died last week.”

      The doctor’s passing meant High Plains needed her more than ever, but Nora’s heart sank. One thing she’d discovered—male doctors didn’t like or trust her, but they never compromised their patients. Dr. Dempsey would have helped her, even if he’d had to hold his nose while doing it.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

      “He was a fine man.” The woman’s voice softened. “If you ask me, he worked himself to death after the tornado.”

      “It must have been awful.” Nora thought of the missing twins. How many people had been injured? How many lives had been lost? And the damage to homes and businesses…Repairs had been going on for weeks, yet she’d been staggered by the extent of the work still required.

      “At least the church is still standing,” Mrs. Jennings said. “It didn’t get a scratch. I can’t say the same about the town hall. There wasn’t a speck left except the foundation.”

      At the top of the stairs, the woman turned down a long hall. Nora saw four doors on each side of the corridor and a single row of wall sconces. A window at the end of the hall shot a beam of light to the carpet. Dust motes floated like fireflies.

      Mrs. Jennings opened the second door on the right. “Here’s your room, miss.”

      “Please,” Nora said, sounding friendly. “Call me Dr. Nora.”

      Mrs. Jennings looked over her shoulder and frowned. “That doesn’t seem right.”

      Nora knew she was objecting to the title and not the use of her first name, but she deliberately misunderstood to make a point. If she didn’t ask for respect, she’d never get it. “Nora’s my name, but if you’d prefer to call me Dr. Mitchell, that’s fine, too.”

      “Whatever you want, miss.”

      Nora held in a sigh. If Zeb Garrison and Mrs. Jennings were typical of the folks in High Plains, she had a long road ahead of her.

      Mrs. Jennings unlocked the door. As Nora stepped inside, she saw a narrow bed, a rough-hewn wardrobe and a vanity with a metal pitcher and washbowl. A red-and-blue quilt decorated the bed, and a window let in fresh air. The room struck her as plain, functional and the loveliest place she’d ever lived because it belonged to her alone.

      She set the medical bag on the floor, then smiled at Mrs. Jennings. “This is perfect.”

      The landlady huffed. “It is what it is. With the storm, I’ve got guests in every nook and cranny. Six families are living up here, along with an orphan boy from the wagon train. Don’t expect too much quiet.”

      “I won’t.” Nora loved children, especially boys who couldn’t hold still.

      Mrs. Jennings looked grim. “You’re going to have a hard time, miss.”

      “How so?”

      “The Ladies Aid Society has certain ideas, especially Matilda Johnson at the mercantile.”

      “I met Abigail—”

      “Matilda is her mother.” Mrs. Jennings tsked her tongue. “Matilda thinks High Plains should be the next Chicago. She won’t like having a lady doctor.”

      “I’ll have to change her mind.”

      “It’d be easier to stop another storm.”

      Nora said nothing, but her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in hours. Mrs. Jennings acknowledged the growling with a nod. “Supper’s not until six, but you can ask Rebecca for a bite to eat.”

      Nora recalled Mr. Crandall’s praise. “She’s the cook, isn’t she?”

      “That’s right. Head to the kitchen and she’ll fix you something.”

      “I will. But first I have a meeting with Mr. Garrison. If we could use the parlor—”

      “That’s what it’s for.” Mrs. Jennings looked her up and down, taking in the green dress with its fancy sleeves. Nora had worn her best gown to impress Mr. Garrison with her professionalism. Under Mrs. Jennings’s scrutiny, she worried that it made her look snooty.

      Nora indicated the skirt with a sweep of her hand. “I’m dressed for a job interview.”

      “You’re a pretty thing,” said the landlady. “What do you need a job for?”

      I love my work. It’s who I am. Nora wouldn’t change Mrs. Jennings’s attitude with an argument, so she bit her tongue.

      The woman’s face softened into a smile. “Judging by your looks, you won’t be a ‘miss’ for long. Just so you know, I’ve got rules. Supper’s at six. No muddy boots past the entry. And no gentleman callers after eight o’clock. There will be no improper behavior under my roof.”

      “Certainly not,” Nora agreed, though she had little experience with men and courtship. Growing up, she’d been intent on becoming a doctor. She’d attended social events at her mother’s urging, but she’d never mastered the art of flirting. As her father said, she was too outspoken, too bold. Even too smart. Maybe, but she still wanted a husband. Not just any man, but the man God made just for her, assuming He intended to bestow such a gift.

      As СКАЧАТЬ