Kansas Courtship (18 page)

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 first she had to save his life…and his leg.

S
everal 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.”

Contentment washed over him, but it disappeared with a stabbing pain in his leg. Zeb had made peace with the Almighty, but he had another problem. He loved Nora and he wanted to marry her, but only if he survived the infection as a whole man. No woman, even a doctor, should be saddled with a cripple, especially a cripple who’d be as cantankerous as he’d be. Zeb didn’t think he could stand himself if he lost the leg. No way would he ask the woman he loved to put up with his foul moods.

As he looked out the window above his sickbed, he made a decision. He’d thank Nora for saving his life. He’d absolve her of responsibility in case the worst happened. He’d give her the respect she’d earned, but he wouldn’t tell her how he felt until he could walk.

As he heaved a sigh, Zeb saw Alex in the doorway. “Hey, kid.”

The boy handed him a familiar wooden horse. “Being sick is boring. I brought you something to do.”

“Thanks.” Zeb made the horse gallop down the length of the bed, making clopping sounds with his tongue until Alex laughed. The sound of it, high and bright, made his chest ache with the longing he’d felt during the tornado. He wanted children, and he wanted to have them with a certain lady doctor. He brought the toy horse to a halt, reared it up and imitated a stallion ready for a fight.

Alex grinned. “I named him Ranger.”

“It’s a good name.”

Nora came through the door with a tray holding a bowl of water and fresh bandages. When she smiled at Alex, Zeb felt a longing so strong he could barely breathe. For this single moment, they were a family and he liked it.

She set the bowl on the nightstand. “Out you go, Alex.”

“Can I help?” the boy asked.

“Nope,” she answered. “This is my job.”

The boy hugged her for no reason except that he could, then he scampered out of the room, blessedly unaware of the dangers lurking in Zeb’s flesh.

Nora pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat. “I’m sure you want to go home, but I’d like you to stay for a while.”

Zeb didn’t mind at all. “How long?”

“Maybe a week.” She raised her chin the way she always did, but the gesture had no pride. “I’ve done my best, Zeb. But infection is inevitable.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “How soon?”

“Maybe a week.” She knotted her fingers in her lap. “The wound will turn red, and the sutures might be puffy. Pus will form, and you’ll have seepage. If we’re lucky, you’ll fight off the infection before it spreads.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll run a fever. You know the rest.”

Yes, he did. The damaged flesh would rot. Gangrene would set in and she’d have to amputate before it poisoned his blood. By nature, Zeb made plans. He wanted facts. “When will you know?”

She reached for his hand. “If you can go two weeks without a fever, I’ll be relieved. I’ll do everything I can. I promise you—”

He squeezed her fingers. It was a handshake of sorts, a sign of trust and more. “No matter what happens,” he said, “you’re not to blame. I trust you completely.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He meant every word. Aching inside, he grinned at her. “You’re hired. Permanently. For men and women alike.”

He expected her to smile back, maybe gloat at her victory. Instead, she unwound the soiled bandage from his leg and replaced it with a swath of white cotton. She looked disappointed, as if she’d wanted something more. Zeb understood because he wanted more, too. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He thought of the kiss at the river, how she’d revealed her feelings but held back because of her principles. Now
he
had to hold back because of his. As she headed for the door, he fought the urge to tell her he loved her. She deserved a whole man for a husband, but he couldn’t let her leave in silence. “Nora?”

She turned, but dipped her chin to hide her eyes. “Yes?”

“There’s something else I want to say, but I don’t want to say it here.” He indicated the sickroom with its bowls and bandages. “I want to be standing on my two feet, and I want to be wearing pants, not a nightshirt.”

Her eyebrows arched but instantly settled. She looked pleased. “You look fine to me.”

“No, I don’t.” He rubbed his bristly face. “I need a shave and a bath.” Put more simply, he stank. “When I say my piece, it’s
not
going to be lying flat on my back in a sickroom.”

A smile touched her lips. “Where will it be?”

Zeb knew just the spot. “There’s a hill two miles west of here. Wildflowers grow in a blanket so big you can’t see the end. If you look hard enough, you can see the future. We’ll take a long buggy ride, have a picnic.”

He watched her eyes, gauging her expression to see if she’d understood. When he saw a sparkle, he knew she’d gotten his drift.

She raised her chin in that saucy way of hers. “Will we have to worry about poison ivy?”

“You bet,” he said, deadpan. “Where I’m taking you, there’s poison ivy everywhere. But don’t worry, Doc. I promise to keep you safe. We won’t touch it. Not until we’ve said a few things to each other.”

Her cheeks turned a shade of pink only slightly less red than her hair. “I see.”

“I hope so.” He wanted to tease her some more, but he’d already said more than he’d intended. His heart beat faster and his fingers ached to touch her hair, to caress her cheek before he kissed her. Until he could propose marriage as a whole man, he had to fight such thoughts. But neither could he deny them. He loved this woman and wanted to bring her joy. He let his eyes linger on her face. “So will you go with me for that ride?”

She blushed. “I’d like that very much.”

He took a breath.

So did she.

With hope binding them together, she left the sickroom with a bounce in her step. Zeb closed his eyes and prayed the fever would never come.

On the second day of his recovery, Zeb hurt so badly he couldn’t see straight. Nora offered him laudanum, he took one dose, slept all day and decided to never take it again.

On the third day, he woke up with less pain and felt hopeful.
Nora cleaned the wound four times a day with whiskey. It stung, but then she’d coat it with lavender oil and he’d feel better. The smell alone relaxed him because it matched her special soap. Like the whiskey, the lavender fought putrefaction. Every time she replaced the bandage, they both checked for signs of infection. He saw some redness and the stitches itched, but he took it as a sign of healing.

He and Nora were having a good time together. Instead of asking Carolina to serve his meals on a tray, Nora brought them herself. She’d set up a table where she and Alex joined him for supper. They made a nice family.

As much as Zeb enjoyed supper, he liked her morning visits even better. Along with fresh nightshirts, Cassandra had brought his shaving tools. On the fourth day of his recovery, Nora showed up in his room before breakfast, carrying a bowl of steaming water. When she offered to shave him, he accepted. Looking rosy, she mixed soap and scraped his jaw clean.

Shaving him had become a ritual, one he appreciated considering the number of visitors he had. Cassandra came several times a day. Clint had been banned from his sickroom, but he sent word about the mill through Nora. Zeb’s construction-crew foreman had everything under control, and the town hall was close to finished. From Nora he learned that Clint had shaken the cough. Zeb expected the cowboy to win the arm-wrestling contest hands down, pun intended.

On the fourth day of his recovery, Will and Emmeline visited with Bess and the twins. Zeb envied his friend and hoped to follow in his path.

On the fifth day, Pete and Rebecca arrived with a pie that made Zeb’s mouth water. He’d enjoyed it with the evening meal, but he’d enjoyed the second helping even more. Unable to sleep, Nora had wandered downstairs after midnight. She’d
brought two plates into his room and they’d shared the sweetness by lamplight.

On the sixth day, Zeb had company he
didn’t
want. Judging by the aroma wafting from the parlor, Abigail and her mother had brought cinnamon rolls. Without asking him, Cassandra refused the baked goods and told them to leave. Ever since the committee meeting, his sister had been bold in her criticism of Abigail. Zeb kept his mouth shut, but he shared Cassandra’s opinion. He wanted nothing to do with Abigail. With time on his hands, he’d searched his conscience to see if he owed her an apology. Considering he hadn’t asked for permission to court her, hadn’t kissed her or even thought about it, he felt right about letting the flirtation die a natural death. He didn’t care about his pride, but he worried a clear rejection would send Abigail into a snit.

As the seventh day dawned, Zeb rubbed his hand over his jaw in sweet anticipation of Nora’s arrival. He hadn’t slept well, and he had a headache behind his eyes. His skin felt prickly and his bones ached. Groaning, he leaned forward and touched the bandage covering the wound. Heat resonated to his fingers. The cotton felt damp but not from blood. Yellowish pus had oozed into an ugly oval.

He dropped back to the pillow. “Please, Lord,” he prayed. “Don’t let this happen now.” In another week, he could take Nora on that buggy ride. He’d use crutches. He’d use a cane. He didn’t care as long as he still had a leg.

Nora came through the door with a bowl of steaming water and a smile. “How’s my best patient?”

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

As she stared into his fever-glazed eyes, the bowl wobbled in her hands. She set it down, then pulled the sheet back from his leg. A sickly-sweet smell wafted to his nose. Nora inhaled sharply, then looked into his eyes. “The fever started, didn’t it?”

“I think so.”

She touched his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Before he could protest, she left the room. In minutes she came back with the willow-bark tea he’d grown to hate. She cleaned the wound, prepared a poultice and assured him—too many times—infection was to be expected. When visitors came, Nora sent them away herself. She allowed Cassandra to help at his bedside, but Zeb told his sister to leave. The leg smelled of infection and it looked even worse. He’d been relieved when Clint had offered to take her to the boardinghouse for a meal, then got annoyed when she’d said no because she had plans with Percy.

Zeb
had
to live. He had to protect Cassandra from mistakes like the one he’d made in Boston. He wanted to marry Nora and love her right. He wanted to adopt Alex and see High Plains prosper. He wanted the legacy he’d imagined during the tornado.

He dozed throughout the day.

At midnight he woke up drenched with sweat. He’d been dreaming of wolves and realized the howling had come from his own throat. As fever burned in his bones, lamplight spilled into the sickroom. He opened his eyes and saw Nora. She had on the same blue dress and white apron, but she’d let down her hair. It brushed her shoulders in waves. Tendrils wisped around her ears and he thought of all the things he wanted to whisper.

She set the lamp on the nightstand, sat on the chair next to the bed and put her cool hand on his brow. “You’re still feverish.”

“I know.”

She left and came back with a bowl of water and a towel. As she bathed his face, water ran in rivulets down his neck and throat. Avoiding his eyes, she spread a wet towel over his chest. It soaked the nightshirt and felt good, but an instant later the towel was as hot as the infection in his blood and she removed it.

Carolina approached from the door. “Do you need help?” she said to Nora.

“Yes, thank you.” Her objective tone scared him to death. “Zeb needs fresh sheets and a dry nightshirt.”

“I’ll do it.” The nurse pulled the linens off a shelf, then rested a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “There’s hot water on the stove. Go drink some tea.”

Nora touched his cheek, then offered a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Zeb nodded and she left. He was glad she’d asked Carolina to tend to his basic needs. He didn’t want her to see him helpless. If he lived and they got married, he’d be glad to bare his soul and everything else, but not now. He’d never been so needy in his life, so dazed by fever and pain. And fear, he admitted.