Kansas Courtship (19 page)

When Carolina finished her ministrations, Nora came back and sat by his bed. For the next several hours, he floated between consciousness and a tortured slumber. Not once did she leave his side. She cooled his brow with damp cloths. She checked the bandages. She held his hand, softly humming melodies from church and childhood to comfort him.

Near dawn, he felt a spike in the fever. The room spun in clouds of black and white. He imagined the infection surging up his leg, entering his blood and brain. He blinked and imagined a stump in place of his leg. Fearing he’d pass out, he gripped Nora’s fingers. “When will you know?”

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. “The biggest danger is blood poisoning. I’m watching the wound for red lines. If they spread upward, I’ll have to take your leg.”

A man could argue with God, but he couldn’t shout at rotten flesh and expect it to obey. Zeb had no control over his fate. He could only hope, pray and prepare himself. “Tell me what to expect.”

She swallowed so hard her throat twitched. “If I have to amputate, I’ll give you chloroform.” She sounded matter-of-fact, as if they were talking about a bad tooth. “I’ll make the cut above the knee.”

Zeb groaned.
Why, God? Just when I’ve found Nora…

She laid her hand on his brow. “There’s still time, Zeb.”

But her voice had a quiver. He’d never been so close to death. Without Nora, he’d have gone mad. With her, he had hope. Clutching her fingers, he whispered, “Pray for me.”

“I am. I won’t stop.”

An hour later, the sun came up. When morning had a firm hold on the day, Nora excused herself to see to her own bodily needs. With gold light pouring in the window, Zeb begged God for mercy. Helpless and tortured by feverish images, he rubbed his jaw. Nora wouldn’t be shaving his face this morning. He could only pray she wouldn’t be cutting off his leg instead.

N
ora slipped into the kitchen and collapsed in a chair by the window. She’d done everything she could to save Zeb’s leg. She’d made poultices. She’d cleaned the wound with whiskey and lavender. She’d brewed teas, kept him warm and prayed with every breath. Unless he turned a corner before dusk, she’d be forced to do the unthinkable.

Nothing—not her training, not her faith—had prepared her for this moment. If she took the leg, she’d save Zeb’s body but scar his soul. Aching, she bowed her head. “Please, Lord. Don’t ask me to—”

“Dr. Nora?”

She looked up and saw Alex in dungarees and a misbuttoned shirt. Nora motioned him forward and fixed the buttons. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

“I’m scared,” he said in a small voice. “Is Zeb going to die?”

Nora never lied, not even to reassure a frightened child. Honest questions deserved honest answers. “I hope not, Alex. But he’s very sick.”

“My ma died from fever. Zeb looks worse than she did.”

Nora pulled the boy into a hug. With his head nestled on her shoulder, she made the only promise she could keep. “I’m doing my best, but we have to pray. Okay?”

Alex pulled back. “Eli’s dead, too. Everyone dies.”

A small truth…A painful truth. Nora ached to comfort him. “My brother died when I was a little older than you. I’m sad, but I’m going to see him again in Heaven. You’ll see your ma and Eli, too.”

“Really?” Alex looked hopeful.

“Yes, really.” When she hugged him again, he snuggled against her. She wanted to be this boy’s mother. She wanted to marry Zeb and give him children, but if she had to amputate his leg, the buggy ride would never take place. He wouldn’t offer marriage. No way could she stand loving Zeb without the hope of a future. She’d have to leave High Plains.

As her throat closed, she squeezed Alex tighter. The boy hugged her back, then let go. “Can I go play with Jonah?”

Nora recognized his friend at the boardinghouse. “Sure.”

As Alex scampered out the back door, Nora bowed her head. “Only You can heal, Lord. Only You can save us from disease and pain.”
And death.
The thought humbled her. It also reminded her of the most basic truth of all. A man’s soul mattered more than his body. As she’d tended to Zeb, she’d sensed a new peace in him. Just as the splinter had been removed and his thumb had healed, Zeb’s pride had been broken and the bitterness had left his heart. Would the bitterness return if he lost his leg? She didn’t know. And what about her own faith? How could she honor a God who asked her to do such a terrible thing? She felt as if God had dangled candy—a husband and children—in front of her nose and snatched it back.

Carolina came into the kitchen. “Zeb’s asleep. Why don’t you get some air.”

Nora desperately needed to think, to pray. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll walk by the river.”

“That’s a fine idea,” the nurse answered.

Nora went upstairs to change her dress. She put on her walking shoes and a hat, then slipped out the front door. The river beckoned to her, but so did the steeple of the church. If she went to the river, she’d see the waterfall and boulders scraped raw by the current. She’d see the inevitability of a hard choice. The church had miraculously survived the tornado. Nora needed a miracle, so she turned up Main Street.

As she passed the mercantile, Winnie Morrow came through the door. “How’s Zeb?”

Nora searched for hope. “He’s struggling.”

“I’m so sorry,” Winnie replied.

A sweep of the broom drew Nora’s attention to the front of the mercantile. Mrs. Johnson, broom in hand, glowered at her through the dust, but didn’t call out a greeting. Nora refused to be insulted. “Hello, Mrs. Johnson.”

The woman gave a curt nod. “Dr. Mitchell.” She swept more dust, then gave in to her curiosity. “How’s Zeb?”

“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!”