her at her weakest point since leaving New York. That moment made them friends. Nora waggled her fingers. “Bye, Bess. I’ll see you later.”
After waving back, the girl scurried through the door. Emmeline followed her with her eyes, then turned back to Nora. Her eyes glistened with the desperation Nora saw every time she tended an ailing child.
“Please, Dr. Mitchell,” she said quietly. “Will you help my sister?”
Nora’s doubts about staying had already burned to cinders. Emmeline’s plea blew away the ash. “I’ll do my best. How long has she been mute?”
“Just since the storm.”
“Was she injured?”
“Not exactly,” Emmeline replied. “Doc Dempsey examined her, but he didn’t find anything wrong. I keep wondering if it’s in her head, or if she’s hurt and can’t tell us. Maybe she—”
Nora interrupted. “Can she cough?”
“Yes.” Emmeline’s brows collided. “What does that mean?”
“Coughing indicates functional vocal cords. I suspect Bess’s problem is psychological, and that it’s related to the trauma of the tornado.”
Emmeline bit her lip, then spoke in a low, frightened tone. “Do you think she’s gone crazy?”
“Far from it.” Nora had seen the girl’s intelligence, her compassion. “In some ways, her reaction is logical. Not speaking keeps the memories of the tornado from surfacing. Do you know what happened to Bess during the storm?”
Emmeline bit her lip. “I can barely talk about it myself.”
Nora hated to push, but she needed Emmeline’s help. So did Bess. “I know about the twins.”
“Mikey and Missy have been missing for weeks now.” Emmeline turned to the open door. Sunlight silhouetted her upswept hair and the slope of her shoulders. She spoke to the sky to keep from looking at the damage still evident on the street. “The twins are orphans. My parents took them in for the trip to Oregon. We think Bess saw the twins get snatched.”
Nora pictured flying bodies and shivered. “I see.”
“We were headed to Oregon with a wagon train, but we’d separated from the rest of the group when they stopped to wait out the storm while we pushed on ahead. When the storm flipped our wagon, my father was crushed under an ox. After that, we saw Kansa warriors—” She bent her neck. “I just want to forget.”
“So does Bess,” Nora said gently. “But she won’t recover until she lets herself remember.”
Emmeline shuddered.
Nora stepped to her side. “I have a colleague in New York who’s an expert in problems like Bess’s. With your permission, I’d like to write to Dr. Zeiss about your sister.”
Tears welled in Emmeline’s eyes. “I’d be grateful if you would, but I’m afraid to hope.”
“I’m not.” Nora thought of her little brother. “What scares me is doing nothing.”
Emmeline turned back to the inside of the building. Instead of focusing on Nora, she scanned the glass on the floor and the dirty walls. “Zeb doesn’t expect you to practice here, does he?”
Nora looked at the mess with Emmeline. “He doesn’t expect me to practice anywhere. If he has his way, I’ll leave tomorrow with the Crandalls.”
“He refused to hire you?” Emmeline’s brows shot up. “That’s just plain stupid! I don’t care if you’re a woman. This town needs a doctor. And Bess—”
Nora held up her hand. “I’m not leaving. He agreed to a one-month trial, but there’s a catch. I have to find my own office.”
“Maybe Will can help.” Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “He’s my husband.”
“I’d appreciate anything he could do.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Emmeline said. “But there’s something else I have to say.”
“Of course.” Nora appreciated frank talk.
Emmeline paused to measure her words. “Zeb’s not a bad person. He’s just…troubled.”
“I’d have said prejudiced.”
“Maybe,” Emmeline replied. “Mostly he blames himself for what happened after the storm. Doc did his best, but he couldn’t keep up and people died. If Zeb had found a new doctor sooner, lives might have been saved.”
Nora understood guilt. She felt responsible every time she lost a patient until she remembered only God had the power to give and take life. She thought of Zeb Garrison’s eyes, the same color as the broken glass on the floor, and she wondered if his bitterness ran deeper. “Did he lose someone special in the tornado?”
“No,” Emmeline said. “But he lost someone in Boston.”
A wife? Was he a widower? Nora’s heart clenched for him. “Please, give him my condolences.”
“Oh, no!” Emmeline corrected herself. “It’s nothing like that.”
Then what is it? Nora wanted to know more, but she couldn’t ask without being guilty of gossip.
The brunette shook her head. “I’m talking too much. It’s just that I like Zeb. He can be difficult, but deep down he’s a good man.”
Nora gave a wry smile. “Considering the deal we negotiated, I’d say he’s a bit of a scoundrel.”
Emmeline grinned. “He is, but in a good way.”
A good scoundrel? Nora had seen the two sides of the man for herself. His prejudice toward women annoyed her, but he cared deeply about High Plains. Beneath his arrogant gaze, she’d seen suffering. Instead of disliking him, she found herself worrying about him. Not wise, she told herself. She had a practice to build and people who needed her, including a girl who couldn’t speak. She didn’t have time to worry about a man who was determined to dislike her. She decided to change the subject.
“I’ll write to Dr. Zeiss tonight,” she said to Emmeline.
“I’d be grateful. We’ll pay you, of course.”
As much as Nora needed patients, she couldn’t charge the Logans. She had an interest in psychiatry, but she didn’t have the expertise to consider Bess a patient. Helping the girl was an act of friendship. “Bess’s situation is unique,” she said. “There’s no charge.”
“But—”
“I insist.” Nora never took money from her friends. “When can I visit with her?”
“Anytime,” Emmeline answered. “She helps Rebecca at the boardinghouse. You’re staying there, aren’t you?”
Nora recalled Mr. Garrison’s original plan for room and board. “It’s my new home.”
“Then you’ll see a lot of her. I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Mitchell.” Emmeline held out her hand. “Welcome to High Plains.”
Nora gripped Emmeline’s hand in both of hers. “I’m Nora, remember?”
“How about Dr. Nora? I like how that sounds.”
“So do I.” She beamed a smile.
As the brunette headed for the door, Nora followed her outside to the boardwalk. The ping of hammers pulled her attention to the half-finished building across the street. Judging by the size and location, she was looking at the new town hall, a building Mr. Crandall had described during the trip.
Two men stood on scaffolding about six feet apart, each holding the end of a board and nailing it in place. A third man stood below them, shouting instructions over the racket. She recognized Zeb