but in a slower cadence.
As she hurried in his direction, he heard the rustle of her skirts and the scuff of her shoes, sounds that should have been drowned out by hammering, but Tom and the other man had stopped working. Zeb felt their eyes on his back, turned to glare at them and realized he’d been wrong. The men weren’t looking at him. They were gawking at Dr. Mitchell.
Briggs, a married man, went back to work. The other fellow looked like a starving man at Sunday supper.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“Thank you for speaking with me.” Panting for breath, she put her hand on her chest in an Abigail-like gesture.
He hadn’t judged her as prone to vapors. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I came to thank you for setting me straight.”
Zeb liked this kind of talk. “About what?”
“What it’s really like in High Plains. How hard my life would be here.” She bit her lip, then blinked as if fighting tears. Her eyes had a shine and he wondered if he’d made her cry. He hoped not, but the sheen revealed a simple fact. If Doc’s office could drive her to tears, she didn’t belong in High Plains.
He crossed his arms over his vest. “It’s tough here. That’s a fact.”
“It’s such a warm day! Too hot for a woman to be hurrying, don’t you think?” She took a hankie from her pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “I thought I could hire someone to fix the roof, but the hole’s too big.”
“I know.”
“I went upstairs to check for myself. There were birds everywhere.” She indicated the smudges on her skirt. “I ruined my best frock! ”
Well, what do you know? Dr. Mitchell had just proven him right about women. Knowing she wouldn’t stay longer than necessary, he could afford to be magnanimous. “I’ll pay for the laundering.”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m not worried about the dress.”
“Then what is it?”
The simpering female vanished in a blink. “I came to tell you that you’re a fool, Mr. Garrison. I am not the shallow woman you’ve assumed me to be. Being who you are—a town leader, someone who’s responsible and intelligent—you know High Plains needs a doctor. You should be helping me, not running me out of town! It’s reckless. It’s selfish. It’s—”
“Stop it, Doc.” Belatedly, he saw through her act. The woman was playing him. “You’ve made your point.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Garrison.”
“I do.”
“You owe me an apology.” She stood tall, her head high and her eyes burning with outrage.
Zeb said nothing.
After twenty seconds, she gave up. “Don’t think you’ve won. At the very least, I deserve courtesy. As for your respect, I intend to earn it. When the time comes for you to eat crow, I’ll expect that apology.”
“You won’t get it.”
“It’s not for my benefit,” she said. “It’s for yours. I’m assuming you do have a conscience?”
Zeb had a conscience, all right. It prickled every time someone in High Plains caught a cold. It twitched when he thought of his men working double shifts and ignoring their own families. It burned like fire when he thought of the tornado and how it had stripped High Plains bare. He’d picked this spot to settle. The death and destruction were on his hands. So was rebuilding. How dare this woman judge him? “You don’t belong here, Doc. Go back to New York.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“Absolutely not! I care about people. I care about this town.”
“You think I don’t? I saw people die in the tornado, Miss Mitchell. What happens if you kill someone with your incompetence?”
“I’m not incompetent! I’m a highly trained physician.”
“You’re a woman! ”
When the hammering stopped for the second time, Zeb realized he’d shouted at her. By tomorrow, the whole town would know he’d done battle with Dr. Mitchell. No way could he let her win.
She must have felt the same way, because she spoke in a voice loud enough
As she hurried in his direction, he heard the rustle of her skirts and the scuff of her shoes, sounds that should have been drowned out by hammering, but Tom and the other man had stopped working. Zeb felt their eyes on his back, turned to glare at them and realized he’d been wrong. The men weren’t looking at him. They were gawking at Dr. Mitchell.
Briggs, a married man, went back to work. The other fellow looked like a starving man at Sunday supper.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“Thank you for speaking with me.” Panting for breath, she put her hand on her chest in an Abigail-like gesture.
He hadn’t judged her as prone to vapors. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I came to thank you for setting me straight.”
Zeb liked this kind of talk. “About what?”
“What it’s really like in High Plains. How hard my life would be here.” She bit her lip, then blinked as if fighting tears. Her eyes had a shine and he wondered if he’d made her cry. He hoped not, but the sheen revealed a simple fact. If Doc’s office could drive her to tears, she didn’t belong in High Plains.
He crossed his arms over his vest. “It’s tough here. That’s a fact.”
“It’s such a warm day! Too hot for a woman to be hurrying, don’t you think?” She took a hankie from her pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “I thought I could hire someone to fix the roof, but the hole’s too big.”
“I know.”
“I went upstairs to check for myself. There were birds everywhere.” She indicated the smudges on her skirt. “I ruined my best frock! ”
Well, what do you know? Dr. Mitchell had just proven him right about women. Knowing she wouldn’t stay longer than necessary, he could afford to be magnanimous. “I’ll pay for the laundering.”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m not worried about the dress.”
“Then what is it?”
The simpering female vanished in a blink. “I came to tell you that you’re a fool, Mr. Garrison. I am not the shallow woman you’ve assumed me to be. Being who you are—a town leader, someone who’s responsible and intelligent—you know High Plains needs a doctor. You should be helping me, not running me out of town! It’s reckless. It’s selfish. It’s—”
“Stop it, Doc.” Belatedly, he saw through her act. The woman was playing him. “You’ve made your point.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Garrison.”
“I do.”
“You owe me an apology.” She stood tall, her head high and her eyes burning with outrage.
Zeb said nothing.
After twenty seconds, she gave up. “Don’t think you’ve won. At the very least, I deserve courtesy. As for your respect, I intend to earn it. When the time comes for you to eat crow, I’ll expect that apology.”
“You won’t get it.”
“It’s not for my benefit,” she said. “It’s for yours. I’m assuming you do have a conscience?”
Zeb had a conscience, all right. It prickled every time someone in High Plains caught a cold. It twitched when he thought of his men working double shifts and ignoring their own families. It burned like fire when he thought of the tornado and how it had stripped High Plains bare. He’d picked this spot to settle. The death and destruction were on his hands. So was rebuilding. How dare this woman judge him? “You don’t belong here, Doc. Go back to New York.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“Absolutely not! I care about people. I care about this town.”
“You think I don’t? I saw people die in the tornado, Miss Mitchell. What happens if you kill someone with your incompetence?”
“I’m not incompetent! I’m a highly trained physician.”
“You’re a woman! ”
When the hammering stopped for the second time, Zeb realized he’d shouted at her. By tomorrow, the whole town would know he’d done battle with Dr. Mitchell. No way could he let her win.
She must have felt the same way, because she spoke in a voice loud enough
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