The Last Midwife Page 28

  A reporter stepped in front of Gracy, his pencil and pad of paper in his hands, and Daniel all but fisted him. “Get away,” he growled so fiercely that the man stepped back.

  They pushed their way into the room, Gracy and Ted sitting down at a table in front, Daniel and Jeff seating themselves in the chairs behind.

  “Why won’t Ma change her mind?” Gracy heard Jeff ask.

  “She won’t say.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  Daniel muttered something Gracy couldn’t hear, and she turned to look at him.

  “Will it go bad for her, then?”

  Daniel shrugged. “It might.”

  “We’ll take her to Nevada, won’t we, Pa?”

  Gracy smiled at that. Jeff was still too young to understand the meanness of the world.

  “Even if we could, there’d be a reward, with a hundred men hunting her.”

  “She’s a good woman. People in Nevada still remember her. She birthed a lot of babies.”

  “Do they remember you, too?”

  Jeff nodded. “Some. I went to that place, that whorehouse. A woman there, the cook, she’d been one of the girls … back then. She said you were good to her … to … to my mother. I saw the grave. I put flowers on it.”

  “She would have liked that. She loved roses.” He paused. “Gracy’s your ma, your real ma. She raised you,” Daniel told Jeff. “You were better off with her than you ever would have been with Jennie.”

  “I guess I know that now,” Jeff replied. “Sitting there, beside the grave, I wondered why Ma took me in. I must have been a trial to her every day.”

  “She loved you.” Daniel paused. “You’ll stay on, after this is over?” He glanced at Gracy and saw that she was listening.

  The boy sat forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his face cupped in his hands. “I haven’t decided. There are some things that … well, that I wonder about. I guess it depends on what happens with Ma, if she gets off.”

  “You don’t have to stay because of me. But I think your ma would want you to.”

  Jeff considered that. “It doesn’t seem like she does. She says I ought to see the world, the way you did, says there’s time enough for me to settle down.”

  Daniel looked puzzled, as if he had just realized that, indeed, Gracy hadn’t said she wanted Jeff to stay on. He glanced at her, a question on his face, but just then, the judge came into the courtroom, followed by the members of the jury, who sat down in the rockers.

  Judge Downing looked over the crowd, noting where the reporters were and giving them a slight nod. He made a few preliminary remarks, then turned to Ted. “Sir, I believe it is your turn.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I hope the hunting was good.”

  “Didn’t shoot a blessed thing. Nearly got me a cow, though.” He seemed pleased when even the jury laughed. Still, he pounded for silence. “You have a witness, Mr. Coombs?” The judge glanced at Gracy, and Gracy thought he didn’t know that she would not testify.

  “I have, Your Honor.”

  Daniel jerked his head up and sent Gracy a questioning look, as if thinking she had changed her mind and not told him. But she was as bewildered as he.

  “The defense calls Mrs. Edna Halleck.”

  Gracy turned and stared at the woman, stunned. Ted must have kept the witness a secret from her for fear Gracy would object. After all, she’d opposed Josie’s taking the stand and had refused to testify herself. Ted must be desperate, because what could Edna say except to back up her husband? Before the trial started, Ted had told Gracy that he’d barely had a chance to question Edna and Josie, and then they’d said nothing of importance because Jonas Halleck was in the room.

  Daniel and Gracy weren’t the only ones who were surprised. Edna Halleck turned white and put her hands over her face, muttering, “No, no.”

  Jonas jumped up and yelled. “She will not testify. She’s my wife, and I say she can’t.”

  “I’m the judge, and I say she can,” Judge Downing yelled back. “Sit down, or I’ll have you ejected.” He paused. “Sir,” he added, which reminded everyone in the room—including the jury—that no matter what had come out in the first day of the trial, Jonas Halleck was still a man of consequence.

  “I will have satisfaction from you,” Jonas told Ted. “It’s not right for a wife to testify. The Bible says women are to be quiet.”

  “And this court says they are required to talk if I say so,” the judge said.

  “I object.” Doak stood up.

  “To what?” the judge asked.

  “A wife can’t testify against her husband. The law says so.”

  “She’s not testifying against Mr. Halleck,” Ted countered. “She’s testifying in a case against Mrs. Brookens.”

  “He’s right,” the judge said.

  Edna sat in her chair, weeping, and wouldn’t stand until Doak went over to her and said, “There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs. Halleck. All you have to do is tell the truth, tell them you saw Mrs. Brookens strangle your baby.”

  Edna got up, wiping tears from her face with her fingers, and slowly walked to the witness chair. She held up her hand, covered in a lace mitt, and was sworn in, her voice barely audible.

  “Now then,” Ted began, his voice low and filled with kindness, “you are Mrs. Edna Halleck, wife of Jonas Halleck. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  “And you are a God-fearing woman who believes in the Bible. You believe in doing what’s right.”

  She nodded.

  “You believe in punishment for wickedness?”

  Edna glanced at Gracy, then whispered, “I do.”

  “And you believe in telling the truth, that the Bible says lying is a sin?”

  Edna glanced at her husband, who sat forward in his seat, barely able to stay still.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So you will tell the truth?”

  Doak jumped up then. “Your Honor, is this necessary? The woman has sworn already to tell the truth. The defense doesn’t need to badger her.”

  “Quite right. Mr. Coombs, ask your questions. I don’t have all day.”

  Ted smiled. “It is unlikely that a lady like Mrs. Halleck has testified in a courtroom before. I wanted her to be acquainted with the procedure.”

  “She is,” Judge Downing said. “Move along.”

  “Josie Halleck is your daughter. Is that correct?”

  Edna nodded.

  “And the baby who was murdered, he was Josie’s son, wasn’t he?”

  Jonas jumped up and shouted, “I have told you he wasn’t. Edna, you will not speak.”

  Edna blanched, drawing into herself at her husband’s words. Jonas made a fist with his hand, so subtle that only Edna saw it—and Gracy. Edna turned to Gracy and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

  “It’s all right,” Gracy whispered back. She couldn’t help but feel compassion for the woman.

  Edna started to get up, but then she looked at Gracy again. Gracy smiled at her, thinking that jail couldn’t be any worse than the life Edna had lived with Jonas Halleck—the terror, the beatings. She knew about them because Edna had come to her for salves to heal the cuts and bruises. “It’s all right,” Gracy whispered again. “I understand.” And she did. Jonas would kill Edna for telling the truth.

  But suddenly, Edna said, “It’s not right, Gracy.” She turned to her husband and said in a voice that was barely audible, “You lied. That baby was Josie’s. You know my insides fell out after I lost the baby that came after Josie. You kicked me for it, and I can’t have more babies. You know that, Jonas. You told me a hundred times I’m not a woman anymore.”

  There were gasps in the courtroom and a few muttered words of shame, before the judge called for silence.

  “So your husband lied about who bore that child,” Ted said.

  “He said we had to. He said what will people think of us if Josie has a baby? He sai
d nobody would want her for a wife. So after Josie started to show, we had to stay in the house where nobody would see us. The mercantile delivered our groceries, and I left the laundry outside for the washerwoman. Jonas wouldn’t let us go in the garden, even after dark. We were locked up like wild animals.”

  “Who is the father of the baby?” Ted asked.

  “She doesn’t know. Josie’s mind is mush. You tell them that, Edna,” Jonas ordered.

  Gracy thought the judge might throw Jonas out of the courtroom then, but perhaps Judge Downing was intrigued enough with what had just happened to ignore the outburst. He might even enjoy seeing the destruction of a man who had been so important.

  Edna was silent.

  “Mrs. Halleck?” Ted asked.

  When Edna wouldn’t reply, Ted turned to the judge, who said, “Answer the question, Mrs. Halleck”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “See, I told you she doesn’t know,” Jonas said. “Doesn’t know enough to teach her own daughter to be a decent woman. Josie’s not anything but a whore, men coming around sniffing after her like she’s a dog in heat.”

  Edna raised her head and stared at her husband for a long time, before her face turned hard. “If she is a wanton woman, you made her one, Jonas. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you rutting on her, seen how you looked at her ever since she come a woman. First time it happened, she wasn’t much more than twelve. I begged you to stop, but you wouldn’t. You called her evil and a temptation and went after her with your whip. All I could do was hold that girl after you used her, listen to her cry out her hurt and her shame. You are a fornicator and an adulterer, and with your own daughter. And you made me say I birthed the spawn of your sin.” Edna stood and pointed a finger at her husband. “Shame, Jonas Halleck, shame. You are the devil. The Lord will punish you for your sinfulness.”

  “Liar! Liar!” Jonas called, while women in the courtroom turned away at the horror of what they had heard, and men, even some employed at the Holy Cross, jumped up, a few making a move toward Jonas, who cringed.

  “Your own girl. You’ll burn in hell,” one man called.

  Jonas bolted from his seat. “Let me through,” he said, rushing down the aisle toward the door.

  But John Miller stepped in front of him and grabbed the man’s arms. “You want me to take him to jail?” he asked the judge.

  “It can wait. Let’s finish the trial,” Judge Downing said. “Mr. Halleck, you sit down, and if you don’t, I’d be hard-pressed to stop any man in this courtroom from doing violence to you.”

  John thrust Jonas back into his chair, and two men moved behind him to grab him if he tried again to leave.

  When the courtroom quieted, Ted said, “Now, Mrs. Halleck, you have stated that your daughter gave birth to the baby and your own husband is its father. Is that correct?”

  Edna nodded once, then put her hands over her face and began to weep. “I didn’t protect her. I ask the Almighty to forgive me.”

  Ted waited until the woman composed herself. Then he asked, “One more question, Mrs. Halleck. Did your husband—did Jonas Halleck—strangle that baby?”

  Edna clutched her hands and glanced at Ted. Her face was drawn, and she looked older than the mountains, although she might have been only thirty-five. She hunched in the chair as she continued to stare at Jonas. He rose, but a man behind him shoved him down.

  “Mrs. Halleck?” Ted said.

  The room was still as death then, and Gracy could hear the sound of a stamp mill on Turnbull Mountain, could hear men talking outside the building, could even hear the buzz of a bee as it flitted through the window into the courtroom. A juror leaned forward in his chair, and his rocker sent out a sound like a crack of thunder. The man reddened and stilled himself, but no one looked at him. Instead, the eyes of the jurors and everyone else in the courtroom were trained on Edna Halleck.

  “Mrs. Halleck?” Ted said again.

  “Jonas put that baby in a box and stuck it in a hole in the earth, but I wouldn’t let him rest easy till he dug it up so we could bury it in blessed ground. He hit me, but I wouldn’t let up. Thrown away like that, the baby wouldn’t go to heaven. I couldn’t let that child spend eternity in hell. I told Jonas I’d dig it up myself if he didn’t.” She shook her head back and forth.

  “Yes, ma’am. Now answer the question,” the judge said in a voice that made the woman jump.

  “What?” she said, as if coming out of a trance. She turned away from Jonas and looked at the judge.

  “Who killed your daughter’s baby?” Ted asked.

  “Don’t make me tell,” Edna begged.

  “Did your husband—did Jonas Halleck—tie that string around the baby’s neck and strangle it?” Ted asked again.

  Edna sighed so deeply that her body shook. At last she said, “No.”

  People in the courtroom sucked in their breath, muttered, and shuffled their feet. Ted sent Gracy a questioning look, but she stared straight ahead, stared at Edna. The courtroom grew absolutely still. Then one by one, people turned to look at Gracy.

  “You are under oath,” Ted said without much conviction. Daniel shook his head back and forth, as if Ted had made a terrible mistake. By admitting her husband’s incest, Edna had made it clear she wouldn’t lie. And now, if she said Gracy had murdered the baby, people would believe her. Gracy would be found guilty. Ted must have known that, and he threw up his hands and said he’d withdraw the question.

  “Well, I won’t,” the judge said. “Mrs. Halleck, you can sit here all day until you answer. Who strangled that baby?”

  “He was a child of the devil. He had to die,” she muttered. She turned to look at the judge, staring at him as if the two of them were the only ones in the courtroom. Then she sighed again and said, “I couldn’t let him live, couldn’t shame Josie like that. When Gracy left, I saw that spool of thread and…” She looked up at the judge. “I killed him.”

  Twenty-two

  Gracy tied the cord of the sweet baby she’d just birthed—a girl who reminded her of Emma—then handed the stork scissors to young Jane. “You cut it,” she said.

  “Truly?” the girl asked, her eyes wide with excitement and a little apprehension as she took the scissors. She carefully cut through the flesh, then returned the scissors to Gracy. “Did I do it right?”

  “Perfect.” Gracy wiped the scissors on a soft cloth, then placed them in her bag. She watched as Jane touched the tiny wet cheek with the backs of her fingers. It was clear the girl loved babies.

  At fifteen, Jane had promise. She already had helped with three deliveries, and they had gone well. But she’d need seasoning, Gracy knew, before she could tell if the girl really would make a midwife. It remained to be seen whether Jane could cope with a mother dying or a new baby who never took a breath. Gracy had hopes for her, however.

  Jane was the daughter of the oldest Richards sister, Martha. Gracy had been surprised when the woman sent for her to deliver her seventh child. But after the trial was over, the Richards sisters and others who had doubted Gracy’s innocence had rushed to her side to tell her they’d believed in her all along. And as proof, Martha Richards had sent for Gracy when her time came.

  Jane had been at the bedside when her mother delivered that last child, had stood transfixed as her baby brother slid out into Gracy’s hands. Jane had held the infant while Gracy cared for the mother, but had kept an eye on what the midwife was doing, too. Later, the girl asked, “You think I could have the learning of this?”

  “It takes a love of women and babies,” Gracy replied.

  Jane nodded. “I have it. Am I too young? I’m fifteen.”

  “I delivered my first at ten.”

  “Then I best get started.”

  So Jane had come to Gracy’s cabin during the winter months to learn about herbs and potions, to study Gracy’s books, and to talk to the old midwife about childbirth. When Gracy was sure the girl was serious, she took Jane to a lying-in.

  The girl
had performed well, then and later. She distracted the small children who were bewildered by their mother’s cries, rubbed the mother’s back, brewed tea for the woman to drink (and for Gracy, too). She seemed to know just which herb or implement Gracy needed before the midwife asked. Maybe Jane would take over for her, just as she had replaced Nabby so many years before. Gracy had once hoped that Mittie McCauley would follow in her footsteps, but Mittie hadn’t been interested, especially not now. What with the two boys to care for and a hint that she might look for a girl to adopt one day, Mittie was almost too busy to quilt.

  Of course, it would be a while yet before someone else was needed as midwife. Edna Halleck’s confession had lifted Gracy’s malaise. Gracy had thought her midwifery days were coming to an end. But when the charge against her was dropped, she felt such joy—joy not just that she was no longer accused of killing the Halleck baby but joy that she could return to the work she loved. She had been given a chance to start over. Not that she didn’t feel her age these days. Her step was slower now, and her bones ached after standing all night beside a childbirth bed. She would have to give up her work one day. But not yet. If Jane worked out, there would be someone to help her as she grew older and to take her place one day. She wouldn’t be the last midwife on the Tenmile.

  The birth that day had taken place in Swandyke, and now, the old woman and the young girl walked together through town. May had come on, and the snow had melted, although there would be a heavy, wet storm that bent the willows to the ground before winter truly passed. Still, the winter storms that howled down off the peaks and filled the mountain bowls with silence were done. Already the leaves on the aspen trees were budding and growing things sending up shoots through the earth damp with snowmelt.

  “Spring births are the best ones,” Gracy told Jane. “The baby will have a chance to grow strong before winter comes on again.”

  They walked slowly, because Gracy’s leg still troubled her, and because the day was too fine to hurry. They passed RICHARD ERICKSON, M.D. painted on a window, and Gracy waved, although she did not know if the doctor was inside. After the trial, Little Dickie had told her stiffly, “I guess I misspoke.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but Gracy knew what it cost the man to give it. She was a forgiving woman and thought that with a little compassion, he would be a good doctor one day. Swandyke needed someone with book-learned medicine. And so she encouraged young mothers to take their babies to him. He returned the courtesy, sending a pregnant woman to Gracy.