“You tell her I appreciate what she asked you to do,” Gracy said.
“I’ll do that.” John started for the door.
“If Elizabeth knows everything, she knows I didn’t murder that child.”
“I know it, too. But I’m not the one you have to convince. You’ve got to get a jury to believe you didn’t kill Edna Halleck’s baby.” When he opened the door, the wind grabbed it out of his hands. Rain blew into the house.
Gracy didn’t pay any attention to the weather. “Say that again, John.”
He frowned. “I said you have to get a jury to believe you didn’t kill Edna Halleck’s baby.”
Gracy shook her head back and forth, and then she said softly, “I do not believe that Edna Halleck was the mother of that boy.”
Five
John turned around and stared at Gracy, as the wind blew raindrops into the house. He closed the door. “What’s that?”
Gracy nodded slowly. “I said I’m not sure Edna Halleck gave birth to that baby.” She dipped her chin to emphasize her words.
“Then whose baby was it?’
“Whose do you think?”
John frowned. “Josie Halleck’s?”
Gracy nodded. “That’s my bet. I can always tell a mother, and I’m thinking Josie birthed that boy.”
“But how can that be? Mr. Halleck said it was his wife’s. Josie and Mrs. Halleck were right there when he told me, and they didn’t say otherwise. Why would he lie?”
“Why would you think?”
John thought a moment. “Well, Josie don’t have a husband.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s too young for marriage, and almost too young to have a baby, too.”
“She is that. She’s a poor excuse for a girl—sullen, scared of her own shadow, and not too choosy about who she nuzzles up to. At least, that’s what they say at the Nugget.”
“I believe she has been mistreated.”
The two stared at each other a minute before John said, “I guess I will have that cup of coffee.”
He went to the fireplace and added a few sticks of kindling to the ashes, then blew on them. The fire flared up, and when the kindling caught, John added larger pieces of wood. Gracy used a dipper to fill the heavy iron teakettle with water from the barrel, then dumped a handful of roasted coffee beans into the grinder and turned the crank. As she did so, she looked at herself in the mirror over the dry sink, wondering if being accused of murder had made her look different. Not that she could tell, because the mirror was all but useless. It was old, and much of the silver backing had worn off. The rest was crazed. Gracy could have gotten a better glimpse of her face in a beaver pond.
She hadn’t seen herself in a good mirror in two or three years, and it was even longer since she’d looked into a full-length one. She wondered if she’d put on weight. Probably not. Her clothes still fit. She was big, tall, and heavy-boned, but she was still gaunt, mostly angles—elbows and knees and hipbones. Maybe it was a good thing she couldn’t tell what she looked like. What purpose would it serve to see how old she’d gotten, how stooped? Besides, it didn’t matter anymore. There’d been a time when she’d longed for a young girl’s look, soft and downy, had resented the sharpness of her body, the length of it. She’d looked into the mirror back then at her lank hair, which was now still smoky dark in places but mostly gray, had thought if she were small and yellow-haired, men might find her attractive, one man anyway. She’d studied her faded calico, her flapping sunbonnet, and wondered how she’d look dressed in satin, cut low, her hair swept up in curls, an emerald necklace. Like a pig with earbobs, she’d thought, like the fool she was. But that had been a long time ago. Now she was content with herself, and Daniel was, too, bless him.
Still, Gracy wondered if she had changed—changed since she’d seen the Halleck baby a few days earlier, looked at it and knew as she did that Josie was his mother. She leaned closer to the mirror and decided her face wasn’t any different, not yet. There were a few more laugh lines around her eyes and her mouth, but her eyes were still bright.
Gracy shook her head, disgusted with herself. Here she was dreaming in the mirror when she’d been accused of killing a baby. She finished grinding the beans and dumped them into the coffeepot, and when the water in the kettle steamed, she poured it over the grounds, leaving the pot on the stove to keep hot while the coffee steeped. She took down the cups and deep saucers, proud that one cup still had its handle and that the saucers were only a little chipped.
When the coffee was ready, she poured it, then handed a cup to John, pointing to the sugar bowl and the glass spooner filled with silver spoons, her one extravagance. The spooner had turned purple from the sun, and the spoons inside gleamed, for Gracy polished them often. They had been gifts, the first from Nabby, given as a wedding present, others from Daniel, one from Jeff, two or three from women in payment for Gracy’s doctoring. The fanciest had belonged to Elizabeth, and Gracy wondered if John recognized it, but men weren’t taken with that kind of sentiment. Most likely, John had forgotten he’d given it to her.
Taking the coffee from Gracy, John sugared it, then poured the liquid into the saucer to cool. After a minute, he raised the saucer to his mouth and drank. “You always did make a decent cup of coffee, Gracy.”
She waved away the compliment. “Coffee’s coffee.” But it wasn’t, and she savored the remark. Her extravagance was coffee, made from rainwater when it came or, when it didn’t, from creek water hauled from above the mine workings, and good beans that Daniel had roasted that morning, before she came home. She left her own coffee in the cup and sipped it, then sat down at the table with John. “Tell me what the Hallecks told you about the baby,” Gracy said.
The sheriff had taken off his coat, because the fire had warmed the cabin, and sat in his shirtsleeves, leaning forward on the table. “Jonas claimed he’d delivered the baby because it came too fast to call in you or Little Dickie. I already told you that. He said they got to worrying that next day that something was wrong, so he sent Josie to fetch you. Jonas said you worked over the baby, said it was all right. He didn’t pick it up for a time after you were gone, and it was dead. That’s what he told me.”
Seated across from him, Gracy pushed the kerosene lamp aside, then looked down at her hands. “That wasn’t the way of it. Not the way of it at all,” she said softly. “The baby was born Monday last, four days ago, like you said. I put it down in my book the next day, after I saw him. I always do that, because the babies have to be registered and I didn’t know if the Hallecks knew that. There’s parents that get the date mixed up. You have a mother saying it was on the second of the month, and the father says the third, because the baby came just after midnight. I remember one time a baby’s father swore his boy was born on Christmas Day, when it was really New Year’s. Imagine…” Gracy’s voice trailed off as she realized she was wandering.
“So the Halleck kid was born Monday,” John said, “not that it matters much.”
“No, not much.” Gracy reached over and turned up the wick on the lamp. Full night had come on. She shook her head back and forth as if to remove cobwebs in her brain and said, “I got off the point. It wasn’t Mr. Halleck sent for me. It was Josie. She came to the cabin and pounded on the door. Daniel was out, and I was sitting here with my piecing. I thought she must be a man come to get me for his wife, and I remember looking around for my bag. But it wasn’t any man. It was Josie, and she was scared to death. Her hair was down, and she was so weak she had to hold on to the door to keep from falling. She had a look to her like she’d been chased by the devil. And she had the look of just giving birth, too. She said to come quick, that there was a baby, and something was wrong. She was afraid he would choke to death.”
“She didn’t say it was hers.”
“No, not then, not ever. Lord knows how she was able to leave that house in her condition to come to me. At first, I thought maybe I was wrong about Josie giving birth, that maybe she was just frightened a
nd wild-eyed. After all, I hadn’t seen Edna in a long time, so the child most likely was hers.” Gracy stared into her coffee, at a shimmer of oil on top of the liquid. “It wasn’t until I got to the Halleck house that I knew something was off.”
“How’s that?”
“Edna and Mr. Halleck weren’t expecting me. He hadn’t sent for me at all. Josie had fetched me on her own. I don’t know how that could be, but maybe they were worried enough about that baby not to notice Josie was gone. Edna was in her nightdress holding the baby, muttering to it, Jonas yelling at her to do something. I could see the baby was having a hard time of it, so I took him from Edna. The poor thing was choking. There was something stuck in his throat—mucous, like I said. I cleaned it out, and then he was fine. When I was sure of that, I checked him over and retied the cord, because Jonas had done a poor job of it.
“When he found out the baby was all right, Jonas started strutting around as if he’d just struck a vug of solid gold, saying he had a son and heir. He told me he was going to put part of the Holy Moses in the boy’s name and raise him up to be just like himself. I never thought that baby wasn’t safe.”
“A man will talk like that.”
“Yes, and so will a mother. But there was no joy in either of those women. Edna was standing there solemn as Judgment Day, wringing her hands, and Josie was in a daze. I thought they were just worried about the baby, but when I picked him up, I knew something else was wrong. I can look at a baby and know who sired it. It’s a gift, you might say. But like I said, I can tell the mother, too. There’s times when a woman will try to fool you, but I always know. So I was sure Edna hadn’t given birth. It was Josie. When I studied the girl, I saw again that she had the look of a new mother. She was clutching her hands so hard her fingers were white, and fidgeting, looking from the baby to me and back. She couldn’t stay still. She reached for the baby, but Jonas slapped her hands away.” Gracy shook her head at the cruelty of it. “I said I ought to examine the mother, make sure she was all right.”
“Did you?” John looked surprised.
Gracy pursed her lips. “You’d have thought I’d suggested something indecent, because Jonas Halleck told me I’d examine Edna over his dead body. I looked at Edna then, but she was staring at the floor and wouldn’t say a word.”
“So you didn’t examine her?”
Gracy gave a mirthless laugh. “You think I’d throw her on the bed and rip off her nightdress?”
“I see your point.”
“And you didn’t examine Josie, either.”
“Of course not. I wish I could have. She’s small and young, not more than fourteen. She might be all tore up. I don’t know how she birthed that baby.”
“I don’t suppose you know who the father was. You said you could tell.”
Gracy hesitated. “I expect the father could have been anybody. Poor kid up there in that big house, the lonesomest place on God’s footstool, with a rabbity mother and a father meaner than winter.”
“You don’t think her father…” John couldn’t finish the question because the awfulness of it overwhelmed him.
Gracy knew what he meant. “It happens.” She looked away. Thinking about the baby’s father pained her.
“Mr. Halleck’s a pretty big man in these mountains, although I know you don’t like him. Is that because of Dan?”
“Partly. But it’s what the power does to him, too.”
“There isn’t a man with more of it in Swandyke, and he wants you to know it. You think he mistreats his wife and daughter?”
Gracy looked away. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Is she simple, the girl?”
“I don’t think so, but her mind’s addled in some way. I’m told she wanders around.”
“She’s not proper. I can tell you that. She goes into the Nugget. I saw a miner in there buying her whiskey once and had to tell her to get on home. I warned him if Mr. Halleck caught him cozying up to Josie, he just might find himself at the bottom of a glory hole. I tell you, Gracy, I’m not surprised she got herself in the family way.”
For a minute, Gracy traced a design on the oilcloth on the table, then she looked up and continued. “Mr. Halleck left the room for a minute, and I thought Edna might tell me then that the baby was Josie’s. She knew I could see it. But she’s not a talking woman. I suppose she fears her husband too much.”
“She wouldn’t be the only one afraid of her husband.” John stood and went to the fireplace. Using his shirttail, he lifted the coffeepot, pouring more liquid into his cup, and when Gracy held out hers, he filled it, too. Then he made a great to-do about adding sugar and pouring the coffee into the saucer, where he let it cool. “If Josie was the mother, it’s odd nobody in town knew about it. Folks’ve got eyes, and they like to gossip.”
Gracy nodded before she answered. “I can tell you Edna hasn’t been seen in a month or two or three. She hasn’t been at quilting circle or even at church. Mittie McCauley remarked on it last week, said she wondered where Edna had got to. I thought a little about it then, because Edna had let it out that she was ailing, which is what a woman like her will do if she’s pregnant. Edna’s not like the rest of us that don’t have a choice and have to go about our business when we’re as big as an ore bucket. Edna’s a wellborn lady, and that kind would as soon dress naked on the street as be seen with a swollen belly. And of course, I hadn’t heard a word about Josie. If I’d paid more attention, I would have figured Josie was staying home to care for her ma. Those two have been shut up in that house for weeks. So there’s no reason folks would think Edna wasn’t the one to give birth.”
Gracy took a sip from the cup she had left on the table, the coffee cold now, as she thought back. She said slowly, for she was not a woman to betray a confidence without reason, “Last time I saw Edna, she and Josie came to me for salve for Josie. Edna said the girl was bruised from falling down in a glacier bed. But I saw Josie’s black eye and the welts on her back and knew they weren’t from any fall. More likely, they came from a horsewhip.”
“Whose?”
Gracy shrugged. “They didn’t say. My guess is they were too afraid.”
“What’s Edna Halleck like?”
“You don’t know her?”
“I’ve been to the house on occasion but never heard her speak. I called on her this evening, but she didn’t say a word, just nodded when I asked her if you’d killed the baby. Josie did the same thing. Of course, Jonas was there. He wouldn’t let me talk to them alone. “
“No, he wouldn’t. But even when her husband’s not there, Edna doesn’t have much to say. When they first came here, she was a lively sort, and Josie was as sweet a little girl as you ever saw, bright as a gold nugget. But over the years, Edna’s got kind of beat down, you might say. She still plays the lady. When Bible circle meets at her house, she brings out a tea set fit for a queen, solid silver it is. Serves up the tea in china cups thin as a butterfly’s wing.” Gracy glanced down at her own chipped cup and shook her head. “Always sponge cake or chocolate pudding in cups not bigger than a thimble.” Gracy smiled at the memory of such extravagance.
“The Hallecks have the nicest house in town,” John observed.
“They do at that, but there’s something I don’t like about it. That house is always closed up, only a little light through the shutters. Too prim for my taste, like it’s frozen, and not a speck of dirt. Edna keeps it that way herself. All that money and never a servant. She does the work, says her husband doesn’t like people underfoot, that a maid would steal them blind. Only thing he’ll allow is to send out the laundry.” Gracy stopped for a moment, feeling talked out. “One more thing, she’s a Bible reader, always talking about the Lord’s will and how He punishes people. Myself, I believe in a joyful God, one that gives us flowers and sunrises and men like you and Daniel. But Edna, her God sits up there in judgment, making people pay for their sins, and she believes in a plenty of them. I hate to think how poor Josie is being punished for
fornicating.”
John was about to ask another question but there was a noise outside, a rattle as if someone were throwing tin cans down the mountainside. Maybe it was the old dog Sandy, but he would have gone with Daniel. A bear, Gracy told him. One had been wandering around the cabin with her cubs. She warned John to be careful when he left. He didn’t want to get between a mother and her young ones. Bears or humans, it didn’t matter. A mother would protect her young.
“Is that what Edna did? Punished Josie for getting pregnant? Could she have strangled the baby?”
Gracy thought that over for a long time. “I’ve wondered ever since this morning, when you told me what happened, who would have done it. Of course, it could have been anyone—maybe someone from outside even—but I don’t believe that, because Mr. Halleck wouldn’t have blamed me. There are three people who could have strangled that baby. Josie’s too timid, and Edna’s too afraid of her husband.”
“That leaves Mr. Halleck.”
“But why would he do it? He was proud of the boy.” In fact, the man had been almost giddy with joy, and Gracy had thought then that the baby wouldn’t have such a bad life. He would grow up rich, get an education, inherit a mine. It was more than most boys had—her son, Jeff, for instance. She thought a moment. “Maybe it was an accident? But how could you put a cord around a baby’s neck by accident?”
“Do you think Mr. Halleck did it?”
Gracy nodded. “There isn’t anybody else. I think when he settled down, he feared somebody would find out who gave birth to that baby, that maybe I’d let it out. Do you think that’s why he blamed me?”
“Maybe.” John shifted in his chair. “You know, Gracy, I think it’s best that we don’t say who the baby’s mother was. I ought to put down what you said with the other evidence I have to turn over to the prosecutor. After all, I’m the sheriff, and it’s my job. But I’m thinking there’s no proof, so it would be like passing on gossip. And if we’re wrong, we could ruin a young girl’s life. So let’s just keep it between us.”
The Last Midwife Page 7
