The Trial of Dr. Kate (2 page)

One morning, the school bus was late, and Shenandoah and her cousins stood and waited impatiently next to the lone pump where all the inhabitants of Beulah Land got their water. Some of the boys tossed rocks at passing cars, and the girls giggled when the drivers waved angry fists in response.

When the bus finally arrived some fifteen minutes late, the children scrambled up the steps and took their seats. Shenandoah shuddered when she saw Jasper Kingman sitting on the last bench on the right. The older boy was in the sixth grade and Shenandoah in the fifth. Jasper’s father worked for the city of Round Rock as a garbage collector and drove to work every day about the same time school started. Usually, Jasper rode with his dad. But unfortunately, he occasionally rode the school bus with Shenandoah.

The only seat available was right in front of Jasper. She asked the driver if she could stand, but he wouldn’t let her. Jasper grinned at her as she took her seat. She ignored him and stared straight ahead.

“How’s it going, girl? You ain’t near as dirty this morning as you usually are. What happened? You steal some more soap?” Jasper asked.

Shenandoah ignored him. She carried her books held together with an old belt her mother had found in the city dump. She unbuckled it and took out her arithmetic book.

“Look at you. Studying like you was smart or something. Hell, everybody knows you Coleman folks is as dumb as you is dirty.”

Shenandoah ground her teeth, her jaw muscles flexing rhythmically, but still she said nothing.

Then Jasper made a bad mistake that would change his life forever. He reached over the back of Shenandoah’s seat, grabbed her pigtail, and sliced it off with his pocket knife. Before she could move, he wrapped it around her neck and pulled her head back against the seat.

He laughed and said, “I been meaning to do that for a long time, girl. I just don’t like pigtails. Particularly on a filthy Coleman.”

Shenandoah could feel Jasper’s breath on her neck, and she knew his head was right behind hers. In a move as swift as lightning, she swung her arithmetic book over her head and slammed it into Jasper’s skull with all her might.

“Hey,” he yelled, letting go of the pigtail.

Shenandoah sprang out of her seat and grabbed Jasper by the shirt, pulling him into the aisle. He was so startled he didn’t even resist. She slammed her right knee into his groin, and when he leaned over gasping in pain, she hit him in the nose with her fist. Blood spurted onto her dress and onto Jasper’s shirt. Then she threw him against the back wall of the bus and pounded his head against it. His tongue hung limply out the corner of his mouth, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Jasper was known as a trouble maker, and Mr. Albright, the driver, had followed the scene in his rearview mirror with some satisfaction. Nonetheless, he slammed on the brakes and ran down the aisle toward the scuffling children. He pulled Shenandoah away from Jasper as the boy fell to the floor, unconscious.

Shenandoah struggled with the bus driver, trying to get free. In her mind, she was just getting started.

“Shenandoah, honey, stop it!” Albright yelled. “You won the damn fight. Back off.”

He let go of her and she picked up her pigtail. Tears streamed down her smooth cheeks as she took her seat.

Jasper regained consciousness moments later. The whole confrontation had taken less than two minutes. He pulled his handkerchief out of his back pocket and held it under his nose. He didn’t say a word for the remainder of the trip and ignored the open mouthed amazement of the other students on the bus.

* * *

Years later, in the courthouse, Shenandoah found Sherriff Jasper Kingman cleaning a .38 revolver. Six silver cartridges stood like toy soldiers on top of his desk.

The fourteen years since their high school graduation had barely changed Jasper Kingman. His thin sandy hair was receding and his blue eyes had lost some of their fire, but otherwise he looked just as he had when Shenandoah had last seen him. His belly remained as flat as the desktop.

Spying Shenandoah, the sheriff scrambled to his feet and, blushing, said, “Afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?”

A smile broke across Shenandoah’s face, and Jasper Kingman stared at her. “Wait a minute. You look damn familiar. What’s your name?”

Shenandoah extended her hand. “Shenandoah Coleman. I haven’t forgotten you, Jasper.”

The sheriff ignored Shenandoah’s gesture and rammed the cleaning rod down the muzzle of the pistol. “Got one of your kin back there—been here a while,” he said, a crooked smile growing on his lips.

“Uncle Junior?”

“Yep. Thought we’d seen the last of your sorry ass. What’re you doing dressed up like a big-city whore?”

“You’ve never been to a big city, Jasper. How would you know what a big-city whore looked like, anyway?”

“I’ve been to Nashville and Knoxville, smart-ass.”

“Neither of which is a big city. I’m a reporter for the
Memphis Express,
up to cover Dr. Kate’s trial.”

“I’ll be damned—an educated Coleman. How’d that happen, Shenandoah?”

“Anyone can get an education if you serve your country. You in the military?”

The sheriff flushed. “Damned blood pressure was too high. Draft board said they needed me here, ‘cause I was a deputy.”

Shenandoah nodded. “Figures.”

“What you want, Shenandoah?”

“To see Dr. Kate.”

Jasper tilted his head back and laughed, his breath coming in short snorts. Placing the pistol and cleaning rod on his desk, the sheriff pulled a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. Slipping one into his mouth, he lit it with a worn Zippo. Inhaling deeply, he looked Shenandoah in the eye and said, “What if the lady won’t see you? She ain’t in the best of moods.”

“I’ll chance it.”

“What if I won’t let you?”

“I’ll see Jake Watson and get a court order. It’s up to you, Jasper.” Jasper stared at Shenandoah. He sucked on the cigarette until the tip glowed, then leaned forward and pushed a button on the intercom box. “Margaret, tell Masterson to come here.”

The deputy materialized out of thin air, as if he had been loitering within earshot. Shenandoah didn’t know the man. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, and his brown hair was graying at the temples. A bushy gray mustache hung low over his thin lips, and his rotund features gave him a jolly appearance in spite of the frown on his face.

“Oscar, meet a sober Coleman. Most likely the only one you’ll ever see. Her name’s Shenandoah. Take the smart-ass back to see the doc.”

Deputy Masterson motioned for Shenandoah to follow him, and the two of them left the sheriff’s office, passed through the reception area, and crossed the hallway to enter the jail. The deputy unlocked a steel door, led Shenandoah to a second locked door, and opened it. Ushering her into a small room, he said, “Push that button on the wall when you’re ready to leave.”

A metal table with four mismatched chairs sat in the middle of the room. One harsh overhead fluorescent light fixture gave the bare, dark green walls an orange cast.

Settling into one of the chairs, Shenandoah tapped the top of the table with her thumb and tried to ignore the burning in the pit of her stomach.
Will Kate remember me? Will she still be attractive?

That last thought evaporated the moment the door opened and Dr. Katherine Marlow entered the stark room. Taller than Shenandoah remembered, Dr. Kate moved with the grace of a ballerina. Even though she wore a county-supplied dress of gray cotton and brown penny loafers, she seemed regal, as one might imagine a young Queen Bess. She wore no cosmetics, not even lipstick on her full and sensual lips. Short-cropped hair the color of corn silk framed her face like waves on a golden beach. Her eyes were a deep royal blue. Her hands were delicate with long fingers, and her nails were unpolished and trimmed short.

Dr. Kate stared at Shenandoah as the reporter scrambled out of her chair. Then a smile caused her smooth cheeks to form the soft dimples Shenandoah remembered so well, and she said, “Shenandoah Coleman? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d remember what I look like.”

“What’re you doing here? My God, I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”

“I came to cover the trial for the
Memphis Express.
”

“I forgot you’re a reporter. I haven’t seen you since graduation, and I don’t think I’ve even had a Christmas card in three or four years. How
are
you?”

“I’m more interested in how
you
are.”

“Mad as hell that I’m in this lousy jail. I’m so frustrated I could scream.”

They sat facing each other across the steel table. Kate’s hands were crossed and rested one on the other in front of her. Shenandoah thought for a moment that she detected a fine tremor in those slender hands.

“Why aren’t you free on bail?”

“I’m accused of a capital crime. The prosecutor and judge think I’m a risk. Which is ridiculous. I’m not going to skip town. I’m going to fight this thing and clear my name. I don’t run away from battles.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the first of April.”

“Can’t your attorney do anything?”

“He’s tried. Jake’s a good country lawyer and a family friend, but I’m not sure he’s up to this.”

“Why don’t you hire a hotshot out of Nashville?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You’re a doctor. Surely you can afford a good attorney.”

Kate shook her head. “I’m a country doctor in one of the poorest counties in the state. These people don’t have any money. I still get paid with eggs and hams, for God’s sake. If the tobacco crop’s good, maybe they’ll come up with some cash in the fall.”

“I’ll lend you the money,” Shenandoah said.

“Don’t be silly. You’re a reporter. You can’t have that much money. Besides, I couldn’t impose on you. This is my problem and I’ll deal with it.”

“Who’s the prosecutor?”

“Baxter Hargrove is the assistant attorney general. And he’s lower than a snake’s belly. The attorney general is in Carthage. I don’t know his name.”

“Why do they think you were guilty of this murder?”

“Mrs. Lillian Johnson died of an overdose of a barbiturate. The syringe they found belonged to me and had my fingerprints on it.”

Shenandoah thought Kate’s normally pale, transparent skin looked ghostlike.

“Seems awfully circumstantial. That all they’ve got?”

Diverting her gaze, Kate said, “I can’t even remember being there. I woke up sometime that afternoon in my car on the side of the road. I was up north near Static. My nurse told me later that I’d made a house call to Lillie’s that morning.”

“Were you sick—the flu or something?”

“I have these spells now and then.”

“Do you pass out often?”

“Occasionally. I guess you know that your uncle Junior is in jail.”

“Yes. Don’t change the subject. Were you and Lillie on good terms?”

“We were always best friends, but she was upset with me.”

“How’s that? You were her doctor.”

“I’m the only—
was
the only doctor here.”

“What was wrong with her? Can you talk about it?”

“It’s common knowledge. She suffered from MS, and a few months ago she developed terminal colon cancer. She was very sick and in constant pain. It drove poor Army crazy.”

Shenandoah had forgotten that Army and Lillian had married right after they had all graduated from high school. Both had been classmates of Dr. Kate’s. Shenandoah took Kate’s hand in hers and said, “I’d like to help, Kate.”

Squeezing Shenandoah’s hand, Kate said, “I’d like to have someone on my side besides Jake and my sister.”

Shenandoah asked, “How is Rebecca?”

“She’s an attorney now in Knoxville. She’s going to help Jake with my defense.”

“Remember when we met that first day of school?” Shenandoah asked.

“Like it was yesterday. You and the other kids from Beulah Land looked so poor and unkempt that I couldn’t believe it. I think your dress was made from a Martha White flour sack. Your face was smudged with dirt and your fingernails ragged. I felt so sorry for you—but look at you now. My God, girl, you look like a New York fashion model.”

Shenandoah laughed. “Jasper said I looked like a big-city whore. I remember how you looked that first day, Kate. You were a skinny waif of a girl with scrawny legs and healing scabs on your knees. But you were in a nice, freshly ironed dress and wore shoes, and we were all barefoot.”

Kate smiled and said, “I remember the first recess when you and Jasper Kingman faced off. He was in the third grade and towered over you. I ran over there and heard him yell something about the Coleman folks being poor white trash. You were ready to hit him, so I grabbed your hand and pulled you away. I said Miss Rutherford had sent me to get you.”

“Most people shunned the Coleman clan. Looking back, we were our own worst enemy,” Shenandoah said.

“Can’t help what you’re born into. At least you broke free. Most of your people didn’t get past the sixth grade. I never understood why you were so different.”

“When my father wasn’t working at the sawmill, he did odd jobs. He helped a man named Persifor Washington pull pumps and pipe out of the ground. The man’s wife, Frances, introduced me to books. Is your father still with us, by the way?” Shenandoah asked.

“Dad passed away right before I graduated from medical school,” Kate said. She looked away for a moment and then turned back to Shenandoah. “Why haven’t you come home? You still have relatives here.”

“None I’m particularly proud of or have any fondness for.”

“That’s too bad. All I have is Rebecca.”

“Okay if I visit you? I want to help,” Shenandoah said.

“That’s sweet of you, Shenandoah. Come every day.”

“You were my best friend all the way through school. When you’re poor white trash and people treat you like dirt on their shoes, it has an effect on you. You treated me just like your other friends. It meant a lot to me.”

“I always liked you. I didn’t care that you were a Coleman.”

“You’d have to be a Coleman to know what it’s like. Just having you treat me nice made up for all the bad things the other kids said about me. Now it seems as if things are reversed. I’m worried about you.”