The Trial of Dr. Kate (9 page)

“You do know Dr. Kate?” she asked.

“Lord, yes, I know Dr. Kate. Why are you interested in the doctor?”

“She’s a longtime friend, and she’s in a lot of trouble. I’m asking around trying to find character witnesses for her trial. And I’m writing an article about the trial for my paper.”

“I know she’s in trouble, and it worries me sick. Why don’t we go over to my place and talk for a spell? It gets a little lonesome up here in Moodyville.”

“How many people live here?”

“Why, there’s four of us. Me and June, my wife, and our two kids, Randall Jr. and Amy.”

“You’re the whole town?”

“Once we had a post office and eight or ten families living here. A general store, too.”

“What happened?”

“The Depression. The war. Folks just left. My daddy started this community, so I’ve hung on over the years, but it ain’t been easy. A small tobacco crop, a few cows and pigs, and the garden keep us going.”

Randall Moody worked his way around the car, opened the passenger door, and slid in beside Shenandoah. Pointing through the windshield, he said, “See that gravel road up there on the right?”

“Yes.”

“Turn there, but drive slow ‘cause the road’s rough. Got some potholes and deep ruts big as a man’s whole body.”

After fifty yards, they came to Randall’s house, which sat back from the road about twenty or thirty yards. Behind the house, Shenandoah could see a large barn in need of repair. Like most buildings in Parsons County, it seemed to lean to one side. The fast-moving creek in front of the house had a place to ford, so Shenandoah drove through the water and into the yard. “Okay if I park here?” she asked Randall.

“Sure. Let’s walk down by the creek. There’s a big old maple tree where I like to sit and relax, contemplate things. Hold up a minute while I fetch June. I’ll get her to whip up some lemonade.”

“Sounds good. I’m kind of dry.”

Randall left, and Shenandoah stood squinting in the glaring sun, sweat soaking her, and thought of jumping into the creek. In a few minutes, Randall returned down the flagstone walkway carrying two glasses of lemonade.

They walked about thirty yards along the creek until they came to Randall’s tree. It provided a nice shady spot to sit and talk. The water rushing over the large rocks created a soothing sound. English sparrows and two fat robins gorged themselves on a huge bird feeder that hung from one of the lower branches, and two rocking chairs sat side by side in the middle of the shade. Motioning for Shenandoah to sit, Randall said, “What did I tell you? This is a perfect spot, ain’t it?”

“This is the most peaceful spot I’ve ever seen.”

Randall reached under his rocker and pulled out a piece of cedar. “You got a pocketknife?”

“No, never felt the need.”

“It ain’t something most ladies do, but my grandma loved whittling, said it calmed her. You need a pocketknife, Shenandoah. There ain’t nothing like whittling to calm a person’s nerves.”

He began to work on his cedar block. “I can tell you something about Dr. Kate,” he said.

“I’ll sit here all afternoon.”

He leaned over with his elbows on his knees and took several shavings off his cedar block before he said, “You being from the other side of the county, you might not know that this here’s called Widow’s Creek. She’s a good one—don’t run dry in a drought like the one we’re having. When it rains in the spring, it can be damned dangerous. That’s why our house sits up on that little hill. Last spring, before the drought hit, it came a gully washer and the thing rose clear up to the front porch.”

* * *

On a Friday afternoon in early spring, Randall Moody was weeding his small tobacco patch when a sudden thunderstorm came out of nowhere and dumped torrents of rain on him before he could reach the front porch of his house. Wet to the bone, he walked into the living room and called out to his wife. When she didn’t answer, he went to their bedroom where he found her having a seizure. She was nine months pregnant.

He walked over to the bed and grabbed her hand. She was unconscious, and the mattress was soaked where she’d broken her water. She stopped her seizure, but he couldn’t wake her up. His heart raced as he shouted, “Come here, Randy! We’ve got to go to Keith Jamison’s place to use the phone.”

Father and son ran to Randall’s old Ford pickup and jumped in. Both were soaked. Randall drove the three miles to his neighbor’s house where he slid the truck to a quick stop. Leaving his son in the vehicle, he ran to the house and pounded on the door.

When Keith appeared, Randall said, “I got to use your phone, Keith. June’s having a seizure fit, and she’s broken her water. I’ve got to get Dr. Kate out here quick.”

In a dark hallway, Randall picked up the phone and told the operator, “Give me the clinic. It’s an emergency.”

On the return trip, the rain intensified, and Randall had trouble seeing well enough to keep the pickup on the asphalt. When they reached the house, Randall sent his son to his room and then went to check on his wife. She had another seizure just as he opened the door. He had no idea what to do. All he could hope was that the doctor was on her way.

By now the creek was over its bank, the water rushing by at a frightening speed. Not sure how he’d get Dr. Kate across, he went to his barn and placed a halter on his mule. Then he jumped on her back and rode her through the rising water. He stood in the rain, shivering, and waited with his stomach burning.

Several minutes later, he saw her headlights and ran toward her, waving his hands over his head. She rolled down the window and yelled over the rain and roar of the creek, “Can we get across?”

“Yes, ma’am, I think so! Lord have mercy, we’re in a heap of trouble, Doc. My June’s had one of them seizure fits, and I can’t wake her up.”

Dr. Kate said, “That’s not good, Randall. I’ve got to get to her right away. Sure we can make it across?”

“We’ve got to, ma’am—ain’t got no choice.” He helped the doctor out of her car.

“Would you get my bag out of the backseat, please? And hurry!”

They walked over the slippery ground to where Randall’s mule, Abigail, stood, and Randall lifted Dr. Kate up so that she sat sideways on the mule’s bare back. Then he took the halter and waded into the creek.

Once across, Dr. Kate slid off Abigail’s back and ran to the front door with Randall right behind her. June had another seizure just as they entered the bedroom. Dr. Kate opened her doctor’s bag and took out some tongue blades that had been taped together to make a bite block. She forced them between June’s teeth. The woman’s pillowcase was soaked from biting her tongue and reeked of fresh blood.

“Get me some hot water, soap, and clean towels—and hurry!”

When Randall returned with the hot water and towels, Dr. Kate was placing a small silver flask into her black bag. While Randall was out of the room, the doctor had removed June’s panties and covered her swollen abdomen with a sheet. Taking June’s blood pressure, she said, “Pressure’s one-ninety over one-ten. This is serious, Randall. June should be in a hospital with a specialist, but we don’t have the time for that. I’ve got to get the baby out as quickly as possible. June has what’s called a toxic pregnancy.”

Randall stood immobilized.

“Don’t just stand there! Take a washcloth and some of that warm water, and wash June’s private parts.”

Randall washed June as gently as he could while Dr. Kate went to her bag and removed a pair of surgical gloves. At that moment, June had a contraction and another seizure, and a tiny hand stuck out of June’s birth canal.

Dr. Kate picked up a syringe and gave June a shot. She pulled on the surgical gloves, then knelt on the bed, put her right hand in June’s birth canal, and with the other pulled the sheet up off June’s abdomen. Then she attempted to push the baby’s arm back into the birth canal by moving the baby back and forth from the outside.

“The baby’s crossways—it’s called a transverse lie. If we were in a hospital or at my clinic, we’d do an operation to take the baby out. I’ll have to push the baby back up June’s birth canal and into her womb. Then I’ll deliver the baby bottom first.”

Randall Moody’s face was chalk white, and his hands trembled. He kept swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Perspiration began to bead across her forehead and along Dr. Kate’s upper lip, but she remained dead calm. She pushed her right hand up June’s birth canal almost to the elbow. For several minutes she grunted and groaned and pushed and shoved and finally pulled out her hand. Another contraction came, and June screamed.

“Here it comes!” Dr. Kate whispered as she hunched over June’s legs and spread them apart.

Slowly, tiny buttocks started to ease out of the birth canal. Dr. Kate stayed bent over June as she gently guided the baby’s body with her hands. Everything came free but the head. Then June gave another big push, and the baby popped into Dr. Kate’s waiting hands. She turned the baby upside down, cleaned its mouth, and slapped its bottom. Suddenly, the room filled with screams.

Dr. Kate’s shoulders sagged, and she sank back on the bed with the baby in her arms. She wrapped the wet infant in a towel and handed her to Randall. “Meet your daughter, Randall. She appears to be healthy in spite of all this craziness.”

While Randall held his new daughter, Dr. Kate took a pair of scissors and a piece of heavy string and cut the baby’s umbilical cord. The afterbirth came with a gush of blood that soaked the sheet.

“You’ll need to bury this somewhere when you get time,” she said as she wrapped it in a towel and placed it on the floor. Then she took off her gloves, picked up a syringe, and asked, “Is June allergic to penicillin?”

“I don’t reckon.”

Dr. Kate gave June a shot in her buttock. “I’ve given her a long-acting penicillin. It’ll help keep down infection.” Then she took June’s blood pressure. “One-fifty over ninety. We’re making progress.”

June began to stir, and Randall handed the baby back to Dr. Kate. Leaning over his wife, he said, “Honey, everything’s okay. We’ve got us a girl.” June smiled and went to sleep.

Dr. Kate sat in a rocking chair with the baby cradled in her arms, gently washing the little girl’s face. Randall walked to where she sat and kneeled next to her chair. “I don’t know how to thank you, Dr. Kate.”

Her facial muscles relaxed for the first time since entering the room, and Kate smiled. “That’s my job, Randall. But I have to tell you, June’s type of delivery is every doctor’s nightmare. I’m just glad everything worked out okay.”

“We’re a little short on cash right now, Doc, and the tobacco crop’s right poorly, so I won’t be able to pay you none ‘til fall. In November when we kill hogs, I’ll bring you a ham for sure.”

She opened the towel so Randall could see his daughter. “This is all the payment I need. This is God’s greatest gift. Take good care of your daughter and love her. Do that, and I’ll be happy and well paid. If you want to bring me a ham in the fall, I’ll be glad to have it.”

“You reckon it’s okay to let Randy come in now? I sent him to his room before you got here.”

“Of course.”

She wrapped the baby in the towel again and handed her to her father. “Put the baby on the bed next to your wife. I’ll be back in the morning to check on them.”

* * *

Shenandoah watched Randall Moody slice a long curl of cedar off the block of wood. “I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” he said. “I reckon Dr. Kate saved both June and my daughter from the grips of the Dark Angel that afternoon, and I ain’t never gonna forget it. And I can tell you this: anybody ever tries to harm that woman, they got to come through me first.”

“They say Dr. Kate killed Lillian Johnson. What do you think?”

“I just don’t believe Dr. Kate would do something like that. The woman saves people’s lives. It ain’t the other way around. No, ma’am, I don’t think for a moment she done it.”

“Would you be willing to testify as a character witness for Dr. Kate?”

“Yes, ma’am, I would. In fact, it would be an honor.”

“I have one other question for you, Randall. Do you know anyone who drives a brand new Dodge pickup? I think it’s gray, but I’m not sure.”

Randall bit his lower lip and rolled his eyes to one side. Shaking his head, he said, “No, ma’am, I don’t reckon I do. Why you asking?”

“Someone in a pickup just ran me off the road a few miles back.”

“On purpose?”

“Oh, yes. It was on purpose.”

“I’m right sorry about that. I’ll be on the lookout. If I see one, I’ll get in touch with you.”

“Thanks, Randall. I’ve got to get back to town.”

The two new friends shook hands, and Shenandoah walked back to her car. Sliding behind the wheel, she said, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Randall. I’m really glad you’re willing to help.”

* * *

It was after noon when Shenandoah headed back to Round Rock. She planned to get a late lunch at the City Café and then see Army Johnson. The humidity was so bad that Shenandoah felt as if she were in a greenhouse. She had both vent windows turned in, but the air was so hot that she just flipped them back to their closed position. She switched on the radio, but all she got was static.

She had just passed through a sharp curve when her car suddenly died. She checked the fuel gauge, found it three-quarters full, pumped the accelerator three times, and tried the starter. Nothing.

She was faithful in following all the suggested maintenance schedules, and she had the oil changed every three thousand miles. Other than that, she knew very little about the workings of an automobile. She climbed out, went to the front, pulled the hood release, and looked inside at the engine.

Just then, she heard a screeching of tires and looked up to see a new 1952 black Ford four-door sedan coming out of the curve in a four-wheel slide. Once out of the curve, the car shot along the straight stretch of highway past her, accelerating at a frightening rate. About a quarter mile down the road the driver slammed on the brakes, and the car did a one-eighty turn in its own length. Then the automobile headed back up the highway toward her.

Shenandoah scrambled back to the driver’s door and swung it open. She reached for her shoulder bag just as the Ford came to an abrupt stop two feet from her car’s front bumper. She was about to yell an obscenity at the driver when the door opened and a man stepped out. He wore a white Oxford button-down shirt, Levi’s, and black cowboy boots. He had sandy blonde hair and penetrating robin’s egg blue eyes. He looked to be about her age and took her breath—he was the most handsome man Shenandoah had ever seen.