Page 51 of The Frozen River

“A grievous assault may have been perpetrated against your person, Mistress Foster”—Wood points a finger in warning at North, who is about to interrupt again—“but I do find myself in the difficult position of being unable to verify your claims. Without a witness to this assault, we cannot prove that it happened. And to charge a man with a capital crime without any evidence is a difficult thing.”

Isaac Foster begins to tremble. It starts in his voice and moves to his outstretched arm, pointing at North. It is the least composed that I have ever seen him. He is angry. Sweating. His spectacles slide down his nose, and he shoves them back in place. “He. Witnessed. This. He did it!”

Wood looks pained as he reminds Isaac that North is a defendant, not a witness, and that he has denied the accusations regardless.

“Please.” Rebecca steps closer to the judge. “I do have a witness. She is in this courtroom. She can testify that I speak the truth.”

I feel my stomach twist with a sudden rush of adrenaline, and my heart takes flight within my chest, beating hard against my ribs.

“I protest this witness!” North says, stepping forward again. “She does not—”

Obadiah Wood’s voice is loud, clipped on the syllables. He is losing patience. “It is not your turn to speak, Mr. North. You will have your chance. Step back.”

North does as he’s told, but I can see the growing bubble of frustration in his chest, the way it puffs in and out with each breath. He is accustomed to having total control of a courtroom.

“Who is this witness?” Wood asks.

“Me,” I say, standing. The entire room swings their heads in my direction. “I can verify everything that Rebecca Foster has just told the court.”

“Please step forward, Mistress…?”

“Ballard.”

Judge Wood waves his arm, indicating that I should approach the table.

“I object,” Joseph North says, abandoning all sense of propriety. “The law of coverture prevents any woman—even one as esteemed as Mistress Ballard—from testifying in court without the presence of her father or husband.”

“And what concern is this of yours, Colonel?”

“Great concern! Every word of it. The law remains firm on the parameters of what testimony she can give.”

I weave my way through the crowd, satchel in hand, ignoring North, and speak directly to Wood. “I am a midwife, and the laws of Massachusetts and the District of Maine allow me to give testimony in court apart from any covering, whether it be husband or father. I do so in Joseph North’s courtroom several times a year, and he has never once objected.”

North shakes his head, lifts a hand, finger pointed for emphasis, and comes to stand before the table himself. “The laws of Massachusetts state that a midwife may give testimony in matters of paternity. It gives her no such allowance in legal hearings such as this.”

“One could argue that this is a matter of paternity,” I say.

“That is an accusation that can never be proved!”

For the first time today, Obadiah Wood appears uncertain. He looks at North. Then back to me. But he does not speak or offer comment on North’s objection. The longer the silence continues, the straighter North stands.

I tighten my grip on the satchel. “Please, Your Honor, my father died many years ago and my husband—”

“Is here!” Ephraim shouts from the back of the courtroom, right by the door. “I am here!”

It takes Ephraim a moment to reach the front. The Meeting House is so full—there is standing room only at this point—that he must squeeze between dozens of spectators to reach my side. When he does, he smells of horse, sweat, and wind, and I know that he has ridden hard to be here in time. He gives my hand one comforting squeeze.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in my ear. “I will explain later.”

Ephraim turns to the judge and smiles. He knows Obadiah Wood, but he announces himself for the benefit of those watching. “I am Ephraim Ballard, Martha’s husband, and I apologize for the delay.” He levels an unforgiving glare at North. “I was unavoidably detained.”

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Ballard,” Wood says, then motions to me. “Please, tell the court what you know of the events that happened on August tenth.”

“I called on Mistress Foster on the nineteenth of August and found her badly injured. I am a midwife. I have been attending women for over thirty years. I know the damage done by rape, and Rebecca’s injuries were some of the worst I have ever seen.”

“She is lying,” North growls.

“Is that your only defense?” Wood snaps at him. “That any woman who contradicts you is a liar? Continue, Mistress Ballard.”