Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “He will. He’s going to be a strong man.”

  Julie suddenly turned and said, “I’m leaving, Jerusalem, but I’m glad you sent Clay to get me.”

  “It gave Ma what she wanted. I’m glad you came.”

  “I’ll be goin’ pretty soon.”

  Jerusalem said, “You wait here, Julie. I got somethin’ to show you.” She moved into the house, and when she returned, she had a folded newspaper in her hand. “I picked this up yesterday in town.”

  Julie took the paper and saw that a small article had been circled. She read it quickly.

  The search is on for a young woman who shot, perhaps fatally, the son of the Attorney General of Missouri. The shooting took place in Fort Smith, Arkansas, and authorities are seeking a young woman named Marie Jones. She is twenty-five years old with red hair and green eyes. Contact the Attorney General’s Office in Missouri. A three thousand dollar reward is offered for information leading to her capture.

  Julie read the article, then looked up. “I’ve got to get away from here.”

  “I expect you’re right. This is too close to Fort Smith. How come they call you by that name?”

  “I didn’t want to use my real name.” Julie turned and said, “I didn’t want to shame our family.”

  “Did anybody there know your real name?”

  “No, I don’t reckon so.”

  Jerusalem said, “You stay here. I’ve been thinkin’ about something.”

  She got up and said, “I need to pray about it a little bit more.”

  “You sound like Ma,” Julie said. “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Julie never asked Jerusalem what she was thinking, but after five days she found out.

  Jerusalem waited until everyone had come in to eat supper, and after the meal she looked at them and said, “I’ve got something important to tell you.” Everyone’s eyes went to her, and she said, “We’re leavin’ this place.” A silence fell on the group, and Jerusalem spoke with determination. Her eyes went to Clay. “I want you to take us to where Jake is, Clay. It’s the last favor I’ll ask. Take us to Wyoming.”

  Everyone stared at Jerusalem, and it was Clay who burst out, “Why, you can’t do that, Jerusalem. You don’t have no idea how much trouble it is to get to the mountains.”

  “I’ve already sold this place—at least I’ve made an agreement. Papers will be signed next week. I’ve been without my husband long enough. We’re goin’ to find your pa, children, and we’re goin’ to live with him.”

  Julie spoke up, “You don’t have to do this for my sake. I’ll get by.”

  “You can’t stay here. You’ve got to get away, and I reckon there won’t be no sheriff goin’ out to the mountains,” Jerusalem said firmly. “Besides, I’m tired of bein’ half a wife. If Jake don’t want me, all he’s got to do is say so.”

  His mother’s statement shocked Clinton, who said loudly, “But, Ma, the Bible says a man and a wife are one flesh. That’s what it says. You can’t go against the Bible.”

  “I’m not, but your pa may be, Clinton.”

  For the next ten minutes Jerusalem stood there answering all their questions, and finally she said stubbornly, “It’s all settled. We’re going. Clay, will you take us?”

  Clay cleared his throat, and Jerusalem stared at him. “What’s wrong with you, Clay? You’re the worst man at hidin’ his feelin’s I ever saw. I hope you don’t play poker with that kind of face.”

  “Well, the truth is, Jerusalem, Jake ain’t exactly in the mountains where you think.”

  “Not exactly there? What does exactly mean?”

  Clay’s expression was harried. “Well, just before I left, Jake told me he had decided to open a new business. Him and me heard from an old partner of ours named Gordon Lebonne. Gordon said a fellow called Stephen Austin got a big land grant from the Mexican government down in Texas territory. Told us to come on down. Said he had the land we’d need for nearly nothing. Well, Jake said he was goin’ to Texas and start himself a big ranch. I didn’t listen too good to the details, but he said as soon as his leg was fit to travel, he was goin’ there and findin’ Gordon.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Jerusalem asked.

  Everyone at the table saw that Clay was embarrassed.

  “He told you not to tell me, didn’t he?” she said, shaking her head.

  “I reckon he didn’t want to worry you until it was all settled.”

  “All right. Clay, there’s more to this than you’re sayin’, but we’ve all got our secrets.” Jerusalem drew herself up. “I’m going to Texas with these children and with Julie.”

  “Jerusalem,” Clay said with some agitation, “you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You don’t have no idea how hard that trail is. Lots of folks get killed on the road to Texas. You’ll get some of your family killed on a crazy trip like this.”

  “That’s my problem and not yours, Clay.”

  “Well, I won’t do it! It don’t make no sense.”

  “All right, you can leave then, Clay, with thanks for all you’ve done.”

  Everyone held their breath, and Clay’s face grew red. “All right,” he blurted out. “Good-bye!” He jumped up and walked out.

  Brodie at once said, “Ma, you don’t want to run him off like that.”

  “I’m tired of tryin’ to make men do what they ought to do. We’re going to Texas, and we can do it without Clay Taliferro!”

  The next week was a flurry of activity. The papers were to be signed on Friday, and every day there were plenty of preparations to be done. Brodie tried hard to persuade his mother to let him go beg Clay to come along, but she said firmly, “You can’t make a man do what he don’t want to do, Brodie.”

  On Wednesday Brodie went to town to buy supplies for the long trip. When he finished that task, he knew he had to make one more try. He walked down the street to the saloon where Clay was prone to celebrate and found him seated at a table with a half-empty bottle of whiskey before him. “Hello, Clay.”

  When Clay looked up, his eyes were blurry and red. “What’cha doin’ here, boy?”

  “I got to talk to you, Clay.”

  “Go on and talk—but it won’t do you no good.”

  Brodie sat down nervously on the chair and tried to think of how to put the matter. Finally he said, “Clay, please go with us to Texas. I’m afraid Ma will get hurt—or Moriah or Clinton.”

  “It’s a fool thing your ma is thinkin’ of doin’, and I won’t have no part of it. You’re right about one thing, though. Somebody’s goin’ to get killed. All you have to do is meet a couple of Comanches, and all of you will get killed.”

  This was a different Clay Taliferro from the one Brodie knew. He was unshaven, and his speech wasn’t clear. He drank steadily but nothing changed. No matter what Brodie said, he stubbornly shook his head.

  “Get out of here, boy. I don’t want to talk to you no more. You and that crazy Hardin bunch will be massacred. Now git!”

  “All right, Clay. I guess this is good-bye, then.”

  “Good-bye, and don’t pester me no more!” he said as he tried to pour more whiskey into his glass and missed.

  Brodie was silent for the rest of the day, speaking only when spoken to. Later that night, Jerusalem came to him and said quietly, “What’s eatin’ on you, son?”

  “I went to talk to Clay today when I went for supplies.”

  “Didn’t do any good, did it?”

  “No. He said we’re all gonna get killed gettin’ to Texas.”

  “We might be, but we’re gonna find your pa, and we got to get your aunt Julie out of here. Besides, I’m sick of this place.”

  Brodie was shocked. This was the only home he had ever known. “But, Ma, this is our home!”

  “It’s a place where your pa decided he wasn’t as married to me as I was to him. The only thing I’ll hate leavin’ is my two boys out in that cemetery. Now, Brodie, you’ve got to be
the man. You understand me?”

  “But, Ma, I ain’t able.”

  “You’ve got to be able, son. Maybe we can hire a guide, but you’re the man of the family now.”

  Brodie swallowed hard. “I’ll try, Ma. I’ll try real hard.”

  The wagons were all loaded, and the sun was just peeping over the hills. Jerusalem had fixed the last breakfast in the house, washed the dishes, and had cleaned the house out for the new owner, who would move in later in the day.

  They all left the house, and Jerusalem looked over the downcast faces of her children. “You’re a sad-lookin’ bunch,” she said. “I’ve seen more cheerful faces at funerals.”

  “Ma, do we have to go?” Moriah whined.

  “Yes, we have to go. We’re gonna find your pa, and that’s all there is to it.”

  Brodie spoke up. “Well, I guess we’d better go, then.” He tried to speak with authority, but his voice was unsteady. Fear had been with him ever since his mother had told him that he was the man now. He knew he was unfit for such a thing, and now he swallowed hard and tried to smile. “It’s gonna be a good day.”

  “Look, there comes Clay!” Moriah cried out.

  Everyone turned to see Clay riding up on his bay. He was wearing his buckskins and leading his second horse loaded down with gear. He was dirty, unkempt, and when he pulled his horse up, he ignored them all except Jerusalem.

  Brodie watched as the two stared at each other. Neither of them spoke, and finally Clay said, “Howdy, Jerusalem. You ready to go to Texas?”

  Jerusalem Ann Hardin smiled then, a free and easy and happy smile, and for some reason she began laughing deep down in her throat. Then he heard Julie laughing the same kind of laugh. The two women looked so much alike! Jerusalem was older and showed more signs of wear but was still a strong woman.

  Brodie watched as Clay slipped off his horse and, going to the other animal, pulled out one of the Hawkin rifles. He came over to Brodie and held it out. “Here, this is yours, Brodie. Try not to shoot me, will ya? It’d be just my luck.”

  Brodie’s throat grew thick. “You mean it’s actually mine?”

  “Yep, it’s yours.”

  Julie walked over and stood before Clay. She was almost as tall as he was, and now she grabbed his buckskin shirt. “Well,” she said, “maybe I oughta give you a second chance, Clay. Somethin’ I ain’t never given to any other man.” She loosed her grip on his shirt, locked her hands behind his head, and pulled him forward. She kissed him and hung on, and Clay held on to her in return.

  Jerusalem watched them with a peculiar light in her eyes and a tight line around her lips. Then when Julie stepped back, Jerusalem said, “Well, if all that lovin’ is out of the way, we’re ready.” She came over and put her hand on Clay’s cheek. Everyone grew quiet, and then she said, “Take us to Texas, Clay.”

  PART TWO:

  EL CAMINO

  REAL

  July—September 1831

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  The two heavily loaded wagons rumbled along a narrow, winding road that wound through the dense first-growth timber. The trees stood in disorganized ranks like a regiment at ease, casting their afternoon shadows in long lines across the road. For the most part, they blocked the sunlight so that tattered shadows fell upon the faces of both Jerusalem and Julie as they sat on the seat of the second wagon. Julie had balanced Mary Aidan on her knees, but she began to whimper and cry. As always, she thrashed around wildly, slapping her arms up and down and kicking her feet.

  “Here, you take the lines and let me have her, Julie,” Jerusalem said. “She’s hungry.”

  Julie shook her head. “She’s a wild one when she gets that way.” Handing the baby over, she took the lines and lifted her head toward the sky and tried to gauge the time. “These mules are pretty tired,” she remarked, glancing over to watch the baby as she nursed. “It’s a good thing Clay made you buy better stock than those you had.”

  “He didn’t make me do anything,” Jerusalem said curtly.

  “It sure looked like it.” Julie grinned as she remembered the enormous argument her sister and Clay had over buying new mules.

  Jerusalem had piled the two wagons high with furniture, tools, food, clothing—everything they would hold. When Clay saw them, he had told her bluntly, “Two mules apiece couldn’t haul everything you’ve got in them wagons, Jerusalem. We’ll have to buy us a couple of extra ones.”

  Jerusalem had put up a stiff fight, but Clay had dug in his heels and refused to have anything to do with the trip without buying more mules.

  “We wouldn’t get five miles out of town before they’d quit on us. We really need to buy at least six more.”

  Julie and the whole family had witnessed the clash of wills, and at one point it seemed likely that Clay would simply walk away. Julie had whispered to Jerusalem, “You’d better not get his back up this time. He’ll walk off and leave us, and then what will we do?”

  “No, he won’t, Julie,” Jerusalem had said with an odd look on her face. “He won’t be going anywhere except with us.”

  In the end the two had compromised, and Clay had gone into town to buy six fine new mules.

  “Why’d you make such a fuss about buyin’ a few mules? You got plenty of money since you sold the place. How much did you get for it?”

  “None of your business, Julie, but we’ll need every penny of it. I’m not coming back here anytime soon, and I’m takin’ all my things with me.”

  The wagon rumbled on, and for a time the two women were silent.

  Finally, Jerusalem handed the baby back and said, “Here, let me drive these mules now.” She took the lines and hesitated, then said, “I know everybody thinks I’m stingy, Julie. We got a good price for the place, mostly because of what Clay did to put it in shape, but I’ve got to have enough money to buy another place when we get there.”

  Julie looked at her sister and raised one eyebrow. “But Jake’s already bought a place. Isn’t that what Clay told you?”

  “Maybe so, but—” She didn’t finish the sentence, and finally she shook her head. “Jake’s given me reason to look out for myself. He hasn’t shown much evidence of being any good at that.”

  Julie did not answer, but she nodded her head imperceptibly. “That’s a good idea you’ve got there. You hang on to it.” She held the baby on her lap and toyed with Mary Aidan’s hair, pushing her rosy cheeks in. They rode on for a while in comfortable silence, then Julie spoke up. “You know, when Clay sprung me from that jail that first night out I tried to pay him for his trouble.”

  “Pay him? You offered him money?”

  “I didn’t have any money, Jerusalem.” She laughed deep in her throat, then said, “I offered him somethin’ worth more than money.” She looked over expecting an argument from Jerusalem, but her sister did not respond. “He turned me down. First time that ever happened.” She waited for Jerusalem to comment, and when she did not, she went on, “He said he was doin’ it for you.”

  Jerusalem then turned and looked directly at her. “Leave him be, Julie.”

  “Why should I? Do you want him?”

  “Don’t be foolish! I’ve already got a husband.”

  “No, you ain’t. You’ve got a man who don’t care one whit for you. Jake ran off and left you every chance he got. You can call him husband if you want to, but I’d say take what you can get.”

  Jerusalem did not respond to her criticism, saying instead, “Look, Clay’s stoppin’ up ahead. It seems like we’re makin’ camp early.”

  Clay had pulled off in a small clearing sheltered by tall walnut trees. Jerusalem pulled her team in behind the lead wagon, then got down stiffly and stretched her sore muscles. She reached up to Julie, saying, “Let me have Mary Aidan.” She took the infant, then walked over to where Clay was standing beside Brodie. “Why are we stopping so early?”

  “Because it’s time to stop,” Clay said stiffly. He was obviously still a bit put out with Jerusalem ov
er their altercation about the mules. He turned to the boys and said, “You boys take that firewood we brung. I want an early supper tonight before it gets dark.”

  Jerusalem watched Clay steadily but made no answer. She walked over and handed the baby to Moriah. “You change her diaper. I’ll get the makin’s for supper. Clinton, you milk the goat.”

  “Come on, get your rifle, Brodie,” Clay said. “We’ll see if we can bring somethin’ down before dark for supper.”

  The two left, and Jerusalem began organizing the meal, getting out the pots and pans from the side box on the wagon while Julie started the fire. Moriah changed the baby and laid her down on a blanket, then went over to help Julie fix the fire. She glanced curiously at Jerusalem and said, “What’s Ma so mad about?”

  “I teased her and it made her mad.”

  “Teased her about what?”

  “About men. What else would a woman tease about?”

  “Are you a bad woman, Aunt Julie?” Moriah asked.

  “You bet!”

  Moriah looked up at Julie, who had turned to face her, and said, “I don’t care. I like you a lot anyway.”

  Julie suddenly reached forward and hugged her niece. “I’m a bad one, but I want you to be a good one. All right?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”

  Brodie took aim, held the gun as steady as he could, and pulled the trigger. The recoil slammed against his shoulder, and he peered through the black smoke, saying, “Did I hit it, Clay?”

  “Close enough, boy. If it was a man, you would have got him. Now, let’s see you load her up again.”

  Brodie began the process of reloading the Hawkin. He was glad he was so tall, for it meant setting the butt of the long rifle on the ground and inserting powder, shot, and a wad down the muzzle, then pounding them down with a ramrod. He shoved the ramrod back in place, slipped his hand in his pocket, and inserted the percussion cap. “I got her ready!” he said.

  “You’re pretty fast. That’s good,” Clay said. His humor had improved, and he watched as Brodie sent several more shots against the blaze he had made on a target a hundred yards away. “The trouble with these rifle guns is you only get one shot. If there’s a Comanche runnin’ at you and you miss him, you ain’t got time to reload before he gets to you. I wish somebody would invent a rifle that’d shoot a hundred times.”