Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Most babies like me. I lost three of them.”

  “I lost two myself.”

  “I am sorry for your loss. Nobody knows what that’s like, do they, except another woman?”

  “That’s right.” Jerusalem watched as Lucita cuddled Mary Aidan and said, “I want to ask a favor of you, Lucita.”

  Lucita looked up at her. “What can I do? I have nothing to offer.”

  “Well, that’s not so, and I want you to teach me how to cook.”

  “But you are already a fine cook. Everyone says so.”

  “But I need to learn how to cook Mexican food. I don’t know anything about that. Would you teach me?”

  “Sí, of course. It is not hard.”

  “Maybe you can help me cook up something tonight.”

  “I brought some of my special seasonings and many kinds of peppers that you do not have. We use many kinds to flavor our food.”

  “Good. We’ll work together, then. I will teach you how to cook Anglo, but there’s something else I want to ask.”

  “What is that?” Lucita asked “We all need to learn some Spanish. We need you and your children to help us. It’s such a beautiful language,” she said wistfully, “and I feel like an idiot not being able to speak with your people. If we’re going to live here among your people, then we have to learn Spanish.”

  “Yes, it was hard for me to learn English, but I will help you all I can, and my children will also.”

  “I am glad you decided to come with us. When we finally reach our land, we will need to know what to plant or when. It is so different here than it was in my home. You will be a great help, you and your children.”

  Jerusalem saw that Lucita was happy to have something to do. She put her hand on the woman’s arm and said, “We will make a good life for our children in this new place, and you will be a great help to us, Lucita.”

  “Gracias, usted es muy simpática,” Lucita said.

  “Well, I guess my first Spanish lesson might as well start right now. What does that mean?” Jerusalem asked.

  “It means, ‘You are very kind,’” Lucita said.

  “Come along, Mateo.” Clay pulled up his horse in front of the young boy, who was plodding along beside the wagon.

  “What for, señor?”

  “Time for you to starting pulling your share of the load. I saw you had a rifle. Was that your pa’s?”

  “Yes, señor.”

  “Go get it and bring it along.”

  Mateo went to the wagon and pulled out his father’s rifle. He had a few balls and a little powder, which he grabbed also. He walked back to Clay, who kicked his foot out of the stirrup, and said, “Climb on behind me here.”

  Mateo swung up beside Clay, and Clay stirred the bay into a fast trot. “Hang on there, Mateo. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Mateo steadied himself by holding on to Clay’s side with one hand. With the other he clung to his rifle.

  When they were about a mile from the camp, Clay stopped the horse and said, “Get down now.” Mateo came to the ground in one leap, and Clay dismounted. He tied the horse to a sapling, pulled the Hawkin free, and said, “Can you shoot?”

  “Of course I can shoot,” Mateo said stiffly. “My father taught me.”

  “Well, you had a good teacher, then. Almost as good as me.”

  “I think my pa was better.”

  Clay grinned and shook his head. “I admire a man who stands up for himself. You stay here while I go put out a target or two.”

  Clay pulled some empty cans out of the sack he had brought and walked out a ways and set them up on the top of some large rocks. When he came back, he said, “Well, let’s see what you can do.”

  “I have only a little powder.”

  “I got plenty of that. Take your shot.” He watched carefully as Mateo loaded the rifle and nodded. “I see you know how to load up fast. That will come in handy someday.”

  “Which can shall I hit, Señor Clay?”

  “The one on the right. You’d better take a rest.”

  “I do not need to, señor.” Mateo pulled the rifle up, and with an imperceptible pause, he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and the can went flying away.

  “That was a good shot! Your pa would be proud of you.”

  Mateo beamed with pride. “He wanted me to be able to shoot well.”

  “Well, let’s move back a bit and see what you’ve got.”

  The two shot all of Mateo’s powder up, but Clay had plenty. Mateo was shocked at the shots Clay made with his gun. Whatever he aimed at, he hit. “I could never shoot like that, señor. I’ve never seen anyone who could shoot like that.”

  “You’ve got the knack for it too, Mateo. You just need some practice.

  Here.” Clay handed him a full bag of powder and another bag of shot.

  “Now, I want you to practice every day.” He stood in front of the young man and said, “We’re gonna run into trouble one of these days. I’ve got to have a man who’ll fight for his family.”

  “I will fight, señor. You will see.”

  Clay nodded. “I’m right pleased. You know, you remind me of your pa. Him and me went through some tough times together, and he never let me down.”

  Mateo flushed at the praise of his father. “I will never let you down, Señor Clay!”

  “Well, that’s fine. Now, you can do me one big favor.”

  “Anything, Señor Clay.”

  “I’m a little bit worried about Brodie.” He saw the surprise wash across Mateo’s face. “You see, he ain’t like you and me. Both of us are tough, but Brodie’s a little bit shy. He needs a tough young fellow like you for a friend.”

  Mateo pulled himself up to his full height. “Sí, señor! I will help him all I can.”

  Lucita watched the friendship blossom between Brodie and Mateo and was pleased. She had learned from Mateo how Clay had taken such an interest in him and was glad, for her son needed a man to look up to.

  She was disappointed, however, in her daughter, who had always been prouder than Mateo. She watched the attempts of the Hardin youngsters to make friends with Serena and was saddened when she saw Serena continue to reject them day after day with a stolid silence. From the day her father died, she had retreated into a silent world of grief and anger.

  Lucita thought about it considerably, wondering how to help her daughter. One afternoon when they had paused to make camp, she watched Brodie as he disappeared into the nearby woods with an ax. Soon she heard the ax ringing out, and an idea came to her.

  “Serena, Brodie’s chopping firewood. Go help him bring it back.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “What do you mean you don’t want to? You’ve got to work.”

  “I’ll work, but I don’t want to be around any of them.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with you?”

  “They treat us like beggars.”

  “Don’t be foolish! They have been kind to us. Now, you do as I tell you.”

  Serena glared at her mother but saw something in her eyes that she had learned to recognize. Whenever her mother looked at her like that, Serena knew she had better obey—and soon. She tightened her lips, whirled, and walked off stiffly toward the woods. She followed the sound of the ax, and when she came to where Brodie was, she did not speak but began to gather up the pieces of dead wood that he had already chopped off from a tree.

  Brodie stopped working and turned to face her. “Going to help carry the wood?” he said. She did not answer, and he saw she was struggling to put more in her arms.

  “Let me help you with that,” he said.

  Serena turned and started away with the load she had, but she stepped into a hole and was wrenched around. Brodie reached out, saying, “Look out!” and caught her as she fell.

  The wood fell to the ground, and Serena pulled away from his grip.

  She slapped Brodie in the face with a ringing blow and cried out, “Keep your filthy hands off me!”

>   “Well, I was just—”

  “I know what you were trying to do,” Serena said, staring at him.

  “Stay away from me!” She bent over and picked up the wood and started back to camp.

  When she got back she went to her mother and said, “That Brodie, he tried to touch me.”

  “What happened?” Lucita listened until she was finished, then said, “You stepped in a hole, and he tried to help you. That’s what happened.”

  “I hate him! I hate them all!” Serena spit out.

  Lucita stared at her daughter, and her hand moved quickly. She slapped Serena across the face, and her voice was low and filled with frustration. “You’re a worse fool than I thought! You know what that makes me? The mother of the fool. Now, get out of my sight!”

  Serena could not believe what had happened. Her mother had never put a hand on her since she had been a little girl. She put her hand up to her face and stared at her mother. Then she whirled and ran away.

  For the rest of the day, Serena avoided her mother and everyone else.

  She saw her mother teaching Jerusalem how to make tortillas, and the two women were laughing. She also noticed that Mateo and Brodie were playing some sort of card game with the professor and Clay, and they were having a wonderful time. When her mother called her to come and join the others to eat, she turned and climbed into the wagon to settle down for the night. When her mother came to lie down beside her later, she finally whispered, “I’m sorry, Mamá.”

  Lucita rolled over and embraced her. “It’s all right. And I’m sorry for slapping you. You’ve just got to be more understanding of people—especially these people. They want to be kind to us. And we must be grateful for all they have done. It is what your papá would want. Now you think about that and pray about it.”

  “Sí, mamá. Te quiero mucho,” Serena said.

  “I love you too,” Lucita said then pulled a blanket over her.

  Serena had trouble going to sleep, but before she did, she made a decision in her heart and looked forward to the morning.

  “You’re not very good at that.”

  Brodie looked up, surprised to find that Serena had approached and was looking down at him critically as he was milking the goat. After what had happened yesterday, he was sure she would ignore him for the rest of the trip. They were approximately the same age, but where he was still lean and gawky and awkward, she had begun to blossom into an attractive young woman. She confused him, and he said, “I never claimed to be a great milker.”

  “Let me do it.”

  Brodie was shocked when she came over and touched his shoulder. He got up, and she sat down on the stool and began to milk the goat with ease, squirting continuous streams of warm milk into the pail. At one point, she turned and smiled at him. He stood off to one side and watched her with admiration. “You sure do it good.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice.”

  When the pail was full, she got up with it in her hand and turned to him. He looked into her eyes and wondered at the color and the shape of them.

  “My mother says I’m a fool.”

  “Why in the world would she say that?”

  “I told her what happened, and how I slapped you. Well, she called me a fool and slapped my face.”

  “Why, she shouldn’t have done that.”

  “She hasn’t struck me since I was a little girl. But she says I was wrong. I’m sorry,” she said abruptly.

  “Why, it didn’t hurt.”

  Serena handed him the pail, and he took it. She looked at him intently and said, “I’ve had boys trying to touch me for a long time now, and men too. I thought you were like them, but my mother says I was wrong.”

  “Touch you! Why, I never touched a girl in my whole life!” Brodie exclaimed.

  Suddenly Serena laughed. Her eyes sparkled and she said, “Don’t you like girls?”

  “Well . . . I don’t understand them. They make fun of me.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Oh, I’m tall and skinny and gawky, and I don’t know how to talk to them.”

  “You’re talking to me.”

  Brodie smiled. “Well, I guess I am!”

  “I’m sorry I hit you, Brodie.”

  “Why, that’s all right,” Brodie said as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Nothing, I don’t guess.”

  “Tell me about the place we’re going to.”

  “Well, shoot, Serena, you know as much as I do.”

  “I don’t understand about your father. Where is he?” Serena stood there listening while Brodie lamely tried to explain his father’s absence all these years.

  “So, we ain’t seen much of him, you see. . .”

  “No, I don’t see. Why does he go off and leave your mother? She’s so beautiful. And all of you kids. I don’t understand it.”

  “Well, I don’t rightly know.” Then for the first time Brodie expressed the worry he’d had ever since his mother had announced they were leaving to find his father. “What’ll we do if Pa won’t promise to stay home?

  I’m afraid Ma will leave him.”

  “She should leave him if he won’t stay with her.”

  “Oh no, a woman’s not supposed to leave her husband!”

  Serena smiled, and there was a wisdom in her beyond her years. “Men should be faithful.”

  “I guess so.”

  Suddenly, Serena said something in Spanish, and Brodie said, “What does that mean?”

  “I won’t tell you now. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  Twenty feet away Serena’s mother was watching them. She heard her daughter laugh and saw Brodie smile and felt a relief. “Maybe it will be all right,” she whispered. “Maybe it will.”

  On September the fourteenth, Clay waved over toward a settlement with some scattered houses and said, “That should be part of the Austin colony.” Jerusalem and Julie were sitting in the seat of the wagon with him, when Clay pulled the mules up and said to a young Mexican boy, “You know where Señor Hardin lives?”

  The boy evidently could not speak much English, but he nodded and pointed to a dilapidated house a ways off the road. “Sí, Señor Hardin.”

  “He lives there?”

  “Sí, Señor Hardin there,” the boy said, nodding.

  Jerusalem felt herself grow tense as she looked at the run-down house. “Oh no, Jake,” she sighed.

  Julie felt her sister’s tension and saw the look of disappointment on her face. She turned to face her and said, “Are you sure you want to find Jake?”

  “I’ve got to find him, Julie. I can’t go on living like we have been.”

  Julie hesitated, then put her arm around Jerusalem. “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed, but you’ve got to do it.” She looked over and said, “Well, what are you waiting for, Clay?”

  “Nothin’,” Clay said. He had also felt Jerusalem’s uncertainty, the first he had ever seen in her. He looked at the house and shook his head. “Well, here we come, Jake. It doesn’t look like you’ve done too good.” He slapped the mules and said, “Git up!” And they moved obediently forward.

  PART THREE:

  ROOTS

  September 1831

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  As Brodie pulled the team of mules to a halt, he felt his stomach tightening with fear. Ever since his mother had announced that they were leaving to find his pa, he had been thinking about what they would find when they finally got there. Now, bracing his foot against the floor, he stared out at the small ramshackle house. It was built primarily of logs, but an additional room had been added on with old warped boards. A small garden was off to the right of the house, and an Indian woman and two young people were pulling beans. As the rest of the caravan of wagons drew up, the three of them looked up and stared at the newcomers. A sense of doom seemed to settle on Brodie like an ominous cloud. He glanced qu
ickly toward the lead wagon, where his mother sat with Julie, and saw her watching the woman carefully.

  “I’m looking for Jake Hardin,” Jerusalem said.

  His mother’s voice was not overly loud as she spoke, but Brodie knew her well enough to see that she was tense.

  The woman came out of the bean patch before answering. She was pure Indian with dark brown eyes and black hair tied into twin braids down her back. She wore a deerskin dress with moccasins. “This is his home. Why are you seeking him?”

  Jerusalem handed Mary Aidan to Julie and jumped down to the ground. She approached the woman until she was directly opposite her and said, “I’m his wife—one of them at least.”

  Her eyes went to the young girl and the boy who had come and stood a few feet behind their mother. They were obviously not full-blooded Indians, and Jerusalem said evenly, “I guess we’ve got something in common. I can see Jake in your children.”

  At that moment Jake came out of the house. He was wearing a pair of dirty brown trousers, and the top of his long underwear had holes and was dirty as well. He was barefoot, and his eyes were bleary. The sight of the four wagons drawn up in his front yard took away Jake’s power of speech.

  He was a big man, six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, and his brown hair was uncut and hung down in his eyes. For a moment he stared at Jerusalem and blinked wildly. Finally, he started to speak and then coughed.

  “What the devil are—”

  “Good morning, Jake,” Jerusalem said evenly. “You seem to be in good health.”

  Jake licked his lips and shook his head as if to clear it. “Jerusalem, what . . . what are you doing here?” He looked wildly at the wagons, and when he saw his other children, he started to get angry. “What are you doing dragging these children all the way across the country?”

  Jerusalem did not move for a moment, and the awkward silence between them grew. Then she turned around and staunchly walked to the wagon and lifted up her arms. Taking Mary Aidan from Julie, she walked back and said, “I thought it was about time you met your daughter, Jake.

  This is Mary Aidan. You weren’t there to name her, so I picked the name I liked.” Jake stared at the baby, and his lips moved, but he could not form a single sentence. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your family—your other family that is?”