Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  It’ll be fun. We can dance and everything.”

  “Dance! I can’t dance.”

  “It’s easy. We’ll probably do a fandango. I’ll show you how.”

  As they approached San Antonio, Clay remarked, “Never saw so many people in town. Might have trouble findin’ a place to park this rig.”

  They drove past the San Antonio River, formed by a number of springs several miles above the town, as it wound its way through the flatland surrounding the settlement. Usually, at this time of the day, lots of people flocked along the river to wash clothes and bathe and fish.

  San Antonio itself was laid off in streets crossing each other at right angles. In the center of the town, about midway, was an oblong space where the church and public buildings dominated the scene. Clay pulled the wagon up at a plaza and got out, handing Lucita down. He looked at her and smiled. “Why, you look pretty as a pair of red shoes with green strings, Lucita.”

  Flushing, Lucita dropped her eyes. “Thank you, Clay,” she said. “I haven’t been anywhere to dress up for in a long time.”

  “Well, looks like everybody’s dressed up and ready for the frolic to begin.” Clay turned and said, “Well, I’ll be. Look who’s coming. It’s Rhys and Jerusalem—and Moriah too. Let’s go say hello.” They walked over to where Rhys was helping Jerusalem and the baby out of the wagon, and Clay said, “Glad you changed your mind, Jerusalem.”

  Jerusalem gave Clay an odd look. “It’s Rhys’s fault. He can charm the birds out of the trees and make a woman do anything.”

  “Oh, come now, Jerusalem!” Rhys protested. “I was only joking.”

  Moriah walked up to Clay and pulled on his arm. “You’ve got to dance with me, Clay.”

  “Sure I will, Moriah! Why, the day I turn down an offer to dance from a good-lookin’ woman will be the day they put me six feet under the posies!”

  Indeed, the event turned out to be quite a celebration. The settlers who had come and staked out homesteads worked hard from dawn to dusk every day. But when it came to having a fiesta, as Lucita called it, they knew how to let down and have a grand time. Clay and Lucita, accompanied by Serena and Brodie, enjoyed all the food and participated in some of the games being held. There were horse races and shooting matches, and the highlight was a speech by Sam Houston. He was a tall man with penetrating eyes and had a way of carrying a crowd with him.

  As Clay listened, he leaned over and whispered to Lucita, “That fellow’s dangerous.”

  “What do you mean dangerous, Señor Clay?”

  “I mean he could talk a man into doin’ things that could get him into trouble. I’ve seen a few of those fellas before. Jim Bowie’s one of them. Have to be careful, or I’ll find myself volunteering for some foolish thing.”

  Later in the afternoon Clay excused himself, saying, “Brodie, you look out for these ladies. I’m gonna take me a little break.”

  “I know what you’re going to do,” Serena said. “You’re going to a saloon.”

  “That’s a bad habit you got there, Serena,” Clay said sternly. “Mind-in’ a man’s business. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Clay had seen Jim Bowie go into a saloon, accompanied by Houston, and he wanted to know more about this big man who had already made his mark in the world. Clay knew about Houston’s political career in Tennessee, where he had been governor, and wondered why the man had come to Texas. He had heard he had filed for divorce from his young wife, which puzzled everyone.

  Entering the saloon, Clay saw a small group of men sitting at a table off to the side. Jim Bowie was one of them.

  Bowie looked up, and seeing Clay, he said, “Clay, come over and have yourself a seat. I want you to meet some folks.”

  Clay walked over and was introduced to William Travis. He knew Travis was a lawyer and land speculator. Travis was a tall, pleasant-looking man, handsome, with reddish hair and a direct gaze.

  “This here’s Deaf Smith. Best scout in all of Texas,” Jim Bowie said.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Smith said. He spoke in a strange off-key voice and cupped his ear as Clay spoke. “Can’t hear thunder. Have to excuse me.”

  “He can’t hear much, but he’s a-thunderin’ good scout,” Bowie said.

  “And this is Mr. Samuel Houston. Sam, here’s one of your fellow Tennesseans. The Comanches call him the White Ghost.”

  “Are you indeed, sir!” Houston said as he got up and extended his hand.

  When Clay took it, he found his hand almost crushed by the man’s strong grasp. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Houston.”

  “And you, too, sir. Sit down and join the conversation.” He winked at Bowie, saying, “We’ve got to have young fellows like you if Texas is ever going to make it.”

  “Well . . .” Bowie grinned. He touched the scar on his neck. “He nearly eliminated me from that process. And I left my mark on him too.”

  “A knife fight?” Houston said.

  “I think we used everything—knives, fists, feet, thumbs.”

  “What was you fightin’ over?” Deaf Smith inquired curiously.

  “I forget,” Bowie said. “Do you remember, Clay?”

  “Done faded from my memory completely.”

  “Clay here’s the best shot I ever saw, pistol or rifle,” Bowie said.

  “Better sign him up if you ever lead an army, Sam.”

  Houston suddenly grew sober. “That may come sooner than you think, gentlemen.”

  “Have you heard from Steve Austin?” Bowie asked.

  “He’s still in that jail in Mexico City. That’s enough to fight a war over right there. They had no right to grab a citizen and stick him in jail with no charges filed. That’s the way it is with those loyal to Santa Anna,” Houston said.

  “What’s happenin’ in the government?”

  “Santa Anna took over in April, and he’s made himself a dictator. I said all along he was the man we had to watch. He’s slicker than goose grease, men. He’s changed sides so many times nobody knew where he stood, but we know now.”

  “You think it’ll actually come to a fight, Mr. Houston?” Clay asked.

  “Bound to, but the problem is, we don’t have an army,” Houston said, shaking his head.

  “Oh, come on, Sam,” William Travis said. “A few years ago we didn’t have ten thousand citizens here. Now we got over thirty thousand. Most of those men have rifles, and they know how to use ’em.”

  “That’s right,” Bowie nodded. “We got enough men to make a good-sized army.”

  “But there’s no order to them,” Houston said. “If a fight comes, it’ll be against the army Santa Anna’s raising, and he’ll have trained, disciplined troops.”

  “They can be kilt,” Deaf Smith said, “same as anybody else.”

  “Deaf, you ought to know better than that. Sooner or later the trainin’ tells. They already have an edge over us. That’s why I’d like to see Texas have more than just a militia. We need to have men who’ve had some training and can follow orders from a leader.”

  “If we did anything like that,” Bowie said, idly fingering the drink before him, “Santa Anna would come charging in. Just the idea of an American army could touch off a war.”

  “You’re right, Jim, but that’s exactly what we’ve got to have,” Houston insisted.

  Clay sat listening for a time, very much impressed with Houston and his ideas. After seeing what a small war party of Comanches could do, he didn’t even want to think of a trained army of thousands to fight against.

  Houston had a unique ability to state his views in such a way that men were drawn to him and wanted to do what he asked. Travis, he noted, had some of the same strength of personality as Houston. Travis was already known as an impulsive firebrand and had almost touched off a war once when he challenged Mexican authority. That had passed, but he had become a marked man among the leaders of Texas.

  Finally, Clay rose and left the group. Jim Bowie followed him out, saying, “Clay, we’ll need f
ellows like you when the trouble comes around here.

  Can I count on you?”

  “I don’t know whether I’ll even be here.”

  “Why, Clay, I thought you’d come for good, takin’ up land and all with a family.”

  Clay could make no answer without revealing the true situation between him and Julie. “If I’m here, Jim, you know I’ll stand with you.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Bowie clapped Clay on the shoulder and winked. “Watch out for yourself. The señoritas are out tonight.”

  Clay almost said something in the same vein, but he saw the sadness that hung on Bowie like a garment. He’s still grieving over his wife and family, Clay thought. “I’ll see you later, Jim. Don’t be a stranger.”

  The largest building in town had been cleared of all furniture except for a few tables along the edge where refreshments were being served. The crowd was composed of equal numbers of Mexicans and Texans. Most of the men wore broad-brimmed hats, a reddish or white color, with the band ornamented with silver or gold beads. They wore calico shirts, wide trousers with fancy-colored sashes, and jackets thrown about the shoulders. The women wore their brightest dresses, adding a dash of color to the affair. As Brodie stood beside Serena, he felt awkward and out of place. Serena was dancing, and although she had tried to get him on the floor, he had stubbornly refused, saying, “I’d make a fool out of myself and step all over you.”

  Brodie stood at the side of the dance floor, watching Serena as she danced with a tall man. Soon he found himself getting angry. He did not know the tall man, but he knew she had danced with him three times in a row.

  Finally, he could stand it no longer and made his way across the dance floor. When he got to the couple, he said, “I’m ready to dance now, Serena.”

  Serena looked at him startled, and the man turned and stared at him with displeasure. “Son, that’s no way to act. Go back and wait your turn.”

  “I’ve waited, and now I’m telling you that I’m dancing with Miss Serena.”

  “Brodie,” Serena said, her face showing displeasure, “I’ll dance with you later.”

  Brodie was a gentle young man as a rule, but he had looked forward to being with Serena for weeks, and now it was all going wrong. He had never started a fight in his life, but the sight of the well-dressed, middle-aged man who had such assurance that he himself lacked made him angry.

  “I’m dancing with Serena, and you can go scratch for it,” Brodie said rashly.

  “On your way, son,” the man said impatiently, then turned to Serena and took her hand to start the next dance.

  Brodie, goaded beyond his measure, reached out, took the man’s arm, and whirled him around. “Take your hands off her and don’t turn away from me when I’m talking to you.”

  “What’s the trouble here, Brodie?”

  Brodie turned to see Clay standing beside him. “This fellow, he’s—” Brodie was so angry and embarrassed that he could not speak.

  Clay looked at the man and said, “Well, Mr. Travis, we meet again.”

  “Hello, Clay. We’re having us a little disagreement here.”

  “Mr. Travis was just dancing with me, and Brodie objected,” Serena said. “Brodie, you need to go outside and cool off.”

  Brodie felt his face flush red at Serena’s rebuke. “All right,” he said. “I will.” He turned and shoved his way through the dancers.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Travis said. “I expect the young man’s a little jealous. I can’t blame him with such a fine young lady.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t mind if I finished this dance,” Clay said in an offhanded manner.

  William Travis did not like to be challenged. He stared at Clay for one moment and seemed inclined to argue. But then he laughed. “Why, of course. Be my guest.”

  “Thanks.” Clay took Serena’s hand and said, “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  Serena was upset. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

  “Well, Brodie’s mighty fond of you, Serena, and he’s awkward. When I was his age, I didn’t know my right hand from my left where girls were concerned. Just be patient with him. He’s a good young man.”

  “All right, Clay. I’ll try.”

  Jerusalem had watched the scene from the side of the dance floor and went to intercept Brodie as he was leaving. She understood what had happened but didn’t speak of it. “Would you dance with an old lady, Brodie?”

  “Ma, I can’t dance.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll teach you.”

  Brodie dropped his head. “I made a fool out of myself, Ma. Serena wasn’t doing anything wrong, and I just butted in.”

  “Well, it’ll turn out all right. Come along. I’ll give you a dancing lesson.”

  Clay pulled the team up to Lucita’s house and sat in the wagon seat for a moment. Mateo had taken Serena home an hour before they themselves had left. As they sat there on the wagon seat, Clay said, “Mighty fine dance. Good to be foolish once in a while.”

  “I guess it wasn’t too foolish, Clay,” Lucita said.

  “I reckon not.” Clay sat holding the lines as the two spoke of the day’s activities and the dance. Neither of them mentioned the problem that had come up between Brodie and Serena, but they were both aware of it.

  “I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you,” Clay said. “I’d like to take a bunch of cattle, some of ours and some of yours, to Shreveport to sell. We could use some hard money right about now.”

  “You’d take Mateo?” Lucita asked.

  “Yes, maybe Brodie, too, although I’d rather leave him at the house with his ma.”

  “I will go with you, Clay,” Lucita offered.

  Clay turned with surprise. “Why, Lucita, you can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can. You’ll need somebody to cook for you on the way. Besides, I’d like to make the trip. It would be something different.”

  “Well, I’d sure rather eat your cookin’ as mine. But what will you do with Serena?”

  “She might like to go over and stay with your people. Maybe she could stay at your house for a while.”

  “Well, Brodie wouldn’t be agitatin’ to go with us if Serena was there.” He grinned.

  Lucita was silent for a time, and then she said, “Clay, do you think you will ever marry?”

  “Me, marry?” Clay shoved his hat back on his head and gave her a wry grin. “I’ve kind of got sort of a wife in Julie.”

  “She is no wife to you,” Lucita said, and her meaning was not lost on Clay.

  Clay blinked with surprise. “Well . . . er . . . Lucita—”

  “I know you get lonely for a real wife.”

  Clay did not know what to say. He thought of Lucita as Gordon’s wife, even though the man was dead. He avoided the issue, saying, “I don’t reckon I’ll ever marry. It’d take a heroic sort of woman to live with me.”

  “No, I do not think so.” Lucita then moved, and Clay hurried to help her down from the wagon. As he took her hand, she held it for a moment and smiled up at him. “Thank you for taking me.”

  “Well, we’ll do it again sometime.”

  “Maybe there will be a celebration in Shreveport when we get there with the cattle.”

  “If there ain’t, we’ll make one. Good night, Lucita.”

  Lucita watched as Clay got back in the wagon and drove away. She did not move for a long time, but finally she smiled secretly, turned, and went into the house.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Brodie stepped forward and took Julie’s hand, helping her down from the buggy she had driven up to the front door. He was beaming as he said, “Why, Aunt Julie, you look pretty!”

  “Why, thank you, Brodie. And you look downright handsome. My, you’re growing up so fast.” Julie stood in front of Brodie, reached up, and put her hand on his shoulder. “Why, you’re taller than your pa now, I’d bet.”

  “A little bit. I’ll put your mare up for you.”

  “I’ll proba
bly stay all night if your ma will have me.”

  Brodie’s face changed, and he said, “Well, Ma’s a little bit touchy right now.”

  “What about?”

  “I don’t know. She just ain’t herself lately.” His face brightened, and he said, “Serena’s comin’ to stay for a while with us while her ma’s gone.”

  “Oh, where’s Lucita going?” Julie asked.

  “Clay and Mateo are taking a bunch of longhorns to Shreveport to sell. Lucita’s going along to do the cookin’. I thought it’d make Ma happy, but she didn’t seem to like the idea too much.”

  Julie chewed her lower lip thoughtfully and then said, “Well, you won’t have any competition here with Serena.”

  “You’re talkin’ about how I made a fool of myself in town at the dance. Well, I plumb did it. I just don’t know how to act around girls, Aunt Julie.”

  Julie reached up and put her hand on Brodie’s cheek. “A young fellow has a certain amount of foolishness, and it’s got to get out. I’ll tell you what. Later on after supper, you can take me down to the river for a walk, and I’ll tell you how to make women happy. Julie laughed at Brodie’s expression and shook her head. “Go put up that horse now.” She turned and walked into the house, calling out, “Where are you, Jerusalem?”

  “Here in the kitchen,” Jerusalem called back.

  Julie found her sister churning butter and pulled up a chair where she could sit facing her. “I came for a visit. Going to stay all night, maybe longer.”

  “That’ll be nice, Julie. Always good to have you.”

  Julie knew that Jerusalem did not approve of her way of life, so she did not mention any of her activities in town. Instead, she wanted to know what all was going on out at the ranch. She listened as Jerusalem spoke and noticed her sister had a soberness about her that was unusual. “I hear that Serena’s coming to stay while her ma goes with Clay to sell the cattle at Shreveport.”

  “That’s what they plan,” Jerusalem said as she continued to churn the butter.

  Julie stared at Jerusalem carefully. “What’s the matter with you? You mad at me?”