Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  The first thing Jerusalem saw when she went into the kitchen after getting up was the note. It was in the center of the table and weighed down with the porcelain sugar bowl, her prized possession. At once she went over to it and picked it up. There were only a few lines, which said, “Ma, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m sorry to have to break my word to Pa, but I’ve got to get away for a while. I wish I could stay, but I just can’t. Please don’t be mad at me, Ma. Brodie.”

  Jerusalem knew instantly that his running off had something to do with Serena. She had found out that Brodie had gone to see her, and when he had come back last night, he had refused to say more than a few words. She crumpled the note up in a ball and shook her head. “God,” she prayed aloud, “take care of my boy. I’ve lost two, but I put this one in your hands. “Please, Lord, bring him back safe to me . . . !”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  February had come to the land with a sharp, pinching cold that gripped the plains and hills that surrounded Jerusalem’s land, wrapping the earth in a mantle of bitter cold. As she sat in her tiny cemetery, the world seemed to be a barren ball rushing through empty space. The trees that surrounded the house reached their stiff, bare branches into the cold sky, as if trying to grab at something they could not contrive. Jerusalem shivered and pulled her wool coat more closely about her. In the wintry atmosphere sound carried easily, and she heard a rifle shot far away. Seconds later the cry of a hunter who had made his kill floated to her on the crisp air as a tinkling sound. Jerusalem leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the small cluster of markers, studying those of her two sons and her grandfather. The pearl-colored air tinged the sky as Jerusalem sat there, and her plain features grew stern and dark as memories had their way with her. Her chest rose and fell softly to her breathing. As the wind whipped across the open plains, she quickened her breath, and a strictness gathered around her mouth.

  She heard no sound, but a shadow, darker than the other shadows, fell across her. She turned quickly to see Clay, who had come to stand silently beside her. He did not speak but was watching her with a peculiar expression. His mouth was a long streak across the weathered bronze of his skin, and now it narrowed to a gentle, but strained, half smile. The last of the afternoon light struck against the solid irregularities of his features, and a scar on his temple showed white. In that one glance, Jerusalem got a renewed impression of Clay. She knew he was a man wholly confident of some things, but greatly troubled by others. At times like this, he could be quite homely, and as he moved closer and sat down on the small bench beside her, she admired the strength he had to offer. The silence ran on, and Jerusalem said nothing. But she knew he had come to give comfort. Somehow he had known of her grief, and it had troubled him.

  Suddenly, Clay reached over and took her hand in both of his. He held it firmly and was looking down at it. His face was smooth, and his eyes had that sleepy, half droop look when he was thinking of something. It was such an unusual thing that Jerusalem was startled. Clay had never made any sort of move to touch her. She allowed her hand to remain in his, tightly grasped as a man would hold an object he treasured. A moment of shared silence passed, then Jerusalem said quietly, “You’re a comfort, Clay Taliferro. Most men don’t have sense enough to do things like this.” Clay shifted his head slightly so that he was looking right into her face.

  “I was taught to be nice to ladies.”

  “And who taught you that?”

  “My mama did.”

  “You had a good teacher.”

  A coyote came trotting by with a bird in his mouth. He did not even glance at them but was intent on his errand. Jerusalem watched it go but was thinking about Clay coming to take her hand. She made no offer to remove it, and then she gently gave a pressure with her own. “I can’t tell you how much comfort it’s been to me to have my boys here. I know it’s foolish,” she said in the same intent tone, “but I’m a foolish woman.”

  “No, you ain’t.”

  The whining wind almost carried Clay’s words away. He was still looking down at her hand, then he lifted his eyes. “Are you worried about Jake?”

  “No, not really. Jake is mighty handy. He could always take care of himself.” The next words came without thought. “But he’ll never be a husband to me, Clay. He made that clear.”

  At her words Clay released his grip, and she pulled her hand back. The moment had been brief, but Jerusalem knew it was a special moment she would guard in her memories. Somehow she knew that when she was an old woman, she would still remember this time sitting in the winter by the graves of her loved ones and Clay Taliferro holding her hand to give her comfort.

  “What will you do?” Clay said.

  “That’s what Julie asked.”

  Out of nowhere a private and ridiculous thought came to mind. It amused her, and Clay could see the effect it had on her face. He watched her face, drawn by the full swell of her lips and the humor in her eyes.

  She said, “I suppose I’ll do without a man the same as you do without a woman.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  “I don’t see why not.” She turned then and said, “Why have you never married, Clay?” As he sat there silently, Jerusalem knew that he didn’t intend to answer.

  Clay let the moment go and avoided her question, saying, “I know what’s the matter with you. You’re worried about Brodie.”

  “Yes, I am. He’s not tough like Jake. I couldn’t bear it if I had to bury him here beside my other boys.”

  Clay thought hard about the danger Brodie was in, and what it would do to the boy’s mother if something happened to him. “I been thinkin’, Jerusalem Ann, about Brodie. I’m gonna go find him and look out for him a little bit.”

  “Clay, I can’t ask you to do that.”

  Clay stood to his feet, and Jerusalem rose with him. “I’ll be leavin’ early first thing in the mornin’. I don’t want you worried about him.”

  Jerusalem looked at Clay with a startled expression, her eyes widening at his offer. Color filled her cheeks, and she leaned toward him, wanting to reach out and touch him. Instead, she put her hands with a strange abruptness into her pockets. She whispered, “Bless you, Clay,” and then turned and walked away.

  Clay watched her go and then straightened up. He made a firm decision to do whatever it took to protect Brodie from the foolishness he and his friends were getting into. Action was a way of life that came natural to him, and the waiting had gotten on his nerves. He looked toward the west and nodded, “First light, I’ll head out of here and we’ll see what happens.”

  Clay said his good-byes in the evening, and long before dawn, he had left the house and headed for San Felipe. When he got there he stopped long enough at the store to buy a few supplies before continuing on to San Antonio. Stepping outside, he packed the supplies in his saddlebag. Before he could swing into the saddle, he turned and saw William Travis riding out. Travis saw him and stopped his horse.

  “Hello, Taliferro.”

  Clay stepped into the saddle and pulled his horse over beside Travis’s.

  “It looks like we’re goin’ the same way.”

  “I’m headed for San Antonio,” Travis said. “Governor Smith has just appointed me commander of the forces there.”

  The words caught at Clay, and he turned to face Travis. “I’m goin’ there myself. Maybe I can ride along with you.”

  “You’re signing up?”

  “Mostly I’m goin’ to look for a young fellow who’s run off to join the army. Don’t know exactly where he is, but wherever he is, I’ll be with him.”

  “We need every man we can get, Taliferro. I forgot your first name.”

  “Clay.”

  “Well, Clay, I’m going to try to gather some other men along the way, but the situation is pretty bad there, I understand. We’ll have to ride fast.”

  Clay had a good horse and so did Travis. The two of them rode hard from San Felipe. Along the way, Travis was able to commandeer
a few more men to join his cause. By the time they arrived in San Antonio and pulled up in front of the Alamo, Clay had formed some definite impressions about Travis. From what he picked up, he had been under the impression that Jim Bowie was in charge at the Alamo, but Travis did not seem to feel that way. He talked freely about the commission he had received from Governor Smith and seemed confident that he was in complete command of the fort.

  Travis left his small band without a word of thanks, and Clay dismounted and began to examine the Alamo itself. It was a large enclosure, running north and south, built of thick adobe walls. The central area was large enough to house hundreds of cattle and a great many men. He walked around studying the place, aware of how few men there seemed to be. At the southeast corner of the compound, he stopped to look at the mission church—or what was left of it. The church was a two-story building without a roof, built of stone. Next to the church were large enclosures that had apparently been added on later. The southern one was filled with horses, and the northern filled with lowing cattle.

  Clay walked around slowly, noting that a number of cannons had been mounted at crucial spots. The best he could figure, the entire compound covered at least three or four acres. He shook his head and thought, It would take seven or eight hundred men to man these walls against a heavy assault.

  As he kept surveying the place, he kept looking for either Jake or Brodie. As he walked across the open court of the Alamo, he suddenly saw Jake standing in front of one of the buildings that formed the western part of the wall. He was leaning back against the wall smoking a pipe, paying no attention at all to the other men as they came and went with their various duties. As Clay walked over, he saw Jake’s eyes take him in, widening in surprise. Jake took his pipe out of his mouth and came forward at once to greet him.

  “Clay, I sure didn’t expect to see you,” Jake said as he stretched out his hand.

  “Howdy, Jake. Didn’t expect to be here.”

  “You come to join up?”

  “No, I came to find Brodie. Is he here?”

  “Brodie?” Surprise washed across Jake’s face. “No, he promised me he would stay at home.”

  “Well, I guess he intended to, but he got kind of a rough bump, and some friends kept asking him to join the army with them.”

  Jake listened as Clay tried to explain that because of a lover’s spat Brodie had left. Jake spat on the ground and shook his head. “This ain’t no place for him, Clay.” He looked around and said, “It ain’t no place for any of us. We’re gonna be cooped up here like coons up a tree when Santa Anna’s army comes. This place wasn’t made to defend.”

  “Well, if he’s not here,” Clay said, “he’s probably either at Gonzales or Goliad. Why don’t you come with me, Jake? We’ll run him down. He’ll be more likely to listen to you.”

  “No, I’m stayin’ here. You find Brodie and get him out of this place and back to the ranch where he belongs.”

  Clay did not argue, for he had expected no other answer from Jake.

  Somehow a darkness lay over Jake Hardin. Clay had known him for years, and though Jake had his mean spots, usually he was pleasant enough. Now his face seemed to have been frozen into a scowl, and Clay did not know what to say to him. “Whose idea was it to defend this place anyhow?”

  “From what I hear, Houston sent Bowie down here with instructions for Neill to blow it up, and I wish they would. Jim Bowie’s a fighter, not a soldier. Besides that he’s sick.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Clay asked.

  “Don’t know, but he’s gettin’ weaker every day.”

  “Well, you got a new commander. From what Travis told me on the ride here, Governor Smith has put him in charge. It looks like Travis will be headin’ things up here from now on.”

  “Doesn’t matter much who’s the commander here. If Santa Anna comes up from the Rio Grande with five thousand soldiers, we won’t last long.”

  Clay made one more attempt to convince Jake to go with him. “Pile out of here, Jake, while you still got the chance. Houston will raise an army, and you and me can join that one. Take Brodie with us, maybe.”

  But the heaviness in Jake Hardin’s face did not change. “No,” he said. “I’m stayin’ right here. You go to Gonzales. If Brodie ain’t there, then for sure he’s got to be at Goliad. Do your best to get him to go home, Clay. If he don’t, try to keep him out of trouble.”

  Clay nodded. “I might as well leave now. I’ll see you when the smoke clears.”

  Jake did not smile when he took Clay’s hand. “Maybe, but I got a bad feelin’ about this. If you can get my boy out of this hole, that’s what I’d like.”

  Clay turned and walked away. Jake’s heaviness had affected him, and as he mounted his horse and rode out of the compound, he thought, Jake’s gonna die in that place. All of them are. The thought oppressed him, and he kicked his horse into a fast run and headed for Gonzales.

  Jake, along with the other defenders of the Alamo, were disturbed by the arrival of Travis. Not many of them were aware that Jim Bowie was coming down with some sort of intestinal trouble, but they had put their faith in Bowie and looked up to him as their leader. Now with the order that had come from Governor Smith, Travis and Bowie tried to work out the command of the fort, but it was a difficult time for all of them.

  The only bright spot that came was the arrival of Davy Crockett, who was by far the most famous man in the Alamo. Crockett was a spellbinding backwoods orator and humorist who loved spinning tall tales. So popular had he become in Tennessee that he had been elected to Congress in 1827, 1829, and 1833. His career had ended bitterly when Andrew Jackson had been elected. Jackson and Crockett did not get along, and Crockett, after his defeat, told his constituents that he was done with politics and was going to Texas. But even though he lost the election, Davy Crockett’s Almanac, which featured a number of illustrated fantasies by Davy, brought him huge attention. No matter wherever he went, his fame always proceeded him.

  Jake had been standing by when Travis had offered Crockett a commission. Crockett had shaken his head and refused the command, saying, “No, sir. I intend to be just a high private among these my Tennessee boys.” When Travis asked him to help defend the most dangerous and exposed part of the wall, Crockett accepted it as an honor.

  Jim Bowie and Travis had both spoken of Houston’s instructions to blow up the Alamo, but neither seriously considered carrying out the order. Bowie wrote Governor Smith early in February:

  The salvation of Texas depends in great measure on keeping the Alamo out of the hands of the enemy. It stands on the frontier, and if it was in the possession of Santa Anna, there is no stronghold from which to repel him in his march to the Sabine. Colonel Neill and myself have come to the solemn resolution that we will rather die in these ditches than give them up.

  The rumors concerning the movements of Santa Anna abounded, but many of them were false. Some said that he was not coming at all, but Santa Anna and his vanguards were now camped on the Rio Grande only a hundred and fifty miles away. The dictator had firm plans for a swift and merciless retribution. He had given orders that all leaders of the Texas revolt would be executed, all rebellious settlers would be expelled, and all the land of Texans would be restored to Mexico.

  Santa Anna’s army was five thousand five hundred men and twenty-one cannons strong. As they began crossing the Rio Grande, they formed a long, dusty train that looked more like a freight outfit than an army on the march.

  The nights were already brutally cold, and many of the oxen froze to death, leaving a trail of abandoned equipment and dead animals strung out behind them as they moved north.

  Santa Anna was a man with a mission to drive the Texans out of Mexico at whatever cost. In one sense his move was totally unexpected. The Texans felt sure that Santa Anna would wait for the new crop of spring grass before attempting to cross the winter plains, in which case he could not possibly arrive before the middle of March. Santa Anna, however, was profligat
e in his use of men and animals, for his ambition to rid Mexico of all Texans drove him forward. General Santa Anna, the Napoleon of the West, as he styled himself, was enraged over the defeat and surrender of his brother-in-law General Cos at San Antonio and was determined to destroy everything in his path.

  As Santa Anna approached, both Bowie and Travis sent out appeals for reinforcement troops. There were men in Texas who could have helped in the confrontations at Gonzales, Goliad, San Felipe, and even as far east as the Louisiana border, but the appeals went unheeded. And the Alamo stiffened for the assault by the Napoleon of the West.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Well, I’m glad to see you young men. Welcome to Goliad.” “We come to sign up with your army, Colonel Fannin,” Brodie said eagerly. He had arrived, along with Tim Beringer and Clyde Biddle, late on a Thursday afternoon. The three were weary and hungry, but they all were eager to join themselves to Colonel Fannin’s force.

  Clyde Biddle broke in at once, saying, “When do you reckon we’ll go to San Antonio?”

  “San Antonio!” Fannin exclaimed, staring at them. “What gave you the idea we’re going to San Antonio?”

  Biddle was intimidated by the colonel’s harshness. “Why, we reckoned that that’s where the Mexicans are gonna attack first.”

  “My force is organized to go to Matamoros.”

  Brodie stared at the colonel in dismay. “Matamoros, where’s that?”

  “It’s a very important town on the border. We’re going down there and take it, men. You’re going to be part of a great victory,” Fannin spoke eagerly.

  He had attended the West Point Academy for a time. Though he had not finished his courses there, he had a burning desire to put into practice on the field what little he had learned of military strategy. He was, in fact, a martinet who stubbornly refused any new ideas that were not in line with the training he had absorbed from the Point. Now he said, “We’re not going to wait. Once we hit Matamoros, the Mexicans will think twice before attacking. Now go and tell the cook I said to feed you men. I’ll be expecting great things of you. Have you had any drill exercises?”