Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I’m gonna have to relieve you of one of your prisoners.”

  Speck stared at him. “Marie?”

  “That’s right.”

  Clay had carefully thought all this out. Keeping his pistol trained on the two men, he reached out, and pulled the sheriff’s pistol out of the holster. The other man was not armed. “You two move on in. I’m gonna have to tie you up.”

  “Don’t shoot,” George said. “Please don’t shoot.”

  “Nobody’s gonna get shot if you do what I say. Just turn around.”

  Clay swiftly tied the hands of both men and then their feet. “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to gag you. If you started hollerin’, it might not be too good.”

  “I promise I won’t holler,” George said quickly.

  “I’d like to take your word, but not this time.” Clay had brought two neckerchiefs, and he gagged both men, not tying them too tightly, but securely enough.

  He then tied them together at the ankle and put another rope around their neck. “Just don’t struggle, and you won’t strangle each other,” he said.

  He went to the sheriff’s desk and saw the peg behind with the cell keys, plucked up the ring, and went up the stairs. A single burning lantern cast a ghostly light into the cells. The prisoners were all asleep, and he went down to the end of the cells and whispered, “Julie!” as he unlocked the door. As he swung it back, the woman came out. “Take off your shoes,” he said. She obeyed, and the two moved silently down the hall and descended the stairs. Clay unloaded the sheriff’s pistol, put it on the desk, and said, “Let’s go.”

  He opened the door and looked up and down the street. When he was sure no one was around, he stepped outside, motioned for Julie to follow, then shut the door. He took her arm and led her down the dark alley to where he had tied the horses, then turned and said, “We’ll ride out nice and easy.”

  He moved to help the woman, but she swung into the saddle, her short skirt pulled almost to her thighs, but she said not a word.

  Clay had surveyed the town and knew the best route to leave town without raising any suspicion. He led her down a side street on which were scattered a few houses and a few small businesses. As soon as they were out of town, he said, “I’d like to speed it up. Can you hang on?”

  “Shore can.”

  Clay rode hard for the next five hours headed south. Just as the sun began coming up, he saw a line of trees he knew marked a river. He pulled off the road and found a thick stand of trees where he could hide the horses. “We’ll stay here till it gets dark. I don’t want to be seen.” Clay dismounted and unsaddled both horses. When he finished tying them with enough free rein so that they could graze, he said, “As soon as daylight comes, we’ll risk a little fire.”

  “Why are you doing this? Who are you?” Julie Satterfield demanded, looking him square in the eye.

  She was taller than her sister, Clay noticed, lacking only a couple of inches of his own height. “I promised your sister and mother I’d bring you back. I aim to do it.” Then he turned and went to gather some branches to build a small fire. When he came back, he nodded toward the pack on the ground and said, “There’s bacon and a frying pan and some eggs in that pack if you want to dig ’em out.”

  Thirty minutes later the two of them sat eating out of tin pans. When the sun finally rose above the horizon, casting its first rays of dawn, she asked, “Are we going to stay here all day?”

  “Yep. We’ll travel hard at night and hole up during the day so nobody sees you. I don’t want to leave with anybody seein’ you. Does anybody know your real name?”

  “No.”

  “Why’d you change your name to Marie Jones?”

  “I didn’t want to shame my family.”

  Julie Satterfield finished her breakfast, drank the coffee, and then stared at Clay, who was sitting against a tree. She came over to him and knelt down, saying, “I guess I owe you somethin’. I’ve only got one way to pay ya.”

  Clay blinked with surprise and then laughed. “I don’t remember ever turnin’ down whiskey or a good-lookin’ woman, but I reckon there’s a first time for everything.”

  Julie did not move for a moment. She seemed to find something amusing about being refused. “What are you—some kind of a preacher?”

  “Nope. I promised your sister I’d bring you back. Somehow I don’t think she’d like it if I did any more than that.”

  Julie laughed then, and in that instant Clay knew that even if her physical likeness to her sister had not given her away, the laugh would have. She had the same deep, hearty laugh that seemed to bubble out of Jerusalem.

  She stood up and said, “What’s your name?”

  “Clay Taliferro.”

  “Well, Clay Taliferro, you missed your chance with me. It’ll be a cold day before you get another one.”

  Clay shrugged and said, “Maybe not. Things change. I brought you some clothes in that saddlebag over there.”

  Julie turned, went to the bedroll, and opened the thongs. She pulled out a brown dress and a bonnet and a pair of ugly black shoes. The sight of them amused her again. She began changing, making no attempt to hide. She glanced back at Taliferro, pleased that he was watching her.

  “You sorry you passed up your chance?”

  Clay shook his head. “I never waste time thinkin’ about what might have been. You’d better get some sleep. We’re gonna ride hard tonight.”

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  As Brodie walked toward the garden, he heard a solid clumping sound to his right. Taking a quick look, he saw that Anthony Wayne had grasped a fence post in the middle and was trying to bring it to the house. The huge dog brought up all sorts of things to the house, making a mess, but now he had bitten off a chore too big for him. He had the pole grasped in his powerful jaws, but the opening of the corral was only two feet wide and the post was three. Brodie watched with resignation as Anthony Wayne made a run for it and the ends of the post crashed into the uprights. The impact was so great that the dog fell back on his haunches and sat there staring at the opening, a puzzled look in his eye. He got up, backed off, and tried again, but this time with no more success.

  Brodie walked over to the dog and said, “Gimme that fence post, Anthony Wayne. You ain’t got no more sense than a dead possum!” He tossed the post outside the corral, then watched as Anthony Wayne picked it up and trotted to the house, carrying it as easily as if it were a toothpick. “You’re one stupid dog wearing yourself out with something that can’t be done.”

  As Brodie reached the edge of the garden to hoe the beans, he was vaguely dissatisfied. He was taken aback when he saw his great-grandfather sitting in the middle of one of the rows. Whenever Grandpa Josiah “went away,” he felt afraid. He could not understand it, but then neither could anyone else. When he got closer, however, Josiah looked up smiling, and Brodie saw with relief that his eyes were clear.

  “Come and sit down, boy. You can learn somethin’ here.”

  “What is it, Grandpa?” Brodie sat and looked at the ground where Josiah was pointing.

  “Look at that there ant, Brodie.”

  Brodie stared at an ant that was trying to move a dead beetle several times larger than itself. The ant was evidently moving toward its home, wherever that was, but a stick had fallen across its way. Now it heaved and pulled and struggled futilely to get the dead beetle across.

  “I’ve been watchin’ that scudder nigh on to half an hour,” Josiah mused, “and he ain’t got the job done yet.”

  Relieved that his grandfather’s mind was clear, Brodie watched the ant and finally said, “You know he ain’t got no more sense than Anthony Wayne. That dumb dog was tryin’ to walk through the gate of the corral with a big old post in his mouth. I guess he’d be there still if I hadn’t helped him get through.”

  Josiah picked up a tiny twig and stirred the dead body of the beetle. The ant became agitated but refused to give up. “Why don’t you just give up?” Josiah said. “Ants i
s funny things, ain’t they, Brodie?” He removed the stick, and the ant continued its progress, shoving the beetle along. “Now, I reckon you think you done that all by yourself, don’t you?”

  “I don’t believe ants think, Grandpa.”

  Josiah’s eyes twinkled. “Wal, some people don’t think, Brodie. Reckon you found that out already.”

  “I don’t think myself a heap of the time.”

  Josiah Mitchell reached out and laid his hand on Brodie’s knee. He squeezed it and shook his head. “That ain’t right,” he said quietly. “As a matter of fact, you’re the brightest of all of us. I seen it in you when you was just a yonker beginnin’ to talk and move around. I seen you was a thinker even then. Why, many’s a day I come on you when you was just sittin’ and a-lookin’ off into space, and I kept wonderin’, what in the world is that young’un thinkin’ about? Worried me for a spell, for thinkin’ messes some people up, but it ain’t so with you.”

  Brodie was shocked by his great-grandfather’s words of praise. He had never said anything like this to him before. Now he stared at the old man and said, “Why, I just think like everybody else, Grandpa.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re different, boy.” Suddenly he lifted his head. “Hear that?” he said.

  Brodie listened hard. He knew his great-grandfather, despite his age, had the best hearing on the place. “I don’t hear nothin’.”

  “Somebody’s comin’,” Josiah said, getting to his feet slowly.

  Brodie sprang up and turned, for he too now heard the sound of hoof beats. “It is somebody! You got the most bodacious hearin’ I ever knowed of, Grandpa.”

  “Helped me keep my scalp a few times years ago. My eyes ain’t what they was back then, though. Who be it, Brodie?”

  Brodie stared hard and said, “It’s Clay, and there’s some woman with him.”

  “Reckon we’d better go welcome ’em, then.”

  Clay had ridden off over two weeks ago, and neither Brodie nor his mother had given any of the children, or even Josiah, a hint of where he was going. Brodie wasn’t so sure he’d come back, thinking he might ride off for good just like his pa did, but Jerusalem had insisted, “He’ll be back.”

  As Brodie and Josiah made their way back toward the cabin, Brodie saw the door open, and his mother came out carrying Mary Aidan, closely followed by Clinton and Moriah. His eyes then turned toward Clay, who slipped off his horse easily. Clay winked at him and turned to speak to Jerusalem.

  “Well, we’re back.”

  Brodie was watching the woman, then when he recognized her, he cried out, “Aunt Julie!”

  Julie hurried over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. She was a tall woman, but she had to look up to his lean six-foot height. “Why, you tall, handsome thing you!” she cried out, her eyes sparkling. “I bet all the girls are lined up to get at you. Give me a kiss.” She pulled Brodie’s head down, kissed him soundly, and then laughed. “Why, you’re blushin’. I like to see a man who can blush. It means he might amount to somethin’.”

  Brodie had missed his aunt Julie. He knew she had a wild streak in her, but before she left she had paid him more attention than anyone. Now he saw her go to Clinton, who was staring at her.

  Clinton remembered her as well, but as soon as she hugged him, he said, “I’m a Baptist now, Aunt Julie.”

  “Well, I love you anyway, Clinton. Don’t let it get the best of you. And is this Moriah? My, if you ain’t a pretty thing!”

  Brodie watched as his aunt turned back to his mother. Something passed between them, and the merriment fled from Aunt Julie’s face. Brodie saw her grow sober.

  Finally, after an awkward silence, Julie said quietly, “Hello, sister.”

  “I’m glad to see you, Julie.” Jerusalem stepped forward and embraced her sister.

  Brodie saw that Julie was very stiff with her.

  When Julie stepped back, she said, “How’s Ma?”

  “She’s waiting for you. Come on in.”

  Julie turned then to say, “Thank you, Clay.”

  “It wasn’t nothin’.”

  “Yes, it was.” Julie nodded firmly, then turned and followed her sister into the house.

  Jerusalem, despite herself, was shocked at her churning emotions. For a long time, she had tried to put Julie out of her mind, well aware that her sister was leading a careless and immoral life. But the sight of her had stirred old memories, and now, stopping before the door, she said, “Ma’s been keepin’ herself alive in the hopes of seeing you.”

  “Ain’t there no hope, Jerusalem?”

  “No, she’s going home. Go on in, now.”

  Jerusalem opened the door and stepped aside. She watched as Julie hesitated and then went in. As she glanced over at the bed, Jerusalem saw a look of joy spread across her mother’s face. Her whole face lit up.

  “Julie—my baby!” she cried out and held up her arms.

  Julie quickly went and bent over the bed, embracing her mother.

  Jerusalem felt her eyes grow dim, and she stepped back and closed the door. This was not her time, but she could hear Julie speaking in a broken tone as she moved away from the door. She went back outside and said, “Moriah, go change this baby’s diaper. She’s soppin’ wet.” She moved over toward Clay, who was talking to Brodie and Clinton. He turned to face her, and she studied his tanned face. His eyes were half shut with a sleepy expression, but this was customary with him except in times of stress. “Was it any trouble to find her, Clay?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t particularly bad.”

  Jerusalem had learned something about this man, and she met his eyes, saying, “Except for Brodie here, you’re the worst liar I ever ran across, Clay Taliferro.”

  “Well . . . I admit, it was a mite tricky.”

  “You boys go on. I want to talk to Clay alone.”

  “Oh, Ma, we want to hear too!” Clinton protested.

  “You mind me, Clinton. You and Brodie go on.”

  As both boys turned away disappointed, she said, “Come on over and set with me.” She led Clay to the cemetery, which was the most private place to talk. She sat down, and when he sat down beside her, she said, “Now, tell me all of it.” She listened intently as Clay told her how Julie was accused of attempted murder and how he had rescued her from the jail. When he had finished, Jerusalem glanced toward the north. It was almost as if she were trying to imagine all that had happened in the days that Clay was gone. “So,” she said quietly, “if that man dies, she’ll be hanged.”

  “They’d have to catch her first. And since we rested during the day and traveled at night, I don’t think anyone followed us. Maybe he’ll pull through. She just picked the wrong man to shoot, that’s all.” Clay nodded sagely, adding, “It ain’t wrong to shoot some people. Julie ain’t had enough experience shootin’ folks. She picked the wrong one, but she’ll know better next time.”

  Jerusalem said nothing but had her face turned away. Clay reached out, pulled her around, and saw the sorrow in her eyes. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “That man probably won’t die, and if he does, they don’t know who she is. She was usin’ another name there. It’s gonna turn out all right.”

  Jerusalem Hardin stared into Clay’s eyes, then turned and leaned forward, staring down at the ground. She did not speak for a long time, and when she did, her voice was faint. “I don’t much believe in happy endings, Clay.”

  The next day Jerusalem hardly saw Julie at all. Her sister spent most of the day at her mother’s bedside caring for her. Somehow the excruciating pain Jewel had suffered with for so long seemed to have miraculously gone away. She was fading, however, and everyone saw it. Julie had been very quiet most of the day, but there were times when Jerusalem could hear her mother talking, and once she thought she heard Julie crying. Some of that time Jewel was asleep, and when Julie was not at her mother’s side, she had taken long walks alone, spurning everyone’s attempts to try to talk to her. Even when Jerusalem tried to coax her to join the re
st of them for dinner, Julie had declined and gone to bed early.

  The next morning when Jerusalem went into her mother’s room with breakfast, she found her mother already awake and waiting for her. Jerusalem was startled at the look she saw on her face. The pain had not come back, and Jewel Satterfield’s face shone with a peace and assurance that nothing here could explain.

  “Daughter, it’s time for me to go home. The Lord has answered my prayer and allowed me to see Julie one last time. Please call the family.”

  Jerusalem set the tray down and went and knelt by the bed, tears running down her cheeks as she embraced her mother’s frail form. After a moment, she quickly went and called the family together.

  Jewel remained awake and alert as the whole family crowded into the tiny bedroom. Her voice was clear, as were her eyes, which glowed like sapphires. She spoke in a sleepy tone, naming each one of them and telling them she loved them. Finally, she said, “Clay, come closer. I want to whisper.”

  Jerusalem had watched this with surprise. Her mother whispered for a long time into Clay’s ear, and she could make out none of it. Finally, she saw Clay nod, and when he turned back, she saw a stiff expression on his face. Afterward, he would never tell her what her mother had said to him. “It was right personal, Jerusalem Ann” was all he would say.

  The last person to speak with Jewel was Josiah. He had stood along the wall listening as she spoke to the others, and finally she said, “Pa, come here.” He went over and took her hand, and she said, “I am goin’ to Mama now. I’ll tell her that you’ll be along soon.”

  After this she closed her eyes and went to sleep. She never woke up again, and it was impossible for Jerusalem or for anyone else to tell the exact moment when she finally reached the heaven she had longed for all her life.

  The last of the funeral crowd had gone now. The new grave in the small cemetery was filled in, and Julie glanced at it. She was sitting on the front porch with Jerusalem, and Clay was out in the corral working with the mules. The two women watched as Brodie came up to Clay. The boy was at least three inches taller than Clay but skinny as a rail. “Brodie needs to gain weight,” Julie said.