Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  Jake swallowed and then mumbled, “Ah . . . this is Awinita, and this here is Rose . . . and this is Paco.”

  Jerusalem looked at the two youngsters and asked, “How old are you, Rose?”

  “I’m thirteen,” Rose said as she stood close to her mother.

  Brodie saw his mother’s face tighten, and he frowned as he did some arithmetic in his own mind.

  “You’ve been living a lie a long time, Jake,” Jerusalem said.

  Jake suddenly shook his shoulders and straightened up. “We’ve got to talk private, Jerusalem. Not here!”

  “No, we don’t,” Jerusalem said, her voice sharp and clear. “I want all our children to hear everything. No more secrets,” she said loudly.

  At that moment Clay started to turn his bay around, obviously intending to leave. Jerusalem called out in a voice that caught him. “You stay put, Clay.”

  Clay pulled his horse up and stared at Jerusalem but made no other attempt to leave.

  At that moment Professor Nightingale said, “I say, madam, this is most embarrassing.”

  Jerusalem turned to face the professor. “You’re pretty easily shocked, Fergus. If Texas is anything like Arkansas Territory, everybody will know about Jake Hardin and his multiple wives soon enough.” She turned to face Jake and studied him before saying, “Is this all of us, Jake, or do you have another wife stashed away somewhere?”

  “Jerusalem, this ain’t decent,” he said, embarrassed as he saw everyone staring at him.

  “This hasn’t been a pleasure trip for me. I sold the house, packed up everything, endured a long trip with plenty of dangers just to come here and try to be a family again. And I’ve put up with your wandering ways for years, Jake Hardin. I’ve suspected that something like this was going on.” Silence hung over the yard, and everyone seemed frozen in place.

  Brodie took his eyes off his ma and pa and looked around at Clinton. For once Clinton was shocked into silence, and Moriah was staring at her father with her eyes wide open. Her mouth was open too. Lucita Lebonne was sitting in the last wagon, and both Serena and Mateo were watching the scene silently.

  Well, Brodie thought, it looks like Ma don’t intend to have any privacy about this, but I wish she would. Right then, he wished with all his heart they had never left Arkansas Territory. He could tell from the rigid set of his mother’s back and the expression on her face that she was not backing down. But her next words shocked him so that he nearly dropped the reins.

  “All right, Jake, choose your woman right now!”

  Jake’s eyes flew wide open, and he exclaimed, “A man can’t decide a thing like that in a minute!”

  “Maybe a man can’t,” Jerusalem said evenly, “but a woman can. It’s simple enough. You get rid of your Indian family and vow never to go roving again, and I’ll take you back. That’s my last offer, Jake. Make up your mind,” she said, glaring at him till he looked away at Awinita and the children.

  “Listen, Jerusalem,” Jake said desperately. “I had to claim Awinita as my wife to get this land.”

  “That’s business, Jake. I’m talking about her or me as your wife.

  Which is it gonna be?”

  Brodie had not been around his father enough to know him well. Jake had come back only a few times as he grew up, and those visits were always short. He remembered good times spent with him, and somehow Brodie had assumed that one day, sooner or later, his pa would come home and they would be a family again—that there would be no more roving. He had always thought of his father as one of the biggest, strongest men he had ever known, but now as he watched his father’s face, he saw a weakness there. He watched as his father half turned and his eyes locked with his Indian wife. After a moment, Jake turned back again, and the look on his face said it all! Brodie knew that all his hopes of being a family were over.

  Jerusalem, who knew this man better than anyone else, could sense his decision even though not a word was spoken. She sighed, and her shoulders seemed to sag for a moment, but then she turned to the Indian woman. “Awinita, it looks like you win.” Without another word Jerusalem turned, walked back to the wagon, and handed the baby up to Julie. She climbed up into the wagon seat, took the baby, and said, “I’m finished here, Julie. Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute, blast it!” Jake called out. “We have to talk,” Jake said as he walked toward the wagon.

  But Julie struck the mules with the lines, and the wagon pulled out.

  The others followed suit, but Jake ran out and grabbed the bridle of Clay’s horse as the wagons left the yard. He stared up and said, “Why’d you bring her here?”

  “I didn’t, Jake,” Clay said. “She brought me.”

  “A fine friend you turned out to be.”

  “Jake, I reckon you’ve forgotten a few things about your wife. It’d be easier to stop a steam engine than it would be to stop Jerusalem.”

  “You got to talk to her, Clay.”

  Clay pulled his horse away and halted only long enough to say, “Jake, she’s your wife, not mine. I told you a long time ago what I thought about the way you treated your family. Now it’s caught up with you, so swallow your medicine.”

  Brodie’s mind was spinning with feelings of anger, hurt, and disappointment as he sat on the wagon seat. He felt numb all over from what had just happened. Fortunately, the mules needed no guiding. They simply followed along in line behind the wagon in front. He could not make sense of all that was racing through his mind. It was as if his thoughts had traveled to another time just like Grandpa Josiah when he had a “spell.” The only thing he could picture in his mind was the hope of ever being a family again was like a door that had just closed forever. When Clinton and Moriah came running alongside the wagon, he snapped back from the disturbed state he was in.

  Both of them pulled themselves into the wagon, and Clinton demanded, “What’s Ma going to do, Brodie? She can’t just up and give up like that!”

  “Did you lose your hearin’ along with your brains?” Moriah said. “She’s through with him. That’s what she said.”

  “Why, she can’t do that,” Clinton said, his voice rising. “The Bible says when people get married, they’re always married.”

  “Oh, shut up, you fool!” Brodie said, anger spilling out of him. “Just keep your mouth shut!”

  Clinton and Moriah had rarely seen Brodie so angry, and now Moriah said, “But, Brodie, what are we going to do?”

  “Why do you ask me? I don’t know nothin’. Now either keep hush up or get off this wagon and walk.”

  Moriah jumped down, and Clinton remained long enough only to say, “You got to do somethin’, Brodie. Talk to Ma.”

  Brodie did not answer. Nor did he speak again for the next two hours.

  Later that afternoon, he heard Jerusalem call out, “Clay, we’ll camp out over there by that stream.” He pulled his wagon in, stopped it, and began to unhitch the team.

  “Did your ma mean what she said?”

  Brodie turned to find Serena standing a few feet away. Her eyes were curious as she waited for his answer.

  “She always means what she says,” he said as he worked the harness free on the lead mule.

  Serena came a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess both of us have lost a father, then.”

  Brodie shot her a quick look. “It’s different,” he said roughly.

  “Will you go back to your home in the United States?”

  “I don’t know, Serena. Don’t ask me fool questions right now.” He turned and began unhitching the rest of the mules, jerking at the harness so that one of the mules shied.

  Serena watched him and was not offended. She could tell that Brodie was very upset, and when she went back to her mother, she said, “Do you think Señora Hardin will do what she said?”

  “Yes, she will. I have not known her long, but you don’t have to know Jerusalem Hardin very long to know she’s a strong woman.” Displeasure filled her eyes, and she said, “Her husband i
s a fool.”

  Josiah had helped set up camp, and while the women were preparing the evening meal, he went over to where Fergus Nightingale was seated on the ground reading a book. Josiah squatted down on his heels across from the Englishman.

  “What are you readin’ there, Fergus?”

  “Oh, words . . . words . . . words. A book written by a fool.”

  “Why you readin’ it, then?”

  “So that maybe it’ll stop me from bein’ a fool in the same way.”

  Josiah shook his head. “Books give people funny notions. Then them things git people into trouble.”

  Fergus laughed. “I think you’re right, Josiah.” Fergus was smoking a cigar and reached into his inner pocket and pulled out one. He handed it to Josiah, who rolled it between his fingers, then accepted the light the Englishman gave him. He settled back and watched Josiah as he took a long puff and the blue haze of smoke rose. Finally Fergus said, “Your granddaughter is a remarkable woman. She possesses a very firm mind.” When the old man did not answer, he added, “I felt a little sorry for her husband today.”

  “He’s doin’ what he wants to do,” Josiah said in a spare tone. At that moment Julie came up, and Josiah rose and walked away, puffing on his cigar.

  “What were you and Grandpa talking about?” Julie asked.

  “About your family situation. A mite delicate situation, I should say,” Fergus said.

  Julie stared at the Englishman. “Jake’s never been a good husband to Jerusalem. I think she’s well rid of him.” She changed the subject abruptly. “Can I use your bathtub tonight, Professor?”

  “Why, of course, my dear, I’ll have Langley heat up some water.”

  Julie walked away and hurried to catch up with her grandfather. “What do you think about Jake, Grandpa?”

  “Seen it comin’ a long time ago,” he said.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. That sister of mine won’t share her man. I think she’ll go back home.”

  Josiah shook his head and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. He turned to face Julie and said slowly, “I stopped tryin’ to second-guess that female when she was ten years old. There ain’t no point to even try.”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Two days had passed since Jerusalem had turned her back on her husband and walked away without another word. Now it was Wednesday morning. Clay had gotten up long before the others and left carrying a shotgun. A few hours later he returned to camp with a sack full of quail. The sun was now a quarter of the way up to its zenith, and as he approached the camp, he looked up and saw Lucita coming to meet him.

  “Good morning, Señor Clay.”

  Clay stopped and set down the bag of quail and shook his head. “No, it’s Wednesday.”

  “What is wrong with Wednesday?”

  “Wednesday’s a bad day. I never had any good luck on a Wednesday.

  Usually, I try to go off and stay by myself where nobody can bother me.”

  Lucita laughed. She was an attractive woman when she did this, her large lustrous eyes glowing, and she ran her hand down her black hair and shook her head. “That is an odd superstition, Señor Clay.”

  “It ain’t no superstition at all,” Clay said firmly. “It’s just the way it is. Bad things always happen on Wednesday.”

  Lucita shook her head. “What do you have in your bag?”

  “Somethin’ good to eat.” He reached down, picked up the bag, and pulled out a limp bird. “Never saw so many quail. In one shot I brought down four of ’em.”

  “Let me have them. I will clean them for you.”

  “That’ll be good. I’ll probably cut my hand off tryin’ to dress ’em, bein’ it’s Wednesday.”

  Clay followed Lucita away from the camp and then watched as she easily dressed the birds. “You sure do that better than I can,” he admitted.

  “I’d be shamed if a man could clean a bird better than I. Women are better at some things.”

  “I reckon you’re right about that.” Clay watched with admiration as she cleaned the birds quickly and efficiently. He studied her and finally asked, “Are the kids grievin’ themselves much over Gordie’s death?”

  Lucita stopped working on the bird and was silent for a moment. Then softly, she said, “They’re handling it better than I am.”

  Clay blinked with surprise, for ever since the day Gordon had died, Lucita had not shown a great deal of grief. But now she turned to him, a bird in her hand, and plucked at it slowly. She allowed the feathers to fall to the ground, and then she looked up and said, “I miss him a great deal. He was a good husband to me, Señor Clay. And a woman needs a man.”

  “I reckon that’s true.”

  “I don’t know what will happen to us. I don’t worry for myself, but my children . . . they have no father, and now they have no place to call home.”

  Clay shifted his feet and gnawed at his lower lip for a moment, then said, “I made Gordie a promise that I’d look after you.”

  Lucita suddenly looked up, and their eyes met. “That was kind of you, but it’s too much to ask of any man.”

  “Don’t rightly think so, ma’am. It’ll be all right. We’ll find something for you.”

  Lucita smiled. His words seemed to reassure her. She continued cleaning the quail, and finally, when they were done, she put them back in the sack. “What will Jerusalem do?”

  “I don’t think she knows. She’s been quiet since she met up with Jake. That woman makes me nervous. Kind of like being around a keg of dynamite. You don’t ever know when it’s gonna go off.”

  The sound of an approaching horse drew Clay’s attention. He looked, and Lucita followed his gaze. “It’s Señor Bowie.”

  Bowie was riding a large roan stallion. When he swung down to the ground, he held the lines and bowed slightly, taking off his hat. He said, “Lo siento por la muerte de su marido, señora.”

  “Gracias, Señor Bowie.”

  Bowie nodded to Clay, then his attention returned to Lucita. “The neighbors told me you had left. Is that so?”

  “There was nothing for us there. Señora Hardin invited us to come with them. She said we could join with their family, at least until we find something. And Señor Clay has offered to help me.”

  Bowie turned and gave Clay an odd look. “Is that right, Clay?”

  Clay seemed embarrassed. “Sure, it’s right. Gordie was a good friend of mine.”

  Bowie smiled slightly and something flickered in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “I been wondering if it wouldn’t be possible for Lucita here to find some land of her own,” Clay said. “She needs a place for herself and Mateo and Serena.”

  “Well, that’s entirely possible. If you’re thinking of trying to get some land, Stephen Austin is the man to see.”

  Lucita listened as the two men talked about the land grants that were available, and finally she said, “I will go start cooking these birds. You will stay to eat, Señor Bowie?”

  “Don’t have time, but thanks for the offer, señora.”

  As Lucita left, Bowie turned to face Clay. “I been tryin’ to figure this out, Clay.”

  “Tryin’ to figure what out?”

  “Well, I don’t know Jake Hardin that well, but I understood he’s already got a wife.”

  Clay grimaced. “He’s got more than one. He’s got two of them.”

  “Well, that’s against the law, ain’t it?” Bowie said with surprise.

  “You know how it was in the mountains. A man would take up with an Indian woman and call her his wife, but there wasn’t anything legal about it.”

  “That’s what Hardin did?”

  “A long time ago. He’s got two kids now, and it looks like a pretty bad situation for Jerusalem. It didn’t go too well when Jerusalem and the kids saw Jake had kids almost the same age as them.”

  “You think she’ll go back to the States?”

  “I don’t know what she’ll do.”

  Bowie slap
ped the lines of the horse in his free hand and thought hard for a moment, then said abruptly, “Let’s go see Stephen Austin. He can tell you whether or not Lucita has a chance at getting some land. There shouldn’t be trouble since she’s a Mexican national, and he might even be able to work something out about Mrs. Hardin.”

  “I don’t see how that could be. I don’t reckon she’s gonna live with Jake knowing what he’s done.”

  “What does Hardin say about all this?”

  “I can’t answer for him. Let’s go see Austin.”

  “Might be a good idea to take Mrs. Hardin with us,” Bowie said.

  “You might be right about that, Jim. I’ll go ask her.” Clay stood there for a moment thinking about all that had happened in the last few months. “You know, Bowie, life was sure a lot simpler for me before I got involved with Jake Hardin and his family.”

  “Why don’t you just walk away from it all, Clay?”

  Clay shook his head. “I’d better not do that. Not today. Today’s Wednesday.”

  “Is Wednesday a bad day?” Bowie asked.

  “The worst day in the world. Everything bad that ever happened to me was on a Wednesday. Even our knife fight, remember.”

  “You’re right! Maybe we should go see Austin tomorrow.”

  “That sounds good. We’ll do it.”

  Stephen Austin was not an impressive man, at least to Jerusalem. His house was even less so. It was a simple two-room shack, one room for sleeping and one room for everything else. Jerusalem had accompanied Bowie and Clay to talk to the man, and he had made them welcome, offering them what little refreshments he had. He was a small man with none of the roughness she had come to expect from the frontier types. His manners were fine, and finally Jim Bowie brought him around to the business at hand.

  “Steve, Mrs. Hardin here is in a hard place. She came here to join her husband—”

  Bowie broke off and seemingly did not know how to continue.

  “My husband has taken an Indian wife. That’s the problem,” Jerusalem said bluntly.

  Austin glanced at her and then dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Hardin.”