Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “It would be no use. They would catch us,” Jerusalem replied. She watched with disgust as the warriors gutted the buffalo, pulled the warm entrails out, and ate them raw.

  Finally, Red Wolf came back and said, “You two find wood and build fire. You learn about how Comanche women live.”

  Red Wolf led the women to a growth of small, stunted trees, and Jerusalem and Moriah began gathering sticks. They worked quickly, and when Red Wolf made a fire with matches, she was surprised. She knew they must have taken the matches on one of their raids, but she said nothing.

  The warriors were bringing in huge chunks of buffalo meat, and Red Wolf said, “You cook. I like the tongue best.”

  “Very well,” Jerusalem said.

  As Jerusalem began to roast the meat over the fire, Moriah stayed by her side. As the Indians laughed and talked while she prepared a meal, she thought of home and wondered what was happening. She knew Clay would form a rescue party, but it would take time. Red Wolf had traveled like the wind, driving the horses hard for two days. By the time a rescue party was gathered and set out on the trail, they would be days behind in their pursuit. She knew that Moriah was frightened, and more than once she reached over and touched her and said quietly, “It’ll be all right. The Lord is going to deliver us.”

  This newfound faith of hers was an amazing thing. Always before, when she had sought something from God, it had been a struggle. When her boys had been sick, she had prayed as hard as she knew how. And when they died, something died within her. Now, however, the calmness that surrounded Jerusalem was a miracle. She remembered something Rhys Morgan had said. It came back to her mind. The peace of God passeth all understanding. No matter how many troubles there are outside, we are inside with Jesus. She thought about this statement as she continued to turn the meat on the sticks. She marveled at what had happened.

  Though she should be terribly afraid of what could happen to them, God had replaced her fear with an amazing confidence that He was with her and her daughters.

  The Indians loved to gamble, and that night they were gambling in some fashion that she could not understand. Jerusalem watched them, thinking again how childlike they acted at times. Moriah was sitting beside her, and Mary Aidan was lying on the blanket that Red Wolf had given them to share. Red Wolf had eaten a lot of buffalo tongue and was now sitting across from them by the fire, smoking a long pipe. Her thoughts were interrupted when he spoke suddenly.

  “You have no sons?”

  “I had four sons. Two are dead,” she said.

  “I also have two sons,” he said, taking a long drag on his pipe.

  Jerusalem turned then to face him. “Red Wolf, I will buy our freedom.

  If you will let us go, I will give you two hundred horses. Very good ones.”

  “You do not have that many horses. We took all you had.”

  “But I have land, and I will sell it and use all the money to buy fine horses.”

  Red Wolf studied her intently. “My people do not lie, but white people do. I can’t trust your word. Besides,” he added, “I can steal horses anytime.” Then he laughed. His lips and broad mouth spread wide as he did so. “We let the Mexicans and your people live on our land just to raise horses for us. When you get them raised, we come and steal them.”

  The moon was enormous overhead, and it shed its silver beams down over the camp. They had moved under the trees, but two of the Comanches walked off a ways and stood as guards for a few hours until they were replaced by others. From far off a wolf howled, a lonesome, melancholy sound.

  “That is my brother Wolf,” he said as he continued to smoke his pipe and stare into the fire. The silence ran on for a long time, and then Red Wolf said, “We captured a white woman once who was a bad squaw. Most white women, after a time, forget their white blood, and they become one of us—Comanche. This one never did, no matter how hard her husband beat her when she tried to escape. He was Bear Killer. After a while he got tired of her running away and traded her to a Pawnee.” He pointed at Jerusalem with the pipe and shook his head. “The Pawnee are not so kind to white women as the Comanche.” He waited for her to speak, and when she simply looked at him, he shook his head. “Better if you forget. No one will come for you.” As soon as Red Wolf had spoken these words, a voice to his right broke the silence.

  At the sound of it Jerusalem stiffened and wheeled to face the man who had appeared.

  “You are wrong, Red Wolf.”

  Red Wolf had iron control, and he simply turned his head and stared at Clay Taliferro, who had managed to sneak past the guards and walk into the camp undetected. He simply watched the intruder, and finally Clay spoke again.

  “I have come for my women.”

  Jerusalem cried out, “Clay!” and at her cry Mary Aidan stirred. When she looked up and saw Clay, she ran to him and threw her arms around him.

  Red Wolf watched the child embrace him and still did not speak. The other Indians were sleeping, for it was late. “You walk softly like a spirit man.”

  “Your warriors do not have sharp ears.”

  “They have become careless. I will have to speak with them.”

  “One of them you won’t have to speak with,” Clay said. “His ears were better than the rest, and he tried to stop me.”

  “That would be White Elk. He never was much of a warrior, but his squaw will grieve.” Red Wolf seemed interested and showed no trace of fear. “You are alone?”

  “Yes.”

  Red Wolf called out sharply, and at once the band of sleeping Comanches was alert and on their feet. He spoke again, and the warriors came rushing toward him. When they saw Clay standing there, they fell silent. They had their weapons in their hands, some with rifles and others with tomahawks raised high. They made a complete circle around the small group. Red Wolf got to his feet. He still had the pipe in his hand, and he moved to stand directly in front of Clay.

  Clay bent over and said, “Mary Aidan, go to your ma.”

  “You come into my camp alone. That is foolish.”

  Clay had no rifle, but he had the six-gun, which was in the holster on his right side. “I come to buy back my people, Red Wolf.”

  Red Wolf interpreted his words, and the Indians laughed. “My men think that you are very foolish.”

  “I’ve been foolish enough in my day. Probably you have, too, as a young man. But now Red Wolf is older and wiser. He will know a good trade when he hears one.”

  Red Wolf spoke Clay’s words in Comanche, and his warriors muttered among themselves. “They want to know what will you give for your women.”

  “Your life, Red Wolf.”

  Red Wolf looked around at the warriors, and when he had interpreted Clay’s words, the warriors started shaking their weapons and moved in closer. “My life is not easy to take. What is your name?”

  “You can just call me the White Ghost.”

  “A fine name for one who moves like a silent ghost in the night. My warriors would not let you kill me.”

  “They cannot stop me,” Clay said as he looked directly at Red Wolf.

  He knew if he did not show courage, they would fall on him in an instant with their weapons.

  When Red Wolf translated this, all the braves made sharp cries. One of the warriors raised his tomahawk and cried out, obviously asking permission to kill the man called White Ghost, who had dared challenge their chief.

  Others were fingering their knives, barely containing their desire to torture this challenger. One brave drew the hammer back on his rifle, making a sharp clicking sound.

  “I think, Ghost, you will be the one to die slowly under our knives. I see that you are a brave man, but under torture many brave men cry out like children.”

  “Hold up your pipe, Red Wolf, and I will show you why you will not kill me but trade with me.”

  Red Wolf laughed and then spoke to his braves. He held up his pipe and said, “Now, show me.”

  Jerusalem could barely breathe, for she knew at the le
ast little provocation, the circle of Comanches would fall on them and kill them all. She saw Clay hold up his right hand and wave it. “You see this hand?”

  “I see it.”

  “Watch it closely, Red Wolf.”

  Red Wolf fixed his eyes on Clay’s hand, which he held in front of him to his side. Then suddenly, with a move so fast that Jerusalem could barely see it, Clay drew his revolver. It leaped into his hand, and she heard the clicking sound as he pulled the hammer back. But the action was so smooth that the explosion seemed to come from nowhere. The bowl at the end of Red Wolf’s pipe disappeared as if by magic.

  Clay moved the gun until it was pointed right at Red Wolf’s heart. “You see, you’re an easy man to kill.” He lifted the muzzle of the revolver and said mildly, “Your life is what I trade. I give you your life. You give me my people.”

  Red Wolf stared at the pipe. “I’ve never seen such a fast hand, but you cannot kill us all.”

  “No, I can’t. They can kill me, but if I touch this trigger, you will be dead.”

  The Indians surrounding them were murmuring, but the gun in Clay’s hand remained steadily pointed at Red Wolf. “You are a brave man, Red Wolf. All the Comanches and white men out here know that. You have nothing to prove.”

  Red Wolf remained silent, as well as his braves. They seemed to sense that if any one of them made a move, their chief would die. Jerusalem held tightly to Mary Aidan. The night birds had fallen quiet, and the only sound was the faint crackling of the fire. Jerusalem kept her eyes fixed on Red Wolf’s face. She saw not the slightest trace of fear, and she knew that Comanches feared nothing, not even death. He won’t take the bargain, she thought.

  But then Red Wolf smiled and nodded. “There are many things I would miss on this earth. I would miss hunting the buffalo on the open plains. I would miss the raiding parties. My squaws would mourn for me, and I would not see my son grow up and become a strong Comanche chief.”

  “You can do all of these things,” Clay said. “Lots of things I’d like to do, too, so I hope you take my bargain.”

  Red Wolf tossed the pipe aside. “I will take your bargain,” he said abruptly.

  Relief rushed through Jerusalem, and she squeezed Mary Aidan so hard that the child cried out.

  “Do I have the word of Red Wolf that we will all go free with horses?”

  “Yes.”

  The gun disappeared in Clay’s holster, and the Indians rushed forward. Two of them seized him, but Red Wolf cried out something and they let him go. He came to stand before Clay and had to look up at him.

  He smiled broadly and said, “We will both see the sun come up.”

  “Maybe. No man knows about that,” Clay said.

  “Your woman. She offered two hundred horses if I let her go.”

  “You should have taken her bargain, but that’s not what we agreed on. Your life is worth more than two hundred horses.”

  Red Wolf turned to Jerusalem. “This man is your husband?”

  “No.”

  “Where is your husband? Why did he not come to rescue you?”

  “I don’t know, Red Wolf.”

  Red Wolf shrugged. “This one called White Ghost is better than the coward who did not come for you. You better get rid of the other one.”

  He called out something to his braves, then said, “They will bring your horses.” He turned and faced Jerusalem, taking a step closer and peering into her face. “Your Jesus, He is a strong warrior. Now go.”

  When the Indians brought their horses up, they all mounted quickly. Clay had swung Mary Aidan up to ride with him. Clay held up his hand and nodded. “A good bargain for both of us, Red Wolf.” Then he turned and rode out with Jerusalem and Moriah riding at his side.

  Red Wolf watched them head off into the darkness, then he turned around and faced his warriors.

  “You let a white man walk past you. You are nothing but a woman,” he said to one warrior.

  “But he is a ghost, Red Wolf,” one of the warriors protested. He had been one of those on guard. “You can’t fight with a ghost.”

  Red Wolf did not answer. He turned to face the darkness and watched as the White Ghost disappeared into the night.

  Clay made them ride hard for half an hour, putting as much distance between them and the raiding party as he could. Then he slowed the horses to a walk. Jerusalem came up to his side, and Moriah trailed a horse length behind her mother.

  “I knew you’d come, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

  “They trouble you or Moriah?” Clay asked, his face taut with concern. He was well aware of what Comanches often did to the women and children they captured.

  “No, thank God.”

  “That’s a miracle.”

  “It is. A real miracle.” Suddenly, Jerusalem reached over and took Clay’s hand. She held it, squeezing it hard. “Thank you, Clay,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

  Clay Taliferro was very much aware of the warmth and strength of Jerusalem’s hand. He looked at her and saw she was watching him intently. “Well, shoot, I didn’t want to have to go to all the trouble of breaking in a new ma for Brodie and Clinton and Mary Aidan.”

  Jerusalem squeezed his hand as hard as she could. “I’ll be glad to get home,” she said and did not release his hand. She held on to him as if he were an anchor, and from behind, Moriah watched them and wondered at it.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Well, there comes your rescue party,” Clay said and pointed. Jerusalem looked up surprised and only saw a cloud of dust far off in the distance. “How do you know, Clay?”

  “Because nobody else would be comin’ that fast. They made better time than I figured.”

  Jerusalem looked back at Moriah and saw that the girl was shading her eyes and squinting, watching the group gallop toward them.

  “There they come, Mama,” she shouted, “but we’re saved already.”

  Jerusalem was holding Mary Aidan in front of her, astraddle the horse. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this, Clay. You know, for a long time my religion didn’t mean that much to me. But something happened to me in Red Wolf’s camp the other night. I found out Jesus is real.” She turned and asked abruptly, “What about you, Clay? You never talk about religion.”

  “Don’t have enough to talk about,” he muttered as he watched the riders approach.

  Jerusalem studied Clay’s face. He was not facing her, and she knew he was embarrassed by her question. “I’m sorry to talk this plainly.”

  “Well, you never was put off by plain talk before.” Clay suddenly turned and smiled briefly. “Reckon I’ll be gettin’ a lot of preachin’ out of you from now on.”

  “I think you might,” she said, smiling.

  “I guess preachin’ never hurt anybody. Come along. Let’s meet ’em halfway.”

  As they got closer to the rescue party, Clay, who had the best eyes of any person Jerusalem had ever seen, said, “There’s Brodie right up in front along with Zane. I figured they’d be with ’em.”

  “Who else is there?”

  “Well, there’s Mateo—” and then he gasped. “Well, I’ll be dipped! Jim Bowie’s there! I reckon he’s been the tracker.” Clay pulled up, and the others followed suit. The band of men, about twenty in all, were whooping as they rode toward them. “Reckon we’re about to get welcomed,” Clay said.

  The party surrounded them, yelling and waving their hats in the air. They all dismounted, and Brodie came running forward. “Ma, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I am. We all are.”

  “I was so scared, Ma! And Grandpa didn’t make—”

  “I know, son,” Jerusalem said, trying to hold back the tears. “But I do know where he’s at right now. He’s with Jesus.”

  Jerusalem saw her son’s face twitching, and she knew that the worst thing she could do would be to put her arms around him and hold him as she longed to do. She reached up and patted his cheek. “There now. We’re all
safe. God protected us, Brodie.”

  Jim Bowie walked up and struck Clay on the arm hard enough to set him back. “Well, you son of a gun! How in the world did you get ’em back, Clay?”

  “Oh, I surrounded them, Jim. They gave up pretty quick when they seen it was me. They call me the White Ghost now. My new Indian name.”

  “White Ghost.” Zane grinned. “Why do they call you that?”

  “Because he came through all their guards at night and took us away from them,” Jerusalem said. Then she proceeded to tell them how Clay had faced Red Wolf and drew a pistol on him as fast as lightning. When she finished, she enjoyed seeing the awe in the eyes of the men from the rescue party.

  Jim Bowie laughed and said, “Wait’ll Sam Houston hears about this stunt! He’ll sign you up for his army, Clay. Maybe make you a general. If you can bluff a Comanche war party, you won’t have no trouble whippin’ that little old Mexican army of Santa Anna’s.”

  “Well, I reckon bein’ a general wouldn’t be too bad. You fellows could all be privates and wait on me hand and foot.”

  Everyone laughed, and Zane came over and put his arms around Jerusalem. “Well, sister, I’m mighty proud to see you. I’ve been worried something fierce.”

  Jerusalem felt the strength in her brother’s arms. “I knew you’d come, Zane.”

  “Too late, I reckon. You didn’t need anything but that one-man army.

  White Ghost—he’ll never get over that.”

  “I’m tired, Mama,” Moriah said. “I want to go home.”

  “I don’t reckon there’s any home to go to. The house was on fire when we left,” Jerusalem said.

  “Ma, it went out almost by itself. Some of the front room was burned,” Brodie said, “but the house is fine.” Seeing his mother and sisters safe filled him with emotion. He moved away from the men then, for tears had come to his eyes. He kept his face turned away, and Mateo moved to stand beside him.

  “It is not unmanly to weep,” he said, “not over a mother restored from the dead, or for losing your great-grandfather.”