“You get away from here, Jerusalem Ann, right now!”
“I’ve got to get these bedclothes washed,” she said, a smile on her face.
Clay knew that Jerusalem Hardin had a mischievous streak in her, and he saw it now in the glint of her green eyes. Her lips twitched slightly, and he knew she was laughing at him.
“Woman, get away from here. I’ve got things to do.”
“So have I.” Jerusalem bent over, picked up one of the pillowcases, and shook it out. Then she stooped down and swooshed it around in the water.
Clay never knew how to handle Jerusalem when she was in one of her playful moods like this. He stood up and said, “All right, then. I’m comin’ out.” He took a tentative step forward and saw her turn her head to one side and stare at him. “That scar Jim Bowie gave you wasn’t sewed up too good, was it? I could have done it better.”
Clay considered rushing out, but something about the humor in Jerusalem’s face stopped him. “It ain’t respectable for you to act like this, Jerusalem. Now get away!”
“After bein’ married and raisin’ a crop of boys, I don’t think I’ll be too shocked.” She suddenly laughed and said, “All right, I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed.”
She turned around and faced the bank, and Clay took her at her word.
He scrambled ashore, pulled his pants on, and immediately complained.
“You’d drive a fellow to drink, Jerusalem Hardin! Plain take it, you do get on my nerves sometimes!”
Jerusalem laughed and said, “Your hair is gettin’ too long. You need a haircut. I reckon I’ll shear you today.”
Clay pulled his boots on and came over and looked at her. “You are a bodacious woman! I’ll find a way to put you in your place for this little trick. You see if I don’t!”
As Brodie pulled up into the Lebonne homestead, he found Serena and Lucita working in the garden. Slipping out of the saddle, he pulled the sack off of the saddle horn, where he had knotted it. When they turned to meet him, he held it high, saying, “Look what I got.” He put the sack down, reached down, and carefully grabbed a large catfish by ramming his thumb down its jaw. He had been stabbed enough by the spines on the fish to be careful. When he held it up, he shook his head. “Ain’t this a gollynoster of a fish?”
“Oh, that is a fine one, Brodie!” Lucita said. “I’ve been hungry for fish for a week now.”
“I’ll go clean it for you,” Brodie said.
As Brodie hoped, Serena left the garden and came along with him. He went to the back of the house, where he had driven a nail in about five feet off the ground. Slitting the lower jaw of the catfish, he forced the tough surface of the tissue over it and then pulled out his sheath knife. He then slit the smooth skin of the catfish all the way around the head and stripped the skin off.
Serena watched and shivered slightly, saying, “I think a catfish is about the ugliest fish in the world.”
“Well, they taste good when they’re all fried with some cornbread and onions to go with it.” He pulled the fish down, cut the head off, and then proceeded to cut it up into fillets. The whole time Brodie worked, he was telling Serena about how they had caught the fish. Finally, when he was through, he carried the fillets to the back porch. She put them in a dish, carried them inside, and then came back a few minutes later. Brodie was washing his hands, and she brought a towel for him.
He wiped his hands on the towel and turned to face her. “You’re looking mighty pretty this morning.”
Serena laughed at him. “So are you, Brodie.”
As Brodie stood there, he wished he had followed Clay’s advice in taking a bath. He smelled strongly of catfish, and although Serena had a bead of perspiration on her forehead, she looked fresh. Feeling a little bold, Brodie said, “Serena, don’t you reckon I ought to get some kind of reward for bringing you that nice fish?”
“What kind of a reward are you thinking about?” Serena asked, teasing him.
“Well, maybe a little kiss,” he ventured.
Serena stared at him in surprise. “Why, Brodie, you’re getting to be quite a ladies’ man.”
Brodie had dreamed about kissing Serena, but he had never had the nerve even to hold her hand. Now he moved forward and said, “Aw, Serena, surely a big catfish like that is worth a little kiss.”
Serena suddenly moved forward and kissed him right on the cheek. “There,” she said. “There’s your reward.”
Brodie was caught off-guard, and before he could speak, he heard a voice behind him.
“So this is how you take care of my sister.”
Brodie wheeled around quickly and saw Mateo, who had silently come into the yard. There was no sign of a mount, and Brodie saw that Mateo was smiling.
Serena ran forward at once and embraced Mateo, calling his name and lifting her voice. “Mamá, Mateo is home!”
Mateo kissed her on the cheek, squeezed her, and then turned to Brodie. “So you have a suitor here, Serena.” He saw the stricken look on Brodie’s face and laughed. He was covered with dust from the travel on the trail and was wearing what seemed to be a uniform of some sort. He came over and slapped Brodie on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Brodie. I’ve kissed a few pretty girls myself.”
“Mateo!” Lucita came flying around the house, and Mateo stepped forward to greet her. She clung to him fiercely, kissed him, and then stepped back and tilted her head. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” she said, scolding him. “How long can you stay?”
“I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t know, but I’m starved to death.”
“You’re thin. Serena, come. We must feed this boy.”
“Come on in, Brodie. Maybe they’ll have enough for you too.”
Brodie followed the three inside and sat down at the table with Mateo. Serena brought them cool water to drink, and then the two women hurriedly began to fix a meal.
Brodie was dying to ask what Mateo had been doing, but he didn’t have a chance, for Mateo kept plying his mother and sister with questions as they prepared the meal.
Soon they set plates on table with beans, tortillas, and fried catfish. Lucita watched as her Mateo ate hungrily. Finally Lucita asked, “You’re back to stay, my son?”
“No, Mamá, I am a soldier now under General Santa Anna.”
At Mateo’s words, a cold chill ran down Brodie’s spine. He had heard of Santa Anna and knew enough to know that he was the archenemy of the Texans. He said nothing, but he saw that Lucita was dismayed. She protested, but Mateo was firm.
“I am one of his scouts now.” He turned then and said, “Brodie, this will be bad news for you.”
“What will be, Mateo?” Brodie asked, yet he had a good notion that any news about Santa Anna was not going to be good. Brodie had heard enough of Sam Houston’s concerns about Santa Anna from Clay.
“The general has organized a huge army, at least over five thousand soldiers, and he will be coming north soon. And when he does, there will be a war against the Texans.” Mateo leaned forward and said, “Brodie, you must get your family out of here. It’s going to be bad. The general says that all the Texans have got to go.”
“Why, he can’t shove all of us out!” Brodie protested.
“This is Mexico, and he is now the president,” Mateo said. He shook his head. “You are my friend, you and your family, but it would be best if you would leave.”
“Ma would never do that!”
“I was afraid you’d say that, but please try to talk to them. A few hundred Texan men with no training will not to be able stop Santa Anna’s five thousand trained soldiers.”
Brodie felt a touch of anger. He had been friends with Mateo for a long time. He knew he had to leave, so he got up and said, “Will I see you again before you leave, Mateo?”
“No, I will be going back right away.” Mateo stood up and came over and put his arm around Brodie’s shoulder. Grief filled his dark eyes, and he shook his head sadly. “You have no chance against the general a
nd his fine army. Leave while you can before you get killed. I would grieve over that, my friend, but it is what is going to happen.”
As Julie walked down the street, she saw Rhys Morgan talking to Ruby, one of many of the young prostitutes who hung around the saloons in San Felipe. The sight caught her by surprise at first, but then she realized he would talk to anybody about God. Right then Rhys turned and spotted her.
When Ruby saw Julie, she said with irritation, “Why don’t you preach at Julie? You’re her friend, not mine.”
As she turned and walked away, Julie stopped and went over to stand beside Rhys. “Is this your day to save bad women, Preacher?”
“I feel sorry for Ruby. She’s so young and doesn’t have much going for her.” He looked down suddenly and saw the bandage on Julie’s hand. “What’s the matter with your hand? Are you hurting?”
“I burned myself cooking this morning. Hot grease popped all over.” She held it up and shook her head. “Burns hurt worse than any other kind of hurt.”
“I’ve got just what you need to fix that up, Julie. You wait right here.”
Julie did not have time to answer, for Rhys turned and ran down the street. He had taken a room upstairs over the hardware store. Julie did not wait but continued to walk. The streets were filled with people, men mostly, and plenty of loud arguments were going on. It was almost like a meeting had been called.
Rhys caught up to her. He was holding a small clay pot in his hand with some kind of plant. “Here, take that bandage off.” He bent over and broke off one of the thick leaves of the plant. When Julie removed the bandage, his mouth grew tight. “That is a bad burn, but this will make it feel better.” He took her hand with his left one and with the right began squeezing the juice from the plant over the burned area. He moved carefully and gently. When he was done, he looked up, saying, “Is that better?”
“That does feel better. What is that plant?” Julie asked, looking at the strange-looking plant.
“I don’t know. We don’t have it in Wales that I know of, but I got it from a Mexican woman south of town here. She told me it was great for burns.”
“Why, thank you, Rhys. The burn doesn’t sting as bad now.”
“Here. You take the plant with you. I’ll get some more.”
“I think I’ll just leave that bandage off for a while,” Julie said. “The air feels good on it.” She waved her hand in the air, enjoying the freedom from the bandage and looked around. “Look, there’s Brodie.”
“Hi, Rhys. Hello, Aunt Julie,” Brodie said as he walked up to them.
“I was just leaving, Brodie,” Rhys said. “I’ll see you later, Julie.”
Brodie stood there, then noticed that William Travis was leaning against one of the posts that held the awning up over the store. Travis turned and came over and pulled his hat off. “Lots of folks in town today.”
“What’s everybody doing here?” Julie asked. “Is there some kind of a meeting going on?”
Travis liked to explain things. “Well, it’s like this. Texas has got two political parties now, a peace party and a war party . . .”
“A war party? War against who?” Julie asked with a puzzled frown.
“Everybody knows there’s going to be trouble with the Mexicans sooner or later.”
Brodie thought immediately of Mateo’s words, and he said to Travis, “I heard that Santa Anna has got an army of five thousand soldiers.”
“Where’d you hear that, son?” Travis asked, concern showing on his face.
“Oh, I just picked it up.”
“It could be true. I heard somethin’ like that. So have all these fellas. The trouble is,” he said thoughtfully, “there’s no leader.”
Even as Travis spoke a shout came from down the street. All three of them walked out into the center of the street to look, and Travis said, “It looks like they’ve caught somebody. I don’t know him, though.”
Brodie watched as a number of men milled around the rider they had stopped and pulled off of his horse. Travis suddenly recognized one of the men in the crowd and said, “That’s J. B. Miller!”
“Who’s he?”
“Oh, he’s the Political Chief of the Department of the Brazos.”
Miller came rushing down the street, and looking up, he called out, “Travis, look at this!”
“What is it, J. B.?”
“That fella we pulled off the horse was one of General Cos’s couriers. One of the fellows knew him, and look what he had in his saddlebag. It’s several messages straight from General Santa Anna himself. We’ve got to do somethin’ about this!”
“Let me have a look at that.” Travis took the papers and read through them. “It looks like they’re sendin’ support down to Anahuac. We can’t have that.”
“Look at the other two. Look at this one,” Miller said. He held up another paper and waved it in the air. “It says civil government in Texas has been suspended. You know what that means. General Santa Anna’s taken over.”
“What’s the other one?”
“This is the worst,” Miller said grimly. “He says Santa Anna’s coming to lead troops all the way across Texas. This means war, Travis.”
“Well, the first thing we’ll have to do,” Travis said quickly, “is to send help down to Anahuac.”
“Just what I thought. Can you go, Travis?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m authorizin’ you to raise all the men you can. Go down there and intercept anybody heading north. We’ve got to put a stop to this.”
“I’ll do it,” Travis said.
As he rushed off, accompanied by Miller, Julie said, “Travis has been looking for something like this. He’s just itchin’ to see a war start. He sees himself as a general, I think.”
“This is getting bad, Aunt Julie,” Brodie said. “Don’t tell anybody, but I saw Mateo. He told me the same thing. General Santa Anna has got an army of five thousand trained men and is heading north. Mateo says we ought to tell Ma to get out of Texas.”
“She’ll never do that!” Julie said.
“I don’t think so, but I’ve got to tell her.” Brodie turned and made for his horse. As he got on it and rode off, Julie turned and saw that Travis was gathering a group of men, who all seemed to be excited about keeping General Santa Anna out of Texas. “Men,” she whispered vehemently, “they like nothin’ better than a fight.”
Sam Houston studied the man across from him and said, “What happened with Travis and that bunch he took to Anahuac?”
Jim Bowie had ridden in as soon as he had some news of Travis’s expedition. That had been two weeks before, and he shook his head in disgust.
“Why, nothing really happened. Travis took two dozen men down. They found a little brass cannon somewhere. I guess the sight of it scared the Mexicans. The commander surrendered about fifty soldiers, and Travis let them go.”
“I guess Travis wants to be a military hero of some kind,” Houston said.
“Well, he ain’t no hero this time,” Bowie said coolly. “When he got back to San Felipe, he found out that the peace party was mad as hops.”
“I heard General Cos wanted to shoot Travis when he got back.”
“That’s what he said he’d do.” Bowie laughed. “Texas may denounce Travis for a fool, but it would be another thing to turn him over to a Mexican firing squad.”
The two men were talking in Sam Houston’s office in Nacogdoches where Bowie had come to meet with Houston. Bowie was a fiery man who loved action, and ordinarily so was Houston, but in this case Houston seemed reluctant.
“What’s the matter, Sam? Don’t you want to see Texas fight for their rights?”
“It’s not the right time for it, Jim.”
“I don’t think it ever will be,” Bowie said. “There’s nothin’ that’ll tie Texans together. They’re all just too blasted independent.”
“Well, I’ve got some good news for you. It may make a difference,” Houston said. “Stephen Austi
n’s been released.”
“He has? Well, that is good news! They had no right to arrest him anyhow.”
Indeed, Austin had been held for more than eighteen months. No Mexican court or judge would accept the responsibility for freeing him or shooting him, and finally he had been released under general amnesty. He was neither pardoned nor cleared, but now he was free.
“Where is he now, Sam?”
“They put him on a boat and shipped him off to New Orleans. I got a letter from him somewhere.” Houston dug around in a pile of papers in a drawer and pulled one forth. “He’s changed his tune a lot, Jim. He’s always bent over backward to get along with the Mexicans, but a year and a half in one of their jails has convinced him that Texas has got to be an American state. Look, he says here, ‘We need to get a great immigration from Kentucky and Tennessee, each man with his rifle.’”
Bowie was excited. “Does this mean he’s gonna help us break free from Mexico?”
“We’ve got to do it, but the timing’s got to be right.” Houston shook his head. “Santa Anna’s started calling himself the ‘Napoleon of the West.’”
“Texans can beat anything Santa Anna can throw at them,” Bowie said.
“He’s got a big force, Jim. We know that much. We have no organized army.”
“There’s enough of us if we pull together.”
Sam Houston ran his hand through his hair. “The trouble is Texans are so independent that they don’t want to take orders from anybody. And, Jim, we’ve got to have a trained army, or we don’t stand a chance.”
Bowie looked steadily at Houston. “We’ll get one, Sam. We’ll have an independent Texas sure as you sit there!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
The fall of 1835 brought a smoky blue-gray haze over the Texas plains. The sun was warm, but the smell of winter was in the air. Those sensitive to weather changes recognized the coming crispness of winter. The cornstalks stood bare now, and hunters ranged the plains and the hills for winter meat to store in their larders. News came to Texas, as it did to all places, passing from mouth to mouth and making ripples of disturbance. Sometimes it would fade away, and sometimes it would gain momentum. A man murdered his wife and three children on a farm close to San Antonio, and the tale grew into a horror tale recounted from place to place during the long evenings. There were infidelities, and marriages broke up, but other families began with a young man and a young woman who faced the problems of this new country with faith and hope.
Deep in the Heart Page 30