“What did he mean?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything, but Cable was scared to death.
He died just before dawn, and he died screamin’ as he went out.” Clay shifted on his chair and shook his head. “I ain’t never forgot that.”
“I’d like to go the way my own ma went,” Jerusalem said. “She went so easy. It was just like she was getting ready to go on a pleasant journey, and she said good-bye and then left.”
“That’s the way I’d like to go, but most folks don’t go that easy.”
“I’d like to see you find the Lord, Clay.”
“I guess I’m too tough a sinner for that, Jerusalem.”
Ignoring this statement, Jerusalem began to speak. She brushed a few of the hairs that had fallen on Clay’s forehead away and then rested her hand on his shoulder. “I was converted when I was fifteen years old, Clay.
It was so easy. I was at a camp meeting, and the preacher preached about Jesus dying on the cross, and somehow I knew that it meant something to me. So I went down front, and they prayed over me, and I prayed too.
And something happened that day.”
“That’s good, Jerusalem. I’m glad for you.”
“But when my boys died,” Jerusalem continued, “I got mad at God. I didn’t speak to Him for a long time. Not until I was in Red Wolf’s camp.” She saw Clay lift his eyes, and something came to his face. “That changed me. I called on the Lord to save my girls, and He saved all three of us. You know about that, Clay, because you were His instrument. But since that day, something’s been different inside. It’s almost like getting saved again. I’ve been so conscious of the presence of the Lord ever since.”
Whatever Clay was going to say, he did not finish, for the door suddenly opened and Brodie came in. Both of them turned to look at him, and Jerusalem said, “Where have you been, Brodie?”
“Nowhere.” He stood there, looking sullen. “I’m going to join the army,” he burst out. “I talked to Sam Houston and Jim Bowie. They say a fight’s comin’. And I’m gonna be in it.” He saw his mother start to speak and then said, “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Ma. I’m going.” He dashed out of the room, and they heard the door to his room slam.
“Something’s happened to him,” Clay said. “Never saw him that riled before.”
“He’s been to Serena’s.”
“Well, what would upset him about that?”
“He’s all mixed up. He’s seventeen years old, almost a man. He is a man in body, but he’s still a little boy on the inside. He’s not like my other boys, Clay. Brodie has always had a tender and sensitive side to him, and now he’s in love with a woman, and he’s all mixed up about it. I wonder if something happened when he was over there. . .”
“Well,” Clay said slowly, “I guess a woman can do that to a man.”
Jerusalem brushed the hair from his face and removed the towel. She tossed it on the chair and then began to comb his hair. She was thinking about Brodie, worrying about him, when suddenly she realized Clay was staring at her. She looked at him and saw a certain look in his eyes that any woman could recognize. Clay tried to conceal his feelings for her, but Jerusalem knew they were there.
For a moment they stood looking into each other’s eyes. Jerusalem felt a weakness in her own heart. She still held the strongest beliefs about her marriage vows, even though Jake had abandoned her. But she was still a woman and had had little attention or romance from the man she had married. Clay was looking at her steadily, and the wall that Jerusalem had put between them suddenly seemed very fragile. She knew with one word from Clay, it would crumble, and the thought both tempted her and frightened her. Quickly, she stepped back and said almost breathlessly, “What . . . what did you do with the bird, Clay?”
Clay shook himself slightly, as if the words had shocked him. He’d been caught up in the strong feelings he had for this woman. She had an irresistible drawing because of her beauty and strength of character. He swallowed hard and passed his hand over his face. “I . . . I buried it.”
“You buried it?”
“Yep. I felt plumb foolish, but I somehow had to do it.” Then, as if he could not trust himself, he mumbled, “Good night, Jerusalem. I’m going to bed.”
Jerusalem watched him go and then began to clean up the hair scattered on the floor. For one moment she held a tawny lock in her hand, and a thought came to her, but she pushed it out of her mind. “Time to go to bed, girl,” she said quietly and put the moment behind her.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
The sound of a horse approaching awoke Jerusalem out of a sound sleep. She had been dreaming of her life back when she was younger, but now that all faded as she heard the horse pull up in front and expel his breath with a slobbering sound. She swiftly threw the cover back, grabbed her robe, and slipped her feet into the shoes beside her bed. She stopped long enough to pick up the pistol Clay had given her, which he had insisted on teaching her how to use. She kept it loaded, and now she pulled the hammer back as she moved quickly into the large room and stood before the door. For a moment she stood there very still, and then she heard a movement outside on the porch. She lifted the pistol in both hands and spoke. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me—Jake.”
A sense of relief flooded through Jerusalem. She lowered the pistol, slipped the bar that held the door, and opened it. All she could see was the outline of Jake’s bulk, but she said quickly, “Come in. Let me light the lamp.” Stepping back, she turned, and laying the pistol on the table, she found a match and lit the lamp. The corona of yellow light illuminated the room. Turning, she took one look at Jake’s face and knew that something was terribly wrong. He looked worn, tired, and he had lost weight. “Sit down, Jake,” she said quietly. “I’ll heat you up something to eat.”
“Not hungry.”
“You can eat something, and there’s coffee.”
The business of stirring up the fire occupied Jerusalem, but she was thinking rapidly, wondering why Jake had suddenly appeared from nowhere. She stole glances at him as she prepared some food. He didn’t speak. He just sat at the table with his hands out before him clasped together. He seemed to be in a daze, and he had a laxness in his body that warned her that he had changed.
When the food was ready, she brought a plate of potatoes and a large chunk of beef, along with a cup of scalding coffee, and set them on the table. “Here, eat this,” she said and then sat down beside him.
Jake stared at the food for a while, then he shrugged and began to eat. He must have been terribly hungry because he ate all the food and drank two cups of coffee.
“That was good, Jerusalem,” he said when he finished.
“What’s the matter, Jake?”
Jake’s eyes were deep pools of grief. Jerusalem had never seen him like this before. They had had hard times, but he had always been one to face it head on. Now she saw that he was drained of the vitality that had been such a part of his tough makeup. He tried once to speak but could not seem to find the words, and then he said simply, “It’s Awinita and the kids.”
“Are they sick, Jake?”
“They’re all dead.” The words seemed to be ripped out of Jake Hardin. He clasped his hands together and squeezed them powerfully, yet they were shaking. “Smallpox. We just started gettin’ settled down in the mountains, and it got ’em. There was nothin’ I could do, Jerusalem.”
Seeing the misery in Jake’s face, a wave of compassion rose up in Jerusalem. She had not loved Jake as a wife for a long time, though she had been faithful and obedient as far as she could. Now, however, noting the agony of grief that he kept back by sheer force of will, she rose up and walked over to him. Leaning over, she put her arms around him and drew his head down to her. She held him tightly, saying nothing, but feeling the trembling in his body. As she held him he struggled for control, and she simply stroked his hair, saying nothing, but thinking. Lord, you showed me mercy that night I thought
we could all die in Red Wolf’s camp. How can I withhold it now from Jake when he’s hurting so bad? Though it seemed strange that she could be trying to comfort him for the loss of another woman and the children she bore, Jerusalem knew she had settled this in her heart long before. When Jake moved, she stepped away and went back and sat down, looking at him across the table. “Have you come back to stay with us, Jake?”
She knew the answer before he gave it, but for her sake it had to be spoken.
Jake shook his head, and it was as if he were having difficulty hearing her. Finally, he said hoarsely, “I heard about this war that’s coming up with Santa Anna. I was worried about you and the kids being caught in it.”
“We’ll be all right, Jake.”
“I thought you might want me to get you out of it. I’ve come to ask if you want me to take you back to the States. Maybe back to Arkansas Territory.”
“No, we’re staying here, Jake. Texas is our home now. We won’t be driven off our land. We worked too hard to lose it all now.”
“I knowed you’d say that, but I had to come anyway and offer.” Jake straightened up, picked up the empty cup, and stared at it as if collecting his thoughts. “I got nothin’ to do now. I thought the best I could do for you and the kids was to join up with this bunch that’s going to fight the Mexican army.”
“You can come back, Jake, and I’ll take you back as a husband.” Jerusalem knew what she was saying was hard for her, and the memories of all the years when he wasn’t there for her or the children came back right then. When she had married him she had had high hopes, and for a very brief time she had been happy. But that had been ephemeral, and the memory of his long absences and his infidelity tried to flood her thoughts. Still, she had made the offer freely, and as she did, that same peace flooded over her just as it had that night in Red Wolf’s camp.
Jake shook his head and said, “I messed up your life enough, Jerusalem, and the kids too.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “When the war is over, I’m going back to the mountains. You don’t need me.” He waited for Jerusalem to speak, and when she did not, he said, “I’d like to stay here tonight and say my good-byes to the kids tomorrow before I leave.”
“You’re welcome, Jake.”
Without another word Jake got up and went outside. He came back soon with his bedroll, threw it out on the floor before the fire that had almost died down. “I’ll be all right here.” He turned to her and then something came to him. He walked over and took her hand and looked into her eyes for a long time.
“Jerusalem, I know what I did to you and the kids. And . . . well . . . I’m sorry about everything. You’ve been a good wife, and you deserve better than me.” He turned then, lay down on the bedroll, and pulled the blanket over him.
Jerusalem turned and went back to the bedroom. It was cold in the room. She undressed, got into bed, and pulled the covers around her. Her mind raced as she tried to understand what had just happened. She thought of the long years that she had been married to Jake, and one thing came with a grim finality. “That’s all over,” she said. “He’ll never come back to his family now.”
When Brodie walked into the room, followed by Clinton and Moriah, a shock ran through him at the sight of his father sitting at the table with Clay. He stopped so abruptly just inside the door that Clinton ran into him and then gave him a shove.
“What are you stoppin’ fer? Get out of the way!” But Clinton, too, halted, and Moriah as well, when she entered the room.
“Pa, you’re back!” Brodie said and watched as Jake got up and came over to him. Jake was staring at him in a strange way.
“Boy, you’re growin’ like a bean. How tall are you now?”
“I don’t know, Pa.”
“He’s about six-three, I think, if I figured right,” Jerusalem said.
“You’re gonna fill out one day and be a considerable man,” Jake said as he looked up at his son. He squeezed Brodie’s shoulder and kneaded the lean muscle. “You growed up all at once, boy. You know you look a lot like my own pa. You never got to see him. He was tall and lean like you and a better man than I ever was. I think you’re gonna be just like him.”
Jake turned to Clinton and grinned. “Well, Clinton, nobody’ll ever need a picture of me as long as you’re around.”
Clinton swelled up with pride. He had always been proud of the fact that he looked like Jake much more than Brodie, who took more after his mother in some ways.
Jake then turned to Moriah. He stared at her for so long, and she met his gaze. “What are you starin’ at me for, Pa?”
Jake shook his head, and a look of wonder filled his eyes. “You know, Moriah, you look exactly like your ma did the first time I ever saw her. She’s the finest lookin’ woman I ever seen, and you’re just like her.” He reached out and ran his hand over her dark red hair, something he had not done for a long time. “I hope you turn out to be as fine a woman as she is.”
Moriah was startled by her father’s gentleness. Jake had never been one to give caresses to his children. Moriah could not speak but watched him intently, something in her expression that Jerusalem caught.
“Everyone sit down to eat,” Jerusalem said. The children all sat down, and Jake sat down beside Clay. Clinton plunged into his food, but Moriah and Brodie could not take their eyes off Jake.
“Where is Awinita, Pa?” Moriah asked.
Jake did not answer at once, and all three of the children looked up at him to see the reason for his silence. Jake had a fork in his hand, and now Brodie saw that he clenched it so tight that his fingers turned white.
“She’s gone, daughter, and both the kids. They died of smallpox.” Jake struggled with his words and then said painfully, “Paco went first. I buried him, but then Awinita . . . she died three days later. And then two days after I buried her, Rose died.”
Brodie could not speak, and he saw that the others were struck dumb also. “I’m real sorry, Pa,” he said quietly. “I was real fond of Awinita and the kids.”
“I appreciate that, son,” Jake said. He put the fork down and then looked down the table, studying the three. “I got me a chore to do. I’m goin’ to join up with the army and stop this here Santa Anna.”
At once Brodie straightened up. “I’m goin’ with you, Pa.”
Jake shook his head. “You’re a man now, Brodie, and I’d take it as a favor if you’d stay with your ma and your brother and sisters. I’d be right pleased if you’d do that for me.”
Brodie longed to go with him, but something in his father’s eyes stopped him. His father had given him plenty of orders during his lifetime, but as far as Brodie could remember, he had never received this kind of request. Brodie thought, Pa’s changed. He ain’t the same as he was.
He struggled for a brief time with what his father had asked of him, but then he looked at him and said, “All right, Pa, if that’s what you want.”
“I appreciate that, son.”
Jake rose to his feet. “I guess I’d better go.” Instantly everybody got up, and Jake stood before them looking at them strangely. He came to Brodie and put out his hand. Brodie felt the large hand close around his, and then his father reached out and embraced him. Brodie could not remember his father ever doing a thing like that, and he held him tightly for a fleeting moment.
Jake turned and embraced Clinton and then turned to Moriah. “You’re a beautiful girl. I’m right proud of you.” He reached out, and she came to his arms and held on to him tightly. When she stepped back, Jerusalem saw tears in Moriah’s eyes.
“I’m proud of all of you,” Jake said. And then he turned to Jerusalem and stood before her silently. The silence seemed to run on for a long time, and finally Jake reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I wish . . .” he said and then broke off. “I wish I’d been a better man for you, Jerusalem Ann.”
At once Jake turned and left. Clay picked up the bedroll that Jake had apparently forgotten and hurried out after him. By the time he
got outside, Jake was putting the saddle on his horse. Clay stepped up and threw the bedroll over and tied it down with thongs on the saddle. As he stepped back, Jake turned to face him, and Clay said simply, “I hate to see you go, Jake.”
Jake Hardin stood for a moment looking into Clay’s eyes. He was worn down, and fatigue had etched its lines on his face, but he smiled.
“We had some good times together, didn’t we, hoss?”
“Fine times, Jake.”
Jake put out his hand, and Clay took it. “You done everything I asked you, Clay. Now let me ask you one more thing.”
“You just name it.”
“Watch out for Jerusalem and the kids.”
“Sure I will. You can count on it.”
Jake crushed Clay’s hand with his powerful grip, and then he swung into the saddle. He looked at the family, for they had come outside and stood watching him. He leaned forward and said so quietly that only Clay could hear him, “Stay out of this war, Clay, as long as you can.” He straightened up then and looked at his family one more time. Something passed between him and Jerusalem that could not be spoken. He tore his eyes away from her then, turned the horse around, and kicked his sides. His horse, a big, powerful bay, cantered down the road, and Jake Hardin did not look back one time.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
As Jake approached the town of Gonzales, he pulled up his bay and stared at a large body of mounted men, followed by men on foot, coming toward him. Jake watched them for a moment and shook his head. “I must have met the army right on.” He waited until the leaders reached him, and he saw Jim Bowie in the front, riding a light gray stallion. Jake pulled his horse up beside Bowie and said, “What’s going on, Jim?”
“Why, hello, Jake.” Bowie grinned. He was wearing a gray wool coat, and the knife that bore his name was suspended in a leather thong at his side. “Did you come to join up?”
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