Deep in the Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “No, sir,” Brodie said, “but we can all shoot.”

  “That’s all very well. We need good marksmen, but you’ve got to learn how to do close order drill. I’ll give orders to Sergeant Rains to give you some training. Good to have you with us on this glorious expedition.”

  Colonel Fannin turned and walked away as stiff as a ramrod, and Brodie turned to his two friends. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t either,” Tim Beringer said. He was a tall and lanky young man with piercing blue eyes. “I didn’t come here to learn how to salute and all that kind of stuff. I came to see some real action.”

  “Give him a chance,” Clyde suggested. “He’s been to West Point. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Brodie shook his head. “Well, I’ll stick it out here for a while, but if nothin’ happens, I’m going to join up with my pa at the Alamo. If I’m gonna be in this army, I want to do some good. Come on. Let’s go get some grub. I’m famished.”

  Colonel Travis looked down at the letter he had just written. He had sent messages before for help, but now he realized how critical their situation was. For all practical purposes, he was commander of all the forces in San Antonio. Jim Bowie’s sickness had gotten worse, and he could hardly raise himself from his cot. He had confided to Travis that he thought it was a bad case of scarlet fever, and so he had surrendered his command.

  “I can’t do anything to help you, Travis,” he said. “You’ll have to make out without me.”

  Travis got to his feet and read over the letter one more time. He was a man who loved drama, and he had spent much time writing the letter, hoping that his art with words would encourage others to come to his aid to defend the Alamo.

  To the people of Texas and All Americans in the World—

  Fellow Citizens and Compatriots:

  I am besieged with a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual bombardment and cannonade for twenty-four hours and have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison is to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves proudly from the wall. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism, and everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due his honor and that of his country.

  VICTORY OR DEATH.

  William Barret Travis

  LT. COL. COMD’T.

  Travis had made up his mind. Folding the letter and putting it into a leather case, he got to his feet and held it for a moment. “They’ve got to come,” he whispered. “They’ve just got to.”

  Clay’s horse was weary from the hard ride all the way to Gonzales. When he could find no sign of Brodie after a few hours, he had immediately continued on to Goliad. As he rode into town, he saw evidence of the army, for there were men everywhere with their rifles. When he reached the center of town, he dismounted and watched some of the men as they drilled, listening to the discontent among the men. He heard one tall recruit dressed in buckskin complain.

  “What good is all this marchin’ around? Let me draw my bead on them Mexes. That’s all I come here to fight for.”

  For a time Clay simply wandered around, hoping to find Brodie, but there were at least four or five hundred men in town. Finally, he saw a tall officer and walked up to him. “Excuse me, sir. I’m lookin’ for a young fella named Brodie Hardin.”

  “Brodie Hardin. Yes, he’s here. I’m Colonel Fannin. Might I have your name, sir?”

  “I’m Clay Taliferro.”

  “Did you come to join our forces, Taliferro?”

  “Well, I came to look it over. I may be, but I need to find Brodie, my friend, first.”

  “You’ll find him over there drilling with that group of men, he and his two friends. I hope you’ll stay with us. We’ll be seeing some action soon.”

  “I’ll think on it, Colonel Fannin.”

  Still leading his horse, Clay moved over closer to where the men were drilling. He spotted a barn and led his horse over there. A heavyset soldier was leaning on the bars of the corral. “Got a tired horse here, soldier. You reckon I could get him a feed?”

  “Shore, we’ll take care of that. We’ve got plenty of fodder. Are you joinin’ up?”

  “Thinkin’ on it.”

  Clay left his horse with the soldier and went back where the men were going through their drills. He leaned against the wall of one of the buildings. When the sergeant finally dismissed the men, Clay walked forward and said, “Hey, Brodie!”

  Brodie, hearing his name, turned, and Clay saw his eyes brighten. The boy came running forward and grabbed Clay and hugged him.

  “Clay, what are you doin’ here? I’m glad to see ya. How’s everybody at home?”

  “Whoa there, boy!” Clay grinned. He had to look up now, for Brodie had shot up like a weed. “Everybody’s fine at home. But they’re just a little worried about you.”

  “You remember Tim and Clyde here.”

  “Hello, fellas. You watchin’ out for this young scamp?”

  “I don’t need any lookin’ out after, Clay,” Brodie said.

  “Shore not. I was just tormentin’ you. What’s goin’ on here?”

  “Well, Colonel Fannin keeps sayin’ we’re goin’ into action,” Brodie said. “But so far I haven’t seen any sign of it. All we do every day is drill and drill. I didn’t come here for that. Clay, I’m thinkin’ of leavin’ here and goin’ on to find Pa.”

  “I just come from there—San Antonio. I talked to Jake, and he said for you to stay where you are.”

  “Was he disappointed I didn’t stay at home?”

  “Well, he wasn’t too happy about it, but he figured you’re a young buck and anxious to get into things. But I think you ought to do as he says.”

  “What about you, Clay?” Tim said quickly. “You signin’ up?”

  In that instant Clay made up his mind and said, “I thought I might stay here and see what Colonel Fannin’s got on his mind. That sounds like a pretty ambitious job hittin’ this town called Matamoros.”

  “Colonel Fannin thinks that if maybe we attack them and show some strength, Santa Anna would think twice before coming after us. Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep. Maybe you can get in our company,” Brodie said eagerly. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Me too,” Clay said.

  “But I don’t need a keeper,” Brodie warned.

  “You don’t? Well, I shore do.”

  For three days Clay waited along with the rest of the men for some sign of action out of Colonel Fannin, but Fannin seemed content to simply spend hours each day drilling the troops. Early afternoon on a Thursday, a man named Bonham came riding into Goliad with a message from Travis. Everyone knew he had brought a letter from San Antonio.

  When Brodie saw a group of men gather around Bonham, he said with excitement, “I’ll bet we’ll leave soon to go and support Colonel Travis and Colonel Bowie there. I sure hope so.”

  But late that afternoon Bonham was mounting his horse again, and Clay saw the downcast frown on his face. He walked forward and said, “Howdy. I’m Clay Taliferro.”

  “My name is Bonham.”

  “You brought word from the Alamo?”

  Bonham seemed weary and discouraged. “Colonel Travis has sent several messages urging Colonel Fannin to come to the Alamo, but he won’t do it.”

  “How are things there, Bonham?”

  “No better. We’ve got fewer than two hundred men, with no help coming, it seems. Travis has sent out letters asking for reinforcements, but nothing is happening.”

  “You know a fellow named Jake Hardin?”

  “Jake? Sure, I know him.”


  “When you get back, tell him his boy is here, and I’m doin’ all I can to watch out for him.”

  Bonham nodded. “I’ll do that.” He looked at the men milling around and shook his head. “It’s a tragedy, that’s what it is. All these men doing nothing, and the Alamo needs them. If they don’t get some reinforcements, they won’t have a chance when Santa Anna arrives with his army,” he said, then spurred off, a cloud of dust trailing him.

  Clay looked after him and shook his head. “Somethin’s not right about all this. I think Fannin’s the wrong man for command.”

  Jake stepped outside and saw Davy Crockett watching a group of men who were leaving. He walked over to him and said, “What’s going on, Davy?”

  Crockett turned and said, “Hi, Jake. It looks to me like people are pullin’ out of here.”

  “I don’t blame ’em. If what I hear is so, there’s a whole passel of Mexican soldiers on their way.” The two men watched as the civilians piled their belongings onto wagons. Most of them were Mexicans, and they were obviously filled with fear. Finally, Crockett said, “Looks kind of like rats leavin’ a sinkin’ ship, don’t it, Jake?”

  “I reckon so.”

  Crockett suddenly turned and said, “Have you got a family anywhere, Jake?”

  “Sure do.” He started to speak and then shook his head. “But I got to admit that I ain’t been the husband I should have been.”

  Crockett cleared his throat. “Well, I ain’t either. I got a family I haven’t treated right. “So does Travis, for that matter.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of us. Even Sam Houston didn’t turn out to be much of a husband.”

  The two men stood there occupied by their own thoughts. Finally Crockett said, “Let’s go down and see how Jim’s gettin’ along. He looks right poorly.”

  “I don’t think he’s gonna make it. If that’s scarlet fever, he sure won’t be any help to us when the fighting starts.”

  “Well, we’ll fight ’em til we drop, but I don’t aim to do that,” Crockett said as they went to the room where Bowie was.

  When they knocked on the door, they were met by a Mexican woman, who said, “Señor Bowie says for no one to come in. He doesn’t want them to get the fever.”

  Crockett laughed. “I don’t think that matters a bit, señora. Just stand aside.”

  “I don’t reckon we need to be afraid of a little fever with eight thousand Mexicans on the way,” Jake said, laughing along with Crockett.

  The two men went inside, and Jake was shocked at the sight of Jim Bowie. Bowie lay on a cot with a cover over him. He obviously had a chill, for he was trembling all over. His face was flushed, and his eyes were cloudy.

  When he saw who had come to visit him, Bowie said, “Well, hello, Davy. Hi, Jake.”

  “Well, Jim, doesn’t look like you’re doing too good. You’ve got to do better than that. We need you out there telling the men what to do,” Crockett said as he went over and stood by the cot.

  Jake joined him and saw that Jim Bowie’s magnificent strength was gone. He hardly looked able to get off of the cot. Jake forced himself to smile. “Well, you got any orders for us, Colonel, until you get back on your post?”

  “Fight ’em till you drop, boys,” Bowie said feebly. He tried to smile, but it was a weary effort. “I wish I could be with you.”

  The two men did not stay long. They wished the colonel well, then left and went outside. “Bowie’s not going to make it,” Jake said abruptly, “but then I don’t think any of us are.” Right then they saw Bonham ride in from Goliad and said, “Look, there’s Bonham. He rode to get help from Colonel Fannin. Let’s see if he did any good.”

  The two ran across the grounds, and as Bonham stepped off his horse, Davy said, “You find us any help, Bonham?”

  Bonham’s face was answer enough. He said in a spare tone, “No, it’s just us, it looks like.” He turned and said, “Jake, your boy is at Goliad, and a fellow named Clay said he’d look out for him.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Jake said. “Thanks for the message.”

  Jake walked away and watched as the last of the civilians left the compound. He was glad to hear about Brodie and murmured, “I’m sure glad Clay’s there to watch out for him.”

  Later that afternoon someone shouted, “The Mexicans are here!”

  Everyone ran to the walls to see Santa Anna’s army. Far off in the distance, on the horizon, they could see a thin line of soldiers approaching.

  Colonel Travis walked out and said, “All right, men, shut the gates.”

  Bonham was standing beside him, and he turned and said, “Do you think Colonel Fannin will change his mind and come?”

  “I don’t think so, Colonel Travis. It looks like to me that he’s either scared, or he just doesn’t know what to do. He’s no soldier. He never should have been given that post.”

  Travis gritted his teeth. “All right, it’ll just be us then, but we’ll stand ’em off.”

  The next day twenty-five men came in from Gonzales. They had had to fight their way through Mexicans to get inside the fort, and Colonel Travis stood watching them as they filed in. “I wish there were a thousand,” he said. “Only twenty-five.” He knew they were hopelessly outnumbered, but he could not let his disappointment show. He put a smile on his face and went forward to greet his new recruits.

  Clinton came stomping in and marched right up to Julie, who was standing and staring out a window. “Aunt Julie,” he said in a truculent tone, “you know what that crazy Englishman says?”

  “What does he say?”

  “Why, he says that the Indians are good as us.”

  Julie turned and could not help but smile at Clinton. Her nephew was growing up, and he looked enough like Jake to startle her. When he was fully grown, he would be the exact replica of his father. “You don’t think they are?”

  “Why, no. They’re just savages.”

  “I’m surprised at you, Clinton. A good Baptist like you! I thought you was supposed to love everybody. At least that’s what Rhys keeps telling everyone. He tells them that God loves everyone, no matter what. Maybe you better have a chat with him and get your theology straightened out.”

  Clinton stared at her, not knowing what to say at her. Embarrassed at being corrected, he blurted out, “Well, it’s hard to love them scalpin’, red devils!”

  “But you liked your pa’s Indian wife and his Indian family.”

  “Well . . . that’s different,” Clinton said, trying to argue, but his aunt wouldn’t say any more on the subject. Finally, he changed the subject, saying, “I been thinkin’ about leavin’ here.”

  “And going where?”

  “Going to find Brodie and Pa. I’m old enough to fight.”

  “You’re not going to do any such thing,” Julie said quickly.

  “Well, who’s gonna stop me?”

  Julie knew Clinton well and had a special affection for him. He was loud and argumentative, but she knew he had a tender heart. Going over to him, she put her arm around his shoulder and squeezed him. “Clinton, you’ve got to remember one thing.”

  “Well, what’s that?’

  “You’re the only son that your ma has left here. The very last. It would break her heart if you would go.”

  Julie continued to speak softly, and Clinton began to shuffle his feet. His features softened, and when Julie mentioned his two dead brothers, he blinked hard and said gruffly, “Well, I reckon I’ll stay around for a while.”

  Julie kissed him on the cheek, gave him a hard squeeze, and said, “That’s my good nephew. Now, let’s you and me go see if we can knock down some quail for supper.”

  By the time darkness had fallen, and things had grown quiet on the ranch, Julie was restless. She had not regretted her decision of coming to stay with Jerusalem and the family, but she had a sense of doom that seemed to hang over her. She spent some time each day listening to Fergus. The Englishman was cheerful and witty in a sly sort of way, and he ne
ver lacked for interesting stories to tell anyone who would sit down and listen. Julie sensed he had a fondness for her, and he made her feel confident.

  Ever since Brodie had run off, Julie knew that her sister was worried about him and Clay. Jerusalem had been very quiet all day. Before going outside for some fresh air after supper, Julie had said, “Jerusalem, maybe we ought to leave this place while we still can.”

  “I thought about that,” Jerusalem had said, “but I found out one thing after all these years. And that’s never to run away from problems. As sure as you do, a worse one will meet you.”

  Julie had understood exactly what Jerusalem’s words meant. The night air was cold, and she hugged her coat tightly around herself. She stood there looking across the land they had all worked so hard to make a home. She knew it could easily be taken away from them if Santa Anna’s forces pushed farther. She had a sudden impulse to get into a buggy and ride away from here. But then she thought, That’s what I’ve done all my life—run away when things get hard and when I don’t get my own way. The thought depressed her even more, and she was about to turn and go inside, when she saw Rhys Morgan standing out beside the big oak tree in the front yard. For a moment he seemed to be doing nothing, just standing there looking off into the distance.

  Julie had puzzled long over Rhys Morgan. She could not figure him out. In many ways, he was unlike any man she had ever met. He was a preacher, and yet there was nothing solemn or gloomy about him. On the contrary, he was one of the happiest men she had ever seen. There seemed to be an inner joy in him that only grew stronger when he faced hard circumstances.

  The other thing that puzzled Julie about the Welshman was that he had never made any attempt to touch her as other men had tried. Ever since she was fourteen, almost every man she knew had tried to take advantage of her in one way or another. Now as she stood there, a startling thought came to her. Maybe I’m losing my looks. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m pretty. The thought troubled her. She had always liked men and had enjoyed playing her game with them. Yet Rhys Morgan did not seem to know the rules of the game. He was always polite and cheerful with her, ready to help at any time. Even when she’d flirted with him, he had treated her with respect.