The Yellow Rose

by Gilbert, Morris

  Moriah saw that he was troubled about her and the remark. There’s nothing he can do about it, she thought. There’s nothing anybody can do about it.

  By the time a week had gone by, Quaid was feeling well enough to go outside and even to ride for short periods. He volunteered to go to work, but Clay had said, “There ain’t much work to do in the wintertime. Them cows ain’t goin’ nowhere, or if they do, we can catch ’em up again. Now, come spring, we’ll have a roundup and take another bunch to New Orleans. And you forget about goin’ to Santa Fe. There ain’t nothin’ there for you, and there is something here.”

  It was a few days later during the afternoon when Quaid had gone out to ride for the exercise. He had been shocked at how the ranch had grown and how Clay now had to keep half-a-dozen Mexican riders at all times to keep up with the cattle. It was a big job and was going to get bigger because Clay had thrown all his strength into enlarging the ranch. Across the river Kern Herendeen was doing the same thing, and once Clay had said to Quaid, “We’re gonna have trouble with Herendeen sooner or later.

  He wants all the land that joins his. He thinks he’s some kind of a little god in tin pants, and somebody’s gonna have to cut him down to size someday. I’ll need help when that time comes, Quaid.”

  Quaid had thought about Clay’s offer for him to stay and work for him, and now as he turned back toward the house, he saw Moriah come out and walk along the tree line. She was looking down at the ground, and when he approached, she looked up and smiled.

  “Quaid, where have you been?”

  “Just riding.” He stepped off his horse and said, “Mind if I join ya?”

  “No, of course not.”

  The two walked along, and Quaid said, “I can’t hardly believe how much the ranch has grown.”

  “I know it. It’s amazing. My folks don’t have much money, but they’ve got a lot of land now. The ranch is twice as big as it was when I was taken.”

  “It’s going to be bigger yet, according to Clay.”

  “It’s strange. He never wanted anything much, and then he married Ma and had the twins. Now he’s determined to have the biggest ranch in Texas.”

  The two walked until they reached a small creek that bordered the tree line. Quaid reached down, picked up a stone, tossed it in, and watched the ripples it caused. “You’re much better. You couldn’t have done that a few days ago,” Moriah said.

  “I’m too mean to kill, I guess.” He said. “Are you all right, Moriah?”

  Moriah looked at him quickly but knew what he meant. “It was almost as much of a shock coming home as it was being carried off to live with the Comanches, but it’s all coming back now. Of course, everything has changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Moriah looked at him directly. “I’ll never marry now. No man will ever have me.”

  “Well, that ain’t so. Lots of men would be glad to have a woman like you.”

  She turned then, but she said, “There’s Ethan. How many men would want an Indian son?”

  “He’s a fine boy. His father was a strong man, and you are a good woman.”

  Moriah had shared some of her thoughts with her mother, but not everything, but she felt she could say things to this man who had given his life to find her. “I can’t tell you how ashamed I am, Quaid.”

  “Why, that’s plumb foolish! You didn’t ask to be taken. You were a captive.”

  Moriah stared at him expressionless for a time, and then she said, “Have you made up your mind what to do?”

  “I think I’ll stick around.” Quaid was surprised, for he had made that decision on a moment. He had thought of going away, but Clay was right.

  There was nothing for him in Santa Fe. He had no family, and now he smiled. “Maybe me and Ethan could get to be partners. And I’d like to have a word or two with Bear Killer when he comes pokin’ around.”

  “I hope you will. Ethan needs a man to look up to.”

  “Well, he’s got some good men, Clay and the Hardin men.” He hesitated, then said, “I want you to do something, Moriah.”

  “Do what?”

  “I’d like to take you and Ethan to church next Sunday.” He saw the fear in her face and said, “Don’t be afraid. You faced the Comanches and won. I want you to keep your head high. You’re a good woman. You’ve got a good boy, and you need to say so by lettin’ people see you together.”

  Moriah could not answer for a moment. She had fared well enough with the townspeople, but she knew that some of the members of Rice’s church were prejudiced to the bone. But she felt Quaid’s eyes on her and said, “All right, Quaid. I’ll do it if you go with me.”

  “Why, the whole bunch of Taliferros and Hardins will go!” He grinned and said, “The whole Comanche nation couldn’t face us if we get our backs up!”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Moriah stood at the window of her room looking out as the morning unveiled itself. The sun stretched long fingers of light through the trees over to the west, touching the earth with gentleness. As she watched them, it seemed that the trees stood in disorganized ranks like a regiment at ease, laying their shadows on the ground in long lines. Farther over in the corral, a young colt ran around friskily, gleaming like light on water in the early morning sunrise.

  For a moment she stood there thinking about how her life had changed. It had taken a different shape and already had begun to grow new branches, and the old branches were withering away. After all she had been through in these last few years, she had hoped and prayed for such a thing, for she knew that the constant of nature was discard and then growth. Old things had passed away, and new things had to come. Suddenly below she saw Ethan bundled up in an old coat that had belonged to Sam. He was running headlong across the frozen ground. Sam and Rachel chased after him, and the sound of their laughter was like music on the air to her.

  Her glance shifted, and she saw that the men had already gathered, bringing the buggy and a wagon out for the trip to church. Clinton’s voice was loud as he supervised the arrangement of boxes and threw together seats in the back of the wagon. The horses’ breath made puffs of heavy white mist, as if they were breathing smoke. One of the mules hitched to the wagon suddenly kicked, his feet striking the wood, making a hollow sound on the cold, dead air. Steps sounded outside her door, and when a knock came, she turned and moved across the room to open it. Her mother stood there in her best dress with a heavy coat on, smiling and saying, “Come along, Moriah. We’ll be late for church. Everybody’s waiting on you.”

  “All right, Ma.” Taking her heavy coat from the bed where she had laid it, Moriah slipped it on and then put on a hat made of black felt. She pulled it down, fastened it with a pin, and saw that her mother was watching her carefully. She made herself smile and said, “I’m ready.”

  “You look just fine, daughter.”

  “So do you, Ma.” The two women went downstairs, and when they stepped out on the porch, the cold air brushed itself like a hand against Moriah’s face. When Ethan saw her, he came running across the yard. She stepped off the porch, leaned over, and hugged him, pulling him off the ground and swinging his feet back and forth.

  “Going to church,” he chirped and grinned at her.

  “That’s right. Going to church.”

  “Let him ride with us in the wagon, Moriah,” Mary Aidan said.

  “All right. You watch after him. But he’ll have to sit with me in church. I don’t trust you.”

  “That’s right. I don’t trust you either,” Clinton announced. He had come up and squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “You sit on my lap when we get to church.”

  “No, I don’t trust you.” Jerusalem smiled. “Ethan will sit with me.

  Now, let’s go.”

  Moriah climbed into the back of the buggy with the twins, and Jerusalem and Clay waited until they were settled and Jerusalem was sitting beside him. “Let’s go to church,” he said, smiling. He slapped the lines on the back of the ho
rses, and they started out at a brisk trot.

  As they left the yard, Moriah glanced back and saw Zane driving the wagon with Quaid sitting beside him. Clinton was in the back, and his voice carried even over the sound of the horses’ hooves. Brodie sat across from him, and Moriah settled back for the ride back to town.

  Moriah had not slept well that night, for somehow this first Sunday of 1843 was a momentous time for her. As the distance passed—she could not remember where or when exactly—she remembered her father Jacob talking about going back to old places. She must not have been over five or six years old, but she had been sitting in his lap on one of his rare visits home, and he had been talking to someone—she didn’t remember who. He had said, “You can go back to some place where you used to live, but it won’t be the same place. You could walk over it and find an old path, and you can say ‘Why, sure I remember this,’ or you can look in a valley that used to know you, but it don’t know you no more.” The words seemed to swim together inside Moriah’s head, and she refused to think of what it would be like when they got to the church. She knew Rice would be preaching. Julie had said that she wanted to be with the family on her first day back, and promised to meet them there. But there would be other eyes watching her—hard, critical, judgmental eyes. As the buggy moved along, crushing the frozen grass under its spinning wheels, Moriah Hardin straightened and made a vow to God that she would let no sign of weakness show in her. You’ve been good to me, God, to bring me back, and I won’t dishonor You by showing shame.

  When they pulled up in front of the church, Fergus Nightingale III was waiting. He came forward and removed his stovepipe hat and said, “Good day to you all. A fine day for church. I haven’t been in so long I’ve forgotten how to act, so, Clinton, you keep an eye on me, and if I misbehave, put me right, eh?”

  Clinton grinned. “I shore wish you’d get a big dose of religion, Fergus. An Englishman like you needs it to cheer him up.”

  As soon as Moriah stepped to the ground, she found Julie waiting for her. Julie was wearing a more subdued dress than she usually did, a plain light brown dress that showed beneath the long wool coat she wore. Her eyes were bright, and she came over to hug Moriah.

  “I’m glad to see you, sweetie. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Julie.”

  “We’re late,” Clay said. “It’s all you primpin’ so long, so let’s get on in there.”

  They heard the sound of singing as they approached the simple white church, which was nothing but a rectangle with a small steeple on the top.

  The windows were closed, but Moriah could see the worshipers inside.

  They were singing a hymn that had long been a favorite of hers, “Rock of Ages.” It brought back memories of the years she had sat in church beside Jerusalem. Now as Zane opened the door, Jerusalem was close behind her, holding Ethan. Moriah turned and said, “Let me have him, Ma.”

  “All right, daughter.” Moriah took Ethan and whispered, “You be a good boy now,” then stepped inside. The church, she saw, was full, and her eyes fell on Rice Morgan, who was standing in front of the congregation leading the song. He had a fine, clear, tenor voice, and when he saw her, he smiled brilliantly and stopped singing.

  “Well, I hate to interrupt a good hymn, but we need to make room for our latecomers. Some of you folks on the front are gonna have to move over. Make room for the Taliferros and the Hardins.”

  Moriah knew that her face was flushed, but she held her head high, and Jerusalem stepped up beside her.

  “Well,” Jerusalem whispered, “we’ve got a place right down front.

  Come along, daughter.”

  Moriah made her way up the front aisle, and every head in the church turned to face her. She held tightly to Ethan, and when she got to the front, the people in the first two pews had moved out, going to find another place. Rice stepped down off of the low platform and came to her.

  “We have some distinguished visitors. Sir Fergus Nightingale is with us this morning for the first time, I believe. Sir, it’s good to have you here.”

  “A pleasure to be here, Reverend, a pleasure.” Fergus beamed.

  “And then the rest of the visitors you know except one. We rejoice to have two very special visitors.” Rice was beaming, his eyes dancing. “We’re glad to have Miss Moriah Hardin back with us again, and for his first visit we have Master Ethan Hardin, Esquire. We don’t usually applaud in church, but I think it would be fitting to clap our hands as a praise offering to God for bringing Moriah and Ethan back into the heart of their family and all of us.” He began clapping, and the entire congregation joined in, it seemed, and the sound reverberated throughout the small wooden building.

  Moriah stood there, and a feeling of gladness filled her heart. She took her seat alongside Jerusalem, and when everyone was seated, Rice went back to take his stand on the platform.

  “Now we will sing the doxology. Let’s make the rafters ring as we thank God for His mercy.”

  Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

  Praise Him all creatures here below.

  Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.

  Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

  Moriah stood there holding Ethan. She felt her mother leaning against her, touching her on one side, and Clay moved until his shoulder was rubbing against hers. Right behind her she heard Clinton’s voice, then Quaid singing with enthusiasm along with Brodie.

  She took a deep breath and joined in the song, and in her heart she was giving praises to God as she had not since she had been rescued from Bear Killer’s camp.

  Rice led the congregation in two more hymns and then asked them to be seated.

  Taking his Bible, he said, “This morning I am going to speak to you very simply about the most important subject in the world. When the Lord Jesus was on this earth, He was accused of what many people saw as a crime, at least as a disgrace. He was called ‘the friend of sinners.’”

  Rice shook his head, and there was wonder in his dark eyes as his rich voice filled the building effortlessly. “If any of you here this morning feel yourself to be a sinner, then rejoice, for you have a friend, Jesus Christ of Nazareth. He delighted in finding the outcasts, the harlots, the drunks, and the murderers. All that the world had spurned, Jesus found them out.

  You will remember at one point in His life He was on a journey, and the Scriptures say that, ‘Jesus needs to go through Samaria.’ He had to go through Samaria because there was a sinner there, a woman that He met at a well. You know the story, but I’ll read it again. . . .”

  The congregation listened as Rice went through the Gospels, reading the story of person after person lost in sin, condemned by the world, but loved by Jesus. His face glowed as he spoke of how Jesus sought out the demoniac with a legion of demons and delivered him from oppression and gave him peace and joy and life. His voice lifted as he spoke of the ragged lepers that Jesus not only spoke to, but actually touched, which was foreign to every follower of Judaism! He spoke of the rough fishermen He called from mending their nets, and the tax collector named Matthew who He chose as His apostle—a sinner in the eyes of the Pharisees if there ever was one! He spoke of the woman who anointed His feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

  “That woman was the object of scorn by every self-righteous, religious Jew in Jerusalem, but Jesus loved her. And when she fell before Him, He praised her for loving Him with all her heart. I’m sure, for that time and for now and all eternity, she’ll be singing the praises of Jesus the friend of sinners.”

  Finally, Rice said, “I could go on forever. I could tell you about my own life as a sinner when Jesus found me. You heard me tell it many times. It was the greatest time of my life, dear friends, and I will never forget it. But now it’s time for those of you who are not believers. Perhaps some of you have reached the lowest point in your life. The world may have turned against you, but I’m here to tell you that Jesus is the friend of sinners. He will make you, no ma
tter what you’ve done, as white as snow. We’re going to sing a hymn now, and during this time, I want you to imagine that Jesus is here as He is in spirit. But just imagine He came down the aisle, and He came to you where you’re sitting. Picture Him reaching out His hand and saying, ‘I am your friend. Will you love Me as I love you?’ Can you imagine that? I feel the Spirit of God moving strongly this morning, and as we sing, I’m going to ask you to come and let the Lord Jesus Christ come into your life as your best friend.”

  The congregation stood up, and Rice began singing an old hymn, but he had not sung more than a few words when suddenly he stopped and Jerusalem saw his eyes widen and shock run over his face—and then pure joy.

  Indeed, Rice was transfixed and could not move for a moment, for there coming down the aisle was Julie Satterfield, tears running down her face. He saw that she walked unsteadily and her hands were trembling, and immediately he stepped down from the pulpit and said, “My sister, you’ve come to find the Lord.”

  “Yes.” Julie said that one word and then could say no more. She had listened to the sermon as she had to others, but the thought of Jesus being her friend and making her white as snow had moved her. Halfway through the sermon she had felt as if she were before the very eyes of God. All of her past suddenly came to her, and she had sat there stiffly, trying to ignore Rice’s words. But she could not, and now as she came, she could barely stand up.

  Rice whispered, “We will pray, Julie. It’s your time. Just tell the Lord Jesus that you love Him, that you’re sorry for every sin, and He will come into your heart.”

  The church was shocked and stunned. Several hardened sinners had been saved in this very church under righteous preaching, but Julie Satterfield! Several of the church members came and fell on the altar and began to pray. Jerusalem held tightly to Ethan and could not see for the tears that ran down her face. She heard others weeping.

  And then Rice rose and pulled Julie to her feet. Her face was wet with tears, but there was a new light in her eyes, and Rice’s voice was triumphant as he said, “Beloved, I have to announce the death of one of our members.” Everyone stared at him, and he lifted his hand, the sign of victory. “The old Julie Satterfield has died, and now we have a new Julie Satterfield. Come and welcome her into the family of God.”