The Yellow Rose (15 page)

Jerusalem did not answer for a moment, and then she said, “It’s the oddest thing, Clay. You know, I tried to make a bargain with God at first.

I told him if He’d let me have this place, I’d serve Him. Then I realized that was wrong . . . it was selfish. I told Him I’d serve Him whether I got it or not. But somehow this place is different from any land I’ve ever known. Texas is my home now.”

“Well, it’s big enough,” Clay said, sweeping his eyes over the plain.

“Full of longhorn cows, coyotes, Comanches, scorpions, and snakes.”

“Oh, it’s better than that, and you know it!”

“Well, if you like it, then it suits me fine.” He motioned and said, “There it is. The metropolis of Texas. Jordan City.” He grinned wryly and said, “Took lots of nerve to call it a city. They might have called it Jordan Junction or somethin’ like that.”

Clay drove straight into town and noted the considerable activity about the town. “Must be havin’ a hangin’,” he said, “or a party of some kind. Not much, is it?”

“I’m glad it’s here, though. Only six miles from the ranch. That’s no distance at all.”

“You’re talkin’ like a real Texas woman.” Clay grinned. He drove down the broad street, stopping at a two-story building. “Our lawyer, Gentry, has an office upstairs,” Clay said as he helped Jerusalem out of the wagon. As soon as he had tied the reins to the hitching post, they turned and climbed the stairs and entered the lawyer’s office.

Micah Gentry was a fat man bursting out of his clothes. He had a wild mop of brown hair and a beard to match and bowed swiftly two or three times as Clay introduced Jerusalem.

“Well, now, Mrs. Hardin, we’re mighty proud to have you in the country. Here, you sit down right here while I get these papers out.” He saw to it that Jerusalem had a seat, scurried around through a mass of papers that littered his desk, and finally nodded. “Here it is. Let me tell you. You got a real buy on this ranch, ma’am. I don’t know as I ever knew anyone gettin’ a better bargain.”

“That’s good to hear, Mr. Gentry. Where do I sign?”

Jerusalem signed the four papers and was about to stand up when the door opened and a big man walked in.

“Oh, Kern. Glad you came by,” Gentry said rather nervously. “Like for you to meet some newcomers. This is Mrs. Hardin, and this is her foreman, Mr. Taliferro. You know, the ones that bought the Howard place.

This here is Kern Herendeen.”

Jerusalem had risen and was studying the man who had entered the room. He was an inch over six feet and in his late thirties, she judged.

There was a hardness and a strength in the man, and she noticed he was roughly handsome. He had yellow hair with a slight curl and unusual hazel eyes. His mouth was broad and firm, and he had a determination in him that he made no attempt to hide.

“I’m very happy to meet you, Mrs. Hardin. I heard you were coming.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s good to be here.”

Suddenly, Herendeen smiled. “I suppose you heard I tried to buy your ranch from Tucker.”

“I did hear something about that.”

Herendeen shrugged. “Well, my loss is your gain. But we’ll be neighbors, you know. My own place is just across the river from yours. When the river is not up, you can ford it, and we’ll be visiting, I hope.”

“I hope so.”

Kern Herendeen turned to face Clay and nodded. “I understand you scouted the place out, Taliferro.”

“I’m just Mrs. Hardin’s errand boy,” Clay said idly.

“Well, you found her a good one.”

Jerusalem smiled and said, “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Herendeen.

I’ll look forward to seeing you again. Thank you very much, Mr. Gentry.”

Clay nodded at the two men and left with her. “What’d you make of him?” he asked.

“Mr. Herendeen?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a very forceful man.”

“I think you’re right about that,” Clay said dryly. “From what I hear, he’s used to having his own way. I’m surprised he took it so nice; you’re getting the place he wanted so bad.”

“Well, he didn’t have much choice. Tucker would never have sold to him, so you said.”

Clay said no more, but Jerusalem wanted to do some shopping. The choice of shops were not very extensive in Jordan City, but she did manage to buy several items that she needed. When they went back toward the wagon, before she could get in, a voice called out.

“Mrs. Hardin . . .”

Jerusalem turned and saw Kern Herendeen approaching. He stopped in front of her, removed his hat, and said, “I have to go right past your ranch on the way to the ford. Why don’t you ride along with me, and I can show you some of the interesting sights.”

Jerusalem hesitated but wanted to be a good neighbor. “Why, that would be very nice. Clay, you go on ahead.”

Clay nodded and without a word got into the wagon and drove off.

“Taliferro’s not much of a talker, is he?”

“Oh, sometimes he is.”

“Well, he’s going to have his hands full. Ranching’s not easy. Come along. Get in the buggy.”

He helped her into the buggy and climbed up and sat down beside her. Taking up the lines, he said, “You’re close to town. We’re trying to get a church started here. I’m not much of a churchgoer myself, but I donated the materials.”

“Why, that’s very generous of you, Mr. Herendeen.”

Herendeen turned and smiled at her. “We’re not much on last names.

I know it’s a little soon, but I’d like it if you would call me Kern.”

Jerusalem did think it was rather soon, for she had just met the man, but she nodded. “All right, and I’m Jerusalem.”

“You have a family?” he asked as he slapped the reins on the horses.

“Tell me about them.”

As they rode along, Jerusalem told Kern about her family and then said, “What about you, Kern?”

“Well, I was married, but we didn’t have any children. I’m just a lone bachelor now. I suppose you heard the gossip about Tucker and me.”

“Yes, I did,” she said honestly. “It was too bad.”

“Well, it was one of those things. Margaret was engaged to Tucker, and looking back, I think she knew she had made a mistake. I never set out to take her away from him, but, well, that’s the way it happened. We fell in love, we married, and Tucker Howard could never forgive us— either of us.”

“It must have been very hard living this close to him.”

“He never spoke to either one of us again. Hasn’t to this day. He didn’t even come to Margaret’s funeral.”

“It must have been difficult having him for a neighbor.”

Kern smiled and turned to face her. He was a big-boned man with long arms, and his muscles strained against his shirt. The edge of his jaw was sharp against the heavy, tanned skin, and his nose had a small break at the bridge. He had a rider’s looseness about him, and all his features were solid. He had the flat and angular heavy shape of a man who made his living in the saddle. “It will be better now that you’re here,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jerusalem said. She hesitated, then said, “I understand that there was a little trouble between Clay and your foreman.”

“I heard about that. Burdette’s a tough hairpin. Has to be to run a ranch like this. I understand they’ve had trouble before. Burdette wouldn’t say much about it. He told me they were in the mountains trapping together. Did Taliferro say anything to you?”

“Not really. He’s not much of one for spreading talk. Well, let’s hope they can put it behind them now that we’re neighbors.”

By the time they pulled up to the house, Jerusalem had decided two things about Kern Herendeen. One, he was an intensely attractive man from a woman’s point of view, and two, he was probably one of the strongest men she had ever seen. He was strong physically. That was obvious. But there was an intensity about him that made her know that he was the kind of man who would make a good friend or a bad enemy. He got out and came around, and she waited until he got there and handed her down.

“Most pleasant trip I’ve had to town in a long time,” he smiled.

“Thank you very much for the ride and for the tour.”

“I hope you’ll come over to Skull and visit. I’d like for you to see my place.”

“That would be nice.” She nodded and said, “Good-bye. And thanks again.” She went into the house and found Julie waiting for her.

“Who was that?” Julie said.

“It’s Kern Herendeen. He owns Skull Ranch just across the river.”

“He’s a good-looking man.”

“Is he?”

“Oh, come on, Jerusalem,” Julie scoffed. “I could see that much from here, and you were right up in his face.”

“Well, he
is
attractive, I suppose. He invited me to come over and see his ranch.”

“Not married, is he?”

“No. He lost his wife about two years ago.”

“Well, Clay doesn’t like you riding with strange men.”

Jerusalem turned to stare at her. “What are you talking about?”

Julie laughed. “He came in like a bear with a sore tail. I found out that he was mad because you rode home with Herendeen.”

“What did you say?” Jerusalem smiled.

“I told him he ought to say a lot of sweet things to you, and all he could say was, ‘I ain’t no fancy man.’” Julie laughed. “I told him, ‘Then get yourself a squaw if that’s the way you have to be.’”

Jerusalem laughed with her and said, “They’re building a church in town. We’ll go Sunday.”

“Not me. But there’s a saloon there. I’ll tell you what,” she said slyly.

“You join the church, and I’ll join the saloon . . . !”

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

F
all had come to Texas, bringing a thick fragrance from the fields and the grass that was ready to die. The winds had roughed up the plains, and the dissipated heat rising from the earth seemed to whirl in streaky currents. The sun was still warm even the first of November, but the smell of winter hung in the air. So far there had been no rain, and the cattle that Zane and Clay kept circling raised a dust of the thinnest powder.

They had gathered three hundred wild longhorns, and the task of branding them had worn them all down. They had been at it now for three grueling days. Since Clay and Zane were better with the rope than Brodie or Clinton, they rode and roped the steers and dragged them over to the branding fire. It was up to Brodie and Clinton to wrestle them down and slap a branding iron on their hip. Brodie had become fairly adept at throwing a rope over the front legs and felling the steers. As soon as they hit the ground, Clinton would grab one of the branding irons out of the fire, run over, and slap the brand on. The brand was a star with a wavy line under it. The ranch was simply called the Star Ranch. Jerusalem had never told anyone why she had named it that but had simply announced it one day.

Clinton was so covered with dust that his face looked like a chalky mask with only his eyes and lips showing through. He was complaining, as usual, this time about Julie.

“I tell you, Brodie. It ain’t right for our aunt to be workin’ in a saloon. Nothin’ good is gonna come from it. The Bible says lots about the evil of drinking. I think Ma ought to do somethin’.”

“Do what?” Brodie asked. He was sick and tired of branding cattle and impatient with Clinton’s constant preaching. “What do you expect her to do? You can’t
make
people be good.”

“Well, I think it’s a disgrace.”

“You think
everything’s
a disgrace. Now slap that brand on and shut up.”

He held the steer down, and Clinton said, “I’ve been readin’ about this thing called ‘predestination,’ and I about decided that’s the way things are.”

“What in the world is
that
?”

“Predestination? Don’t be so ignorant, Brodie. It means that God makes up His mind on what’s goin’ to happen, and it happens no matter what you do.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard of! We can do what we please.”

“No, we can’t. We do what we have to do. That’s what the Bible says, and you can’t go against the Bible.”

With a snarl of disgust, Brodie slipped the rope off the big steer’s front legs and jumped back as he got to his feet. He was wary of these big animals. They were fleet as a deer, almost, and some of them were bad-tempered and could do a lot of harm. He saw this one had a wild look in his eye, and he hollered, “Watch out for him, Clinton!”

The steer suddenly spotted Clinton and took out after him. Clinton started running away, and Brodie hollered out, “Hey, Clinton, slow down and let him get you. If it’s the Lord’s will for you to get gored, just be still and get it over with.”

Zane had been watching, and he headed the steer off. Then he pulled his horse around and said, “Brodie, why didn’t you help him?”

“Aw, Zane, I get tired of all his preachin’. He was just tellin’ me about predestination, and I told him that the steer was predestined to jab him.”

Zane was as dusty as Brodie, but at least he was able to stay on his horse. “You’re aggravatin’, Brodie. You got to get Serena out of your mind. You’ve been mad the whole three months we’ve been here.”

Brodie said, “Mind your own business!” He suddenly turned, got on his horse, and rode away.

Clay came up and said, “What’s the matter with Brodie?”

“He’s tetchy, that’s what. He’s still moonin’ around over Serena.”

“Well, it’s gettin’ pretty late. We’ve got enough branded for today.

They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid so,” Zane said. “Come on, Clinton, let’s go get somethin’ to eat. That is if you think it’s predestined for you to eat.”

Clinton glared at Zane and got on his horse. The three made the trip back to the ranch quickly. There was no fear that the cattle would stray very far. The grass was good, and they would still be there grazing the next day.

When they approached the house, Clay said with disgust, “Look, that’s Herendeen’s horse. He ought to be payin’ rent as much as he stays here.”

Zane gave a sly smile. “Maybe I’d better ask him if his intentions about my sister are honorable.”

“I’ll bet they ain’t,” Clay said, his lips drawn into a tight line.

Clay noticed with resentment that Jerusalem had put on the new dress, the blue one, that made her look so good. He started to challenge her, asking why she didn’t ever wear that blue dress for him, but knew that would only cause trouble. He watched as Herendeen smoothly moved and pulled a chair out for Jerusalem, then pushed it forward when she sat down.