From the Relief Society Magazine, February 1940 –

“And Ye Shall Inherit the Earth”

By Beatrice Rordame Parsons

Gram stood on the porch of the old Sanderson home and watched a big, red car flash up the dusty road. She saw Zion across the road in her garden and waved her hand. her wrinkled cheeks were pink with excitement.

“He’s coming, Zion,” she called. “Jeff’s coming home to stay.”

As she crossed the road to welcome him, Zion felt a strange fear in her heart. Was Jeff really going to stay, or would Gram be disappointed? Waiting for the car, her thoughts swept back over four years.

She had been sixteen – thin, long-legged, taffy-haired – to Jeff’s grown-up eighteen, that day he’d gone away. She had cried, and he had given her his handkerchief.

“But you don’t understand,” he told her fiercely, hating to hurt her, yet wanting her to understand, “you’re a girl. I’ve got to go away. I hate the farm – milking cows, hoeing weeds, getting up at dawn to plow and plant. I want to go places, do things!’

Go places! Away from Sanderson Acres? how lovely it had been that spring morning with the bridal-wreath white about the porch and the buds on all the tall, straight trees bursting into leaf.

How lovely it was this morning, though many things were changed. The north and east fields had not been planted since Jeff left, and the lucern in the south field was thin and spindly. The old house with its thick adobe walls, its wide porch, its tall, deep-silled windows was in need of paint. But the walls of the milk-house were as cool and damp as they had been when she and Jeff played there as children, and mignonette and marigolds still bloomed along the old, stone fence.

Zion hoped that Jeff would remember its beauty. But she remembered that Jeff had seen much beauty since he’d been gone. She sighed. Jeff, too, would be changed.

But he didn’t seem changed as he thumped the great car to a stop, clambered out of its low-slung seat without opening the door, and ran swiftly up the mossy walk. he was older, she saw, but his hair was still dark and wild, his eyes filled with mischief.

He snatched Gram from her feet, holding her well off the floor, and regarded her with love behind his teasing eyes. “Well, old lady, how’s tricks?” She begged for mercy, and he kissed her violently before letting her down upon her feet. “Gram, darling, it’s good to see you,’ he said, and turning caught sight of Zion.

For a moment he stared, seeing the loveliness of her misty, golden hair, the clear blueness of her eyes under their long, gold-tipped lashes, the deep, warm tan of her flesh. Then he caught her in his arms and kissed her, too.

She blushed furiously, and realized with bewildering happiness that she had been waiting every minute since he had gone away for him to come back again. But she knew his kiss hadn’t meant a thing. She held her at arm’s length and studied her. Then he said the most atrocious thing.

“Where are those skinny legs, that awful, taffy-colored hair?”

Gram laughed, but Zion went from red to white, and back to red again. Stiffly, formally, she murmured, “It’s nice to see you, Jeff.”

He seemed to realize, suddenly, that they were no longer the children they had been when he was home before, and his own face grew red as he followed the girl and his grandmother into the house.;

There he stood looking at the big, tall-ceilinged rooms as though he had never seen them before. Distaste showed in his eyes, and Zion remembered the sort of rooms to which Jeff had been used – small rooms, with low ceilings, soft furniture, deep rugs. of course he would not like this old-fashioned room, the strong mahogany furniture, the bright, woven rag rugs.

“Yes,” she told herself, and a tiny pain moved into her heart, “Jeff is changed! he is tired, terribly tired …”

Gram was talking excitedly, telling the piled-up gossip of four years. Jeff laughed in the right place, but Zion knew he did not really care. He had forgotten the neighbors, the old horse, the Maltese cat. His ears seemed to be straining against the sweet, peaceful quiet of the old house, and he seemed to be listening for the tinkle of gay voices, the blare of sliding trombones. Zion knew, suddenly, that he would never stay. he was frightened of the silence. He was used to people – gay, bright crowds, music, lovely women.

And she knew as suddenly how much it meant to her for him to stay. Her eyes swept along the tall, curved staircase to where hung the pictures of other Sandersons. Jeff was like them in feature, and long, strong limb. But all the difference in the world lay between Jeff’s softness and the hardness of the men who smiled down at her from the wall.

Tears tugged at her lashes, and lest Gram’s keen, old eyes see, she arose and went toward the door. “I must go now,” she said, and knew she was glad to get away. her voice was quite distant as she added, “I hope I shall see you soon again, Jeff.”

He smiled and walked with her down the hall to the front door. there he took her hand and held it tightly for a moment. For just a fleeting instant his eyes were grave. Then his voice came, light, teasing. “Still mad at me, Zion? You said you’d never forgive me if I went away.”

“I’d forgotten,” she told him, and knew she really had.

“What is it then?” he asked, and his tone was deep and grave. “I feel … well, that you don’t like me, Zion.”

Quickly, she denied it. “I do like you, Jeff. I’ve always liked you.” then she took her hand away and went quickly across the street. How much she liked Jeff she didn’t want to confess even to her own heart!

She was pruning the rose bushes in her garden the next morning when he came out on the porch. “A rose among the roses,” he called, and ran lightly across the street to lean against the white pickets of her fence. He was faultlessly clothed in gray slacks and gray sweater, and Zion silently compared him with the other men driving trucks and cars to market and the fields. He lifted his eyes to the ragged rose bushes in his own yard and said slowly, “I remember when Mother’s roses were the envy of the valley.”

Something soft and tender shone in his dark eyes at the memory, and then he nodded toward the north fields.

“Isn’t that where Dad always planted wheat?”

Zion’s blue eyes were grave. “There’s been no wheat there for a long time. Gram had managed as best she could, but it takes a man to plow and plant.”

He looked at her, a quizzical light burning in the depths of his eyes. “Are you hinting that I plow that field myself?”

Though she did not mean to let him see her look, her eyes went without volition to his soft, white hands. He turned them palm up and looked at them with something very like anger in his gaze.

“You’d like them better if they were hard and blistered.” His anger fled, and he cried boyishly, “Oh, I could do it if I liked, but there’s no need. I’m going to sell the farm.”

“Sell?” For a moment she did not understand. Then her face went pale.

“Oh, you needn’t be so tragic about it,” he told her sharply. “It’s my house. I can sell if I like.”

“But Gram,” she faltered.

He flushed darkly. “She’ll come with me.” He looked straight into her eyes and added, “I’m being married soon, Zion. I can’t ask a girl like Julia to live on a farm.”

“Why not?” Zion’s small, red mouth was a stubborn line across her face. She would not let him see how his words had hurt her.

He shrugged impatiently. “Julie is a radio star. She signs. She has to be near her station …” But he explained no further. Zion wasn’t listening.

She was looking, instead, over the wide, green fields to where a stately row of Lombardi poplars edged the Sanderson land. Bitterness tinged her voice as she said, “You might as well talk of transplanting one of those trees as talk of taking Gram away.”

He tried to defend his actions. “Gram will love it in the city. There’ll be so much for her to do. She can go to the movies …”

Zion’s laughter was shrill. “She’ll simply love Clark Gable,” she cried, and bent over her roses to hide her tears.

For a moment Jeff stood glaring at her. Then he turned stiffly on his heel and went away. She did not see him again until the next evening. then he came swiftly across the road to join her on her own front porch. Contriteness was in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Zion. I’ve been acting as silly and sulky as a kid. What you said was true. I know it. That’s what hurts.” He stared across the fields to the border of his own land, and a troubled note came into his tones. “I never dreamed it would be like this. I can’t understand it. I’d been away so long I’d forgotten brown fields, growing things. I’ve fought against this feeling all day, even,” he admitted, flushing a little guiltily like a boy caught stealing jam, “while I mended the plow to prove to you that I hadn’t forgotten how to plow a field.”

He turned his hands over, and she saw that they were blackened, rough from his labors. She touched one of the blisters and murmured, “Oh, Jeff, my dear!”

He found his voice in a rush, “I’ll make a bargain with you, Zion. I’ll plant the wheat, if you’ll promise to stop scolding!” He beamed over his childish bargain, and went on, “Then I’ll have Gram invited Julie down for the week-end so that you can met her and see how really lovely she is. if she doesn’t fall in love with the place and want to stay, I’ll give it to Gram with my blessing.”

Loving the land as she loved it, Zion knew that Julie couldn’t resist. her eyes shone. “She’ll love it,” she cried, flinging her arms wide as though to gather all that sunset beauty to her heart. “She’ll not be able to help herself.”

Jeff got up, and she saw that his shoulders were square and purposeful. “good night,” he said, holding out his scarred hand. ‘I’ve got to get up early to get that planting done.” he crushed her hand in a hearty handshake and went whistling down the walk.

Zion’s fingers ached at his grip, yet it was a clean, sweet ache. “Good night, my dear,” she said, and turned swiftly and went into the house.

At dawn she heard Jeff’s gay whistling again. Quickly she slipped from her bed and went to the window. there he was, in old shirt and leather boots laced tightly about his calves, plowing that field. Behind him a shower of white seagulls made the air raucous with their clamor.

Happiness bubbled in Zion’s heart. she pulled her prettiest percale apron over her shining head and started down stairs. She’d bake a fresh cake and take it over for Jeff’s lunch. But she forgot the cake as she remembered Julia. It didn’t really matter. The cake could wait!

On Saturday afternoon Julia came. She was just as beautiful as Jeff had said, with black, black hair and eyes that looked as though they had been put in with a sooty finger. Her clothes were sleek and fine, and Zion found herself comparing her neat, cotton dress with Julie’s silk one.

Jeff introduced them gaily, “Julia, this is Zion, the little girl across the street. We used to fight like Indians when we were kids,” and with a teasing smile at Zion, he added, “… and we still do!”

Julie’s smile was cool, unruffled. “it’s nice to know you, Zion.” She touched the tips of Zion’s fingers and said to Jeff, “Now I’ll go to my room and freshen up. Then you can show me your farm.”

She walked slowly up the stairs, under the pictures of the Sanderson women, and Zion found herself wondering queerly if Julie would prove herself like them – quiet, strong, good wives for their farmer husbands.

That evening, over tall glasses of cold milk and little cakes, Julie spoke about the farm again. “I’m glad you’ve decided to sell it. The house is so old it gives me the creeps.” Her brown eyes held contempt for the beamed ceilings, the wide, stone fireplace, the old-fashioned chairs. she turned to gram, all gaiety and animation, and cried, “You’ll love it in the city, Mrs. Sanderson. There’s so much fun!”

Gram’s faded eyes did not change, but her voice sounded queer and shaken. “I’d never do in the city, child. I’ll stay here. I’ll …” But she could go no further.

Zion put her arm about the old lady’s waist. “You’re to come and live with Mother and me,” she told her swiftly. “We’ve got it all planned. There’s plenty of room …”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Gram, and this time there were tears in her eyes.

Jeff took, a swift step toward her. “You mustn’t think we don’t want you, darling,” he cried loudly, then turned to Julie for corroboration, “We do want her, don’t we, dear?”

Julie’s laughter was cool, tinkling. “Of course we do, but if she thinks it better to stay …” She did not finish, only lifted her hands in a little gesture and looked at Gram.

Gram’s smile wobbled a little, but she held it carefully about her lips and spoke quickly, “I like it better this way, Julie.” Then, before Jeff could protest, she changed the subject by saying, “You must take Julie out and show her that field.” She beamed and said to Julie, “He plowed it himself.” And her old voice was filled with pride.

Julie laughed. “Darling! You didn’t!” She caught at his arm and added as they went out together, “It takes all my imagination to think of you behind a plow!”

Jeff refused to laugh. his words were stern. “I plowed it, all right, and if I do say so myself, I did as well as any Sanderson.” As he closed the door, he gave Zion a challenging glance.

She admitted, as she cried herself to sleep, that Jeff had done as well as any Sanderson before him. Jeff didn’t know it, but he was a born farmer!

A few days later, Jeff came across the street to say, “Well, I think I’ve got a buyer – a man Julie knows. She’s bringing him out this afternoon to see the place. He’s been wanting something like this for a long time. Not too far from town, yet far enough to be restful and quiet. he’s going to turn Sanderson Acres into a tourist Home.”

Zion was appalled. “A tourist home! But Jeff, the land is fine and rich. Things grow here …”

Jeff did not like her tone. “Mr. Harvey isn’t a farmer. He doesn’t care about the land. he’s coming out to see what can be done to the old place. I’d like you to come over while he’s there. Perhaps you’ll change your mind about selling when you see what he’s planning to do.”

Zion was sure she would never change her mind, but she couldn’t stay away. When Julia and Mr. Harvey drove up, she accepted Jeff’s invitation and went across the street to meet him.

Harvey was a brusque sort of person with bushy brows and keen gray eyes. He looked the place over without a word, then came into the big living room and zipped open his brief case. With his pen in hand, he waited.

“How much, Sanderson?’

It was Julie who said, “Ten thousand dollars is Jeff’s price, Mr. Harvey.” She twinkled at Jeff, and whispered so that all could hear, “We can have a wonderful honeymoon on that, darling, if Mr. Harvey is crazy enough to pay it.”

Harvey laughed good-naturedly, boomingly. ‘I’m crazy like a fox, Miss Julie. I’ve been looking for a place like this for ages. And this just about fills the bill. it’s so quaint, so old-fashioned that I won’t be able to keep the tourists away with a shot-gun.”

Julie’s eyes sparkled. “The old milk-house will make a swell hot-dog stand, and the barn can be turned into a garage. You can take out those folding doors and run these two huge rooms together for your dining room, but you must leave Gram’s room just as it is. Every woman who comes here will fight to sleep in that old-fashioned bed.”

Harvey was delighted with her suggestions. “I’ll take it,” he said, shaking his pen and starting to write, “Ten thousand, I believe you said.”

Jeff’s voice was very cool. “Ten thousand is Julie’s price,” he corrected. “I won’t sell for less than twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five thousand for a place like this?” Harvey’s brows were two astonished question marks. he zipped his brief case together and stated flatly,”You’ll never get it.”

Julie’s black eyes were filled with amazement. “Jeff,” she cried, and her voice was sharp, “you’re fooling!”

But Jeff’s eyes met hers, and his voice came swiftly, “No, Julia, I’m not fooling. It’s simply that I’ve decided not to sell.”

“Not sell?” For a moment Julia could not understand. Then it flooded over her. She lifted a contemptuous glance at the pictures along the stairs. her tone was hot,k galling, filled with scorn. “So you remembered, all at once, that you were a Sanderson!”

“That’s it, Julie,” said Jeff, and his voice was like ice. “When I began to plow and plant, I knew that the Sanderson heritage was deep in my heart. You’ll know it, too, Julie, when you’ve lived here a little while.”

“Live here!” Julie’s lips were white with anger. “Stay on this silly, old farm!” Biting laughter fell from her lips. “I hate it here.” she put her hand on the door-knob, and her voice became scathing, ‘I’m letting Mr. Harvey take me home. Good-by, Jeff. It’s been very nice knowing you.” Then she was gone, a flip of her skirt, a toss of her black, shining head.

Jeff watched her go, relief flowing into his dark eyes. “She wouldn’t have done, would she, Gram?” he asked, and sounded like a troubled, little lad.

Gram’s eyes were bright now, shining with happiness. “No, Jeff boy, she wouldn’t have done.” A sly little smile crept about her wrinkled mouth, and she added, “Now if you’d picked a girl like Zion …” Thought she did not finish, Jeff seemed to understand. He put his hand against Zion’s arm, and spoke over his shoulder to his grandmother as he led her away.

“Excuse us, darling, there’s something I neglected to speak to Zion about.”

Gram smiled, and Zion felt her heart bearing unevenly. All at once she wanted to run away from this tall, masterful stranger standing before her, holding out battered hands. His voice was very stern.

“Look here, Zion, this is all your fault. every blister on those fingers was made because of you.” His sternness vanished as suddenly as it had come, and he pleaded, “Don’t you think you should do something about it?”

“Wh … a … t?” Zion’s voice was very thin and small.

“Marry me,” he told her loudly. “Make me the sort of Sanderson you’ve always hoped I’d be.”

Zion’s eyes were bright as stars. She did not resist as he took her into his arms – hard, firm arms they were this time. She lingered in them for a moment, and felt his kiss against her lips. When at last he let her go, she smiled up at him, and her blue eyes were filled with pride.

“I can’t make you into a Sanderson, Jeff darling. You’ve done that yourself. It was your heritage …”

He was looking over the top of her shining head with eyes that glowed as they saw the long rows of bright green wheat beginning to show in the north field. He did not seem to know that he was speaking, yet words came softly to his lips.

“And ye, my children, shall inherit the earth …”