Jodi's Journey (20 page)

The trail boss that survived managed to cull
his cattle quickly and got his herd moved.

Now there was the problem of an extra herd
with no trail boss. Hunt felt it necessary to step in and offer to
help. “Who's your straw boss?”

“I am,” one of the men answered. “We were
bringing a herd through for Miller and Co. We are running behind as
it is. Now I don't know what we'll do.” The man sounded as though
all was lost.

“Sure you do. You'll take it over, get them
through,” Hunt said boldly, as though they should have known
that.

“Through Indian Territory? Are you crazy? I
can't do that. I can't take them through there.”

“Look, my herd’s going the same route, but
I'd rather not get them mixed up with yours. I'm right behind you,
all the way. I'll help you get them through, but you got to do as I
say, understood?” Hunt frowned as he looked around the entire camp.
Some of the men seemed to be listening.

“You'd be willin' to help me get them through
Indian Territory?” the man asked.

“Only if you do as I say.” Hunt eyed him
steadily. “One deviation and I'm out of here.”

“All right then. I guess we got ourselves a
herd to move, boys. Let's get them across the river,” the man
declared.

“One other thing. I run a tight herd. There
will be no more gun play from here on out. First person who doesn't
listen to this advice will get his gun taken away from him. You're
grown men and guns aren't toys. We don't fight the Indians unless
they attack us. We keep the herd calm and grazing as we go. We go
it slow and easy. The weather will be enough to contend with from
here on out. Understood?”

“Yes sir, boss,” the men replied with happy
faces.

Most of this crew was a young bunch, eager,
but with not enough of the take charge attitudes. Right now, they
seemed motivated and able to obey a command. Hunt would keep a
sharp eye on them.

Jodi heard from her own men what Hunt had
done and approached him. She couldn't believe he'd committed
himself to another herd. “Are you crazy? We can't help them. We got
our own to worry about.”

“I'm not herding them; I'm just helping them
through it. They got plenty of men and they are not greenhorns. The
only thing we have to worry about is whether they will keep their
guns holstered,” Hunt said.

“Yeah, and that's a big maybe,” she snapped
with her own assumption.

“Look, they lost their boss. They learned
what happens, they'll listen.” He boldly met her gaze.

“Sometimes a man can get too sure of
himself,” she responded sharply.

“Let's don't borrow trouble. We got enough
headaches to worry about.” He stalked off from her as though she'd
bitten him.

≈≈≈

When it came time to move their herd, Hunt
waited for Willy to start the oxen. The oxen had no trouble
swimming the river; they didn't even balk. Hunt smiled. That had
been smooth. His confidence grew. The horses were next and none of
them balked either. They swam it with little trouble, even though
the waves and wind were intolerable that day. Hunt waited for the
sun to hit high before they crossed the cattle. But the cattle
tried to mill at first, then a couple got bogged down in quicksand.
It took three men to dig them out. Once they were free, they rushed
to the other side like the Devil himself was after them.

The men had stripped down to their Union
suits and tied their clothes on the saddle horns.

Then, Joe started across with his horse, and
his horse wouldn't budge.

Willy came up to him. “Sprinkle some water on
his head.”

Joe did as Willy said and the horse bolted
and swam.

The water was muddy and the cattle were
starting to snort it out and balk. If Hunt didn't get the upper
hand, the cattle would tighten up and be nothing but a jumble of
drowning animals.

Again, Joe had trouble getting his horse to
go all the way to the other side, so Willy came up behind slowly,
grabbed the horse's tail and yanked. The horse kicked out into the
water and began to cross; but midstream, he seemed to lose his
hold. About to drown, and Joe with him, Willy came up, grabbed the
reins and stuck a burr under the saddle. The horse kicked and got a
better footing. He high tailed it to the other side as though
lightning had hit him. Joe could barely stay atop him.

Willy laughed at the chaotic site that
unfolded, then followed.

They didn't lose a single steer in the river
thanks to the men's tireless work. Hunt smiled to himself and
thanked God that he had found a first-rate crew. They'd never know
how many prayers he’d said in hopes of a good trip up the trail.
But that was private, for Hunt was a private kind of man. He'd even
said a little prayer for Jodi in hopes she'd come to trust him
enough to let him help her.

Jodi worried him. He hadn't counted on this
kind of problem. Taking it to God was about the last thing he could
do.

There were fresh gravesites along the river
for others who hadn't been so lucky, and each of the men seemed to
pause a second before they moved on. Jodi and Jose were on ahead
with the wagon.

But now that the river was behind them for a
while, Hunt had to concentrate on the trail ahead because they were
now in Indian Territory.

Everything seemed to change once the Red was
crossed. The prairie was dead, as though spring hadn't yet touched
it here. The land was flatter, and there was much less
vegetation.

But it was country that cows enjoyed because
the grass was plentiful, and they grazed as they moved.

It didn't take long to run into the Indians
either. Every reservation had a sign posted,
Wa-ha, one
dollar
. It meant the Indians expected to get paid one cow per
crossing over their Territory. Hunt reasoned that was cheap enough.
One cow for peace of mind. It was well worth it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Every creek and river had been swollen by the
rains that constantly seemed to follow them through. It was more
than a little tiresome. The men were bone tired, but they didn't
complain. It was cowboy work, and they were in their element. They
swam each one, taking their time to herd the cattle into small
sections of two or three rows, and led with the oxen each time.
Each time the oxen took to the water, no matter the problems.
Winds, rains, strong currents, it didn't seem to matter. The oxen
were unafraid of the waters. However, several groups of cattle
became tender-footed, and those were the cattle that Hunt saved for
the Indians.

The water supply was less dependable along
the Indian Territory. Too much gyp water made the drovers about
half sick, and certainly didn't help Jodi any. She seemed affected
early on.

Hunt decided it might be time to stop off at
a ranch or farm on the way and pick up some good water for the men
and Jodi. He sent her ahead to see if she could find a place.

Jodi drove the wagon, veering off the trail
only slightly. About mid day, she came upon a simple farmhouse that
stood in the distance. A barn was to the side of the house and a
corral. Chickens scurried about as she approached the yard. But she
wasn't welcomed. The farmer's wife had a rifle pointed at her the
minute she came on to the property.

Jodi eyed the gun, and the woman, but kept on
riding toward her. When she was within shouting distance, she
stopped and hollered, “Hey there, just stopped by for some decent
water, if you could spare some.”

“You smell of cows. What do you want with my
water? There are plenty of creeks to water with,” the old woman
said, not lowering the gun. She adjusted her flop hat, and frowned
as she aimed the gun at Jodi.

“It's all gyp water. We thought maybe we
could fill our barrel up somewhere close by and go on. We wouldn't
be stopping or anything. Just getting some water, is all.”

“Ain't got no water for cow people. You
people move on off my land now. I got a full crop of corn and
cotton, and I sure don't need no cows stompin' them down. Just
git.”

“But…”

“You hard of hearing or somethin'?” The woman
aimed the gun steadily.

“Ma'am, I wasn't going to mention this, but
I'm with child and I can't drink that gyp water any longer. It
makes me sick.”

The woman lowered the gun for a second,
thinking about what Jodi had said. “You don't look like you're with
child.” She hesitated.

“Four months.”

“Been sick, have you?” the woman asked, a
little concern edging her voice.

“Almost every day,” Jodie replied with a
shrug.

“Then you can take some water, but just
enough for yourself and your men folks,” the woman warned, still
holding the gun.

“I'm obliged.” Jodi smiled as she dismounted,
and untied the water barrel from the wagon.

“Don't like bein' impolite, but I don't want
your cows on my land…understand?” the woman warned again, moving to
help Jodi lift the barrel and move it to the well, the rifle
dangling from one arm.

“I sure do. We’ll be moving right along.”
Jodi smiled.

Finally assured that Jodi meant no real harm,
she put the rifle down next to the well and helped her draw the
water and empty it into the barrel.

As though something just occurred to her, the
old woman brushed her gray hair from her face and smoothed her
dress as she asked, “What's a woman doing on a cattle drive in your
condition?”

“I'm with my husband.” Jodi wanted to
reassure the woman that she was telling the truth and that she
meant no harm to her or her land. “We're moving a herd to
Abilene.”

“Where you from?”

“Esser Crossing, in Texas,” Jodi said as she
continued to draw the water.

About that time, a shot rang out and knocked
the bucket out of Jodi's hand.

“Put your gun away, Herman. It's a lady and
she's in a way. We have to help her. She ain't stayin'.” The old
woman explained to the younger man who came running up to the well.
He wore overalls and a flop hat and his rifle was still aimed at
her.

“That's a chuck wagon, Ma, and they got
cattle,” the young man replied, frowning at Jodi as though she'd
stolen something valuable from him.

“I knowed it, but this woman is with child. I
cain't turn her away. We ain't that kind of people, Herman. She
only wants a little water so she don't get so sick. She'll be
movin' on,” the old woman said.

The young man eyed Jodi carefully, his frown
fading somewhat. “You know what them cattle people do to farms, Ma.
They stomped out our crop of corn before the war and we nearly
starved that winter, is what…”

“Our cattle are miles down the trail from
here, but we won't be moving on your land. We're taking the trail
to Abilene. I wouldn't have stopped, but the water is just
undrinkable,” Jodi explained.

“I don't trust her, Ma. What's a woman in her
way doin' on a cattle drive anyway?” Herman seemed determined to
get rid of her now.

Jodi eyed the old woman a moment and then she
smiled. “I tell you what. Since you are nice enough to see after
me, I'd be obliged if you'd accept a couple of cows for
payment.”

“We don't need…”

“Hush up, Herman. That would be right nice of
you. I accept, and you'll excuse my ill-mannered son. He's only
doin' what he thinks is right. Even if it ain't. You bring them
cows by here as you pass on the trail and we'll call it a bargain.”
She chuckled.

“Thank you, ma'am.” Jodi smiled and nodded.
“Tomorrow noon, I'll bring them by myself.”

When Jodi returned to the herd and told Hunt,
he couldn't believe it. “I'll take the cows myself, Jodi. I don't
want you getting shot up over water.”

“I'd rather do that myself. I mean, they
didn't trust me. What do you think they would think of you? No. I
made the bargain, and the old woman was happy about it.”

Hunt frowned. “All right, but I don't like
it. Cut out two fat ones and take them to her. If you aren't back
by mid afternoon, I'll come after you.”

“Fair enough. I don't think they'll be asking
me to dinner,” Jodi laughed. “I'm a little surprised at how hostile
a farmer can get, though.”

Hunt nodded assurance. “Well, I can
understand their reluctance. Cattle can destroy a crop, and fast,
but the idea is not to let them. You point out the way and we'll
stay away from that area. How far off the trail is the farm?”

“Must be about five or six miles.”

“Good. Did you get the water?” he asked.

“Yeah, a barrel full.” She smiled.

He winked at her and left.

≈≈≈

Hunt watched her closely after that,
wondering if she would ever trust him enough to tell him what had
happened on her own. He wanted to help her, but right now, he
wasn't sure just how to do that. At least he had given her a name;
she could raise the babe with no trouble. He was proud of that. And
a part of him wanted to be a part of her and the babe. It didn't
matter that it wasn't his child; it was part of her and that was
enough. But that was like dreaming, he knew. For Jodi didn't want
him.

They crossed the line of Nation Beaver Creek
easily enough, and as Hunt scouted out the trail for them, he moved
on to Monument Rock, and then on to Stage Station. All went well,
even running into Comanche, Osage, and Kiowas. The Kiowa' seemed to
be the least friendly, but it could have been because they were at
war with the cowboy buffalo hunters who left so many along the
prairie for dead without using them, eating them, or caring for
their demise. Hunt knew the Indians had a great respect for the
buffalo as it not only fed the Indians most of the time, but
clothed them, as well. The buffalo was a sacred animal to the
Indians.

Each creek was a stalling point with the
cattle, but it seemed to get easier now with more of them. They
passed Rush Creek and then went on to Little Washita, and from
there on to Washita Crossing at Line Creek. Finally, they came to
the Canadian River.