Jodi's Journey (28 page)

“Yeah…it is.” Hunt looked over at Bud. “You
got any family?”

“Yep, a wife back home, and three kids.” Bud
smiled as though he'd been thinking of them all along.

“Where?” Hunt asked, curious to know more
about him.

“Got a small spread just a little south of
Lockhart. How about you? You got a place?”

“Don't have a much of anything yet,” Hunt
said, thinking about his last few years and how he'd survived them.
It added to his strength. Now that Jodi was part of his life,
things were going to change. “But I will have…”

“You were in the war?” Bud asked as though he
knew the answer to that question.

“Yeah…” Hunt sighed heavily.

“That sounds pretty serious. North or
south?”

“A little of both,” Hunt said, and then
explained. “I was a northern spy in the Confederate Army.”

“Well, I'll be dad-gum. You shore must have
had your work cut out for you,” Bud chuckled. “Must have been kind
of tough for you.”

“Not something I want to relive, I can tell
you,” Hunt offered, but suddenly realized that the war was no
longer an issue to overcome. Even the fact that he was branded a
coward no longer bothered him. Somehow, he had gotten over it,
healed. Maybe Jodi had been a part of that, he considered.

“Nor I. I never was so glad to get back to
Texas as I was when they told us the war was lost and to go home,”
Bud admitted somberly. “By the time it was over, I didn't care who
the winner was. All I could think about was getting home to Texas
and family.”

“You know, Bud, I believed what I was doing
was right back then,” Hunt said, as though he still needed to make
explanations for what he'd done.

“And now…you don't?” Bud watched Hunt’s
expressions change.

“I don't know. I saw more than I wanted to of
the heartaches. As a spy, I was responsible for a lot of the
killing. It doesn't make me proud. Winning didn't make me proud,
either.”

“Well, sir, the way I feel about it, we all
did what we thought we had to do, right or wrong. We are the
survivors, if we let ourselves. Things happen that should never
have happened. But it's the way of war…and when it's over, we know
the only heroes are the ones not comin' back,” Bud whispered softly
as his eyes closed.

“You might as well know this, Bud. I was no
hero. In fact…the opposite…” Hunt said, still dwelling on the
conversation.

But Bud was snoring now; he hadn't heard
him.

Hunt closed his eyes and conjured up a
picture of Jodi in his mind. It made everything bad disappear. He
fell asleep and didn't wake up until the sun hit him square in the
eye the next morning.

CHAPTER THIRTY

With no coffee and nothing to eat, Hunt
wasn't sure how he managed to get up and get going, but after
securing the only gun between them with Bud, and telling him he'd
be back as soon as he could get back, he began the long trek to
find help.

He was in a lot of pain now, no longer as wet
and cold and numb, but he had to concentrate on something other
than the pain. He had to find some help. That was the only way.

He'd pinpointed his direction the night
before with the stars, so he knew which way to head. He'd follow
the river north and hoped he would run into the herds.

It was a quiet morning, clear of clouds. The
sun beat down on him hard. Having no hat, he tied his bandana over
his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Here in Kansas the
days could be hot and the nights cold. It wasn't really hot yet,
but the sun was bright, and his ability to get around was taking a
toll on his strength. His arm was hurting considerably, but he
would have to tolerate it somehow.

Several times he stumbled and almost fell,
and several times he wanted to fall to the ground and rest, but
time was important, especially since he didn't know for sure how
long they'd been out here. They couldn't have gotten too far away
from the trail; the herds had to cross the river at some point.
He'd keep following it till he found something.

The banks of the river were steep in places
where he had to nearly jump to stay on dry land. Although the water
had gone down, the current was still moving swiftly, he noted.

It was nearly noon when Hunt heard the most
pleasant sound to his ears. It was cattle lowing. He heard them for
a good mile before he spotted any. By the time he came upon them,
he was spent and nearly falling down in his tracks.

Someone spotted him; he heard a voice, looked
up, and saw a cowboy coming toward him.

“Over here, Johnny, he's over here,” came a
voice that sounded like heaven to Hunt as he collapsed.

“Who is he?” the cowboy named Johnny asked as
he came upon him.

“Don't rightly know. Better get him to the
wagon. He's pretty done in,” the other cowboy said, looping his arm
around Hunt. “He's a tall fella, ain't he?”

They carried him to a chuck wagon, which was
at least a mile or so down the pasture way, and laid him down.
Someone hoisted him up and over a huge sack of flour. The pain
ripped through his arm. After the wagon crossed the river, the
trail boss came to camp.

“Word is Bud Taylor and Hunt Johnson were
drowned back there on the river. It could be one of them,” the
trail boss was saying as Hunt regained his senses.

≈≈≈

Hunt opened his eyes slowly and took in the
faces of several cowmen. “Howdy,” he said with a goofy grin.

“Howdy.” The trail boss smiled, his grin
bigger than Texas. “What's your name, son?”

“Hunt Johnson. Got a herd just north of here.
Had trouble back on the river. Bud Taylor, he needs help.”

The trail boss immediately came closer. “Bud
Taylor, where is he, son?”

“Back on the river banks about five or six
miles. He's got a busted leg and arm. He couldn't make it here. I
came for help,” Hunt explained.

“We'll find him. I'll send some drovers down
that way. Don't you fret none. Boy, we gave you two up for
dead.”

“So did we.” Hunt laughed a little.

“Well, you just rest up a spell; looks like
you got a dislocated shoulder, yourself. Reckon our cook can fix
you up this evening.” The trail boss grinned. “I got some coffee
for you.”

“I'd appreciate it.” Hunt sighed as he took
the cup from the man.

“I'm John Evans, and I'm the trail boss here.
You just rest up; I'll have the cook rustle you up something to
eat. We'll be lettin' the others know you are okay, too.”

“I'd appreciate that.” Hunt smiled as he
sipped the coffee. It instantly warmed his insides. Sometimes
coffee was next to heaven.

John instructed his boys to search for Bud
and to hold the herd where they were. The cook, whose name was
Frank, made up some biscuits and gravy for Hunt and told him he'd
be having a look at the shoulder.

Hunt downed a little more coffee and nodded
grimly. He'd seen other men with this problem and he knew he was
going to need something stronger than coffee to endure it. He knew
that nothing hurt like trying to put a shoulder back in place.

Frank must have had experience with this sort
of thing. He broke out the Laudanum, and after giving the medicine
time to work, he was bent on fixing that shoulder. In one
agonizingly slow push and pull, he had the shoulder back in place
and Hunt was out again.

It was a full two days before Hunt came
around. By that time Bud was in camp and Frank had taken care of
his problems. It seemed that Frank was an all around fixer upper.
He set Bud's leg and arm as good as any doctor Hunt had seen.

As he gathered round the campfire that
evening, John asked him what had happened. “Aw, that herd in front
didn't have a trail boss and me and Bud were going to see those
cows over if it was the last thing we did, and it pretty near
was…”

“Yeah, I've heard most of them greenhorns run
off after crossing.” John nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Don't
know how such a bunch got this far, to tell the truth. Know any of
them?”

Hunt nodded. “The cook told us that the straw
boss was the son of the owner. He was out to prove something to the
old man, and didn't. I reckon he won't be going home too soon.”

John shook his head. “Reckon I wouldn't be
worrying about him, if he was mine.”

“Who is herding that bunch now?” Hunt asked
curiously.

“A little of everyone. The second herd took
over, as I heard, some fellas name Concho and Cole, they took
charge and got the cattle strung out so everything is going smooth
now,” John said.

Hunt smiled. He was so darn proud of his men
he could bust. But a man didn't brag about something like that. He
let others do the bragging.

“Have you sent word to them about me, yet?”
Hunt asked.

“Not until this morning. After Frank reset
that shoulder, he wasn't sure you'd be mendin' very fast. He said
he ain't seen nobody turn the colors you did when he set you.
Scared him a little, I think. And he didn't want to scare them with
bad news. So we wanted to wait till you were healin' up. Your
shoulder was a mess, Frank said. Said that was the worst case of
dislocation he'd ever had to deal with.”

Hunter sort of laughed. “I don't know how to
thank you proper, any of you. But I appreciate all his work on us.
He did a great job. I'm sore, but I can move now. And Bud, is he
better?”

“Got him laid up in the bedroll wagon. He's
doin' fine. Frank worked on his leg for a while and he thinks he'll
be able to walk just fine, in time. One of the boys is good at
whittling and already made him a cane to walk with. His arm was a
clean break. It's gonna be all right too. Thought he wouldn't stop
eating, though. You men were gone a good five days, you know.” John
chuckled.

“Five days?” Hunt said, surprise lighting his
words. “We weren't sure how long we were out. We were just glad to
catch up to a herd. You know, I never thought I'd say this, but the
sound of cattle lowing in the distance is the sweetest sound this
side of heaven.”

“Yeah, you don't miss things till they are
gone. But, yep, you'll get back just in time to sell your herd,
looks like.”

Hunt nodded, “I appreciate what you fellas
have done more than I can say.”

“No more than you would have done, I'm sure,”
John added, his mustache twitching upward with a smile. He spit his
tobacco and stretched out on the ground for a full minute before he
got to his feet. “Now you rest up and take it easy. When you get
back in the saddle, you'll have your hands full enough.”

That night, he and Bud ate together, talked
over their plight, and agreed that they'd keep in touch.

≈≈≈

Bright and early the next morning, Jodi rode
into camp and straight into Hunt's arms. She held him tight for a
long while, not daring to let him go. The fear inside her slowly
subsided into happiness. “I thought...”

“I know…so did I.”

“Oh god…I'm so glad.”

“Me too.”

Then he kissed her. Not a tender sweet kiss,
but a hard, demanding kiss that echoed his fears, his doubts, and
his feelings to her. She responded without a second thought. It
didn’t matter that half the camp was watching, or who they were, or
what their troubles were; they just needed this.

“Let's go home,” he whispered, his voice raw
with emotion.

“Yes.”

When Jodi saw Bud, she ran to him and hugged
him tight. “I’m so glad you weren't killed.”

“So am I, hon, thanks to your man there. I
owe him my life.” Bud chuckled, although the seriousness of that
statement was in Bud's eyes as he spoke. “I expect I'll be seeing
you and him from time to time. It's not something you forget, if
you know what I mean.”

Jodi smiled. She and Hunt thanked the trail
boss and bid all the happy cowboys goodbye before riding out to
join their herd.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Brady and Dutch rode up to Cole and Concho,
who were with the head herd, and told them about Hunt and Bud being
rescued. Both men yelled and hollered and immediately headed for
camp.

After bedding the cows down, the entire
outfit returned to talk to Hunt. Everyone was elated.

“What happened to those drovers?” Hunt asked,
one brow going upward.

“Some of them took off as soon as they
crossed the river. After the cook read them the right act, a lot of
them moved on out. He let them have it with both barrels. Some of
them were reluctant to go, but the cook told them they wouldn't be
collecting any pay for their actions. He said they were the
sorriest bunch of cowboys he'd ever seen and he hoped he never saw
them again.”

“I liked him,” Hunt said quietly. “His name
was Everett, wasn't it?”

Cole nodded.

“So, how far down river did you end up
going?” Cole asked. “I tracked it for a mile or so. Didn't see a
sign of anything.”

“We must have been five or six miles down,”
Hunt said, remembering his long trek along the banks back to the
herd. “I have no idea how we got there except the current must have
carried us. When we woke up, we were a few feet from the water, ice
cold and wet, and not smelling too pretty.”

“Yeah, well, you got that bum shoulder from
trying to save Bud, that's for sure. Last I saw of you, you were
holding on to him,” Cole remarked. “You were already too far down
the river for me to do any good. You were going down steam so fast.
Nobody thought you could survive it.”

“It must have been the current itself that
saved us,” Hunt recalled, trying to remember the details and coming
up blank. “I mean, the current carried us so fast, all we could do
was keep our heads above water.”

“Well, we don't have far to go,” Cole
chuckled. “We've almost made the trip now.”

“I expect Jodi and I are going to have to go
on into Abilene and find a buyer. I got a list of names from Bud's
outfit that we can contact. Said the going price is anywhere from
eighteen dollars a head to twenty-four. Since we've been herding
the cattle for that other outfit, I'll see what needs doing about
that too.