Jodi's Journey (9 page)

“Jose usually manages to bring us a prairie
chicken or turkey, sometimes a deer. And when we have time, we stop
long enough to pick a few berries for a pie. Sometimes you have to
sort of prepare while you are moving along. Like picking beans,
sometimes you'll find rocks in them, to cull out. Peeling potatoes
before we stop helps, but you've got to be careful with the knife
so you don't cut your hand off. Next time I peel some, I want you
to watch. And don't laugh, it's a real talent,” she teased. “If we
had more men, I could show you a lot more, but time is important.
We barely got anyone to look after the remuda, much less the grub.
So when I'm cooking, I want you to pay attention as I don't have
time to write down a recipe for you, understand?”

“I understand, but say…I could handle the
remuda. I'm good with horses,” Matt declared, his blue eyes
flashing at her. Jodi knew he wasn't really interested in the
cooking part, but he would get interested, because this was his
job, and one lousy meal and he'd never forget it. Drovers were easy
going and peaceful, but bad food made for dangerous times.

“No, you've been given a job. Let's see how
you handle that before we move you on up to horse wrangler.” She
smiled at him, but was careful of coddling the boy, just as Hunt
had advised.

“The boss says this is your herd,” Matt
inquired shyly.

“Mine and many others; that's why you see so
many brands. Five families from Esser Crossing started this drive.
It took some handling to round all these up, but we got it done and
now all we have to do is get them to market. The war took a lot out
of our people back home. I reckon the only thing that is going to
change things is getting these cattle to market and back with the
money,” Jodi said sadly. “Then maybe we can all get back to the
business of living again.”

“Your husband knows a lot about cows, and
men,” Matt said. “You two got a ranch?”

“He's not my husband, yet,” she replied,
casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure Hunt wasn't
around.

“He's not?” Matt couldn't hide his shock. He
reddened as though he knew he'd said something out of turn. “I'm
sorry…it's just he…said…”

“Oh…yeah…well, we'll be married at Waco, if
we ever get these cows past the Brazos.” She glanced at the silent
river that seemed to swell all the time they were standing
there.

“He's a good boss man.” Matt watched her.
“All the men say so.”

“Yes, he is….” She sighed, and then brought
out some sheeting. “Now remember to cover the food till time to eat
because the flies and mosquitoes are horrible this close to the
river. For now you can use my liniment to protect yourself.”

“What is it?” he asked, looking at her as she
handed him a bottle of ointment.

“It's a remedy my daddy taught me years ago.
Four parts glycerin, four parts alcohol, and one part eucalyptus
oil. Rub it in, every day; you won't have any problems with
mosquitoes. The recipe has been around for a long time. And I've
got rosemary for fleas and ticks. I made a powder myself and keep
it handy. On a cow trip it comes in mighty handy. Especially when
it comes to ticks. Ticks can make you really sick. You get sick, or
start feeling bad, you let me know, and I got things to help.”

“Yes ma'am, I can sure use the liniments;
those dang mosquitoes like me for some reason. My mama said it is
my red hair that attracts them.”

Jodi laughed.

Hunt rode back into camp and dismounted; he
was tired and dusty, but none the worse for wear. “There's a storm
coming up. The river isn't going to go down for days. We can wait
it out, or we can take them across down river. We'll have to swim
them and then catch up to the trail.”

Jodi sighed at this news. “What do you
think?”

Hunt looked at her and smiled crookedly. “We
could wait it out, concentrate on keeping them bunched so they
don't stampede. We'll lose a little time, but then again, maybe
not. Sometimes it takes a tolerable amount of time to find the
strays once they do stampede.”

“You're right; we'll wait a little longer,”
she said, confident that they’d made the right decision and
secretly happy that Hunt had asked her opinion.

“If there were anyone left at Fort Graham,
I'd go in and see about a puncher for the remuda. Mixing them with
the herd isn't that good. But I doubt there's anyone available
there. It looks pretty much like a ghost town now.”

“What caused it?” she asked.

Hunt shrugged. “The government’s been
shutting them down, for one. The war, for another. They are using
other forts. Before the war, the forts were necessary to keep the
Indians from raiding so much. When the war broke out, that all
ended. Well, not the raids, just the defenses. Now it's over, they
plan things differently. They concentrated their efforts elsewhere.
The fort lost men to the Indians. Some deserted. It's the way it
goes in those places. Problem is, just because we had a war between
ourselves, doesn't mean the Indians stopped raiding. Somebody
forgot to tell the officers in charge about that or they wouldn't
have put so many out of commission.”

Jodi nodded.

“Yeah, well…Matt offered to handle the remuda
for you, but I told him he had to learn one job before he asked for
another.” She chuckled aloud.

“That's probably wise, even though we sure
need someone looking after the horses.” Hunt grunted as he hobbled
his horse and came up to the wagon.

“Want me to do it?” she asked, arching a brow
and angling a curious glance at him.

“Nope, I like you just where you are.” He
smiled an easy smile.

The sound of her voice in laughter took Hunt
by surprise. The tension seemed to be easing between them, but he
couldn't acknowledge it yet. It was just too soon. He was a patient
man and he could wait for that too.

But the storm didn't wait. It rained all
night and the next day. The river just kept swelling. There were no
banks left, the water was so high. Everyone took the time to take
care of their gear, get everything in working order. The chuck
wagon was greased, the horses were tended to, the saddles oiled,
and gear was rubbed down to protect them through the waters.

Not a drover was idle, all knowing their jobs
and doing them without being told.

Jodi had to show Matt how to protect the food
and how to cook when it was raining, a trick all cooks had to learn
and fast. Bad weather was just as hard on the cook as it was the
drovers.

Having some down time, Josh and the boys got
together and thought they'd pull a fast one on Matt one evening by
inviting him into a poker game. Matt agreed and pulled up an extra
water barrel to sit on while he played.

Hunt saw the game going on and watched from a
distance. He knew what the boys were up to.

Matt played every hand, bluffing a few times
and winning. Other times, he just got lucky. The last hand of the
night, Josh was bidding high; he had a good hand and knew it. Most
of the others folded, but Matt held his own. “Raise you,” Josh said
as Matt showed no signs of backing out.

“What you got?” Josh challenged.

“I paid to see yours,” Matt said
matter-of-factly.

“All right, I got three aces…”

About to rake the money in, Matt laid a hand
on top of his. “Straight flush….”

Josh threw his cards into the pile for the
last time. “Dang it, how can he win every hand?”

“Beginners luck maybe?” Matt chuckled, then
as he looked at Josh, he grinned. “Or maybe because my pappy showed
me how to play when I was knee high to a grasshopper. He was a man
who didn't believe in getting took.”

“Your pappy must have been some poker
player.” Josh shook his head as everyone looked at the two hands
and shook their heads.

“Now that was about the worst idea you've had
in weeks, Josh. Next time you want to learn the kid here somethin',
count me out,” Dutch said and left the game.

“Si, me too,” grumbled Concho.

Hunt smiled as he watched the game break up.
He remembered being taken by a kid during the war. It was a hard
lesson to learn, especially when you didn't have much to gamble
with in the first place.

CHAPTER NINE

The third day they were camped by the river
when a rancher rode up. This man was tall in the saddle and lean on
patience it would seem, as his gun was cocked and ready for some
reason, and his jaw seemed wired it jutted so hard. His face was
like leather, tanned by the sun, his mouth set in one grim line. He
had two noisy dogs that kept trying to mess with the cattle. The
rancher finally called them and they lay down at his feet as he
stood before Hunt.

“You the boss of this outfit?” the man asked,
marching up to Hunt as though he already knew the answer. His voice
belied some unspoken anger.

“That's right, Hunt Johnson. Something I can
do for you?” he asked, his hand falling easily at his side. Just
from the way the man had marched into camp, the way his hand never
moved away from his gun, Hunt knew he was ready for a fight.

“Got a spread just the other side of this
hill. We have been out most the day looking for some strays. We
figure they must have settled in with your bunch. Mind if we take a
look?” The rancher wasn't asking. Hunt tensed, but kept his
calm.

The drovers gathered behind Hunt, as though
reassuring him that, if there was a battle, they'd be with him. He
appreciated it, but wanted to settle this peaceably. Hunt had never
been gun happy, preferring a peaceful solution if at all
possible.

“Tell you what I'll do,” Hunt said, trying to
take a relaxed stand in front of the man. “I'll ride along with
you, and if you spot a brand that is yours, and you can prove it,
the cattle are yours.”

“I just said they were strays. They won't be
havin' a brand. Hadn't had time to brand them all. If I had, we'd
probably be ahead of your herd.”

“How many head?” Hunt asked, his eyes going
to the ranchers handgun.

The man was a little itchy, but Hunt figured
he could handle this peaceably.

“Bout fifty,” the rancher muttered. As his
men rode up behind him, none of them dismounted. These men were
poised for battle, too. It was as though they were ready for a
skirmish, maybe even asking for one. Hunt sized them up quickly and
still kept a steady eye on the rancher and his gun.

“Tell you what, me and my boys, we'll ride
along with you and yours. We spot some cattle with no brand; we'll
half them with you. How's that?” Hunt's hand rested atop his
.44.

“Your cattle been inspected?” the stranger
asked.

“They have. Inspected and road branded,” Hunt
replied.

The rancher eyed Hunt a long moment. “Then
any of them that don't have a brand ought to be mine,” he insisted,
his mouth set to a grim line.

Hunt looked at the man, pulling himself up to
his full six-foot-two. He smiled easily. “Well now, neighbor. My
men spent some tolerable time on the trail. As you are probably
aware, trail driving calls for rounding up strays. That's our
business. However…we're a peaceable bunch of cowpokes, but we won't
be had. I got seven good men. Well eight, counting my wife. She's
as good a cowhand as any. But look, a cow with no brand has no
owner. So like I said, I'm willing to let you have half of what we
find, since we are camped here till the river goes down, and I
expect this is probably your land.”

The rancher tensed again. “And I said I lost
about fifty head. I want all fifty.”

“Enough to die for it?” Hunt didn't bat an
eye. His voice belied the danger, yet his smile was still in
place.

The rancher pulled his gun, but he was way
too slow for Hunt. Hunt had him good, but he didn't pull the
trigger. He merely leveled it at the man, and the rancher backed
down. Hunt smiled with a dead calm. “Now, let's try this again, a
little bit friendlier.”

The rancher put his gun away and turned back
to his men with a glib look on his face. “Put your guns away. We'll
go scout out the cattle with….these gentlemen.”

Hunt relaxed and nodded to his men. “Let's go
see what we find.”

Half a day later the men all came back to
camp, tired, but happy.

“So, what happened?” Jodi asked, running up
to Hunt.

Hunt smiled down at her concern. “They got
their cattle back and we got a few extras.”

“How many?” Her voice held excitement.

“About seventy, and even a few head of
horses.” Hunt chuckled.

“Brady and Dutch?”

“More than likely. I send them out for strays
every day, and every day we have more cattle. No brands, just
cattle. I been meaning to talk to you about that. We'll likely pick
up more along the way. Since it's more than we started with, and we
haven't lost a head, what say you if we divvy the difference and
split it between the men?”

She nodded slowly. “I'll go along with that
as long as I'm included as one of the men.”

“You heard me tell them you was a cowpuncher,
didn't you?” he laughed.

“So if there were no brands, why'd you give
him the fifty?” Jodi frowned up at him.

She was close to him now and he wanted to
haul her closer, but knew it still wasn't the time. “'Cause I
didn't cotton to fighting about something that just doesn't matter
that much. They were strays, and we had more than he did. Like as
not, we're on his land, too. He was happy and will leave us alone.
Besides, there's more to taking a herd of cattle up the trail than
you might think. You do a good job, have a good head count, and
make a few lifelong friends along the way. Less troubles that
way.”

“Strays don't belong to anyone, and you know
it,” she insisted, bent on giving him a hard time.

“They are also not worth fighting over
either.” He cupped her chin in his hand and looked into her angry
eyes. “When there's a fight worth fighting about, we'll fight. This
wasn't one of them.”