Jodi's Journey

by Rita Hestand

  “I'm Hunt, or Boss. She's Jodi.” He smiled and they rode out of town.

  Jodi balanced the pie against the saddle.

  “What about the horses?” she asked, miffed that he would disregard the horse flesh. “Don't you want to take a look at them?”

  “I don't want to fool with breaking in a set of horses unless I have to. We'll find some soon enough. If we had more men and the time to mess with breaking them in, maybe, but not now.”

  Jodi nodded.

  The herd was bedded down for the night as they caught up to them, and several of the drovers were cleaning up and putting the chuck wagon back together. It seemed Dutch had eaten last and he was bickering mildly with Josh about having to do the dishes.

  Concho met them as they hobbled the horses. “Señor Boss, a rancher came up to camp. Said he's got fifty head of horses he could spare us. I liked the man, he was blunt and to the point. He seemed an honest man. I told him you would be mucho interested.”

  “Good, will he be back or do I need to find him?”

  “He'll be here first thing in the morning,” Concho answered with a satisfied smile.

  “Good.” Hunt nodded, his spirits buoyed.

  “Well boys, line up, Jodi has a real treat for you all, black-berry pie.” Hunt smiled. All of the men gathered around. “And this is our new drover. He's going to drive the chuck wagon. His name is Matt.”

  All the men introduced themselves to Matt and smiled with a glint of amusement. Hunt knew that before the drive was over, the boys would initiate Matt into being a real drover.

  The pie was gone quickly.

  “First trip up the trail, kid?” Josh asked curiously.

  With an arrested expression, Matt watched him closely. “The name is Matt, and yeah, it is.”

  Josh nodded. “Well, I hope you know what's in store for you.”

  A tensing of his jaw betrayed his own frustration at not being accepted as a man. “I know. I heard my daddy talking about the trail drives. I can handle myself,” Matt replied, unrolling his bedroll. “I handled my pa's freighter wagon for nigh on to three years now.”

  “That's good, but just keep that shotgun handy. You might need it.” Josh laughed and turned in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning the rancher returned just as he had promised Concho. He had the horses with him. Bronzed by the sun, weathered by the wind, his face held dignity, like a shelf full of books; his smile was broad and friendly.

  “I saw the cattle yesterday passin' through, figured you might be able to use a good string of cow ponies. You won't find any better south of the Brazos. The name's Bill Williams.”

  Hunt smiled and shook the outstretched hand of the stranger. Then he began looking over the herd of horses. He moved slowly, methodically, between them, measuring them as only a cattle man could do. Every one of them was well bred, and he knew he'd have to pay handsomely for them. “Well, I like what I see. What's your price?”

  “Times are hard, that's for sure.” The rancher smiled, but glanced at his string proudly. “Would get a good price on the market, but I ain't got the time or the man power to take up the trail. So I reckon fifteen dollars a head.”

  “All right, that's a good price for broke in cow ponies. I appreciate you stopping by.” Hunt smiled at the rancher openly now, realizing instantly that this was an honest man who obviously knew his horse flesh.

  “Well, I have to admit, I got more horses than I need,” the man said with a contented smile. “I was planning to take them up to Ft. Worth, but when I saw your herd moving through, I figured I'd give you first gander at them.” He paused a moment for reflection. “I could get more for them there, but it would take time I don't have to spare, if you want to know the truth. So, we'd sort of be helping each other out.”

  “Where's your ranch?” Hunt asked curiously as he studied the man.

  “'Bout five miles over that hill yonder. Got a small spread,” the rancher answered without a pause.

  Yep, this was one honest cowpoke, Hunt affirmed in his head.

  “Cattle? You aren't taking them up the trail?” Hunt questioned, almost absently.

  “Can't do that.” The man shook his head reluctantly. “I haven't got the man power. Can't leave my wife and kids here without protection. The Indians have been raiding some settlements about here. Another reason I wanted to try to sell these here cow ponies 'cause the way they been doin' about these parts, they'd take them and I wouldn't have a dime to show for it. So far, I've managed to hide them out, but I was getting worried about it, to tell the truth.”

  Hunter nodded. “That's probably wise on your part. How many cattle you got?”

  “About six hundred head.”

  Hunt speculated for a second. “They inspected and road branded?”

  “Yes, sir, just finished up the other day.” The rancher turned to his mount. “Now, if I can keep them Indians from takin' them, I'll be all right,” he said, mounting and reining in his horse.

  “Well look, Mr. Williams.” Hunt narrowed his gaze on him. “I know we've only known each other shortly, but I can see you would be in a bad predicament if the Indians got hold of your cattle, and the chances are mighty strong for that to happen if you don't take them up the trail. 'Cause that's what they are mainly after. But I'll make you a proposition. Tell you what.” Hunt eyed the man carefully, knowing he was talking to an honest man, and hoping, like always, that his honesty spoke louder than his words. “I'm short on cash right now and poor on horseflesh. But I got a proposition for you that I think you'll take to.”

  “Go on, I'm listening.” Mr. Williams watched him just as closely.

  “I'll take those cattle up to Abilene for you. Figure we'll get anywhere from sixteen to twenty-five dollars a head for them, maybe more if we're lucky. I'll bring your share back as I come and we'll take the horses and the cattle off your hands. What do you say?”

  The rancher eyed him seriously now. He glanced over his shoulder so as to look the entire camp over. Obviously, he approved of what he saw. None of the drovers were idle and that spoke something for Hunt's outfit. “Do I have your word on it?”

  Hunt nodded. “The name is Hunter Johnson from Esser Crossing. You have my word, and I'll put it in writing for you, if you like.”

  “No need for that as long as I have your word. When might you be coming back?” the rancher inquired, his voice lighting his words.

  “As soon as we sell them. Figure we'll be back down here by July, no later than August. I'm not planning on wintering them up there. Heard some lost a lot by not taking a lower price and grazed them on the plains of Kansas as they went. I don't aim to do that. Springs in Kansas can be mighty cold. Cattle can freeze. I don't aim to lose any.” Hunt didn't bat an eye as he studied the man. He could tell the man was just an honest rancher trying to make ends meet. But this arrangement could help them both and the rancher was smart enough to know it. It was all a matter of trust now.

  “I'd be wanting a handshake from you.” The rancher smiled, extending his hand.

  “You got it.” Hunter's smile widened in hearty approval and he stuck out his hand. “We'll sort out the details when we get back. I see no problems though since yours are branded and counted. Oh, and this is my wife, Jodi,” he explained, shaking the man's hand firmly and nodding.

  The rancher tipped his hat to her. “Ma'am, and I thank you for what you are doin'.” His gaze lowered as his voice deepened. “You see, my missus is expecting and I just couldn't leave her right now. She's terrified of the Indians as is. Her family…well…they were killed a couple of years ago by the Comanche. She still hasn't got over that.”

  Jodi's smile didn't quite reach her lips, but she nodded her understanding. “It's a good thing you are staying with her.”

  “Well, I guess we better get started then.” Hunt moved purposely to his horse.

  By noon the rancher's cattle had joined the herd and Hunt pushed onward. It was a true lift to meet the man and do bu
siness with him.

  “I don't believe you did that.” Jodi laughed just before she took her place with the herd.

  Hunt's glance took her all in. He'd begun to like looking at Jodi, “A man's word is either worth something, or it isn't, Jodi. Even mine. Some men don't judge you by the war, but by the way you conduct your business. We'll get his cattle there and we got a few more head of horses to help us. Besides, I wouldn't have said anything to him, but he was right on about the Indians. They'd have those cattle easy, sitting here.”

  “I'll say one thing for you; you sure know how to bargain.” Jodi laughed again.

  The next morning Matt was up with Jodi without being told. He watched everything she did, and followed suit. “I'm going to ride with you the first day, in case you have any trouble. Then you are on your own, okay?”

  Matt looked at her and arched a brow arrogantly. “Okay.”

  “Keep the wagon ahead of the herd, almost on point. You got to go ahead so as to break camp early. You run into trouble, you fire one shot over your head and we'll come running. Understood? And at night, light the lantern so the boys can find the camp without any trouble.”

  “I understand,” Matt replied as he hitched the oxen to the wagon.

  “Good, and one more thing. Always point the tongue north. It makes it so much easier for the men to keep their sense of direction. That might sound silly since all the men are more than a little at home on the prairie but one stampede can turn you around fast out here. Especially the further north we go; it's so barren. The scenery, well…it lacks something.” Jodi relaxed after her instructions were listened to and hopefully followed. She let him handle the team of ox and sat beside him, watching ahead for Hunt and Concho. It was a little distracting to have someone in the wagon with her, but Hunt had hired him, fully expecting the boy to do a man's job. She'd let him. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing.

  After seeing he was well familiar with oxen, and could handle it on his own, she went inside the wagon and got the potatoes. As she joined him, she began peeling them for the next meal. Occasionally, Matt would glance at her. “Aren't you afraid of cutting your hand off? I mean, what if I hit a bump?”

  “My mama taught me when I was just a kid how to peel potatoes. I rarely cut myself any more, no matter where I am,” Jodi replied.

  As they camped for lunch, she showed Matt where everything was. She showed him how to soak beans, make biscuits, and how to make coffee. Coffee, she informed him, was the most important thing. If he messed that up, the boys would never let him hear the end of it. The men depended on a decent cup to stay awake and alert. She showed him how to measure it out, and how long to cook it over the fire.

  “Don't you roast your coffee beans first?” Matt asked her, cocking his head to the side.

  “Oh…no, Matt,” she laughed. Then, she bent her head close to tell him, “It's sort of a secret about my coffee. I only use Arbuckle's Ariosa coffee.”

  “What do you mean? What's that?” Matt asked innocently.

  “Well, just after the war these gentlemen from the north came up with a dandy idea about coffee. They somehow made a coffee that they roast before they sell. It's a very special coffee, and all the cooks use it now on the trail because it's easier, tastes better, and lasts longer.”

  “Why?” Matt screwed his eyebrows up.

  “Well, I didn't know a thing about this till I went to get our first supplies, but the lady in the general store told me all about it. You see, they seal the beans with egg and sugar. That's why the coffee is a little sweet. It saves so much time. All we have to do is grind it and cook it in the pot. And the flavor is to die for.”

  Matt shook his head. “Man, I thought cooks were just the dumb ones on the trail drives, not the smart ones.” He laughed.

  “The cook is the second most important person on a drive, Matt. Remember that, because if you don't get their bellies full, those men out there won't be worth their salt on a cattle drive.”

  “What happens if we run out, though?” Matt asked after a short silence. “Of your coffee, I mean.”

  “Shhh…bite your tongue. I have made it my purpose to see we don't.” She smiled at him. “And I buy extra. See that crate back there? That's coffee.”

  “I've tasted some pretty rank coffee in my time.” Matt grinned. “My ma, she spent hours cooking sometimes. But once—before Daddy died—we had Indian trouble, and the next day everyone was tired and washed out, so Mama began cooking. She was still so upset by the Indians she burnt the coffee beans in the skillet. That was the worst coffee I ever had, but Daddy…he never said a word, even though I knew he hated it by his pouring half of it out outside.”

  “How'd your daddy die, Matt?” Jodi asked, eyeing the boy.

  “He was killed haulin' silver for a miner,” Matt replied. “Got held up.”

  “I'm so sorry. It must be rough on your mama,” Jodi replied, realizing the boy had suffered from it.

  “That's one of the reasons I wanted this job. I'm savin' my money, gonna take it to her when I'm through. She works so hard, has so little, and I aim to see her days better for her,” Matt said with conviction.

  Jodi's throat constricted at the pride she felt for this young man. Hunt really did know how to judge people.

  Changing the subject, she went to telling him about how she insisted he wash up before and after the meals.

  Matt nodded. “Yes ma'am.” And he didn't seem to mind anything she said. He took instructions better than any cowpuncher she’d ever hired.

  “And one other thing, try to keep the caboose under the wagon filled with either wood, or cow and buffalo chips. Makes it easier when fire is needed, okay? We also keep extra rawhide under there for general purposes.”

  “Sure thing.” Matt smiled “Where is the caboose? I mean, exactly?” he asked innocently.

  Jodi pointed down. “Underneath the wagon there. You'll see it when we stop. It comes in mighty handy during a heavy rain. It's just a cowhide stretched under the wagon to keep added supplies along the way.”

  Matt smiled and nodded. “You run a smooth camp, don't you?”

  “We try to. The better prepared you are, the easier the drive,” Jodi laughed.

  ≈≈≈

  “So, how's he working' out?” Hunt asked as he rode into camp that night, obviously anxious to know if the boy was doing okay.

  “Not bad. Catches on real fast. I think he'll do. It's just…” A shadow of annoyance crossed her face as she spoke.

  “Just what?” Hunt seemed to recognize her hesitance at accepting Matt.

  “He's so young.” Jodi's voice lowered a notch so Matt wouldn't hear her.

  “Don't let him hear you say that. Age doesn't have a thing to do with ability. He learns fast, he's eager. Don't mother hen him. He'll be fine. It's hard enough a boy turning into a man without a woman trying to nurse him.”

  “I'm not trying to mother him.” she replied vehemently. “I just think he's kind of young for this.” Jodi replied becoming a little miffed at his accusation.

  “A boy has to start somewhere to become a man. I don't figure we'll have much trouble with Matt. He's a good kid. Most kids his age want to get out and do something on their own, especially when their father is gone. He's a man now in his way of thinking. You can't go back to childhood once that happens. It'd be like reversing nature. Got to respect that about him. Who knows, in days to come, he might be the very one to save us.”

  “How would you know?” she replied sardonically, wondering how the man could size a situation up so quickly.

  “'Cause I wasn't much older than him when I got out on my own.” Hunt sat down beside her and gave her a warm smile. He sighed heavily, glancing about the camp with complete satisfaction. “That's one thing a trail boss has to learn real quick, sizing up a man or a boy.”

  “And how does he size up?” Jodi asked, holding a smile in. As much as she wanted to mother hen Matt, Hunt wanted to slap him on the back and tell him what a fine job h
e was doing.

  “Not bad, not bad at all…” He looked at her for a stilled moment as their gazes locked.

  “And how do I size up, boss?” She was flirting with danger, letting her defenses subside.

  “Remind me to tell you some time.” He chuckled and walked off.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They made good time for the next day or two. But as they passed through Ft. Graham and came upon the Brazos, the river was up. Not that it surprised anyone. It had rained nearly non-stop for three days. Hunt had expected it, although he'd hoped it was too soon after the rains for it to swell. Mother Nature often interfered with cattle drives and she usually won. He'd learned to respect that fact and deal with as it came. Hunt rode up and down the river's edge trying to find a good crossing; he shook his head upon return.

  “We'll make camp a day or two and see if it goes down. If not, we'll just have to swim them over anyway,” he instructed. “We'll swim them over just south of here. The north banks are too full and steep, don't like the looks of the embankments on the other side.”

  Jodie nodded agreement. She had little to disagree with as Hunt knew what he was doing. So far, not a cow had been misplaced. It certainly looked as though Clem had been right; Hunter Johnson was the man for this job.

  As they let the herd graze and bedded them at nearly the same point each night, Jodi spent her time showing Matt how to cook a few things, grease the axles and enlighten him on meal times. “You might be called upon to supply a meal or two here and there, and I don't want you not knowing what to do, or getting nervous about cooking for this bunch. Just remember, beans are a staple, and are always soaking on the trail. Cornbread or biscuits are a welcome sight. And remember to keep the sourdough fed like I showed you. I like the sourdough biscuits best. So do the boys. But there isn't always time to cook them, so when we do, we cook a bunch so that they can take some with them to eat during the day.