by Rita Hestand
“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<
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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.”
Jodi walked off, acting as though Matt needed her.
Hunt pushed his hat back and watched her. For some reason, Jodi Parker was looking better every day, and he might just have been in the saddle too long.
CHAPTER TEN
“We're going to have to swim them across. I was hoping the water would go down, but it doesn't look like it will. The current and the wind aren't working in our favor either. We'll string them out. We'll make a raft for the wagon. We'll take it slow and easy. Got to find out if everyone can swim.”
Hunt called the men in camp together. “Boys, we got to swim them across. We've waited long enough. Is there anyone here who can't swim?”
Jose raised his hand, his brows knitting with concern. “I no swim, Señor Boss.”
“Okay, you'll go along on the wagon. Now let's get some timber for logs and make a raft to get the wagon across, then we'll head the cattle in. But I want the lead cattle to follow the oxen in. We won't go across till noon. Cattle don't take to the sun in their eyes, so we'll oblige them this. Ox, on the other hand, have no trouble with water. They'll be the lead till we get across. Strip down to your drawers when we go. If you got a slicker and can manage in the water with it, fine. If not, don't worry about modesty. We'll send Jose and Jodi over first.”
The men nodded and went to working on the raft. They used willow for logs and strung them with odd and end pieces of rawhide. With little tools, and not much lumber to be had, the makeshift raft was crude, but it would hold long enough to get the wagon across.
The next day Hunt scouted the best place to cross. It wasn't an easy task. The water was still dangerously high, and the current was strong too. The oxen led the way, totally unaffected by the water. The water was so salty the cattle didn't drink. The rest of the lead cattle followed, and before they knew it, it was one long line of cattle going across. It took two solid days to get all the cattle across, having to jerk a few cow tails in the process, and Josh nearly lost his horse once.
Jose and Jodi helped on the other side, making sure the cattle knew they were being coddled into a bunch.
Matt came across the river last with Hunt; he swam well, and several times helped dig out the cattle from quicksand. It took awhile to get them out and was bone breaking work, but they accomplished it.
The men jumped back in the river to clean themselves. They whooped and hollered for nearly an hour before any of them came up the other side
of the embankment. It was a refresher that they all seemed to need since they had been rained on almost since they’d left San Antonio.
“Mind if I stop to clean myself?” Jodi asked Hunt after all the men had returned to the other side.
“Go ahead,” he agreed, giving her a long look.
“Wouldn't hurt you any to clean up a bit,” she said over her shoulder in a soft murmur.
“Is that an invitation?” he asked huskily, cutting her a flirty smile.
“I didn't mean with me…” She huffed and ran down to the river bed so he wouldn’t see her blush.
He laughed till she was out of sight, then he realized how enticing that thought was. Jodi had definitely worked her way at getting under his skin, but he knew how to squash such urges, and a cool dip in the water would do him more good than she knew.
The rain had cooled the air and the water felt invigorating to Jodi as she dove in. She'd kept her drawers on, too, and still managed to soap away the scum of the trail. Lye soap never smelled so good. She sighed. She washed her hair, too, and when she came out, she felt refreshed.
She was so refreshed she didn't notice Hunt standing at the edge of the bank with a blanket to cover her with. The intimacy of his spreading the blanket over her made her shiver with something more than cold. His hands seemed to linger against her for a moment. It wasn't the temperature of the water that gave her goose bumps. It was Hunt. It felt like a current running up and down her back as he touched her lightly. He held the blanket to her, lifting her hair out and sighing a little too heavily. He smiled down at her. “Dry off good, and don't get a chill.” Hunt offered a satisfied smile.
“Thanks,” she barely murmured, afraid he might read her thoughts if she looked at him too closely.
“I'm going to have a dip myself,” he said huskily, his cheek nearly touching hers as he moved to go past her. Her heart jumped against her chest and she willed it to slow down, afraid he would somehow notice.