by Rita Hestand
The cowboys began to mount and run with the cattle.
The cows had been bedded along a hillside full of prairie dog holes. Some of the cattle were shrieking with pain and agony, crippled from stumbling into the holes. Hunt rode out to the lead and stayed with them for a full day. The drovers couldn't believe he was still in the saddle, knowing he was shot. But seeing he was not just a talking boss but an action man, the cowboys began to move.
That was only the beginning of their troubles, though. Some of the cattle had run into a sandbar and several were bogged down. Hunt ordered two of the drovers to follow him as they stopped to dig the cattle out, all the while Hunt was bleeding and hurting. With every thrust of the shovel, blood oozed from his wound. The white-hot pain was something he tried to purge while he continued to work as though nothing had happened. He wasn't trying to be a hero. He just wanted to get this outfit working correctly so he didn't have to worry about them any longer. He knew setting an example was important, but he wasn't sure how long he'd last.
It was mid day when the herd quieted down on a prairie not far from a huge buffalo herd. Hunt knew the buffalo had to be stampeded into getting out of the way. It was a large herd and it would take several men to get them on the run, but they would swarm like bees over the hills in no time once they got started.
Hunt quickly cleared the way for the cattle. He was injured, but he couldn't stop long enough to see about himself. He concentrated on his duty and forgot the pain. It nearly overtook him several times and he deliberately pushed himself to finish the job.
He knew the longer he stayed out there, the worse things would be for him, but it was his job to see his cattle through. And unless he got these people moving, he couldn't do anything about his own. He was going to have to stop soon, though. He felt ready to black out. Still, the cattle had to be taken care of, and unless he set the example, these cowboys weren't going to work.
Once the last buffalo ran over the farthest hill, the last thing he thought of as he collapsed was he wished Jodi was there.
≈≈≈
The men carried him back to his herd, their heads hanging.
Jodi spotted them and ran toward the group. Her face was a mask when she saw Hunter bent over a horse.
“What happened?” she demanded. She felt her face pale when she saw how injured Hunt was. She gasped and rushed to help him down off the saddle. Jodi saw how the blood had already dried on his shirt and knew it had been there for some time, but there were no explanations. Her first reaction was one of shock, and anger, but she knew how Hunt felt about quarreling during the drive.
“We had a little trouble is all,” a cowboy told her. As for apologies, he had none. But he did finally tell her, “We'll get our herd down the trail now.”
“That's good because he isn't helping you any longer. You men know what to do. What is wrong with you? Get out of this camp before I have my men take you out.” She stared after them as they slowly left the campsite, never once looking back.
Since Josh and Matt were close by, they helped Hunt into the wagon. Jodi checked the wound and knew it was bad, a bullet lodged in his side. It needed to come out. He had bled much too much from the looks of his shirt. She ripped it off and checked the wound. She grimaced as she faced him.
“I've got to get the bullet out, Hunt,” she cried, a tear falling down her cheek.
Barely conscious, Hunt nodded. “You can do it, Jodi.” He sighed.
“I'm not sure I can,” she barely whispered.
“You have to do this,” Hunt said with great effort. “We can't sit here forever. We're right smack dab in Indian Territory. They might let us pass, but they won't stand for us staying here. You have to get the bullet out, and then we have to get rolling, boys.”
Concho rode up and entered the wagon, overhearing Hunt’s words. He sized the situation up quickly. “He's right, Señora. We must get the bullet out tonight and then move on quickly.”
Never had Jodi felt such panic. She was a good cook and could ride a horse as well as any man, but taking a bullet out of Hunt? That was asking too much. What if she killed him? She couldn't bear the thought. As much as she’d tried to remember these last few days, that he was a coward and not worth loving, she seriously doubted she believed it now. She had grown to know the man; now, to operate on him and try to save his life? Could she do it?
She leaned against the side of the wagon, holding herself for a few minutes, her doubts swarming her.
The big question was….did she really have a choice?
Jodi cleared a place to operate on the ground, laying a bedroll for him, numbly going about the preparation as her mind warred with her actions. Josh and Matt helped Hunt out onto the bedroll before stepping out of the way.
She quickly realized she was going to need the laudanum, and after getting it out of the wagon, she built a fire. Hunt lost consciousness a couple of times. Jodi silently prayed that she would have a steady hand, and that he would stay knocked out while she tried to get the bullet out.
His last waking words were to her, “You can do it, darlin'.” He smiled, then those long lashes closed over those beautiful sapphire eyes of his and he was asleep again.
“Give him a big dose of that Laudanum,” she said as she went to disinfect the knife. First she heated it, then she poured the last of a tad of whiskey over it.
“I will help, Señora,” Concho insisted.
“Thanks, Concho,” Jodi said as she neared Hunt again. She'd never operated on anyone before. She'd seen Clem do it, but she hadn't. Her hands shook as she looked at the knife, and then at Concho.
Concho nodded at her.
“Give him a big sip of the Laudanum; it'll help numb the pain of it,” Jodi cried.
Josh held Hunt up long enough to get the Laudanum in him. Then, gently laid him down and nodded at her.
“Hold him,” she wept. “For God's sake, hold him.”
“Don't cry, Señora. You can't see if you cry.” He smiled.
Jodi nodded, wiped her eyes, and took up the knife. She cut into the wound, moving the knife only so much till she found the bullet with the tip. She tried to push back the skin to get a better grip at the bullet. It was deep in his side and she was afraid she would cut the wrong thing and hurt him more. With sheer determination, she flicked at the bullet, but it didn't move. She withdrew and moved back away from him. The blood gushed. “I can't do this,” she muttered miserably. She felt faint. She wanted to escape from this. She wasn't a doctor. How could they all expect her to do this? It was the hardest thing she had done in the world.
“Si, you must,” Concho coached her.
“I need something smaller,” she insisted, turning away from the wound so she couldn't see it. “I can't get in there with that knife.”
Concho pulled out a pocketknife. “This should work, Señora.”
Jodi nodded and, grimacing, she began again, this time with more success. In seconds she had the bullet out. She was numb; there was no feeling anywhere. She wanted to crawl in some hole and disappear, but only after she knew for sure that Hunt was okay.
Concho smiled. “Now you must seal the wound.”
“How? I doubt I have enough cat-gut or thread.” Her eyes rounded on Concho as though he had slapped her. How much more could she endure?
“Hold the knife over the flame, heat it well, then sear it against the wound. It is the only way to seal it so he doesn't bleed to death,” Concho instructed.
“How do you know this?”
“I was in the war with Mexico and I was assigned to work for the doctor. I watched him many times. You did exactly right, but now you must seal the wound. It is hard, I know, but it must be done so he doesn't die from the bleeding.”
She looked hard at Concho, and saw the worry and understanding in his eyes, then nodded. “Okay…”
All the men who weren't tending cattle gathered about her, confident that she could do this. They would offer a kind word here and there, and she thought she heard them pray,
but she couldn't be sure. Her thoughts were on Hunt right now. She might kill him and she knew that she didn't want him to die. The realization that she cared for this man hit her hard. Too proud to tell him, too weak to walk away from him.
So she proceeded to sear the wound closed. As the smell of singed skin permeated the air, she felt sick.
When she was finished, Hunt was out cold. He had flinched like a cow when she first touched his skin, and unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks, knowing she had hurt him and that he would always bear the scar. Never had she done such a thing to anyone. She felt weary, almost as though she might collapse, herself. She mopped her own sweat with the back of her arm and threw down the knife. Wearily, she trudged back to the wagon and leaned on it for support.
“He will live now. He is a tough hombre.” Concho laughed as he joined her. There was relief in his voice, and she saw for the first time how worried he had been, how worried all of the men had been. Strange how things had turned out, she mused as she leaned her head against the wagon and watched as everyone got a cup of coffee and stood around.
“I hope so,” she cried, and she wasn't ashamed to let Concho see her tears.
“You have feelings for him now?” Concho smiled knowingly.
Jodi's head came up and she wanted to deny it, but she couldn't fool the men now. Her feelings mirrored everyone's in camp. Somehow, this man who had once been a disgrace to Esser Crossing was now respected and revered. How could it be? And yet, it was, she knew.
“He is my husband.”
“Si, he is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As soon as they could load Hunt into the wagon, Jodi decided to push on. The men were with her. They knew that Hunt would want it that way. He wasn't awake yet, but they made him a bed in the wagon and he was resting well. So far he hadn't gotten a fever.
The boys gathered around the wagon before heading to the herd. “We sure would like to know who did this,” Josh said.
Jodi nodded. “Yeah, I know. So would I. The men who brought him back didn't really say much. All I know for sure is that he went ahead to hurry the herd in front so we wouldn't be getting our cattle mixed. Something had to have happened there in that camp. Hopefully, he'll tell us when he comes to. They sure didn't tell us anything.”
“We'd feel better if we could sort of even the score,” Josh said, mashing the toe of his boot into the ground as he spoke. “We know he wouldn't want us to, but he's done a good job with our herd and we all know he was trying to help those fellas ahead of us. You'd think they would be grateful.”
Jodi considered what they were saying, but shook her head. “Getting even won't solve anything. No, I think Hunt would want us to push on, no matter what. There'll be time for that when we get to Abilene. They are going the same direction so we're bound to come across them again.”
“Si.” Concho nodded. “She is right. There will be another day for that.”
“What's the next creek? Anyone know?” Jodi asked, trying to change the subject and get the men back on track.
“It's called Panther Creek,” Cole spoke up. “Not the best place to bed down cattle, but we might not have much choice since we're sort of skirting the other herd as it is.”
Jodi eyed him a moment. Cole was sort of a loner, but since he'd joined them, he’d managed to get to know everyone pretty well. There was a steel edged quietness about the man. He was a lot like Hunt. “Any special reason it's called that, Cole?”
Cole grinned and nodded. “Yes, ma'am…another reason to have your guns ready.”
Jodi shrugged wearily, but she understood. “You heard the man, keep your eyes peeled. And I want lots of singing, men. Hunt always kept the cattle lulled with the singing. Maybe we best get better at it now,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Hunt who was still out cold. “No loud noises though, boys. We don't need another stampede. Just sing and keep your eyes open.”
“Si, Señora, perhaps me and Jose should use our knives if there is trouble. It is much quieter.” Concho flashed his big knife as Jose rode up. The other man took out his knife and showed her, as well.
“Not a bad idea. Jose, you take one lead, Concho, the other. Any sign of those yellow-eyed cats, try to take them with your knives. But don't hesitate to use your gun if you need it. I don't want anyone else hurt.”
The men nodded and took off. She was herding the chuck wagon alone. She needed every man out there. They were getting closer to their destination, and she didn't want anything going wrong. She put Matt on drag.
Jodi swallowed hard. Could she do it?
She pulled the chuck wagon out in front of the herd, determined to scout the area ahead.
The prairie was a lonely place, and there wasn't anything a human could look forward to. No beautiful, lush trees, no lovely carpets of blue bonnets. Just miles and miles of gently sloping prairie with an occasional greening around the creek bottoms and oddly formed cottonwoods that jutted against a sky of storms. The land was full of sagebrush and tumbleweeds, and they seemed to gather against the wind for protection. The weather, too, was most uncooperative. Jodi wished for warmer clothes, but the grasses were good feed for the cows, so she couldn't complain.
She was alone out here and Hunt was still sleeping. Looking at him, she realized that the feelings she had for the man had magnified. She hadn't meant them to, didn't want them to, but it had happened. She cared more than she wanted to say. But as long as she had this problem, was in a way, she couldn't act upon her own feelings.
Preparing to make camp, she took out the tansy. She examined it closely, smelled it. It smelled like rosemary and camphor. Not a bad odor, but what in the world was she to do with it?
After putting a meal together for the men, she went to the small creek ahead. She sat down and looked at the steeping tea she'd made out of it. Tears were streaming down her face, but she knew what she had to do. Had she mixed it correctly? Should she drink it all? Could she remember what the book said about it? She couldn't remember the measurement. And if she hurt herself, would the cattle get through? All these things rushed through her mind like a cyclone. Perhaps this wasn't the right time either. With Hunt in bad shape, she was the boss again. If something happened to her, what would happen to the herd? Or was she merely making excuses for not taking it?
“God.” She looked into the azure sky. “I don't talk to you very often, at least not as often as I should. But please, forgive me for what I am about to do. I know it won't set well with you…it doesn't set well with me either. I know I'll carry the burden of my actions for the rest of my life. But this child…is not of my making. You know that. Maybe you’re the only one who knows that…”
“Wrong...” came a thunderous voice from behind her.
Her stomach churned with unspent frustration and anxiety as the silence lengthened between her and Hunt. He had somehow gotten up and staggered toward her. She felt a momentary panic as she realized her secret was laid bare. Already her feelings for this man were confusing her beyond words. Somehow, her hate for him had changed to admiration and fondness. He represented things she thought were long gone.
She could feel his sharp gaze upon her. Emotions raged a war inside her as he stood watching. She wasn't proud of what she thought she needed to do.
Hunt's expression was tight with strain as his face contorted from pain and disdain, but the smoldering flame in his eyes called to her. His compassion was a shock, his caring a surprise, but his desire to help her drove her near the edge of reason. His gaze softened on her, and her heart lurched.
“It took me a while to figure it out,” he ground out, as though he were mad at something…not her. “But now I know. And you don't have anything to fear any longer. Hershel Walker raped you, didn't he?” Hunt said about as bluntly as a man could say it.
Jodi wiped at her eyes, unable to get a hold of her emotions, not knowing what to say now. “What are you doing out of the wagon? You aren't strong enough to be up…”
“
Don't change the subject, Jodi. I asked you a question.”
His voice was laced with a dangerous mixture of anger and caring. He was only a few feet away and part of her wanted to rush into his arms and cry because he was okay and was mending. Another part of her wanted to cry on his shoulder because he cared.
The look on his face was hard and unreadable, and yet there was now some intangible bond between them that made her heart race with hope. His eyes traveled slowly, thoroughly, over her, as though looking at her for the first time.
Jodi clamored for something to say. How had he known?
“I…I…” She couldn't go on; he stared so long she thought he would never say another word. “You shouldn't be out of the wagon.”
“Tell me, Jodi. For God's sake, tell me,” he muttered thickly as they shared a moment of sheer awareness of each other. It was so intimate, and yet they hadn't touched one another.
“Yes…yes...he raped me!” she cried aloud. “Is that what you wanted to hear me say? He raped me. He knocked me out and raped me and beat me up and left me for dead. He came uninvited, and left the same way.” She finished the statement so quietly he could only stare at her.
When the silence lasted too long, she yelled at him, “Well, say something!”
“Don't do this, Jodi, please. You'll regret it…later. Think about it, please.”
“Don't do it? You don't know what you ask. I've come this far, I can't turn back now.” She looked directly into his eyes, wishing he wouldn’t go on with this subject. “Don't try to stop me from doing what I have to do.”
“That's what I'm trying to tell you. You don't have to do anything, Jodi. I'll help you.”
He took the steps to bring them closer and leaned his head against hers, his lips grazing the top of her head. Even though his pain had to outnumber her own, he held her to him for a long moment. And for some unknown reason, she began to cry. She wept for a long time in his arms. Never had she felt this protected, this safe, in her life.