Jodi's Journey (27 page)

“Si…Señor Hunt, he would want the cattle to
get to market, no matter…” Concho said, his voice choking him. He
saw some of the other men coming up and looked at Cole. “We will
push them through now, with the ox, exactly as Señor Hunt showed
us.”

So they pushed on, herding the cattle through
the water in one long string of three or four cattle at a time. All
the men made it easy except for Joe and his contrary horse. Willy
was there again to help, though, and Joe finally made it over.

The chuck wagon was last this time and Concho
and Cole were there to make sure it went as smooth as possible.

“Where's Hunt?” Jodi asked as the chuck wagon
came up the other side of the embankment.

All the men seem to gather about, waiting for
some reply.

Cole cleared his throat, hung his head and
shook himself. “I don't know how to tell you this…” he began,
looking at Jodi.

Jodi seemed to sense something wrong, only
she had no idea how wrong.

“Hunt and Bud…didn't make it,” Cole finally
said, his voice going hoarse and his eyes no longer able to hold
Jodi's.

Jodi's mouth fell open. Standing in the wagon
as she was to get a better look, she fell to the seat. She just sat
there, staring into space. She didn't talk, didn't cry, and didn't
do anything. “No…No, that's not possible. Of course they made it.
Maybe they are ahead of us. Of course…they are ahead of us. That's
why you think…”

Her words died on her lips. The expression on
Cole's face and Concho's shoulders proved her wrong. He was gone!
How could it be? Three days ago, she had kissed him goodbye, and
now…

“I…I want to see…” she said hysterically a
few minutes later when her brain would function again. “Where did
it happen…how?”

“They jumped in to turn the cattle, some were
drowning. They turned them all right, but the current was obviously
too strong. They are both gone,” Cole said, his eyes never leaving
Jodi's. “I'm so sorry.”

“I've got to see…I have to know…where…how?”
she began, getting off the wagon and going back to the river. Then
she saw the two fresh crosses. “No…no…I can't believe it,” she
cried, and fell in front of the them. She grabbed hold of them and
jerked them up from the ground. “It can't be.”

“Concho, take her back to the wagon. Stay
with her. We've got to push on, get these cattle to market. He'd
want it that way, Miss Jodi.”

Josh and Concho took Jodi and carried her
back to the wagon. She was crying so hard they couldn't console
her. They just huddled around her and held her the best they could.
Not one man could look her in the eye. Not one man could hold his
own head up.

Cole pushed the herd onward while Concho saw
after Jodi and the wagon for now. The two men were determined to
get the cattle to market the way Hunt would have wanted.

≈≈≈

Jodi cried for hours, then she saw the tansy
sitting in the jar where she'd left it. She unscrewed the lid and
poured it out on the ground. She stared at the empty jar for a long
time. Suddenly, she had an idea. She'd seen how affected the men
were, how downcast. She needed something to keep them going, and as
she touched her belly, she had the answer.

When night came and everyone gathered around
to check on her, she came out of the wagon, dried her eyes, and
looked at the men. She had thought about what she was going to tell
them all day, what she could say to make them all feel better, and
herself. And only one thing seemed to stand out in her mind. It
choked her, it saddened her, and it was the only thing that could
make any of them feel better. It had been a momentous decision, but
she knew it was the right thing to say, even though it was a huge
lie.

“Hunt's gone, and Mr. Taylor. Cow men, good
cowmen. But Hunt left something behind, which he was very proud of,
and I think he'd want to share it with all of you. You see…” She
looked around her at all the sad faces and, suddenly, she realized
he wasn't gone…not entirely. “I'm going to have his child.”

Every man looked up at her. The face of death
left the camp at that moment, replaced by a new inner joy that
everyone felt. Smiles crossed everyone's faces. In an instant, they
were all gathered around her, congratulating her.

“Thank God,” Matt cried out. “He'd have been
so proud.”

“He knew, Mathew, he knew,” she said with
happiness. “Hunt looked forward to the future and making a
family.”

“We will all take care of Ms. Jodi,” Cole
exclaimed. “You'll ride in the wagon, and when you don't feel like
cookin', Matt can do the cookin'.”

Jodi laughed. “It's all right. I'm fine. And
your happiness for me and Hunt makes me happy too. He was so
pleased to know he was going to have a real family. You see, Hunt
was an orphan, himself. So family meant a lot to him.”

She hadn't totally lied, she thought to
herself, and what she lied about had helped the men see that life
went on. It helped her, too. The child had become something good to
Jodi. The child was hope. Hope for the future. And it kept her
going…in her darkest hours.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

He heard the sound of the frogs. Croak,
croak, croak. He saw the twinkling of the stars against a velvet
sky. He realized he was breathing, and wet, and cold, so very cold,
but very much alive. He heard the gurgle of the river. He smelled
it and the sagebrush, and it was heaven to him.

Hunt stretched his right arm out in front of
him and saw that it was whole and nothing was wrong with it. He
moved his fingers slowly. Then, he wiggled his toes in his boots,
and lifted his legs one at a time. Nothing wrong there, he decided.
But when he tried to lift his left arm, he knew where the damage
was. Pain bolted through him a like a streak of lightning. He
nodded to himself and tried to sit up. The pain that racked his
body was so intense. Thankfully, the cold of the icy water had
nearly numbed it, making him able to move everything else.

He glanced down below him. There he spotted
Bud. From this distance he could tell he was still breathing. That
was good, but he wasn't moving around, so he knew he must have been
injured too.

He tried to think, to remember what had
happened. Then, he glanced at the river and it all came rushing
back. He had jumped out to turn the cattle, to keep them from
drowning. But he'd lost his own hold and was attempting to help
Bud, who had jumped in after him. There was the roaring of the
waters, the sound of water splashing, the feel of it hitting them
in the face, the strain of staying above the water, breathing.
Somehow, Bud had gotten caught by the current. Hunt remembered
rushing toward him, and then it all went blank.

Now, here they were, barely above the water
itself, stretched out on the embankment, and judging from the area,
must be miles away from the herds. A slight bend in the river's
edge had saved them somehow, washing them over the embankment.

He rubbed his head to clear it. It hurt a
little. He felt a few knots. He had to start thinking. Not an easy
task when pain outweighed anything else.

He managed to half crawl, half scoot toward
Bud. He bent over him, and heard him breathing. That was good. He
wasn't dead, but he couldn't be sure of his injuries either.

“Bud. Bud, can you hear me?” Hunt asked,
noting his voice had somehow weakened too.

For a full minute Bud didn't stir. Then,
slowly, he moved just a fraction. “Yeah, Hunt, I hear you.”

“Don't try to move, not yet. I'm going to
scout around…if I can get up and see where we are,” Hunt said,
patting Bud on the shoulder gently.

“I ain't sure I
can
move, Hunt. I
think I busted a leg, from the feel of it, and an arm too.”

“Then just sit tight,” Hunt instructed,
eyeing the banks. “The water's gone down some. I wonder how long
we've been out?”

“I don't know, but I'm stiff as a board, so
it must have been a few days,” Bud said, trying to turn his head so
he could at least see Hunt.

“Don't you fret. We're still alive. That's
something.” Hunt chuckled.

“You hurt anywhere?” Bud asked, still not
able to turn fully to look at him.

“Just my shoulder…” Hunt acknowledged with a
grunt.

With caution, Hunt tried to get to his feet.
He hated being disabled in any way; he wasn't the kind of man who
could put up with inability in himself. His arm was coming back to
life, though, and the pain was sorely taking its toll. He knew that
part of survival meant the endurance of the pain and going on.
Sometimes you just had to push yourself, he reasoned.

He slowly moved along the edge of the river.
There was a full moon that lit his path, which he was thankful for.
One of the first signs that everything was going to be better was
when he felt hungry. He checked the river banks and noted that the
water had indeed receded several inches.

Food, he thought simply. Food was what was
needed.

In his condition he knew he couldn't hunt,
but those bull frogs were making a lot of noise and there were
quite a few of them, he noticed as he trekked the banks. He kept
moving along until he found a broken down tree. There he found some
twigs and limbs. He took out his pocket knife and began to sharpen
the end of the limb. It was a slow process because he could only
use one arm. He began to catch the frogs once he had completed the
make-do spear. He managed to get several good sized frogs and took
them back to where Bud still lay.

“You doing okay, Bud?” he asked for
reassurance. Funny how one needed reassurance out in the wilds like
this, but it felt good knowing he wasn't alone.

“Yeah, I managed to turn over, but that's
about all,” Bud chuckled softly.

“Well, don't you fret. I got us some supper,”
Hunt said, and began gathering the small twigs of wood and
sagebrush to light a fire. He'd have to start it Indian style for
his matches in his shirt pocket were still soaking wet. It seemed
everything he tried to do required two good hands and he only had
one to spare. Pain echoed through him, but also let him know he was
very much alive, too. For some reason, that kept hammering through
his brain, that he was still alive.

Shortly, Hunt had a spit, crude though it
was, and began roasting the frog legs on it. When they were done,
he handed Bud some. Bud managed an almost sitting position and ate
heartily. They were both starved.

Neither one acknowledged whether it was a
good meal; it was nutritional and both gained strength from it.
Fact was, Hunt hadn't really tasted any of it. He just knew he had
to have it to keep going.

“I wonder how long we've been here,” Hunt
said after a while, voicing his worries. If they'd been there too
long, they wouldn’t be catching up to the herds. But it was a
gamble either way.

“From my appetite, I judge a couple, or three
days.” Bud chuckled again. “Maybe more…”

Hunt smiled. “As soon as it's light, I'll see
if I can find us some help out of here. If we are lucky, one of the
herds will still be close enough.”

“Yeah, if we're lucky.” Bud nodded. “I'm no
doctor, but I know I've got a stoved up leg and arm, and I'd say
you've got a dislocated shoulder from the way you’re dragging it
around with you.”

Hunt nodded. “Yeah…”

“Probably from luggin' me out of the water.”
Bud frowned. “I want you to know, it really sets me off that I owe
you so much. You should have let me drown rather than getting that
shoulder so messed up.”

“I'm really glad you didn't,” Hunt assured
him. “I'd hate to be stuck out here alone.”

Bud chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I
prefer a little company myself.”

“Well, that's how it goes. At least we are
alive,” Hunt acknowledged. “We got one gun between us. So I'll
leave it with you when I go for help. I don't know if it's a bit of
good since we've been in the water some time. But at least you can
throw it at whatever comes along. We can't be more than five or six
miles from where we were. If that's the case, it shouldn't take me
long to find help.”

“You might need that gun,” Bud asserted.

“Naw, I'll be fine. I got a knife. I'm not
leaving you without some protection,” Hunt insisted. “I don't
rightly know what kind of animals live along these banks. So be
careful.”

“I ain't no squaw. Now don't you fret none
about me. You get yourself taken care of.” Bud squinted his eyes
with nothing short of embarrassment. “Sorry I'm a burden.”

“Not so, Bud.” Hunt smiled down at him. “You
came along at a good time. And we are going to get back to the herd
real quick. Both of us.”

Bud smiled. “Yeah, I'd be wantin' to get back
quick too if I had a pretty little filly like you do ridin' the
trail with me.”

Hunt laughed. He'd thought of nothing but
Jodi since he’d woke. He had to force her from his mind to
concentrate on survival, but the temptation to just sit and
day-dream had hit him not long after he came to. And thinking of
her spurred him onward. He'd find the herd and get back to normal
again. He'd get Bud back, too.

“We better try to get some sleep,” Hunt
insisted, seeing that Bud was in even more pain than himself. “You
know I'm not a drinking man, but a big jug of cider, warmed by the
fire, would taste mighty good about now.”

“Oh now, that would warm the innerds,
wouldn't it?” Bud sighed.

Hunt scrunched down by Bud and lay against
the embankment, his eyes going to the stars above. “Pretty,
huh?”

Bud looked up and smiled. “Yeah, it shore is.
Got a dandy view from here.”

Beneath a canopy of stars, Hunt felt smaller,
somehow. “At least I can get my sense of direction from them.”

“You know, Hunt, I don't think much about the
Almighty, but out here, on a night like this, in our predicament,
well, it's kinda peaceful knowing there is somebody watchin' after
us, ain't it?”