Jodi's Journey (8 page)

“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 business 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 he 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.