Jodi's Journey

by Rita Hestand

  Hesitantly, Hunt took Jodi into his arms and slowly, methodically, he pulled her into his embrace. Shutting out the frown on her face, he kissed her.

  To his surprise and amazement, her lips were butter soft and somewhat responsive. He felt a quiver of reaction as her lips moved slightly. He sucked in a breath and held her close. She was small, but full in all the right places, and yet, the contrast of soft against hard hit home. She was a fully grown woman and his natural reactions set in as her mouth twitched and she pushed him away.

  The preacher smiled again as Hunt placed a five dollar gold piece in his hand. Jodi hadn't moved from his arms, and he cast her a quick glance before he thanked the preacher and his wife.

  They walked in unison out the door, never looking back. Silence filled the air.

  After a long moment of staring across the street, Hunt turned to look at her. She quietly reveled in his open admiration of her. Had they been two other people in this situation, things might have been different.

  “Why don't you stay here while I run over to the saloon to see if I can pick up a man or two?” Hunt suggested. “Are you taking that dress with you?”

  “Well…yes, the preacher's wife gave it to me,” she answered with a flush. “I was too embarrassed to give it back to her after she offered it so nicely as a wedding present.”

  “Looks real nice on you, too. I'll be back soon. Just stay here.” He smiled at her before he crossed the street to the saloon.

  ≈≈≈

  She shook the euphoria away; this was a chance to check on the doctor. She had to. She might only have a few minutes, but she wasn't going to miss the chance.

  She walked down the boardwalk until she found the shingle hanging from the roof of one of the buildings. She saw no light on, but perhaps he was merely sleeping. It was late.

  She knocked, but no one came. She knocked again. Then, she heard someone. The door opened slowly, and a woman peeked her head around from it. “Yes?”

  “Is the doctor in?” Jodi asked in an almost whisper.

  “No, he's gone out to the country. Won't be back till the end of the week, probably. Why, is there anything I can do?”

  Jodi felt frustration swamp her as she idly wondered if God himself were against her. “No, I guess not.”

  “Is someone hurt?” the woman asked, her dark brows knitting into a frown.

  “No, I just needed…oh, never mind.” And she ran back down the boardwalk. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. It wouldn't do for Hunt to see her crying.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hunt entered the saloon and went directly to the bar. He needed something to distract him. He had to come here. He couldn't spend another minute with Jodi in that dress without making her his. It was an impossible situation. Still, he had to deal with it logically. Jodi certainly didn't love him, and he didn't love her, did he? No, he merely admired her for her spunk and abilities. That was all. No use putting more meaning into it. He knew how she felt about him.

  Just because they got married didn't mean he had to love her, did it? Well, maybe it did, if he considered how he had been raised. Marriage was a holy union and he knew that. But this wasn't a usual wedding, and Jodi certainly wasn't the usual kind of bride. Although, she was the prettiest bride he'd ever seen.

  He didn't want to waste any time in this town. It was too open, too much trouble. Even though saloons catered to the rougher citizens of the town, it was the best place to find drovers. But Hunt often found himself at odds coming into an establishment like this because he always ordered either milk or cider, and that got a laugh from the crowd every time.

  He ordered an apple cider and asked the barkeep, “I'm taking a herd through. Know where I might pick up a couple of men?”

  The bartender listened intently, then eyed him without saying a word; he drew a pistol in the air and fired. “Listen up, got a trail boss looking for drovers here. Anyone interested, see this fella.” He pointed at Hunt.

  No one stepped up, the music continued, and Hunt sighed. He couldn't stay long; he needed to get back to the herd. He was about to finish his cider and go when a large, tall, black man walked up to him. He was completely bald and his eyes were big, round saucers. His face was half way between grim and happy, if that was possible. Hunt eyed him with curiosity.

  “I need a job,” he said, looking Hunt right in the eye.

  “Ever been up the trail?” Hunt watched the man closely.

  The man never lost eye contact. His face held honesty, Hunt decided, and he liked that. He'd seldom been wrong about a person.

  “Once.”

  “Once is enough for me. Got a horse?”

  The man smiled. “Now my horse is a great cow pony, so even if I'm no good, he will be.” The black man laughed.

  Hunt had to laugh too, but before he could hire him, another gentleman came between them. “You better take him, cowboy, cause we don't want his kind here,” the man said in no uncertain terms, his eyes never leaving him.

  The black cowboy stood very still, as though he knew trouble when he saw it. The other cowboy was half drunk and looking for trouble. Hunt glanced at the black man, realizing it wasn't some personal grudge. It was his color.

  Dang fool. The war was over and people still didn't get it. How long would it take for the world to understand what that war had supposedly been about?

  “You're hired. What's your name?” Hunt looked around the other cowboy.

  “Willy…Willy Moss,” the black man said, moving away from the other man and starting for the door. He wasn't running, just ambling as though he didn't want to start anything just now. Hunt liked that about him. He was a man not looking for trouble, and better yet, he had a sense of humor, which would be appreciated on the trail.

  Hunt liked Willy Moss on the spot. He was to the point.

  Hunt followed, and then paused at the door. “Maybe it's your loss and my gain.”

  Laughter followed them out the door. “We'll catch up to them later…” came the brag. Hunt hadn't missed a word of that.

  Hunt motioned for Willy to follow him. As they crossed the street, Jodi was coming toward him. “You got us a man?”

  “Yep, meet Willy Moss.” Hunt smiled as he picked her up in his arms. Immediate tension crackled between them. “Willy, this is my wife.”

  “Pleased to meet ya.” Willy smiled a big toothed grin.

  “Only one man?” she asked as he set her on her horse, smoothed her dress, and shot her a hot glance before turning his attention back to Willy and the horses.

  “Only one. Sometimes, one’s all you need,” he replied, then glanced at Willy and nodded. “Grab your horse and come on with us.”

  Willy nodded and, in seconds, he had a roan saddled and ready.

  They rode quietly out of town.

  Before long, they were back on the trail. Hunt wasn't sure why he decided not to stay in town, but judging from the man at the bar, things weren't too friendly, and he didn't want any trouble, especially not tonight. He had to admit, getting married had some strange affect on him. Either that, or that kiss had floored him more than he realized.

  He couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed a girl, but he knew he wouldn't forget kissing Jodi.

  All the way back, they didn't speak of the ceremony. The tension was like tender in a herd just before the strike of lightning, strong and dangerous. He reckoned they both had plenty on their minds and it was best kept private for the time being. On the one hand, he refused to believe he had a wife. On the other, he knew he had a newfound responsibility, and his protective nature sprang forward.

  A soft rain came down as they rode into camp. Everyone was bedded down, and Jodi wasted no time in climbing into the chuck wagon, but the dress was so long and trailed, Hunt had to help her in. When he attempted to follow her, she pushed him away.

  “This is as far as it goes, cowboy.”

  “No ma'am, this is,” Hunt rasped as he pulled her into his arms
again and kissed her hard.

  This kiss was different, as though he was branding her, and all she could do was clutch at his sleeves. The moonlight silhouetted them, and he was sure that any cowpunchers curious enough to stay awake at this hour would get an eyeful. But the purpose of the kiss lost its meaning as his lips touched hers again. He liked kissing Jodi and he wanted to go on doing it.

  But he gently shoved her away. Yet, instead of leaving, he invited himself into the wagon with her.

  “What do you think you're doing?” she gasped with indignation.

  “Letting the men know who you belong to, in no uncertain terms. But don't worry,” he grunted, finding himself a small corner to scoot into. “I'll not be taking your virtue.” He breathed a long sigh.

  Again her cheeks flamed, and he found himself staring at her through the dim light. She was such a beautiful contrast of mixed emotions tonight. He wanted to comfort her and tell her it would all work out, but he knew she wasn't ready to hear that.

  Strangers were what they were. Married is what they were, too!

  She asked him to leave so she could change out of the dress, and he did. He went to talk to Willy.

  “How long you two been married?” Willy asked after talking about the drive for a while.

  “Tonight,” Hunt laughed.

  “Oh…so now I see. Well sir, looks like you got you one good woman there.” He smiled again. “She shore does know how to ride.”

  “Thanks. You got a woman, Willy?”

  “Had one…she took a bullet and died.” Willy shook his head sadly. “Over two year ago. Since then, I have been alone.”

  “Sorry, Willy, sometimes it's tough. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?”

  Willy seemed to consider Hunt for a minute before replying. “Some towns don't cotton to Negroes. I guess you done seen that tonight in the saloon. Especially down this way and further south. I reckon the war's not totally over yet. Maybe it's just too soon for everyone to accept. Anyway, they got this bunch of people that put these white hoods on and they run around the countryside looking for people like me. And they usually find them. Well sir, they found me and my missus one night. They were fixin' to hang me, and she run out and got in front of me. Someone pulled a gun and shot her dead, right there in front of me. All I could do was fall on my knees and cry. I heard them laugh, as though killing her was nothing, like killin' a fly or something. But, I loved my wife, Mr. Hunt.” After a long minute of silence he added, “I guess they saw how hurt I was and decided I'd spend the rest of my life mourning for her and that was punishment enough. They whipped me till I couldn't even stand on my knees and then they left me to my grief.”

  Hunt acknowledged the sadness in Willy's eyes. He shook his head, and his hand went to Willy's shoulder. His eyes stared deep into his. “I'm sorry, Willy. Truly, but you won't be having that problem here. I can assure you of that. A man is a man to me.” With that, Hunt walked back toward the wagon. He turned and called over his shoulder, “Goodnight, Willy.”

  “G’night, Mr. Hunt.” Willy nodded and got his bedroll off his horse.

  Jodi jumped a little when Hunt first came through the curtain.

  “Easy girl…”

  She blew out the light and fastened her blanket around her securely, as if that might keep him out if he wanted to have her. He wasn't in love with her, but he did feel a strange sense of responsibility toward her. She was Mrs. Hunter Johnson now, and she'd be treated with respect, no matter what.

  Hunt reflected on what Willy had said. He reminded him of Jacob. The sadness in Willy's eyes wouldn't go away. He thought about it for a long time as he stared through the darkness at Jodi. He suddenly wondered if he could feel that kind of love for her.

  The rain continued all night, lulling them both through a restless night.

  Before dawn, Jodi was up and about. She'd made coffee and breakfast and called the hands in. Everyone seemed to notice the exaggerated slowness of Hunt leaving the wagon. When the men continued to stare, he announced it, making it official.

  “We got hitched last night,” Hunt said as Matt smiled at him. The men seemed genuinely happy about it as Jodi blushed.

  There was a multitude of reactions, but no one voiced any argument and Hunt took that as an acceptance.

  “Oh…and this is a new drover, Willy Moss. Introduce yourselves and get acquainted,” Hunt demanded.

  The boys all shook Willy's hand and everyone seemed to accept him easily. Funny thing about trail drives, one drover usually respected the other unless there was a real cause not to.

  Now the drive wouldn't be so bad, he thought as he helped himself to breakfast and sat away from everyone else. No one noticed but Jodi. It might seem he was ignoring her, but he had a lot on his mind.

  He glanced at her and their eyes locked on each other, almost hungrily, as though they both needed that to keep going. It'd be a long, hard drive for him.

  Jodi finally joined him.

  ≈≈≈

  “You look a little worried, Señor Boss. Think there's trouble coming?” Concho asked as he was saddling up to leave.

  “Could be. Be ready. Every man carry his pistol cocked and ready. Our cattle held interest for some jayhawkers in the saloon last night, a lot of interest. No one said anything, mind you, but as I was talking to Willy, I saw a few of them staring and listening to our conversation.”

  “Jayhawkers? I figured you'd worry about the Indians?” Josh chuckled.

  Hunt scratched the ground with his boot, and then looked up at Concho and Jodi.

  “Well, I'll tell you”—he looked at them closely—”Indians can be a problem if you make them a problem. We won't. All they'll be wanting is horses and maybe a cow or two to eat. One of the first things a trail boss learns is when to give in and when to get the heck out, and when to fight to the end. We'll trade best we can, invite them to supper. Be friendly, show no fear of them. They are like dogs in that respect. They smell fear, and once they think they have it, they have the upper hand. We can't let them have that. It's the white men you got to worry about, though. If those jayhawkers come after our cattle, we got to be ready. If the cattle stampede, we ride and ride hard, turn them in, circle them. Close them up tight. Look for strays later. The bulk of the herd will stay together.”

  The drovers all nodded and sighed heavily, knowing they might have a long night ahead of them. Even though stampedes were a normal part of herding cattle, it never came easy. They knew exactly what to expect. It was long, hard work keeping the cattle from scattering, and then there was the rounding up of strays. It was a job and they knew how to handle it.

  “Those men in the saloon, did you know any of them, Willy?” Hunt asked as he was about to mount up.

  “Yes, sir, you got them right. They used to be soldiers. Now they are just out for what they can get, easy like. No goods, if you ask me. Stirrin' up trouble everywhere they go. They especially don't like Negro men.”

  “Is that a fact?” Hunt looked at Willy with new interest. “Were they Union or Confederate soldiers, Willy?”

  “I don't rightly know, sir, they left with the Confederates, but they comes home and joins the Union Army, right off. The government has been closin' those forts since way before the war. Well sir, when they did, they lost a lot of men. A lot of men were angry; they had families butchered by the Indians. It's a long story and nothin' good comes of the tellin'.” Willy shrugged.

  “But what have they got against Negroes? I mean, I ran into a whole troop of Negroes during the war who fought for the north,” Hunt explained, trying to figure it all out.

  “Don't know, but they got themselves a whole new army now.”

  “What are you talking about, Willy?” Jodi frowned and came closer to listen.

  “I don't rightly know what they call themselves, but they wear these white, pointed hoods and they come in the night, killin' my people, for no good reason,” Willy said with tears in his eyes. “They say it's to keep us from votin', s
ittin' on juries, and testifyin' against the white man. And to keep us from some kinds of jobs. But I don't know many of my people that would vote anyway. Don't know a white judge who would put a Negro on a jury either. As for jobs, well, most of us can't read or write…so what kind of fancy job we gonna get?”

  “Well, that won't happen here, Willy. I can promise you. And if it did, every man here would back you up. Because here, you're just a drover like the rest of us, understand? This is one place that color don't matter. If you were an Indian, I'd say the same.”

  “Yes suh!” Willy smiled suddenly, flashing a full set of the whitest teeth Hunter had ever seen.

  Hunt nodded. “We'll keep an eye out for them. Any questions?”

  “Want me on drag?” Willy asked.

  “Actually, no, I want you to cut the remuda and herd them, Willy. You seem pretty good with horses.” Hunt smiled. “Horses tend to move faster than cows, and the cows get more restless with them mixed in.”

  “I'm not bad, now you mention it.” Willy chuckled. “No sir, not bad at all.”

  “Then let's roll.”

  Jodi opened her mouth to protest. “But…who'll be on lead?”

  “Concho for a while. You and Matt go on up ahead, find us a bedding ground. Afterwards, I want you in the wagon with Jodi, Matt.” He knew she wanted her point, but he felt she would be safer in the chuck wagon. After all, how many men would try to hold up a chuck wagon?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You think there's going to be trouble?” Jodi asked him as most of the hands saddled up and readied themselves. She had begun to notice how he tensed at certain times. No one else seemed to notice, but she had watched him closely. Not much got by Hunt Johnson.

  “Could be, never hurts to be prepared. That goes for you, too. Keep a gun handy. That is, if you have one. If you don't, I'll let you have my rifle.”