by Rita Hestand
He had mixed emotions about it. He had come to admire her in some respects, but he knew she still didn't like him. She was easy to work with, familiar with every signal, and she seemed to sense things ahead of time. He could count on her in every way except as his wife.
At first, that had been fine with him. Now he was wondering what it might be like to have her love him. He figured she'd love a man like she did most anything else, with all her heart and soul.
Of course there was the war issue, too. He could never explain it to her; he couldn't explain a lot of it to himself. But there were some things a man kept quiet. And some things needed getting over. He needed to close the book on those things, forget and go on. This job had taught him that. If Jodi ever came to care about him, it would be because she learned to trust him, on her own, with no sad songs about the war. Of course, he'd have to try to explain it to her, and what had happened. It would be up to her whether she could accept it.
A cowboy bumped into his table and the man apologized, adjusted his hat, and nodded to Hunt. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Hunt acknowledged, bringing himself out of the reverie.
The cowboy was about to go back to the bar when he suddenly turned and looked at Hunt for a long second.
“This is some place, huh?” The cowboy smiled.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Hunt replied.
“Pardon me, but you look like you been rode hard and put up dry,” he said, coming closer.
“I'm taking a herd through to Kansas. Stopped by to pick up some men,” Hunt answered, twirling his cider.
“Need drovers, do you?” the cowboy asked, sobering for the moment.
“Yep, at least four, six or eight would be better, but I could get by with four more.” Hunt looked the young cowboy in the eye. “Have you been up the trail?”
“Yeah, stopped off here, and I kind of wish I hadn't. I done spent half my money on foolishness.”
“If you want a job, you got one, but I'll be leaving within the hour,” Hunt said quite seriously.
The cowboy stood at the table, staring down at Hunt. “You the trail boss?”
“That's right, Hunter Johnson. They call me Hunt.” Hunt extended his hand for a shake. He gestured for the cowboy to sit down. The cowboy looked around, and then he pulled the chair out until it scraped the floor.
“What's the pay?”
“Thirty a month,” Hunt replied, glancing about the room for any other takers.
“I got fifty last trip,” the young cowboy said with a frown.
“I'm only offering thirty and a decent horse. This isn't a big outfit. We come half way. But we got twenty-five hundred to start with, more like thirty-five hundred now to take to Kansas. We've been moving about ten to twelve miles a day, grazing as much as we can. Don't figure on much trouble except the Big Red. Might have to swim them across. I'll need all I can get through that mess. Then, the rest should be easy.”
“What about Indians?” The cowboy narrowed his gaze on him.
“Well…” Hunt pushed his cider away. “I don't figure on having trouble with them. I usually find that if you give them a cow or two, maybe a mount and some grub, you can keep them peaceable.”
The cowboy nodded. “All but maybe the Comanch...”
“Well, I don't plan on getting in their way, neither.” Hunt smiled.
“We had four herds stampede at the Red three weeks ago. Lost thirty head and two men in a gun fight,” the cowboy said as though he was still trying to understand what had happened.
“Things happen sometimes. But I run a pretty tight outfit. No drinking, cussing, or fighting. Anyone starts a fight; I'll be the one to finish it.”
“That's pretty tough talk. But you wouldn't be havin' no trouble from me.” The young cowboy adjusted his hat and looked at the cider on the table as though he could consume it by just staring at it.
Hunt pushed it toward him. “Beer, or cider?”
The cowboy looked puzzled for a minute and then nodded. “Cider is fine.”
“How does that sound to you?” Hunt waited and studied the man.
“That's fair enough,” he said, and guzzled the cider.
“I need more men, but I don't see any familiar faces floating around.” Hunt glimpsed a cowboy in the corner who kept looking his way. He waved him over.
The older cowboy came up slowly to Hunt's table, as though he were sizing him up first. It was easy to see by his gait that he had sat the saddle most of his life.
When Hunt didn't say anything, the younger cowboy jumped in. “He's hirin' for a herd going to Kansas.”
“What's the pay?” The old cowboy had a mouth full of tobacco, but his eyes didn't move all the time he stared.
Straight-forward and honest, Hunt assumed.
“The usual, thirty a month, and some pretty good cooking.” Hunt smiled at the man.
“Good cooking, huh?” The older drover smiled now. “That could be worth the trip right there.”
“Some of the best.” Hunt nodded.
“Well, I just got back a few days ago. Was headed home, but my pockets are empty,” the man said as he took a chair at the table. “I got a wife expecting me back home before long, but if you got the herd this far, it ain't that much further. I could go along and still get back kinda early with a little in my pockets to show for it.”
“Always did hate to go home empty,” the other cowboy added.
“Yeah, me too.” The older man wiped his mustache and stared at the cider. “The wife don't take to me comin' home after a drive with no money.”
“He runs a tight crew,” the young one added.
“I'm used to that. Makes for an easier trip, if you ask me. I'll go along,” the older one said as though that information cinched it for him.
Hunt ordered another cider for them both and waited, listening to them tell him their life stories in just a few minutes. Both men were pretty honest, Hunt decided very quickly. They were seasoned cowboys, too. Just what he needed. As long as they played by his rules, he'd take them on. But he still needed a few more. Going across the Big Red was going to be hard work, and dangerous to boot. It was a known fact that more drovers lost their lives swimming the rivers than anything else on the drive except for lightning.
A Negro man wandered toward them and looked Hunt right in the eyes. “I hear you're hirin' men for a drive?”
“You heard right.” Hunt nodded. “You interested?”
“I needs the money, yes suh,” the man said, dragging the last chair up to the table and turning it backwards. He stared across at all three men. “I been here nigh on to two weeks, waitin' for someone to come along. I been up the trail a couple of times myself. Coursin' you know that Red out there, she can be mighty contrary to a determined man with cows.”
“That's why I need more men,” Hunt clarified. “We didn't lose any on the Brazos and we were sort of one man short. One couldn't swim.”
The Negro nodded, pulling his flop hat back a little and staring at the cider. Hunt ordered another cider.
“Drink up, men. This is the last of the good times till we get to Kansas.”
The men chatted amiably for several minutes, telling scores of tales they had endured, all of them true. Then another man came flying against the table and disrupted them. The man by the bar had a gun, and he was threatening the one that ran into the table.
The man at the table glanced toward Hunt before returning his gaze to the one by the bar, then steadied his hand toward his gun. “I don't want to shoot you, mister, but you take that back.”
“What, that you are a low down coward?” The other man laughed. “Well, aren't ya?”
Tension filled the room. It quieted almost instantly.
Hunt slowly got to his feet, scraping the chair against the wood floor dramatically to call attention to himself.
“He's a cowman, leave him alone,” Hunt demanded, his hand ready at his gun.
“You best stay out of this, mister, if you know
what's good for ya.”
“Can't do that. I just hired this man on. So he works for me, and I can't afford to lose a man. I'm about to take my herd over the Red,” he explained, knowing the explanation alone wouldn't suffice this character.
“Well, now, ain't that too bad. Just back off, mister, and you won't get hurt.”
Then shots rang out.
Someone shot the light down from the ceiling and fire began to spread. Screams came from every direction; people came running out of rooms upstairs to see what was going on. The barkeep lowered his shotgun against the wall, and all manner of chaos filled the room.
Hunt called to the men, “Let's get out of here.”
Four men followed.
They were a couple of miles down the road before they stopped.
“What are we stoppin' for?” the one who introduced himself as Sparky asked.
“My wife, I'm to meet her here,” Hunt explained.
“Your wife?” they chorused.
“That's right. She's the cook, and the point. Any objections?” Hunt asked in a husky voice.
“No,” came the fast reply.
“Good. She'll be along,” Hunt informed them as they sat quietly astride their horses.
“Hey, how'd you know I was a cowman?” Sparky asked.
Hunt smiled and glanced at all the men. “Well, one cowman can spot another a mile off, just by their smell, their way of walking and the way they carry themselves. It was obvious.”
“But especially the smell,” the younger cowboy acknowledged.
Everyone laughed.
Not long after, Jodi showed up, a little white around the mouth, but this wasn't the time to discuss any problems.
“Jodi, I hired four men, Joe Thompson, Randy Epstein, Cole Miller, and Sparky Williams. They've been up the trail before and they know what to expect. Boys, this is the missus. She's also one of the best cooks you'll find on the trail. Now, let's ride so we can catch up to them.” No one stalled or turned away.
Hunt was sure he had four good men and felt better about the road ahead. He knew there would be troubles, but at least he had more help. His only concern now was Jodi.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By noon the next day, they had caught up to the herd. Concho and the men had been busy crossing the Trinity. Like all the ones before it, it had swelled its banks, and they had done as before, leading with the ox and waiting till noon.
Hunt smiled to himself at how the men had remembered everything so well and had taken care of the herd. He even had his thirty cows back, too, which pleased him immeasurably.
Everyone was glad to see Jodi was all right. Everyone gathered around her and smiled.
“I knew the boss, he would find you,” Concho said, a glint of confidence flitting across his face.
Jodi smiled as she began preparing the next meal. Despite the fact that the herd was intact and there had been no trouble, all the hands had been in the saddle since her capture, and everyone looked bone tired. No one complained, not one.
Hunt was aware of their condition, too. “Let's bed them down and make camp for the day, boys. Word is that there are three more herds behind us. That means we'll have a wait at the Red, but I'm sure you fellas can use a little rest yourselves. All of you know that the Red is our biggest obstacle, aside from a few ornery Comanches. But the Indians are easier to deal with than you think, especially since the government set them up on the reservations. Even if we were to lose cattle, we would be paid by the government for our losses, so remember that.”
He kept stressing that fact all along so no one would get trigger happy when they had to deal with them. One bullet could cause them to lose the entire herd.
“Yeah and horses,” Sparky added.
“Even so”—Hunt eyed Sparky with a nod— “I'd rather give them a few head than have to fight an army of Comanches. They'll be asking for tobacco, horses, and food. We give them to them, we won't have a lot of trouble. We can't let them think we'll give them all to them, but we can afford to be a little generous. After all, we've picked up quite a few head since we left Round Rock area. We'll cull out the tender footed cattle to them first.”
Hunt watched a few grunts go around, but they seemed to take his orders about the Indians with mixed feelings. He understood; after all, some of these men had probably lost loved ones to Indian raids. It made it doubly hard to be impartial about it, too. That was why it was so important to stress the point about the Indians at every chance. It was like the war, they had to forget and go on.
“Now all of you know for certain that if the government would keep their promises, we probably wouldn't have to fight the Comanche, Osage and Kiowas like we do. They got a pretty rotten deal in the end and that should help you realize that it actually made things more even for us. Not that I feel for them, I don't. They are savages. When they make war, its war, and that's the way it is. But now the war can be over if we let it. Even with the Indians. Some of you were in the big war, fighting your own kin, maybe even killing some of them. It wasn't a pleasant thing to have to do. But then war isn't a pleasant thing.
“We will defend the herd, no matter what. All I am saying to you is, don't start anything on your own with the Indians. You got a grudge, keep it to yourself and wait till we are done with the drive. Then, if you want to come back to the Territory and fight them, that's your problem. We'll have more stampedes as the weather begins to close in on us. We've been lucky so far. It hasn't frozen and we only have to put up with rising waters and too much rain. Jodi got supplies in Ft. Worth. Anyone without a slicker can see her about it. We'll stay in our Union suits when we swim the cattle across the Red. I can't imagine not having to swim them over. Jodi bought some new drawers, too. Obviously, she isn't as good at turning her head away as we are.” Hunt winked.
Jodi blushed, but smiled.
“Just like at the Brazos, we'll ferry the wagon with Jodi and Jose over. Any of you new fellas don't know how to swim?” Hunt asked. “Speak up.”
“I can, but my horse, he don't take to the water good. I've had trouble every time,” Joe quickly admitted.
Hunt nodded. “Then we'll all keep an eye on Joe and his horse. Put your valuables on you. I don't want to have to chase a horse down river with a saddle bag full of good stuff on it. If we get a herd mixed in, then we'll take the time to cull them out. If a neighbor needs help, we'll help them. If you see someone going under, stop what you're doing and help out. I don't want to add no more crosses at the river. Cowboys don't get credit for such, but I reckon in the hereafter we might get a raise.”
The men smiled.
“I guess I haven't told you how I'm proud of the way you got this herd back on course. There will be extra money for all the strays we've accumulated. This money will be split between us all. A lot of thanks goes to Dutch and Brady for picking up as many strays as they could muster, and for taking the dust like they do every day.
“After we cross the Red, we won't be seeing many of our own people, mostly Indians. Just remember, they are people too, and if we give respect, we just might get it back. Not that we shouldn't be prepared. Sometimes we can't give them enough of what they want and they'll stampede the herd. So keep them calm. After the Red we'll slow down a bit. So they can fatten up. We'll be some of the first getting through, and we should get the going price. We may have to winter the herd before we sell. Not something I want to do. Kansas is just too cold in the early spring. If we do, then the ones who want to stay can let me know. If not, your trip back will be paid. You can ride the rails, or your pony. You've all been good men. I appreciate being able to count on you. Something a man feels good about. Now, enough of this kind of talk, let's help Jodi and Matt get some grub together. I don't know about the rest of you, but I’m starved.” He chuckled.
When Jodi served up cornbread, Hunt was surprised. “I thought you couldn't make cornbread.”
“The lady at the general store gave me a recipe for it. It wasn't hard.” She smiled. “I
've been meaning to learn.”
“Well, it looks great.” Hunt laughed as he took his plate and went to find a place to sit down and eat.
“Did you have to kill the hombres, Señor?” Concho asked as he and Jose joined him.
“Nope, didn't kill nary a one,” Hunt chuckled. “Just left them to walk to town with no boots. Thought it might give them time to sober up and do a little thinking.”
Concho smiled. “Those kind don't use their heads much. Did they hurt the Señora?”
“Nope, they didn't get around to it. Too drunk.” Hunt laughed again.
“I tell her, you are no coward, Señor,” Concho added after a long silence, and the others moved away.
Hunt smiled at Concho. “Well thank you, Concho, but she didn't quite believe it, did she?”
“Si….but she no understand war, boss. She knows nothing of how men have to do. She only knows what some people say. I think she is beginning to understand you some, but maybe she needs a little time or a little help.”
Hunt sighed, put his clean plate down on the ground, and gazed at Jodi with open admiration. “And I think she's going to have to come around on her own, Concho. You can't force someone to understand circumstances.”
“You no like to talk about it, do you?” Concho asked, his face suddenly very serious.
“Concho, what happened in the war, well, it's best forgotten. I can't change it. I condemned myself, so I certainly can't blame others if they blame me for leaving.”
“But sometimes, well, sometimes there is a reason, no?”
“Yeah…sometimes there is a reason,” Hunt admitted lowly.
With that, Hunt got up and went to put his plate up. Jodi was washing them already. He stared down into her face with unasked questions between them.
“The cornbread was great.”
“Thanks.” She managed a weak smile.
“You looked a little peaked when you caught up with me,” he said as he watched the strange display of emotions crossing her face.
