by Rita Hestand
Hunt could tell this man was a seasoned drover, and appreciated the fact that he was the only one in camp who seemed to take the river seriously.
“What's your name?”
“Everett Howell, sir. Been a cook for nigh on to ten years now, but I've taken a few up the trail in my younger days. Problem is, around here, no one pays much mind to me. That river out there is not going to be a fun job. It's about as bad as I've ever seen it. It just won't stop rainin' and stormin'.”
“Yeah, that's how we see it, too. But the herds are backing up against each other now and we are nearly at market, so we need to get this over with. Bud and I intend to stay with you to see they get these cattle over. Do your lead cows go willing, or do they balk?”
Everett shook his head. “Naw, they balk getting in the water most of the time. We lost fifty last river. They let them bunch up and we couldn't make 'em go nor turn them around. One drover drowned trying to turn them. The rest just sort of gave up when old John tried to get them across and drowned in the process like the other. Biggest mess I ever saw.”
Hunt nodded. He'd heard stories like this one before, and he didn't want to repeat history. “You know, I've seen greenhorns before, but this bunch confuses me. Where did they come from?”
“Aw…Charlie is the son of the owner in south Texas. He's nothin' but a snot-nosed kid who thinks he knows it all. He's tryin' to prove to his daddy that he's ready to take over the ranch, but he ain't got what it takes to do 'er. The old man knows it, too, but he gave him this one last chance. You know what I mean.” Everett glanced up to see Charlie eyeing him from afar.
“So that's it.” Hunt said. “I wondered. Well, this river is going to be a test for us all. That's one mean current. I've brought oxen. They take to water just fine, and they'll lead them in. We push the remuda from behind to see that they keep swimming. String them thin and take as much time as we need to dig them out. Should be okay.”
Bud nodded. “Got anyone who cain't swim?”
“Me and one of the younger ones. Done told him he could go over on the raft with me. That is, if this bunch ever builds one,” Everett said. “Sure glad you fellas came along, though. No one's even thought to ask, 'cept me.”
“Yeah.” Hunt tried to laugh only the seriousness of the river kept everyone sober.
It was a rough two days and Hunt and Bud stuck together most of the time while Cole and the others scouted around the camp and kept their eyes peeled for any goings on. More than once they had to break a fight up, Cole ending it before it began. Hunt separated them and took their guns away from them. This didn't make the drovers very happy, but it sure settled the fights.
Cole was right alongside Hunt on that. These drovers were sure gun happy. Could have been their ages, for one thing. Most of them weren't over twenty. Trouble was, they had a lot to learn, and not many were willing to try.
The raft was finally built and Hunt decided he was going to test the waters. He first swam his horse over. Even though the water was icy, the horse didn't hesitate. He then culled out an ox and took it across. The ox didn't balk too much either, so he decided they were going to cross.
“String them out; we're going over,” Hunt told Bud and Charlie.
“It ain't gone down much,” Charlie muttered miserably.
“Can't help that. We have got to get the cattle over, and we've waited as long as we can. There might even be more herds behind us now,” Bud explained. “You do exactly as we say and everything should go all right.”
The chuck wagon was first. A rope had to be strung across the river to pull it to the banks as the current was too strong and would have pulled the wagon down the river. Bud and Hunt did most of the rigging, since they knew what to do. Charlie did get the cattle strung out, and after the oxen were led in, the cattle began to follow.
Mid-way the cattle began to balk because it was so cold; Hunt and Bud prodded them onward. Sometimes catching them by the tail and yanking, sometimes by heading their horse in front. The other drovers followed slowly, pushing them into the icy waters and nudging them onward. The cattle started to turn; no one except Bud and Hunt knew how to handle the situation. Both men jumped in. They tried to turn the cattle back toward the bank but the lead steer wouldn't budge. He began to sink and Hunt went down with him. Over and over Hunt tried to turn him. The steer seemed to wrestle with Hunt and caused all manner of chaos.
Bud tried to throw a rope to Hunt, but Hunt was underwater as much as he was above the water. Bud swam out to help; the current was too strong and pulled both men under. Eventually, they came up. The others could see Hunt holding Bud's head up out of the water. It was the last anyone saw of either of them before they disappeared from sight.
Cole was helping on drag. When he realized what had happened, he dove into the icy water to try and find them. He came up empty each time. He'd been too late. Able to finally get the balking cattle straight again, they made it to the other side of the embankment.
Cole sat down on the ground and waited, hoping one of the men, or both of them, might surface. No one did. It grew very quiet, like a wake. Cole shook his head, unable to believe that Hunt or Bud couldn't have made it. Even though the current was strong, and the water icy, it was hard to believe that such men could die.
Angry that two fine men had drowned because of the laziness and inability to muster the cattle, Cole was near a rage when Charlie caught up to him.
“Looks like they didn't make it,” Charlie sighed.
“You better get your butt back into the saddle and hope I don't draw on you, mister. You are the laziest, good for nothing bunch of cowboys I've ever seen. This should have never happened. There are enough men to have helped. No one went in after them, and I'm going to want to know why,” Cole said in a harsh breath that was unmistakably dangerous.
“You think that's my fault?” Charlie hollered, sneering at Cole from a distance. “Can I hep it if they jumped in after those dern cows. No one could have turned them. It was stupid to try.”
“I wouldn't be calling anyone stupid if I were you. I don't think, boy. I know it was your fault. This was your herd, not his. You should have been the one to see after those cows, and what of your men? Don't mess with me now, just finish getting them over and don't say another word. Because if you do, I might just shoot you so I don't have to look at you.”
Cole got back in the saddle and finished getting the herd across. He was dead tired and in the meanest of moods. These young yahoos had a lot to learn, especially about herding cattle. Two good cowboys had just died, and the little worm of a straw boss couldn't even take the time to be sorry.
It took all Cole's nerve not to kill them all on the spot. They didn't know how bad his finger itched to pull the trigger, or they wouldn't have stood around the embankment like a bunch of scarecrows. Cole had hung up his guns from fighting men a while back. This was sure enough reason to take them down again. And the worst thing was, now he had to figure out how to tell Jodi what had happened. He'd rather be stranded in a desert with no water than have to tell her this.
The next day, he built two crosses and put them by the river. For a long while he stood there, the tears he felt bottling his throat so hard he couldn't speak. He'd come to respect Hunt and think of him as a friend, and Cole didn't have many friends. He'd sorely miss Hunt and Bud.
The last of the cows were across from the first herd and now his own herd would be moving. Would he have to ramrod the herd? He knew Concho would be there for him. All the men back at his camp were unaware of what happened here. He still couldn't believe it himself.
In an effort to make sure, he walked down the embankment several times, looking for clues, of what he wasn't sure. Maybe somehow they had survived. Two tough men like Hunt and Bud wouldn't give up so easy. But there was no sign of life, or struggles for life, anywhere near the river bottoms.
With a heavy heart, he watched as the herd ahead disappeared against the setting sun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
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Leading the oxen to the river's edge again, Cole crossed them over and met Concho on the other side. “Concho, hold up a minute.”
“Si, where is Señor Hunt and Bud?” Concho asked, a smile on his face at the fact that the cattle were going to cross today.
Cole didn't know how to tell him. He'd been a gunfighter, a cowman, and even tried ranching, but he'd never been able to handle personal matters. He still didn't know what to say to anyone. He sat there on his horse and crossed his arm over the horn of his saddle. His face held a grimness that conveyed a message. Concho looked at him, and he knew.
“I do not believe it…” Concho said slowly, as though the thought of Hunt being dead was not something that was possible. “Please tell me…please…”
Cole looked him in the eye, and shook his head somberly. “I didn't want to believe it either, Concho. But I searched the banks for a good mile and half and found nothing. No signs of either man washing up on the banks, no signs of trouble, no signs of anything. I guess the water was just too cold and the current too strong. Hunt jumped in to swim the cattle back; they were turning and going with the current. He tried to turn them by himself. I was in drag, I couldn't see what was going on. The cook, who is the only man I'd trust with the information, told me. I searched long and hard, but I didn't find him. No sign, no nothing.”
Concho hung his head, and for a minute he did not seem to trust his own voice to speak. “How are we going to tell the Señora…?”
Cole hung his head too. “I don't know, Concho. I'm not good at this…as you can probably tell.” Lifting his gaze, he said, “Let’s get this herd across first, then we'll tell her. If we tell her now, we might not get across any time soon.”
“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 o
f 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.
