Jodi's Journey

by Rita Hestand

  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?”

  “Yeah…it is.” Hunt looked over at Bud. “You got any family?”

  “Yep, a wife back home, and three kids.” Bud smiled as though he'd been thinking of them all along.

  “Where?” Hunt asked, curious to know more about him.

  “Got a small spread just a little south of Lockhart. How about you? You got a place?”

  “Don't have a much of anything yet,” Hunt said, thinking about his last few years and how he'd survived them. It added to his strength. Now that Jodi was part of his life, things were going to change. “But I will have…”

  “You were in the war?” Bud asked as though he knew the answer to that question.

  “Yeah…” Hunt sighed heavily.

  “That sounds pretty serious. North or south?”

  “A little of both,” Hunt said, and then explained. “I was a northern spy in the Confederate Army.”

  “Well, I'll be dad-gum. You shore must have had your work cut out for you,” Bud chuckled. “Must have been kind of tough for you.”

  “Not something I want to relive, I can tell you,” Hunt offered, but suddenly realized that the war was no longer an issue to overcome. Even the fact that he was branded a coward no longer bothered him. Somehow, he had gotten over it, healed. Maybe Jodi had been a part of that, he considered.

  “Nor I. I never was so glad to get back to Texas as I was when they told us the war was lost and to go home,” Bud admitted somberly. “By the time it was over, I didn't care who the winner was. All I could think about was getting home to Texas and family.”

  “You know, Bud, I believed what I was doing was right back then,” Hunt said, as though he still needed to make explanations for what he'd done.

  “And now…you don't?” Bud watched Hunt’s expressions change.

  “I don't know. I saw more than I wanted to of the heartaches. As a spy, I was responsible for a lot of the killing. It doesn't make me proud. Winning didn't make me proud, either.”

  “Well, sir, the way I feel about it, we all did what we thought we had to do, right or wrong. We are the survivors, if we let ourselves. Things happen that should never have happened. But it's the way of war…and when it's over, we know the only heroes are the ones not comin' back,” Bud whispered softly as his eyes closed.

  “You might as well know this, Bud. I was no hero. In fact…the opposite…” Hunt said, still dwelling on the conversation.

  But Bud was snoring now; he hadn't heard him.

  Hunt closed his eyes and conjured up a picture of Jodi in his mind. It made everything bad disappear. He fell asleep and didn't wake up until the sun hit him square in the eye the next morning.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  With no coffee and nothing to eat, Hunt wasn't sure how he managed to get up and get going, but after securing the only gun between them with
Bud, and telling him he'd be back as soon as he could get back, he began the long trek to find help.

  He was in a lot of pain now, no longer as wet and cold and numb, but he had to concentrate on something other than the pain. He had to find some help. That was the only way.

  He'd pinpointed his direction the night before with the stars, so he knew which way to head. He'd follow the river north and hoped he would run into the herds.

  It was a quiet morning, clear of clouds. The sun beat down on him hard. Having no hat, he tied his bandana over his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Here in Kansas the days could be hot and the nights cold. It wasn't really hot yet, but the sun was bright, and his ability to get around was taking a toll on his strength. His arm was hurting considerably, but he would have to tolerate it somehow.

  Several times he stumbled and almost fell, and several times he wanted to fall to the ground and rest, but time was important, especially since he didn't know for sure how long they'd been out here. They couldn't have gotten too far away from the trail; the herds had to cross the river at some point. He'd keep following it till he found something.

  The banks of the river were steep in places where he had to nearly jump to stay on dry land. Although the water had gone down, the current was still moving swiftly, he noted.

  It was nearly noon when Hunt heard the most pleasant sound to his ears. It was cattle lowing. He heard them for a good mile before he spotted any. By the time he came upon them, he was spent and nearly falling down in his tracks.

  Someone spotted him; he heard a voice, looked up, and saw a cowboy coming toward him.

  “Over here, Johnny, he's over here,” came a voice that sounded like heaven to Hunt as he collapsed.

  “Who is he?” the cowboy named Johnny asked as he came upon him.

  “Don't rightly know. Better get him to the wagon. He's pretty done in,” the other cowboy said, looping his arm around Hunt. “He's a tall fella, ain't he?”

  They carried him to a chuck wagon, which was at least a mile or so down the pasture way, and laid him down. Someone hoisted him up and over a huge sack of flour. The pain ripped through his arm. After the wagon crossed the river, the trail boss came to camp.

  “Word is Bud Taylor and Hunt Johnson were drowned back there on the river. It could be one of them,” the trail boss was saying as Hunt regained his senses.

  ≈≈≈

  Hunt opened his eyes slowly and took in the faces of several cowmen. “Howdy,” he said with a goofy grin.

  “Howdy.” The trail boss smiled, his grin bigger than Texas. “What's your name, son?”

  “Hunt Johnson. Got a herd just north of here. Had trouble back on the river. Bud Taylor, he needs help.”

  The trail boss immediately came closer. “Bud Taylor, where is he, son?”

  “Back on the river banks about five or six miles. He's got a busted leg and arm. He couldn't make it here. I came for help,” Hunt explained.

  “We'll find him. I'll send some drovers down that way. Don't you fret none. Boy, we gave you two up for dead.”

  “So did we.” Hunt laughed a little.

  “Well, you just rest up a spell; looks like you got a dislocated shoulder, yourself. Reckon our cook can fix you up this evening.” The trail boss grinned. “I got some coffee for you.”

  “I'd appreciate it.” Hunt sighed as he took the cup from the man.

  “I'm John Evans, and I'm the trail boss here. You just rest up; I'll have the cook rustle you up something to eat. We'll be lettin' the others know you are okay, too.”

  “I'd appreciate that.” Hunt smiled as he sipped the coffee. It instantly warmed his insides. Sometimes coffee was next to heaven.

  John instructed his boys to search for Bud and to hold the herd where they were. The cook, whose name was Frank, made up some biscuits and gravy for Hunt and told him he'd be having a look at the shoulder.

  Hunt downed a little more coffee and nodded grimly. He'd seen other men with this problem and he knew he was going to need something stronger than coffee to endure it. He knew that nothing hurt like trying to put a shoulder back in place.

  Frank must have had experience with this sort of thing. He broke out the Laudanum, and after giving the medicine time to work, he was bent on fixing that shoulder. In one agonizingly slow push and pull, he had the shoulder back in place and Hunt was out again.

  It was a full two days before Hunt came around. By that time Bud was in camp and Frank had taken care of his problems. It seemed that Frank was an all around fixer upper. He set Bud's leg and arm as good as any doctor Hunt had seen.

  As he gathered round the campfire that evening, John asked him what had happened. “Aw, that herd in front didn't have a trail boss and me and Bud were going to see those cows over if it was the last thing we did, and it pretty near was…”

  “Yeah, I've heard most of them greenhorns run off after crossing.” John nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Don't know how such a bunch got this far, to tell the truth. Know any of them?”

  Hunt nodded. “The cook told us that the straw boss was the son of the owner. He was out to prove something to the old man, and didn't. I reckon he won't be going home too soon.”

  John shook his head. “Reckon I wouldn't be worrying about him, if he was mine.”

  “Who is herding that bunch now?” Hunt asked curiously.

  “A little of everyone. The second herd took over, as I heard, some fellas name Concho and Cole, they took charge and got the cattle strung out so everything is going smooth now,” John said.

  Hunt smiled. He was so darn proud of his men he could bust. But a man didn't brag about something like that. He let others do the bragging.

  “Have you sent word to them about me, yet?” Hunt asked.

  “Not until this morning. After Frank reset that shoulder, he wasn't sure you'd be mendin' very fast. He said he ain't seen nobody turn the colors you did when he set you. Scared him a little, I think. And he didn't want to scare them with bad news. So we wanted to wait till you were healin' up. Your shoulder was a mess, Frank said. Said that was the worst case of dislocation he'd ever had to deal with.”

  Hunter sort of laughed. “I don't know how to thank you proper, any of you. But I appreciate all his work on us. He did a great job. I'm sore, but I can move now. And Bud, is he better?”

  “Got him laid up in the bedroll wagon. He's doin' fine. Frank worked on his leg for a while and he thinks he'll be able to walk just fine, in time. One of the boys is good at whittling and already made him a cane to walk with. His arm was a clean break. It's gonna be all right too. Thought he wouldn't stop eating, though. You men were gone a good five days, you know.” John chuckled.

  “Five days?” Hunt said, surprise lighting his words. “We weren't sure how long we were out. We were just glad to catch up to a herd. You know, I never thought I'd say this, but the sound of cattle lowing in the distance is the sweetest sound this side of heaven.”

  “Yeah, you don't miss things till they are gone. But, yep, you'll get back just in time to sell your herd, looks like.”

  Hunt nodded, “I appreciate what you fellas have done more than I can say.”

  “No more than you would have done, I'm sure,” John added, his mustache twitching upward with a smile. He spit his tobacco and stretched out on the ground for a full minute before he got to his feet. “Now you rest up and take it easy. When you get back in the saddle, you'll have your hands full enough.”

  That night, he and Bud ate together, talked over their plight, and agreed that they'd keep in touch.

  ≈≈≈

  Bright and early the next morning, Jodi rode into camp and straight into Hunt's arms. She held him tight for a long while, not daring to let him go. The fear inside her slowly subsided into happiness. “I thought...”

  “I know…so did I.”

  “Oh god…I'm so glad.”

  “Me too.”

  Then he kissed her. Not a tender sweet kiss, but a hard, demanding kiss th
at echoed his fears, his doubts, and his feelings to her. She responded without a second thought. It didn’t matter that half the camp was watching, or who they were, or what their troubles were; they just needed this.

  “Let's go home,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

  “Yes.”

  When Jodi saw Bud, she ran to him and hugged him tight. “I’m so glad you weren't killed.”

  “So am I, hon, thanks to your man there. I owe him my life.” Bud chuckled, although the seriousness of that statement was in Bud's eyes as he spoke. “I expect I'll be seeing you and him from time to time. It's not something you forget, if you know what I mean.”

  Jodi smiled. She and Hunt thanked the trail boss and bid all the happy cowboys goodbye before riding out to join their herd.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Brady and Dutch rode up to Cole and Concho, who were with the head herd, and told them about Hunt and Bud being rescued. Both men yelled and hollered and immediately headed for camp.

  After bedding the cows down, the entire outfit returned to talk to Hunt. Everyone was elated.

  “What happened to those drovers?” Hunt asked, one brow going upward.

  “Some of them took off as soon as they crossed the river. After the cook read them the right act, a lot of them moved on out. He let them have it with both barrels. Some of them were reluctant to go, but the cook told them they wouldn't be collecting any pay for their actions. He said they were the sorriest bunch of cowboys he'd ever seen and he hoped he never saw them again.”

  “I liked him,” Hunt said quietly. “His name was Everett, wasn't it?”

  Cole nodded.

  “So, how far down river did you end up going?” Cole asked. “I tracked it for a mile or so. Didn't see a sign of anything.”