Free Jodi's Journey by Rita Hestand Page B

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.
    “Jose usually manages to bring us a prairie
chicken or turkey, sometimes a deer. And when we have time, we stop
long enough to pick a few berries for a pie. Sometimes you have to
sort of prepare while you are moving along. Like picking beans,
sometimes you'll find rocks in them, to cull out. Peeling potatoes
before we stop helps, but you've got to be careful with the knife
so you don't cut your hand off. Next time I peel some, I want you
to watch. And don't laugh, it's a real talent,” she teased. “If we
had more men, I could show you a lot more, but time is important.
We barely got anyone to look after the remuda, much less the grub.
So when I'm cooking, I want you to pay attention as I don't have
time to write down a recipe for you, understand?”
    “I understand, but say…I could handle the
remuda. I'm good with horses,” Matt declared, his blue eyes
flashing at her. Jodi knew he wasn't really interested in the
cooking part, but he would get interested, because this was his
job, and one lousy meal and he'd never forget it. Drovers were easy
going and peaceful, but bad food made for dangerous times.
    “No, you've been given a job. Let's see how
you handle that before we move you on up to horse wrangler.” She
smiled at him, but was careful of coddling the boy, just as Hunt
had advised.
    “The boss says this is your herd,” Matt
inquired shyly.
    “Mine and many others; that's why you see so
many brands. Five families from Esser Crossing started this drive.
It took some handling to round all these up, but we got it done and
now all we have to do is get them to market. The war took a lot out
of our people back home. I reckon the only thing that is going to
change things is getting these cattle to market and back with the
money,” Jodi said sadly. “Then maybe we can all get back to the
business of living again.”
    “Your husband