Jodi's Journey Read Online Free PDF

a
toothless grin, and nodded. “That will be fine, friend.”
    Hunter nodded and took the pitch fork from
the man's big hands. “I guess a man's word isn't good any
longer.”
    “Depends on the man, maybe.” The Swede
laughed heartily and slapped him on the back. “Work is good for the
soul, friend.”
    By the end of the day, Hunter was aching in
places he forgot worked. But the debt was paid and he would sit the
saddle the entire night to get to Round Rock on time. He'd
forgotten what an honest day's work would do to him, and he was now
reminded of a schedule he had to keep.
    He could see by the trail they left that all
must have gone well. Fresh tracks proved that Jodi had gotten the
herd on the move. Satisfied that she held up her end of the
bargain, he traveled onward.
    Traveling by moonlight, it was cool and the
thought of the brewing coffee made his stomach growl. It would warm
him, but he had to use it sparingly because it had to last a long
time.
    He stopped long enough to build a small fire.
Getting his pot out of his saddle bag, he made the coffee as he
pulled his jacket tighter, a jacket that had seen better days. He
wished he still had his deer hide coat.
    He sang to himself, pleasing himself greatly.
God had given him a voice like no other and he enjoyed belting out
one song after another.
    The one tool a cowboy always used was his
voice, he thought with merriment, and he had developed quite a
bass. At least cows seemed to appreciate it.
    He thought again of the woman, Jodi Parker.
He remembered wisps of blonde hair poking out of a flop hat, blue
eyes that seemed to look right through him, and blatant honesty
that stared him in the face. She wasn't little, nor big, but
rounded like a fully grown woman. Her hips had given her away as
she headed for the door, he remembered. Her face was sweet and
innocent, yet years of hard work had seasoned her. But she wasn't
that old, barely twenty, he'd expect. She was somehow appealing or
he would never have offered marriage. She might be all right in the
hay if he gentled her a bit. He'd think on that a while. She was
like a wild filly, full of spunk, and nerves.
    Then he thought of Hershel Walker. Truth be
known, he hadn't heard what Walker had said that day, but the way
he’d been manhandling the little gal made Hunter angry. He wondered
why a woman like Jodi would know a man like Hershel, if you could
call him a man.
    Hershel was well known in Esser Crossing. He
was the town bully during the years of the war, but he was still
wet behind the ears. He'd been nowhere, done nothing, and learned
absolutely nothing of life. Oh, he'd killed a few people, but no
one in their right mind would have called them fair fights. The kid
was trigger happy, and didn't use his head before he started a
fight.
    It was easy to be a bully in a town full of
old men and young boys just back from the war.
    The war was an ugly word in any man's books
these days, best forgotten. From the looks of the men that came
back, it took more than life itself; it took the soul of some, and
possibly their livelihoods. Broken men, physically and mentally,
and for what? The glory of the south?
    He sighed.
    No, Hunter had another idea about that
stinking war. It wasn't all about freeing men; it was about the
inability to understand each other. It was a known fact that the
south and the north didn't even speak the same language. How could
they agree when they were so opposite? The southern men were
gentlemen, the northern men were intellects. One had less pride and
more brains, the other had more pride and not enough brains. The
black people were somewhere in the middle.
    Hunter never understood why they couldn't
have settled their differences. After all, the northern people
brought the Negro over on ships to sell for labor, not realizing
that they would somehow have to train these people to work in
industry. And the south, thinking they'd found a gold mine, bought
the slaves and put them to work in the fields