Jodi's Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

where the work came
natural to the black man.
    The north never understood that the south
didn't always treat the slaves badly. Some actually treated them as
family. A lot of southern girls grew up with Mammies that were as
close to them as any mother. Yet there were many injustices that
outweighed the arguments.
    It was no secret that black people didn't get
a fair shake, because in Hunter's book, they were just that,
people. However, that wasn't a common belief. He had learned early
on in life, when he'd had a best friend growing up, that black was
just another color. And he remembered with bitterness when his
friend, Jacob, had been hung from a tree for stealing an apple pie
from Mrs. Douglas' window. Jacob had only been eleven. Hunter never
got over that. It still managed to bring a tear to his eye when he
thought of it.
    Perhaps that's what had caused him to be a
spy for the union army under the guise of being a southern officer.
He'd been pulled by the people he grew up with and loved, and what
he thought was right and wrong. But never in all his life could he
justify Jacob's death to himself. A mob of angry men had killed him
to set an example for all, they had said. Jacob's father, a real
thief, had sat there in the dirt, crying as his son swung from a
rope…dead.
    Hunter, on the other hand, had been pulled
into a vortex from which there was no escape…none but God given.
The war ended abruptly for him when a shell had knocked half his
hearing out and caused him to be responsible for one of the
bloodiest of battles of the war. It had given him an out of a
situation where there was none. For now, he carried a brand all his
own, the brand of a coward. But God had made him strong, and he
could hold up.
    Again, the war had come to invade his
thoughts. But if the army had taught him anything, it was how to
survive even a war with oneself. He could and would go on living,
and no one would be the wiser.
    But this time…this time…he didn't make
excuses for his actions as those memories haunted him. This time,
he faced them and tucked them away into a small part of his mind
for another time. A tear slid unattended down his cheek as he
forced his thoughts to other things.
    He had a job, and that was something.
    He wondered about the little lady who’d
walked into that broken down shed with such a bold request. What
did he know about the Parkers?
    Old Man Parker had been a pretty fair cow-man
in his day, but he couldn't stay away from the bottle. Once he had
started drinking, it had been the end of the cattle days for him.
He'd joined the Confederate Army when the war broke out, but he
managed to get himself in a heap of trouble not two years into the
war. Some said he was with a troop down by Camp Verde that hung a
bunch of ranchers on their way to Mexico. The leader of that group
hadn't been seen since, and anyone with him was either dead or
hiding for the rest of their lives. Hunter wondered if the money
those men had been carrying to Mexico to buy supplies and stock had
been worth it to the soldiers who decided to hang them. Yeah, war
had a displeasing taste to it, even the parts that weren't
concerned with the fighting.
    His mind flitted back to Jodi Parker. He
couldn't recall anything about there being a Mrs. Parker, but she
must have died early on. Maybe that was why Old Man Parker took to
drinking. The word was that the foreman had taken over the Parker
place the last few years, and had made a fair ranch out of it. Clem
Morton was a good man with cows, a fair man, too. The old Riding R
Ranch would have a hard time replacing Clem.
    There had been a brother, too, but Hunter
knew all too well about him. He'd been there when he fell. He was
partly responsible for his death, and he'd never forget it. He owed
the Parkers, he reckoned, and this little chore might help settle a
few things. For everything there was a purpose. He smiled to
himself.
    However, having Jodi as a bride sure hadn’t
played into his hands. What was