At the sight of comrades in retreat, others wavered and soon followed suit. The charge was broken, and the defenders ceased fire without orders. Tige leaped to his feet and helped Swede down into the wagon bed. Jack started to move along the edge of the wagon bed where Swede sat until his head began to spin and his knees went weak. The last thing he remembered was stumbling forward and blackness overtaking him.
Chapter Forty
Jordy and Rudy tugged Jack’s upper body under the wagon to capture some shade. Thor joined his friend and lay beside him, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder, his nose just inches from the old rancher’s face. Jack’s eyes blinked and he opened them, but he seemed confused, Jordy noted, scooting back to check the leg again.
“Relax, Jack,” Jordy said. “The bullet wound finally decided to give up some blood. I cut off your trousers’ leg, and we’ve got it bound and the bleeding stopped.”
Jack did not reply, and Jordy lowered his head, looked under the wagon bed and saw that his foster father’s eyes had closed. “He’s out again,” he said to Rudy who stood nearby with his eyes fixed on Jack.
“Just as well,” Rudy said. “He won’t be moving that leg around if he’s sleeping. And if Jack stays put, Thor won’t be on his feet either. I’d say, let them be till they got to be moved.”
“Jordy, you’d best take a look at this.” It was Tige, speaking from the wagon bed where he was tending to Swede’s shoulder wound.
Jordy got to his feet. “What?”
Tige pointed to a man standing less than a hundred feet away on the gentle slope that rose above the trail to the village. He was waving a stick with what appeared to be a woman’s white camisole tied to it. “Guess somebody wants to palaver,” Tige said.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Jordy asked.
“I’m still trying to get Swede patched up.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not so bad,” Swede said.
Tige said, “He’s got a slug in his shoulder. Somebody’s got to play surgeon later. But we need to talk our way out of this place first. I guess it’s up to you, Jordy. That’s best anyhow. I doubt if there’s many among these people that would talk straight with a black man.”
Jordy sighed and shrugged. “All right, I’ll see what he’s got to say.”
He walked around the wagon and stepped out onto the open ground between him and the flag waver. The man took a step toward him, so Jordy reciprocated, and each started walking at a slow pace toward the other. As he approached the Comanchero, Jordy was surprised to see that he would be dealing with a young man about his own age, tall and lean with red hair and beard, both close-cropped from what showed beneath the hat brim. The man seemed nervous and wary, but Jordy supposed he might appear the same to his negotiating counterpart.
They stopped a few arms’ lengths from each other. The Comanchero spoke first, “I’m Dan Flanagan. Most call me ‘Red.’”
Why was Jordy not surprised at the nickname? “I am Jordan Jackson. Jordy.”
“I’ll get to the point. Where’s Amos?”
“In hell, I’d guess. He is dead as a rock, along with Smack and a man I think they called Jorge and a big man. A few others on the ground outside the house, too.”
“We saw them that was outside. Wasn’t sure what happened to Amos and the others,” Red said. “Can’t say I feel sorrow about Amos. Some of us wanted to leave here, but he said we was dead men if we tried to ride out. I don’t got any posters out on me, and Johnny and Taylor don’t neither. We ain’t been here long and was looking for any work we could find. And then I met Songbird here—she’s Comanche, some north band. She was traded to this Comanchero bunch by her drunken husband and couldn’t escape. She ain’t what they used her for before I came. It took the last of my money to buy her from Amos.”
“Why don’t you get to the point?” Jordy said.
Red said, “Most of us have had enough of this killing. Songbird is with child. Mine, we think. Don’t matter none. Baby will be raised as mine. We want to leave the canyon. Make an honest life. Johnny and Taylor want out, too.”
“Amos is dead. You can leave anytime.”
“But where to? We three want to ride out with you.”
Jordy pondered the situation. “Are you speaking for everybody here?”
“Most plan to stay. With Amos dead and Comanchero days about done for, some might hang on for a spell, but the outfit will start breaking up, and everybody will go their own ways. It’s sort of dog eat dog here, anyhow, friends in small bunches. Amos is all that held things together. Johnny and Taylor want to do what I do. And then my woman comes with us. Me and Songbird will marry up when we can find a place to make it legal.”
Jordy found himself liking the young man. “It won’t be long till some of our folks show up here from downcanyon with all the horses they could round up.”
“There’s a mighty lot of horses down that way.”
“We can use some more wranglers to get the horses back to San Angelo. If you will help us, we’ll keep you fed. If it works out, I might be able to find you a freighting or wrangling job with the Lucky Five. The other two might be considered, too, but no promises.”
“You got yourself three wranglers, Jordy. And Songbird will help
