Jordy decided it was time to speak up. He startled both women when he spoke. “Jack, think about this. You always told me life was about choices. I had to choose to ride the white horse or the black horse, you said.”
“Your point?”
“I don’t like the horse you are choosing here. There’s a reason the docs get the slug out when it’s possible. This choice is one I think you had better be careful about. I know Sierra can get that slug out."
“You’re always throwing an old man’s philosophizing back at him, Jordy. Hell, I’m just blathering when I kick out my words of wisdom, likely wrong more often than right.”
Jordy shrugged, “I just had to say my piece.”
“Well, you sure did that. But I thought I had made a decision.”
Jordy said, “Shall I give you the talk about changing your mind?” Jordy asked.
Jack turned his head to Sierra. “Maybe Songbird could pass me the whiskey bottle and Jordy could find me a stick to bite on. And, granddaughter, I wouldn’t mind if you could make this quick.”
After Jack drank more than a few swigs of whiskey and she had given the anesthetic a chance to settle in, Sierra asked Songbird for a scalpel and deftly made her cuts in the flesh about the wound. Jordy watched in awe as she entered the wound with the forceps and quickly plucked out a bloody lead slug. He wondered if Sierra knew she was the beneficiary of a gift that was priceless on the frontier. There simply were too few healers in the west, especially far from the big towns and cities.
“Jordy, I am going to stitch the cuts I made and do some more cleanout. Would you tell Jael I am ready for her to do her poultices?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Songbird, would you stay with Swede until we get a bedroll laid out for him?”
“I do that. Bring me tools. I cook water and wash.”
“Thank you. That would be nice.”
By the time Jordy returned with She Who Speaks, Sierra had finished the stitching and was sitting next to Jack, wiping his sweaty brow with a cloth. She had removed the chewing stick from his mouth, and Jack had at some point escaped into the sanctuary of deep sleep. Whether he had passed out from the pain or the effects of the alcohol, Jordy supposed did not matter. The main thing was that he was not hurting for the moment.
Chapter Forty-Three
How are the patients this morning?” Jordy asked, as he met Sierra on his way to check on Jack and Swede.
Sierra said, “Swede is fine. You wouldn’t know he had taken a bullet in the shoulder yesterday. He can’t drive mule teams yet, but he insists he’s going to ride beside Abel on the wagon seat. He should have a fast recovery, but Papa said you have to worry about infections or putrefaction, as some called it, for at least three or four days. He told me about people who died from the tiniest cut. He claimed more men died from infections during the war than from the physical damage caused by their wounds.”
“What about Jack? You wouldn’t let me stay with him last night.”
“I felt I should be with him and Thor. He wouldn’t have been shot if I had stayed out of his life.”
“You are putting too much of the responsibility on yourself. It’s more complicated than that.”
Sierra said, “Anyway, he seems better this morning. He slept through the night, which surprised me. He seems more concerned about Thor than himself. But Thor’s wound didn’t take much but some cleaning and a few stitches.”
“And Thor’s probably more worried about Jack.”
She surrendered a small smile. “Oh, yes. I’ve had a few dogs in my life. I know about the bonding between a dog and its human. But this attachment between the two is the deepest I have ever seen. I swear they talk to each other in some secret language.”
“I know what you are talking about. Can I help you with something? I was on my way to visit Jack.”
“I am just going to pick up breakfast for the patients at the chuckwagon. I can take care of it. You go ahead and talk to Grandpa Jack.”
When Jordy reached the wagon, he saw that Jack was in one of his pensive moods, lost in the clouds with his thoughts. “Good morning, Jack,” he said, “got time to talk about getting the horses on their way?”
Jack was propped up against a cushion of blankets in the corner of the wagon bed and did not seem to hear him. Thor snoozed beside him, his head resting on his friend’s lap.
Jordy waited in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “Jack?”
Jack looked at him, and Jordy thought his mentor had aged ten years. Dark hollows around the eyes, soft wrinkles turned to gullies overnight.
“These damned wagons are going to slow us down,” Jack said.
“Not that much. We left most of the loads at Lookout Canyon. They’ll be an easy pull for the mule teams. A single team could do the work.”
“No, use both teams. The mules won’t tire so much, and it will save switching teams so often.”
“Anyway,” Jordy said, “it’s going to be hot as hell, we’re short of grazing and even near the Pecos, the water’s hard to get to. We can’t be pressing the horse herd. It’s better to take some extra days than lose horses. There are some foals to consider, too. Irish pointed that out.”
Jack said, “We should be able to reach Horsehead Crossing and Castle Gap by the third day out. Then we’ve got to sort out the horses before we split with the Kwahadis. That will take
