The last thing we need is a good-for-nothing pattyroller in charge. I step forward to protest, but Mr. Robichaud speaks up first: “Dilley’s right. He has the most experience.” But he says it with a furrowed brow, as if it’s grave news. Half a dozen others nod and murmur agreement.

I clamp my mouth shut.

Mr. Joyner says, “Major Craven was an officer in the militia. He led a disciplined outfit. It’s no aspersion cast upon your character, Frank, to acknowledge him as your better.”

Frank spits tobacco juice at Mr. Joyner’s feet. “How’s that for casting a ’spersion?” The mob of men behind him chuckle like it’s the funniest thing. “Sounds like they know who their leader is.”

I can’t keep quiet any longer. “Jasper’s a doctor. He cleaned the Major’s wound and splinted it. The Major’s going to be fine.”

“And if that works out, we’ll all hold hands and sing hosanna,” Frank says. “In the meantime, I’ll take care of things.”

“We ought to pray together,” Reverend Lowrey says. “Ask for God’s guidance in our hour of need.”

Everyone nods, but no one drops their head to pray.

“All I’m saying is we ought to choose a natural leader,” Mr. Joyner says. “Someone with the proper background, with command experience.”

“Just because you’ve bossed slaves doesn’t mean you’re qualified to boss me,” Frank says. Some of the men shift uncomfortably.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Reverend Lowrey says. “Let us come together in Christian accord and ask for God’s guidance. All of this is part of His plan for us—”

I’ve heard enough. I return to the college men’s wagon, wanting to assure myself that I told the truth, that the Major will be fine.

Jefferson is gone, and the Major is settled in. Jasper crouches over him, holding a cup of water to his lips. The stains on the Major’s bandages are darkening to brown instead of continuing to bloom with bright red. I take that as a good sign.

Jasper notices me. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I feel confident they’re going to be blockheaded about it.”

“We’re lucky no one else was seriously hurt,” he says in an exhausted voice. “Just a few cattle.”

“I suppose so.” I glance at his medicine chest. It seemed so heavy when I carried it out to Major Craven, but it’s already half empty. If anyone else is badly injured, Jasper won’t have anything left.

I watch him tend to the Major for a little while, but he doesn’t have anything more to say, and I realize I don’t either.