The Major looks faint, with sweat beaded on his forehead and the pulse in his leg pounding as fast as a steam engine. “Pretty sure the part that hurt the worst . . . when . . . the buffalo stomped me . . .”

Jasper grins. “I’m going to align the bones now.”

A sudden jerk. The bones scrape. The Major’s eyes roll back, and he goes limp.

I gasp. “Jasper—I think he’s dead!”

“He just passed out, which is a mercy. See? His chest is still moving. Brace him now.”

I hold tight as he sticks his fingers right into the wound and adjusts the bones until he’s satisfied with how they align. His fingers come out slippery with blood, and he looks for something to wipe them on.

“Grab my neckerchief,” I say, pointing with my chin. It’s tucked into my shirt, which makes it as clean as we’re going to get at the moment.

I lift my chin so Jasper can grab the kerchief. He wipes his hands and pulls a glass bottle labeled “Hawes’ Healing Extract” from his medicine chest. He pours it liberally over the leg, which makes the Major jerk around in spite of being passed out. Jasper packs the wound with a clean bandage and wraps the whole thing up with what he calls a Liston splint. As he ties it down, the Major’s eyes flutter open.

“Lord, I hurt,” he moans.

“That’s to be expected,” Jasper tells him.

“Was hoping it was all a dream,” he says.

“Then close your eyes and keep on dreaming,” I tell him.

“Thanks for finding me,” he says. “You saved me.”

I didn’t do anything. Just waved for Jasper. But I duck my head to give him a quiet “You’re welcome.”

Jasper gets to his feet and stretches his lower back. “Henry, go find Tom. We’ll need his help to carry the Major back to our wagon.”

Jefferson steps forward. “I can carry him.”

As his eyes meet mine, I realize Jefferson was right; the trail is good for him, with all its wide-open space and no da to slap him down. He’s the one we ought to be thanking—for picking me up when I fell, for getting everyone to safety. I open my mouth to tell him so, but Jasper steps between us and leans down over the Major.

“I’m not putting you out of your wagon,” Craven says.

“Nonsense,” Jasper says. He pauses long enough to give my shoulder a squeeze. “I want to keep an eye on that leg the next few days, and I can do it easier if you’re close.”

While Jefferson and the college men get the Major settled, I wander back toward the Joyners’ wagon. My limbs tremble, and my mind is a haze as the memory repeats itself over and over: Major Craven trying to wave off the buffalo, and then disappearing so fast it was like the very earth sucked him away.

A large group of men huddles beside the smashed wagon. I approach their circle to see what the fuss is, and a couple Missouri men step aside to make room.

“With Wally dying, I’ve got the most experience,” Frank says. “I’ve been as far as Fort Laramie twice, taking supplies. I already lead the biggest group of wagons. Wouldn’t be any trouble to lead everyone else.”

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.

I drift through camp, looking for Jefferson so I can thank him for saving me, maybe even just sit down and talk for a spell. But I find him with the Hoffmans, helping Mr. Hoffman and the two oldest boys as they make repairs. Mrs. Hoffman and Therese are picking up a trunk that had burst open, spilling clothes and linens. Therese steals a glance at Jefferson.

“You working two wagons now?” I say.

“Just helping out,” he answers. “Mrs. Joyner is looking for you.”

“Of course she is.” I don’t want to talk to him after all. I turn away, knowing I’m irritable and not fit for company, and I have no idea why, except the memory of the Major getting trampled keeps flashing in my mind’s eye. If not for Jefferson, the same would have happened to me.