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and broke into a trot, crashing through the foliage, and in seconds was gone. “He was skeered of his own shadow, I reckon,” replied Johnny Pinto.
    â€œHe was afraid of you,” said Beasley.
    Johnny Pinto shrugged. “If n he wants to get et by Apaches, it's okay with me.”
    â€œBut yer the one who spooked ‘im,” accused Ginger Hertzog.
    â€œYou'd better watch the way you talk to me, friend.”
    â€œI'll talk to you any way I like, Pinto.”
    â€œThat'll be enough,” said Cochrane. “Pinto, if you want fights, you'd better join another gang.”
    Johnny Pinto sulked like a guilty little boy. “Hertzog insulted me.”
    â€œYou spooked the horse. What of it?”
    Cochrane's voice had a challenging tone, but Johnny Pinto wasn't ready to take on the former captain yet. I wonder how good he can aim out of one eye? mused Johnny. Cochrane walked past him, heading towardthe spot where the horse had been seen last. “Come on out,” he coaxed. “We'll take care of you until your master gets well.”
    Nestor listened carefully as he stood behind tangled Carolina snailseed vines not far way. He was alone on the desert, a treacherous situation for a solitary horse, and was scared to death. A pack of hungry coyotes could rip off his legs, or a rattlesnake might sink poisonous fangs into him. There were too few water holes, and Apaches lurked everywhere. Nestor decided to tag along at a distance and see what developed.
    Johnny Pinto turned to Cochrane. “Looks like you spooked him, too, sir.”
    Cochrane didn't bother to acknowledge Johnny Pinto's presence. The former company commander returned to his dinner, and the others gathered around while the guards watched for Apaches. The doctor pressed his ear against the wounded man's chest.
    â€œIs he still alive?” asked Cochrane.
    â€œJust barely,” replied the doctor.
    Johnny Pinto returned glumly to the campsite. “If I was like that, I'd just as soon be dead.”
    â€œWhy don't you kill yourself?” asked Jim Walsh.
    â€œMaybe I'll kill you instead.”
    Cochrane said, “That time it was your fault, Walsh. If you two can't get along, maybe the both of you should leave.”
    â€œEverything was fine before Pinto came here,” replied Walsh, who had hulking shoulders and a hairy mole on his cheek. “Why doesn't he keep his yap shut, and everything'll be fine.”
    â€œWhy can't I talk too?” inquired Johnny Pinto innocently. “Who are you to tell me what to say?”
    â€œThat's it,” said Cochrane stiffly. “Johnny Pinto,you can leave now, or you can leave when we get back to the hideout, but from now on you're not a member of the gang. If you get into any more arguments with the men, I personally will throw you out of here.”
    â€œWhat makes you think you can do that, sir?” Johnny Pinto asked tauntingly.
    â€œThis,” said Beasley's voice.
    Pinto turned around. Beasley and several outlaws aimed their guns at him. Johnny raised his hands and smiled. “Hey, fellers—I was only kiddin’.”
    â€œI wasn't,” replied Cochrane. “You can leave now or later—it's up to you.”
    Pinto smiled uncertainly. “Well ... I...” He didn't know what to say. “I guess I'll stay on.”
    â€œKeep your mouth shut, and do as you're told.”
    â€œYou won't hear a peep out of me all the way back,” replied Johnny Pinto.
    Silence descended on the little clearing as the men resumed their meal. Nearby, the wounded man lay still, arms at his side, clothing splotched with dried blood. Dr. Montgomery placed his ear against his patient's heart and heard a dull weak thump. We shouldn't move him, he thought, but I guess we have to.
    Vanessa Fontaine reclined on her sofa, reading the Austin Gazette. Every day the news was worse, with the scalawag governor humiliating former Confederate soldiers at every