The old man had a point. Coyotl had no better ideas of his own at the ready, and the look on his face clearly showed it. And Wickwright was the leader of their plague-ridden group, though being reminded of it in those terms left him feeling rankled. He gave a deep frown, his eyebrows settling low over his eyes in an indignant, almost huffy expression. It was a mark of how much respect he had for the man that he didn't try to argue any further, and his bad temper wouldn't take too long to wear off, most likely. Watching the exchange between Hopkin and Wickwright, he could tell it was a lost cause long before the two stopped squabbling. Necessary risk, indeed. He hadn't expected Wickwright to find a necessary risk that needed taking quite so quickly, was all.
"You're a nutter, Finch," he said, but that was all the fight he had left in him. With that said, he turned to the guide with a look of defeat. "Guess I'll be riding with you lot again, then."
The guide, who had clearly not been paying very close attention to the implications of Wickwright's plan, went very wide-eyed all of a sudden, before his face darkened with annoyance. "No," he snapped. "I ain't puttin' up with you again. You ride with them, if they can stand you," he said, pointing at Wickwright and Hopkin. "But they need the extra space!" Coyotl protested. "I don't care, they can tie you to the roof!"
"Naw, naw, let him come along," came another voice from the guide's wagon. Coyotl turned, surprised, to see the second guide awake and smiling nastily, a shovel clutched in his right hand. "He can help us in diggin' graves for them what didn't make it through the night, eh? Pull his own weight for once." He tossed the shovel to the mailman, adding "Maybe that'll stop him yammerin' all night."
Coyotl fumbled to catch the shovel, nearly smacking himself in the face with it as he did so. "Wha--?" Then the realization hit him, and he groaned aloud.
It was going to be a very long morning.
