“Not much to tell,” the mayor said. “There was about forty riders, maybe fifty. All white men. Murderin’ saddle trash, they were. Armed to the teeth, every one of ’em. They laughed as they shot our menfolk down. Shot two of our women, too; those who refused to let themselves be soiled during what came . . . after the killin’.”

“You don’t remember anything special, or unusual, that stood out in your mind about any of Stiles’s men?” Franchard asked.

The mayor, a rotund man in his fifties, rubbed his chin. “Come to think of it,” he said, “there was one of the gang who stood out. He was a tall, skinny fella with only one eye. Doesn’t wear a patch over it, neither, like he’s proud of it. Just a black hole and a big ole scar where his left eye should be. I kinda got the feeling he was the second-in-command.”

“What made you believe that?” Franchard asked.

“When the rapin’ began,” the mayor lowered his voice, “he was next in line, right after Stiles. The others made way for him. If I remember right, the rest of the gang called him ‘Rube.’ That’s right; I’m sure I heard someone call him Rube.”

Pritchard’s ears perked up. He recalled Jackson County Deputy Eli Gaines had an older brother named Reuben; a brother he claimed had run off to join Shelby’s Missouri Iron Brigade. Major Dalton Stiles was reputed to have been in command of a detachment of that same brigade. The physical description, with the exception of the missing eye, certainly fit the Gaines family as Pritchard remembered them, and the loss of an eye was a common war injury. Could “Rube,” of the Stiles Gang, be Reuben Gaines?

“Anything else you remember about Rube?” Pritchard spoke up, causing Franchard to raise his eyebrows.

“Yes,” the mayor said, “now that you mention it. There was one thing about that cruel, skinny, bastard I remember.”

“What’s that?” Pritchard asked.

“He was fast on the draw. Faster than hell.”

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Five cold, dusty days later, Captain Tom Franchard led his Rangers into the town of Magdalena. The first thing they noticed was the lack of menfolk.

They rode in midmorning, and saw plenty of people on the streets going about their daily routines. Only a handful were male, and of those, most were very young boys. The rest were a mixture of old men, both white and Apache, and were engaged in various menial chores.

The second thing the Rangers noticed was the women were armed. Those not wearing pistols had rifles within reach. When the Rangers rode in, the women looked up at them with suspicious expressions. Some appeared fearful. All either put their hands on their holstered sidearms or picked up their long arms.