“Texas Rangers,” Captain Franchard called out, raising a hand in greeting. “We come in peace.” He halted the column in front of the general store, but gave no signal to dismount.

“What’s your business here?” a woman stepped forward and demanded. She was a handsome brunette in her early forties, with an excellent figure and an old Colt Dragoon belted around her waist.

“We’ve come at the request of Governor Giddings,” Franchard said, “to capture or kill the Stiles Gang.”

The woman spat on the ground in front of Franchard’s horse. “Little late for that, ain’t you?”

“I reckon so,” Franchard said. “May I dismount, ma’am?”

She appraised Franchard and his men for long seconds before answering. “You may,” she finally said.

“Captain Tom Franchard,” he said, removing his gloves and extending his hand. He still gave no signal for the other Rangers to climb down from their saddles.

“My name’s Margaret Chase,” the woman said, ignoring Franchard’s proffered hand. “Folks call me Maggie. I’m the closest thing to a mayor we have right now in Magdalena. My husband used to be the mayor, but he and the rest of the town council are currently holding court at the bottom of the mine.”

“I understand,” Franchard said.

“Do you?” Maggie said. “Do you understand it’s been four months since Dalton Stiles and his outfit rode in and buried damned near every man in town in that infernal mine? Four months since he took almost every penny we had? Four months since he stole most of our horses? Four months since his boys lined up our women, who’d just watched their husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers die, and defiled them in the town square? Four months since we sent word to Fort Wingate for help and got nothing but a telegram in return? Is that what you understand, Captain Franchard?”

Franchard lowered his hand and removed his hat. “I chose my words poorly,” he said, “and I apologize. There ain’t no way anybody but those who’ve suffered here can know what you folks have been through. I can’t do nothin’ about what’s already happened. All I can do is give you my word as a Texan, a Ranger, and a man that I’ll do everything in my power to see Stiles and his men catch a bullet, or swing from a rope, or die tryin’. And these Texas boys I’m a-ridin’ with will be following me all the way.”

“To hell,” Pritchard said, “and then some.” The other Rangers nodded their assent.

Maggie silently counted the Rangers. “There ain’t nearly enough of you,” she remarked, almost to herself. “Where’d you come from?”

“Fort Worth,” Franchard said.

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “You boys rode almost seven hundred miles just for the opportunity to get bawled out by me and killed by the Stiles Gang?”