“Yes, ma’am,” Franchard said. “And glad to do it.”

Maggie shook her head. “I suppose you’re tired and hungry,” she said. “Have ’em get off their horses and come into the saloon. We use the place for our town hall, now that there’s no men to drink in it. I’ll see about getting some coffee and grub going.” She turned, headed for the saloon, and motioned for Franchard and his men to follow her.

Franchard signaled to his men, who dismounted. “Tell ’em to be on their best behavior,” he discreetly addressed Sergeant Finley. “We may be going into a saloon, but there’ll be no drinking or other foolishness. Pass the word; any wood needs choppin’, water needs totin’, or any other chores have to be done, we’ll do ’em. Also, I want the men to clean themselves up. Shave and wash at the earliest opportunity. That’s an order.”

“But, Cap’n,” the sergeant grumbled, “we’re Rangers, not store clerks or saloonkeepers. We don’t need to pretty ourselves up for a bunch of—”

“I wasn’t askin’, Sergeant Finley,” Franchard cut him off. “I don’t want my men looking anything like the men who committed murder and rape in this town. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said.

The men secured their horses and went into the saloon. Franchard removed two heavy bags from his saddle and brought them in with him. Shortly after entering, women began filing in. Old women, young women, and teens soon filled the establishment. Coffee was poured, and a simple meal consisting of bowls of cornmeal hash and bread was served to the hungry Rangers.

The women eyed the Rangers as they ate. Many of the women were quite pretty. Pritchard noticed more than a few were pregnant.

“We’re going to have a population explosion around here, come September,” Maggie said, taking a seat at the table where Franchard sat with Pritchard. “Thanks to the Stiles Gang, we’ve got over twenty pregnant gals in town, and no doctor. But we do have Miss Bina. She’s as good as any doctor, I’d wager, when it comes to birthing babies.”

“Who’s Miss Bina?” Franchard asked.

“She’s our midwife. Bina’s young, but she knows her business. Her mother was Apache, and her father was a white trapper. They were killed during a Comanchero raid when Bina was a little girl. She splits her time with us, in Magdalena, and with the Apache, in their lodges just north of here. Sort of exists between two worlds, I guess. Learned her trade from midwives in both. Lucky for her, and us, she wasn’t in town when Stiles and his outfit rode in. They kill half-breeds on sight.”

“You wouldn’t have any idea where Stiles and his crew might be now, would you?” Franchard said.