Captain Franchard’s plan was bold, clever, and simple. It was also the reason he’d been carrying over twenty thousand dollars in cash and gold, provided by the Republic of Texas and guaranteed by the governor of the New Mexico Territory.

The morning following their arrival in Magdalena, Franchard sent twenty-two Rangers, led by Sergeant Finley, on the two-day ride north into Albuquerque with a shopping list and a mission. There, they bought several dozen horses, over two hundred head of cattle, and four wagons, which they loaded with medical supplies, ammunition, two cases of dynamite, a large roll of barbed wire, and as much food and sundries as they could haul.

Finley and his men didn’t wear their cinco-peso stars. They’d been given orders to drink a little and talk a lot in the Albuquerque saloons while on their shopping spree.

They spread rumors around the taverns that they were temporary hired hands who’d been employed by the widows of Magdalena, as they’d become known in the region, to fetch their horses, cows, and sundries. The Rangers bragged that the women weren’t destitute, as they’d claimed, and had fooled Major Stiles and his gang of thieves during the Christmas robbery and massacre.

The undercover Rangers claimed the women had hidden the bulk of the town’s bountiful silver stores, turning over just enough to make Stiles believe they’d gotten it all, and denied the outlaw guerrillas the mother lode. Their extravagant spending in Albuquerque, and the amount and quality of the merchandise they bought, provided all the proof needed to back up these undercover “hired hands” claims.

Less than a week later, Finley and his men were back in Magdalena, this time herding horses, cows, and four wagonloads of goods. As they rode into town through the center of the main street, the women came out to greet them, this time with smiles instead of scorn.

Captain Franchard and Pritchard spent their time while the other Rangers were away scouting the terrain surrounding Magdalena, conducting a detailed survey of the town’s entrance and exit points, and examining every building, alley, and rooftop within the small mining community.

That night, at the saloon/meeting hall, instead of cornmeal hash and bread it was steak and beer for dinner.

“I must admit, Tom,” Maggie said, sitting down with Franchard and Pritchard, “even if your plan doesn’t work, it’s mighty nice to have horses, beef, and a few sundries back in our cupboards again.”

“The plan’ll work, all right,” he said. “If Dalton Stiles is half the guerrilla fighter he’s reputed to be, he’s got eyes and ears all over the territory. It’ll get back to him, soon enough, that you women held out your silver on him.”

“That’ll get under his saddle,” Pritchard said.

“It surely will,” Franchard agreed.