The younger woman was of mixed race and couldn’t have been older than thirty years of age. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a single braid behind her head. She had mocha-colored skin and coal black eyes. She wore boots and riding breeches, but her blouse was an Apache weave, much like the one worn by the elder woman accompanying her. A revolver and knife were belted across her tiny waist, and another belt of ammunition hung diagonally across her full breasts. Despite the weapons and lack of feminine attire, the woman was extraordinarily beautiful.

While the elder woman began unpacking herbs and medicines from her bundle and distributing it among the townswomen, Maggie led the other newcomer to Franchard and Pritchard’s table. Both men hastily stood up.

“May I present Miss Bina,” Maggie said, introducing the two Rangers. “She is a true friend to the people of Magdalena.”

“Then she’s our friend, too,” Captain Franchard said, shaking her hand.

“I have heard of you,” Bina said, with only a slight accent, when shaking Pritchard’s hand. “You are the one named Joe Atherton.” When she saw the curious look on his face, she said, “Word travels fast in the Socorro Valley. The Apache call you ‘Shadow Man.’ I now see why.”

“Joe is certainly tall enough to cast a long shadow,” Franchard laughed.

“His height is not what the Apache speak of,” Bina said.

“What brings you to town?” Maggie asked, as all four sat down. “Not that we ain’t always glad to see you. But I’ve never seen you come after dark or bring your rifle indoors before. Is something wrong?”

“As I said,” Bina went on, “word in these parts travels rapidly. I am told the major and his men are crossing El Malpais, the Badlands, as we speak. They are coming back to Magdalena, Maggie.”

“That’s only three days’ ride,” Maggie said. “It sounds like your plan worked, Tom.”

“I reckon so,” Franchard said. “Do you know how many?” he asked Bina.

“Fifty or more,” she said. “They say it is the most riders Major Stiles has ever been seen with.”

Franchard nodded to himself, stood up, put on his hat, and whistled.

All the Rangers, except the two on watch, one at the east end of town and one at the west, were dining in the saloon. Most of Magdalena’s women were in the hall as well. Everyone quieted.

“Listen up, Rangers,” Franchard began in his booming voice, though he was aware he was addressing both his troops and the townsfolk. “Sounds like the Stiles Gang took the bait. They’re three days out, at most.”

Some of the women glanced nervously at one another. The Rangers sat silently, waiting for their captain to continue.