It was midmorning when the Ranger who’d been assigned the western sentry post came riding into Magdalena at full gallop. He reported to Captain Franchard and Sergeant Finley that two Apache braves had materialized and informed him a column of fifty riders was coming down from the “Lady of the Mountain,” or Magdalena Peak, as it was known to the townsfolk. Doubting them, the sentry waited until he could see the column, off in the distance, himself. He estimated they would arrive within the hour.

“Remember your assignments,” Franchard called out to the grim-faced Rangers and anxious women as they slung ammunition belts and checked their weapons. “Watch your front sights. Squeeze your triggers, don’t jerk ’em, and make every shot count. For this to work, each of you must do your job without fail. Don’t fire until you get the signal, and good luck.”

As the Rangers and women began to file off to their respective posts, Pritchard felt eyes upon him. He looked up and saw Bina staring at him from across the street. She was in the doorway of the barbershop. She smiled, touched her fingers to her lips, waved, and went inside.

Pritchard, Franchard, and Sergeant Finley went to their places. Forty-five minutes later, Major Dalton Stiles and fifty-one men on fifty-one horses came slowly riding into town in a column of twos.

Stiles, as advertised, wore his feathered rebel campaign hat. He stopped in the center of the street, in the middle of Magdalena. He halted his men with a raised arm and surveyed the silent town. Neither he nor any of his men had yet drawn their weapons.

“We’re back,” Stiles loudly called out, looking around at the closed doors and shuttered windows. “Not a very friendly welcome, I must say. I know you all can hear me. You might as well come out from your hidey-holes.”

“I hear you,” Maggie Chase said as she exited the general store. She stood on the wooden sidewalk, a basket looped over one arm.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Major Stiles said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” The men behind him snickered.

“What do you want?” Maggie said.

“I believe me and my boys are owed an apology,” Stiles answered. “I came here today to get it.”

“We owe you nothing,” Maggie said.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” he countered. “We understand you’ve got some silver you didn’t want to share with us the last time we visited. That wasn’t very hospitable.”

“You’ve taken enough from this town.”

“We took some,” Stiles said, scratching his beard. “But what we take from you today is gonna make what we took last time look like we was bringing candy and flowers. You and the rest of the bitches in this dirt-water town are gonna wish to hell you didn’t make us come back.”