“They have no choice but to let them redskins scalp and roast us,” he went on, “because they ain’t got the guts to do it themselves. Ain’t a one of ’em got the balls to stand and face me, and they know it. So quit begging and don’t give the bastards any satisfaction.”

“You’re Reuben Gaines,” Pritchard said, “ain’t you?”

Gaines looked up at Pritchard. “I am. Do I know you, Ranger?”

“I knew your little brother, Eli,” Pritchard said, removing his hat. “He gave me this.” He pointed to the scar on his forehead.

“Looks like he headshot you. Didn’t do a very thorough job of it, apparently.”

“He had me tied up, like you are now,” Pritchard said. “Then he executed and buried me.”

“Evidently,” Gaines said, “given that you’re still standin’ before me, I’d have to say my little brother Elijah screwed up your burial, too. If I recall, he was prone to lunkheaded behaviors. He is a Union man, after all. So was most of my family, if you can believe it. I was the black sheep, fightin’ for the South. What’s Elijah doing now?”

“It’s been nigh on ten years since I’ve been back,” Pritchard said. “When he shot me, he was a Jackson County deputy sheriff.”

“That figures,” Gaines said. “All of Burnell Shipley’s boys were Union men. Elijah was always long on pistol-shootin’, but short on brains.”

“What about you?”

“The brains part is arguable,” Gaines said, “but I’m much better than Elijah ever was with a pistol.”

“We’ll see about that. Still think none of us are willin’ to face you?”

“Ain’t a one of you, yourself included, has the sand to take me on by himself.”

“Untie him,” Pritchard ordered. “Give him a pistol. His own gun, if you can find it. I wouldn’t want it said I took undue advantage.”

“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “He’s trying to get you to kill him, Joe. He’s the coward. The fraidycat doesn’t want to suffer a scalping and die by fire. He wants a quick death. Don’t fall for it. No point risking your life. He’s already dead.”

“Better take her advice,” Gaines said, “and let the redskins kill me. There ain’t no risk about it; if you cut me loose and give me a pistol, you’ll end up facedown in the street. That’s a certifiable fact.”

“Cut him loose,” Pritchard repeated. Sergeant Finley looked to Franchard. The Ranger captain looked at Pritchard, then signaled for his men to comply.

One of the Rangers covered Gaines with his rifle, while another cut his bonds. A third went over to the large pile of weapons collected from Stiles’s men after the fight.

“It’s that Army Colt .44 with the bone handle,” Gaines said, standing up and rubbing his wrists.