“The Apache believe their cries salve the spirits of your dead menfolk,” Bina declared from Pritchard’s arms, over the roar of the fire. “Their spirits hear the screams and are appeased, knowing they have been avenged.”

When the fresh scalps were added to the pile at Captain Franchard’s feet, the Rangers assisted the Apache braves in hurling the hysterical, howling, and thrashing prisoners onto the fire. By then the pyre was a ravenous inferno, and they had to swing the blubbering outlaws from a distance, due to the intense heat.

As a Ranger and a brave lifted and heaved Major Stiles, his skull exposed, onto the fire, he continued to cry out in pain and fury.

“Witches!” he squealed. “You’re a coven of witches!” His agonized cries soon joined the chorus of his men as he burned on the fire.

The piercing screams only got louder as the prisoners were roasted to death atop the dead bodies of their fellow outlaws. It took long minutes for the last, tortured screech to fade.

Chief Mangas began to sing, and he led his braves in a shuffling dance around the fire.

“Magdalena has been cleansed,” Bina said to Maggie. “All that’s left are the prayers of my people to appease the ga’ans. Your work is done.”

“Not quite,” Franchard said. He called for Sergeant Finley.

The Ranger sergeant released the woman he had been courting all week, an attractive and pregnant redhead, and reported to his captain.

“You know what to do,” Franchard said. “Get it done.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Ranger sergeant, and a detail of ten Rangers carrying the long stakes they had prepared, divided the scalps into two piles. They collected them and the Rangers split up. One group went toward the east end of town, and one group toward the west.

“Where are they taking the scalps?” Maggie asked Franchard. “And why the stakes?”

“They’re going to put each scalp on a stake,” Franchard said, “and plant half of them at the east end of town, and the other half at the west end. The Romans did the same thing with the heads of their enemies. It sends a particular message to anyone who might come ridin’ into Magdalena with bad intentions.”

“I like it,” Maggie said, pulling Franchard closer. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

“Do you think I’m a witch?” she asked.

“Hell, yes,” Franchard said. “You put a spell on me.”

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Pritchard led Rusty out of the livery while holding Bina’s hand and tied the big Morgan to the rail in front of the saloon. It was midmorning in Magdalena, and the scent of burned wood and scorched flesh hung heavily over the town.