Lying before them, staked out on the ground, was what was left of a young woman. She was naked and had clearly been attacked by multiple rapists, if not raped by every Comanchero in the camp. The Rangers couldn’t tell if she’d been bludgeoned, or cut, to death, so severe, and so many, were her wounds.

“Some Comancheros believe the value of their captives is higher if they haven’t been tainted,” Franchard explained, removing his hat and wiping his brow. “But sometimes they’ll pick one out and use her to slake their urges. After the last one has had his way, they’ll kill her, since they know she ain’t got any value left. Just like the rape, each one partakes in the killing, so they’re all equal party to it. They usually do it in front of the other women, to remove any notion of resistance. Makes for a docile herd of captives.”

“Bastards,” a Ranger said.

“Get something over her,” Franchard said. “I don’t want the womenfolk to see her.”

“They already saw,” another Ranger said, as he gently laid a blanket over the woman’s body.

The group of Rangers who’d pursued the fleeing Comancheros came riding back into camp, herding six men on foot at gunpoint. It was three whites, two Mexicans, and a Comanche.

Captain Franchard issued more orders. “Put the women up on those Comanchero horses and take them out of this gulch. Make camp on the ridge, get a fire going, tend to their wounds, and get them fed. Keep a solid watch. Five men will stay here with me for a detail. We’ll join you up at the crest by nightfall.”

Pritchard and four other Rangers elected to remain with Captain Franchard. The rest of the detachment, led by Sergeant Finley, helped the women onto horseback. After collecting the remaining horses and weapons from the dead Comancheros, they headed off to the place where they’d begun their fateful charge.

Captain Franchard turned to the six Comanchero prisoners, on their knees before him.

“You boys are going to dig,” the captain said, pointing to a stack of shovels left behind by his Rangers. “Two holes. One small hole for that poor, Christian, woman, and one big hole, for you and your filthy brethren.”

“Kiss my ass, Ranger,” one of the white Comancheros said. “You’re gonna shoot me anyways. Don’t see no point to workin’ for you none, before you do it. I’ll take my bullet now, iffen you please, and you can dig your own damned holes.”

“Who said anything about a bullet?” Franchard said as he kicked the man in the teeth. “Tie him up,” he ordered. “Bind his feet, too.”

Pritchard and two Rangers covered the other five prisoners with their pistols, as the remaining two Rangers lashed the once-defiant and now-semiconscious prisoner’s hands behind his back. They also hobbled his legs.