The rain has dwindled to a fine mist as Kate departs the Ellis Store, walking down the puddle strewn Main Street of Lincoln. The air is cool, laden with the scent of pine and moisture. As Kate’s worn boots pace the muddy road, she notices that the valley has been concealed by a light gray curtain of fog, the nearby mountains completely lost to sight.

A pair of men, one of them smoking a cigar, loiter in front of a building that is clearly a saloon, a painted sign identifying the establishment as “Wilson’s”. The two men watch Kate as she passes, their narrowed eyes communicating mute suspicion.  Further along, a man and woman emerge from a long structure that Kate quickly surmises to be the Tunstall Store, their arms laden with goods. Across the road, a woman with long red hair, a new saddle held over one shoulder, stands in front of a small shop, talking with the apron wearing shopkeeper. From the north, the wind carries a distant rumble of thunder.

Soon, the two story facade of the courthouse returns to view, the warm glow of lantern light dimly visible in a few of the first floor windows. Across the street is a well kept clapboard building, trimmed in bright read. A sign over the bat wing doors reads simply, “Thornton-Curry”.

On the porch, beneath the cover of an overhand, a dark skinned woman in a dress exchanges words with a tall man with a thick mustache, wearing dust crusted range clothing.

”You’ll regret turning me away, Miss Thornton,” the man says, his brow creased in a frown, ”When this valley belongs to The House, you’re going to need our business to get by.”

The woman, seemingly unfazed by the man’s threatening tone, replies, ”If that day comes, I imagine I’ll have found somewhere else to settle. Until then, I have all the business I need. You have yourself a good afternoon, Señor Segovia.”

The man scowls and stalks away without another word, walking east. The woman steps inside the saloon.

A wide mirror, framed in dark stained oak, adorns the wall behind the polished bar. Shelves holding glassware and bottles stand in front of the mirror. A number of round tables and wooden chairs fill the room and, to the left of the bar, an open door leads deeper into the saloon. The neat decor and papered walls lend the interior a genteel air, reminiscent of the finer homes of the Deep South.

A young, sandy haired man with a ghost of a beard sits at a table just right of the door, his attention fixed on the window beside him, and the street beyond. At a table to the left, Patrick Garrett nurses a glass of beer, nodding at Kate as she enters. At the right end of the bar, a short haired blonde woman in muddy work clothes, turns a full glass of whiskey with her fingers.

The woman in the dress steps behind the bar, her attention going to Kate as she walks in. ”Afternoon. Can I help you?”

Kate can't but help to smile and doff her hat as she passes Wilson's, giving them the glare that can see a thousand yards.  But they don't get any more of her attention than that.

The place smells wrong.

Kate walked smoking the small remains of the cigarillo and noting what she was seeing.  The saddle was of some interest; though Kate was no equestrian virtuoso she could appreciate it.

She watched the scene between the proprietress(?) bicker with the tall mustachioed man without comment.  Entering, she was mildly surprised to see the same woman behind the counter.  Kate had counted her functioning here in another capacity, but was pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

Kate tapped the bar, knocking on the wood twice in the German tradition.  "Whiskey."

While she waited for the pour, Kate went on.  "So that was a real dear man you said goodbye to out there.  Señor Segovia comes off like he has the charm of a muskrat that drowned in a rain barrel last season."

She took the last puff of the smoke and snuffed the butt.  She looked back up at the server with knowing eyes.

"And, I couldn't help but notice you didn't threaten him with the law.  That probably means you can't.  Interesting it would be so, don't ya reckon?"

The proprietress uncorks a bottle, pouring amber liquid into a clean glass. She pushes it across to Kate, her eyes narrowing as she considers the newcomer. ”Very perceptive. I’m afraid that our good Sheriff Brady would be disinclined to lock up some of our citizens, Señor Segovia among them.”

She shrugs. ”Even so, there are other ways of ridding your place of livelihood of unwanted rodents. The law might not always love me, but I’m not without friends.” Her eyes shift briefly to the young man at the door before returning to Kate.

Extending her hand, she says, ”Desiree Thornton. What brings you to Lincoln?”

Kate decided she liked her when she heard the comment about rodents.  She reached across and took a sip from the glass.

"You know, I keep asking that myself."  Kate pondered.  What was she doing here?  Why did she care so much?  Why did it matter?  Her father had never been in her life, why was she so determined to find him?

But she wasn't ready to say that was her purpose yet.  She'd look like a sad little girl lost in the world.  And maybe she was, but for now she kept her stoic behavior up.

"But for now, let's just say I've heard there's a... situation in Lincoln.  You could say... I'm a friend for hire, for dealing with difficult situations."

Kate lifted the rifle scabbard up and onto the bar for emphasis.

"It's a damn shame really when these things happen."

The woman at the far end of the bar abruptly speaks up, her tone bitter. She regards Kate with eyes that are swollen from crying. ”You mean another damned shootist. If you were any kind of friend to this town, you’d be out there trying to find...”

”Easy there, Ruth,” Thornton says smoothly, moving to the other end of the bar to refill the woman’s glass. “Everything’s going to be made right, I’m sure of it. We just need to give it a little time.” She pats the woman’s arm reassuringly. ”I know that’s hard right now.”

She returns to Kate. ”Yes, there is a situation here in Lincoln. One that’s taken its toll on some of the folks around here, as I’m sure you can see.”

“I won’t lie to you. If you’re a fair hand with a gun, and money’s your chief concern, you’ll be able to find good paying work quite fast. It shouldn’t take you long at all. In fact, there’s another establishment like mine just down the road, called Wilson’s Saloon, that would make an excellent starting place for that search.”

Her eyes gaze steadily into Kate’s. ”Unless you happen to have a conscience. If you do, well, things become a little more complicated.”

"Shootist huh?  I like the sound of that.  It's... elegant.  But yes I'm very friendly."  Kate smiled.  "You know, the first person eager to wave a lot of money under your nose is usually the wrong side in these... misunderstandings."  She took a long sip.

"Usually."  She looked at Ruth and tipped her hat.  "But not always.  Now I ain't claimin' I have the power to know a man's heart and mind, but I have a purty good nose for what comes out the southbound end of a northbound horse, and I reckon your gentleman caller had a whiff of it about him."

She tapped the side of her glass.  "Now... that there weren't no protection racket, but I do know a shakedown when I see one, but I don't know this particular breed yet.  An' th' Sheriff's in his ditty bag.  There's a lot of money being shuffled around here ain't there?"

”Quite a bit,” Thornton says with a nod. ”Most of it, as you’ve likely already guessed, is tied up in cattle, though there’s also a fair number of farms nearby, along with the occasional silver strike. But the greatest part of this valley is grazing range.”

“To make it simple, there are basically two points of view. One that says there’s plenty of land for everyone to make a fair living on. And one that says there isn’t. I’m thinking you can guess which side holds most of the money.”

She leans back against the shelves behind her. ”I believe that our good Sheriff is hedging his bets. Trying to make sure that he keeps the people who pay the majority of his salary happy. Which means that he looks the other way when certain problems arise.”

“So...some of us have taken matters involving the protection of ourselves or our property into our own hands.”

Kate seemed pleased to hear that for some reason.  "Oh yeah?  I could cotton to that."

Thornton looks over at Ruth, who is taking another sip of her whiskey. From there, her gaze falls to the ground, as though she is momentarily deep in thought.

Clearing her throat, she says, ”Well, here’s the thing. A number of those that have taken upon themselves to watch after Lincoln’s welfare are engaged in a bit of tricky business. They’re trying to hunt down some unsavory sorts who are responsible for a recent crime. A murder.”

Her gaze briefly shifts again to the young man at the door.

”But, there’s another problem that’s come up, just in the last few days. One that has several families here in town pretty upset. If you were to lend a hand in solving it, I’m pretty certain there’d be a reward involved. Not to mention a lot of grateful people.”

“If that’s of interest, I can tell you who to talk to.”

Kate tapped the glass for a refill, then looked at Ruth, and then back to Thornton.

"Is that so? Keep talking..."

Thornton dutifully refills Kate’s glass.

”La Iglesia de San Juan Bautista. The church just across from the old Assay Office. Ask to speak with Valentina Perez. If by chance she isn’t there, I’m sure that Father Narvaez will be able to tell you where to find her.”

Ruth drains her glass, places it on the bar with a loud tap. ”And watch out for weeds,” she adds.

Kate was about to leave but had to ask Ruth about that first.

"Weeds?"

”Brambles,” Ruth responds, not looking up from the bar. Thornton moves to pour the woman another drink. ”Dark colored vines with thorns. Stay clear of them.”

The saloon owner nods. ”Good advice,” she agrees.

"Has that been a problem?  Well... reckon I'll give them a miss.  This... has been enlightening."  She stood, gulped the last of the whiskey and dropped a smattering of mixed coins on the bar as she scooped up her repeater.  Kate knew where she was going next.

The temperature has fallen further when Kate emerges from the saloon, the damp air carrying a faint chill. Lincoln remains as quiet as it was before. Besides Kate, the street’s only occupants are a horse drawn wagon rolling past the courthouse, and the familiar pair of unfriendly loiterers watching from the porch of Wilson’s Saloon.

La Iglesia de San Juan Bautista is a weathered adobe structure that retains a certain stateliness despite its obvious age. The structure is well maintained, the grounds clear of overgrowth and litter. The door, painted a bright blue, stands open, and the sound of voices from within drift out into the misty street.

Inside, the walls have been painted a light blue. Two rows of simple, but well crafted pews, take up most of the large room, which is headed by a long, polished wooden table which serves as an altar. It is covered with a lace tablecloth and several implements of worship, including a cross and chalice, sit atop it.

A small group of children are gathered in the front two pews on the right. A dark haired woman in a calico dress is standing in front of them, speaking quietly.

As Kate enters, a middle aged man in a priest’s collar approaches her. ”Good afternoon, señorita. How may I help you?”

"Mebbe ya can padre."  That's about as congenial as Kate got when she was in such a mood.  "I'm a huntin' up one Valentina Perez."

The priest nods toward the woman who is speaking to the group of children. ”That is Señorita Perez. She is our school mistress here in Lincoln.”

He looks back at Kate, his eyes shifting to the weapons she bears, his expression becoming uncertain. ”There have been some...problems at the schoolhouse, so the niños are being taught here at the church, for now. What, may I ask, is your business with Señorita Perez?”

"That remains to be seen.  Thornton sent me."  Kate smirked just a little.  It always amused her to wonder what story people would tell.  She was curious what the problem would be at a schoolhouse but left it unasked for the moment.

The priest nods. ”Señorita Thornton, she has a good heart. She tries to help those in need here in our town.” He gestures to one of the pews. ”Please, sit down. I will speak to Valentina. Tell her you wish to visit with her. She should be able to step away from the children’s lessons very soon.”

Leaving Kate at the back of the church,  the minister approaches the schoolmistress and speaks with her in a low voice. She looks over at Kate, then nods before returning to her attention to the gathered children.

After several minutes pass, Perez is able to set the children to work on some arithmetic problems, then approaches Kate. She regards the newcomer warily, her gaze lighting for a long moment on the scabbarded rifle at the outlaw’s side before she introduces herself.

”Buenas tardes. Father Narvaez said that Miss Thornton had sent you to speak with me. I am Valentina Perez, the schoolmistress here in Lincoln.”

"She did."  Kate agreed.  "And she indicated you were having a problem, one that the law isn't too animate about."

Perez takes a seat next to Kate, a deep frown on her face. She nods solemnly. ”Sheriff Brady is somewhat...unconcerned about it. My own opinion is that he knows far more of what has transpired than he is willing to say.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. ”Several of the children in town, my students...they have disappeared. I have reason to believe that they are being held captive somewhere. A location unknown to me or their families.”

Kate leaned against a wall and paused for a moment.  "Well.  Ain't that a hell of a thing.  I ain't much of a tracker.  But I got me a few ideas.  So give me a while."

Perez seems genuinely pleased, and surprised, by Kate’s willingness to help. She glances back at the children gathered at the front of the church, her expression darkening. ”I...I was there when they were taken. But I did not see who took them. Or how they did.”

“Some of the children, they did not want to come in from playing. It is...a daily thing. Several had already gone into the school, but I had gone out to gather the rest. That was when they disappeared.”

She looks back at Kate and shakes her head. ”Not all inside the school were taken. But...those that were left...they were so afraid. What they told us made little sense. But, then...some of what we found made no sense either.”

She pauses, then adds. ”I am sure, were you able to find the children and return them, their parents, some of the other townspeople, they would gather some kind of reward.”

Kate waved it off.  "I'll probably get to shoot somebody, that's reward enough.  Are the critters in any mood to say much about what they seen, or is that a bad idea?"

Perez gives a half smile, the first break in her somber mood that she has evidenced. ”Of those that escaped, one of the bravest, and most clever, is little Lyle Baxter. I think he’d be willing to talk to you. His parents, Reed and Kirstine, have a farm directly south of town. They raise chickens and goats and keep a small apple orchard.” The schoolmistress describes the location.

Kate nodded.  Some of them on that infernal stage coach had mentioned they were from here, like what that one feller that nearly made her jump out of her skin.  Between that and this it was a start.  Not much of one but a start.

How was this confronting her father...  didn't matter.  Doing anything at all would help.

"It's enough for now.  If I need to go poking around for you again where would I do that."

”Most mornings and afternoons, I will be here at the church,” Perez answers, “Tending to class or helping with other things. I have a cottage west of town, but right now I’m staying at Patron House, with the Montaño family. Most evenings, I will be there, or at the Montaño Store next door.”

Kate nodded.  "Keep it low key.  For your own sake."

Perez nods. ”You as well, señorita. Stay watchful.”

OOC: Let me know Kate’s next destination and I’ll move things in that direction.

Kate wandered out.  She had no reason to go in any particular order, but that Lyle Baxter was on her short list.

She remembered several of the coach riders were from here and might know more about the area, so if she happened to see any of them on the way she'd stop and ask, but for now the Baxters were the first thought she had.

She had to figure out who she was going to shoot.

The Baxter farm proves easy for Kate to find, following the landmarks that Perez provided. The light, misting rain continues to swirl through the cool air as the outlaw makes her way out of Lincoln, folllowing the slow slope of the valley southward, junipers and green sprouts of grana grass filling most of the untamed terrain. The trip is a relatively short one. Soon, Kate’s sharp eyes have picked out the silhouette of a farm house, along with a fenced in copse of apple trees. As she draws closers, she sees a pen full of goats to the west of the house, along with a neatly constructed chicken coop.

As she comes closer, the front door opens, and a sandy haired man in jeans and denim work shirt steps out onto the covered porch, a rifle in one hand. The weapon hangs at his side, but his demeanor reflects suspicion. ”Afternoon. Something I can help you with?”

OOC: Kindly provide me with a Notice roll.

21:13, Today: Kansas Kate rolled 5,3 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3.  Notice.

Kate tilted her head up, rolling her hat back a little.

"Ah reckon there might be at that.  One señorita Perez set me to mosey on this way.  I'd be much obliged to have a speak with one young Mister Lyle Baxter, with his ma and pa's supervision of course.  It seems the poor boy has seen something mighty unsightly at the schoolhouse recently."

The man regards Kate for a moment, then nods, shouldering the rifle. ”You’re trying to help find the little ones who are missing.” Stepping off the porch, he gestures to the side of the house. “Lyle’s around back. I’m sure he’ll talk with you. Your bigger problem may be getting him to quieten down once you’ve asked all your questions. Follow me.”

Reed Baxter leads Kate around to the rear of the wide cabin. Seated on a pair of steps in front of the back door is a blonde haired boy, perhaps ten years old, whittling on a piece of wood with a small knife. He glances up as Kate and his father appear, regarding the outlaw with unconcealed curiosity.

”Lyle, this lady’s trying to find some of your friends from school. She needs to talk to you for a spell,” Reed explains.

”Sure,” Lyle answers with a nod, his gaze still fixed on Kate. ”I don’t ‘member ever seein’ you before, ma’am.”

Kate only nodded at the man's assessment, and was taken aback by his acquiescing to let a stranger speak to the child.  The weeds... the man smelled of quiet desperation.  What did he have to lose, he likely reckoned.

"Well ah reckon it's because you recollect correctly sir, I can assure you that you ain't never seen me before.  I'm Kansas Kate, and I've come to hear a spell about yer recent happenings."

Reed Baxter lingers within a few paces of the conversation, listening closely to all that is said.

"You want to know about the schoolhouse," Lyle says, "about the weeds that grew everywhere and the thing that took my friends."

He squints at Kate. "Are you some kind of bounty hunter, ma'am?" he asks, clearly intrigued by the prospect.

"Some kind, yessir."  Kate responded, smirking.  Despite how cynical she could be, this nipper was a novelty to her.  "And I do want to hear all about it.  Until I don't."

”Well, it was just a normal day at school. Except...a lot of us were kind of watchin’ the street ‘cause a bunch of cowboys from one of the ranches came ridin’ past, goin’ to the courthouse. Santos said it was ‘cause they were gettin’ deputized. Made into lawmen, kinda. But Santos makes stuff up all the time.”

“Anyhow, Miss Perez rang the bell and started callin’ for us to go back inside. All the riders had gone into the courthouse it looked like, so I went ahead and went back in.” He pauses. ”Plus, I kinda wanted to hold the door for Susie Woods.”

“So I go back in and the classroom’s all messed up. From Miss Perez’ desk on back, there’s all these weeds. Real dark colored, with thorns. Not like the ones with the purple leaves and the stickers that come every fall. They were like...vines. And they’d come up through the floor and covered the whole back wall and started across the ceilin’. They smelled bad, too. Like...old.” He looks over at his father. ”Me an’ Pa helped the Shaws tear down an empty shed that was on the land they bought. It was like that. Real dusty smellin.’”

“So I start to say we oughta leave, but afore I could, the door slammed shut. And then...well, someone started pushin’ outa that tangle of weeds. Someone real tall, with arms and legs that were a lot longer than most folks have.” He looks at Kate pointedly to make certain she grasps the imagery. ”I ain’t gonna lie. I was plenty scared. And I wasn’t about to stay put and let that feller get hold of me. So I ran over to the window and busted it with my elbow, pushed out all the glass I could. Told everyone to come on. But, only Ella got out with me.”

He shrugs, his expression regretful. ”I’m guessin’ you know the rest. When Miss Perez finally got the door open, all my friends were gone.”

Kate frowned.  "And you saw nothing else after that?"

For once and probably the only time in her life she wished she were a botanist.

Lyle looks over at his father.

”You can tell her,” Reed says, ”You ain’t gonna get in any more trouble for it.”

The boy looks back at Kate. ”Yesterday, they started having school at the San Juan Church and I...well, I snuck off. I wanted to see if I could figure out where Susie and my friends got off to.”

“I crawled back in through the window I’d gotten out of. Whoever closed it up didn’t board it up too tight. Those weeds, there were more of ‘em. And the floor, it had fallen in, like a big hole had opened underneath it. One end of Miss Perez’ desk was stickin’ up out of it.”

“I went over to look in and it looked like there was a tunnel...like in a mine? But I heard some noise down in it, so I didn’t jump down right then. I waited to see if it’d get quiet.”

HIs expression turns dejected. ”But then the priest, Father Narvaez, he found me. Chewed me out and made me leave.”

”And it’s why he didn’t go back today.” Reed interjects. ”He had to stay here, make some promises to me and his mother about letting things alone. Leaving ‘em to the kind of people that can handle ‘em.”

Lyle shakes off his embarrassment and refocuses on Kate. ”You know, in a few years. I’ll be bigger. You might need a partner or something. I’m plenty brave, ma’am.” He reaches down next to the steps and retrieves a well worn book, which he hands to her. ”And I’ve been readin’ about how things are done.”

Kate sees that the book is a dime novel about the exploits of John Wesley Hardin.

Kate shook her head.  "You'll be bigger, but let's hope yer smarter too.  That ain't how things are done for anybody with a future boy.  You take after yer pappy, not a piece of human trash like that."  Or me, for that matter. Kate reflected.

"It might even be a fun ride for a while, but trust me, there ain't nothin' down that road."

Kate stood up.  This was coalescing all too quickly.

"Thank you kindly young sir.  Ya been much helpful."  Then she turned to Lyle's father and pointed to the encroaching weed growth.

"Ya'll had much luck killin' them things?"

To Kate’s satisfaction, Lyle appears to give her words real weight, nodding quietly in response to her advice. When she thanks him, he grins. ”If I can help more, I sure will, ma’am.”

Reed Baxter seems to have relaxed further as the conversation between and his son has continued. He shakes his head at Kate’s question, glancing over at the orchard. ”No, ma’am. Not any. Me, the wife, and Lyle, have all gotten out there. Cut ‘em down. Pulled ‘em. We set some waxed canvas over a patch of ‘em, but that didn’t accomplish anything. I haven’t resorted to burning, ‘cause I’m still trying to preserve the trees.”

“They always grow back. Sometimes as quick as overnight. And just here. Just in the orchard. Nowhere else.”

"Nowhere else?  You  ain't seen 'em in yer neighbor's place or nothin'?"  Kate asked, intrigued.

Reed shakes his head. ”I’m sorry, ma’am. I misspoke. Those weeds have only tangled up the orchard here on our land.”

“But yes, they have turned up on other people’s land. But not everywhere. Only in gardens or other spots where they’re tryin’ to raise food. All the stories are the same as mine. No matter what’s done, the damned things keep returning.”

He sighs. ”Way it seems, those weeds have only bothered folks who have spoke critically of Mr. Murphy and The House.”

"Is that so?  Me bein' a stranger an' all, don't reckon ah know Murphy.  Why would folks not be too keen on him?"

She paused.  This might actually be more important than what the kid had to say.

”He’s the biggest rancher in the valley,” Reed Baxter replies, ”Hails from Ireland originally. Calls his outfit ‘The House’. His second in command, James Dolan, gives a lot of the orders. Has quite a few gunhands in his employ. Jesse Evans and his gang, in particular.”

He shrugs. ”Already owns more land than anyone around here. It’s not enough, I guess. He wasn’t gonna have some newcomer like John Tunstall come in and start a competing cattle outfit, so he had the man killed. And if he has the chance, he’ll steal the land from anyone that doesn’t agree with his way of doin’ things.”

"This Murphy... he real keen on yer local sheriff?"  Kate knew the answer, but confirming it was important.  "An' what do you think o' this Tunstall feller?"

”My opinion, Sheriff Brady gets most of his upkeep from Murphy. He’s not gonna turn against the man who’s fillin’ his pockets.”

Reed slides his free hand in his pocket. ”I didn’t know John Tunstall well. Only met him on a couple of occasions. But he seemed like the rest of us, just interested in buildin’ a life out here. Makin’ somethin’ out of his corner of the valley. I know he was honest with his store. Treated everyone fair with his prices. He may not have always been wise about who he hired to work his cattle, but I’ve never heard anyone speak ill of the man himself. By all accounts, he was highly thought of.”

Bits were beginning to click in Kate's noggin.  It wasn't a complete picture, not by a long shot.  But she was getting a pretty good idea who to shoot.

"Thank you kindly sir.  If'n I may recommend... I would never oblige a Christian man to lie, but might be fer th' best you make sure you all forget I was ever here."

Reed Baxter smiles and nods. ”Never saw you,” he replies.

”Be careful, ma’am,” Lyle adds.

"You especially forget I was ever here.  And get fool notions out of yer head boy."

Kate left in short order.  She checked the sun to gauge how much daylight was left.

OOC: By now, it is late afternoon, drawing close to evening. Somewhere around five o’clock.

Well, that was getting to be too late in the day to go calling on polite society.  Kate went back to the saloon to rustle up accommodation and maybe just listen to what the locals yammered about.

The mist becomes interspersed with occasional drops of rain, the mountain air cooling further, the heavy clouds bringing an early dusk to the afternoon sky.

When Kate arrives back at the Thornton-Curry, she finds a young man loitering on the front porch. His features indicate that he is of Mexican heritage, his somewhat shaggy dark hair and unshaven face betraying long hours spent on the range. His shoulders and chest are covered by an earth colored poncho and a Peacemaker is tied low on his left thigh. In his left hand, propped on his shoulder, is a carbine sheathed in a buckskin scabbard. His attention is fixed on the nearby courthouse, the upper floor windows of which burn with lantern light. He breaks his vigil long enough to politely nod to Kate as she approaches.

Beyond the bat wing doors, Kate can see that several of the saloon’s tables have become occupied, but it is still too early in the evening for business to be in full swing. The outlaw’s attention is briefly drawn to a table on the right side of the room, where a pair of cowhands are seated with a well dressed man wearing spectacles. The group are conversing quietly. At the bar itself, a man and woman, husband and wife Kate suspects, are speaking with Desiree Thornton.

Not sure what's important here and what's not, Kate bellies up to the bar and takes a perch there.

Kate can overhear Desiree Thornton speaking reassuringly to the couple at the bar. ”...as I learn anything, I promise I’ll send word. You two try to get a little rest in the meantime. I know that’s a tall order, but it will help”

The pair say their goodbyes, then depart, the woman holding the man’s arm as they exit through the batwing doors. Without asking, Thornton retrieves a clean glass from the shelf, pours two fingers of whiskey into it, and slides it in front of Kate. ”I take it you spoke with Miss Perez? Found out what has some of the families here in the valley in such distress?”

Kate looked at Thornton with a screwed down eye.  She thought about it and decided to play her cards carefully.  "Weeds.  Ornery weeds."

She took a sip.  "Mighty peculiar at that."

Thornton raises an eybrow. ”I’d have to agree. There’s been a lot of talk about trying to find out where those damned weeds have come from. Maybe if some of us could manage it, we could find other...things that have gone missing.”

She pours herself a drink. ”Of course, that’s kind of a tall order.” She looks at Kate pointedly. ”Not something most would take on just out of the goodness of their hearts.”

"Fortunately, there ain't nothin' good about me."  Kate growled.  "Listen... ah reckon ah ain't alone.  Ah'm gonna rustle up some hellraisers tomorry.  Or try to."

Thornton smiles. ”Somehow, I don’t think I need to waste my breath telling you to be careful about who you ride with, but I will advise you against trying to recruit any of John Tunstall’s former hands to the cause, including the one keeping watch out there on the porch. I’m afraid they’re only interested in vengeance. Nothing more.”

As the saloon keeper finishes speaking, the batwing doors swing open, and Bryan Lee, the Texas Ranger Kate shared the stagecoach ride with, steps inside.

Only a few moments pass before the doors open again, this admitting the engineer, Jake McGraw.

Jake looks around. "Ma'am." he says to Kate, tipping his hat. Then he spots Ranger Lee. "Ah! There you are! I been lookin' fer you. Got a spell to talk?"

Bryan walked into the saloon, taking a seat one away from Kansas Kate so as not to crowd the woman, tipping his hat to her and the saloon keeper.

"Ma'am," he said to each of them politely. He kept his side to the bar so that he could keep an eye on who was coming into the saloon after him while still engaging the two women. Of course, the first person he happened to see was Jake McGraw.

"Well, howdy, there," he said greeting Jake with a smile. "It's turnin' out to be a mini stage coach reunion. Don't worry, though, I kept a lookout for them wolves outside and I didn't see any." He didn't look like he meant it as a joke - not even a little bit.

"But yeah, I've got a few minutes for an old friend, if you promise to let me get a word in with these ladies afterwards," he said. "Miss Thornton, if you'd be so kind as to pour me a whiskey, and one for each of my compadres here, I'd be much obliged."

As he prepared to provide her the requisite sum afterwards, he looked to Kate for a moment. "After I get done talkin' to the most talented engineer I've ever met over here, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a moment of your time. I spoke with the local schoolmarm earlier about the gardening problem she's having earlier, and I gather that you might share my interest in uh...botany."

"How interestin'." Jake says, raising an eyebrow. "'Cause I also had an interest in...gardenin' issues. And they got somethin' to add...might save us all some time if we were to chat about it together."

Thornton nods at McGraw in greeting. ”Certainly, sir,” she says to Lee with a smile, taking down a bottle from the shelf behind her and filling two glasses before topping off Kate’s. ”I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Kate's eyes narrowed.  McGraw didn't bother her.  He was mite reckless with his boomstick perhaps, but that was no mortal sin.

This other critter on the other hand...  Something had to be ferreted out before this went anywhere.  She stared at Lee, hard, discerning.

"Ya said ya were here for th' Rangers at th' Guv'nors or somethin' like that."  She took a gulp of her whiskey.  Kate approached with a loping step that made her spurs jingle, a calculated theatrical gesture.  These things had to be done with a certain style, or it just wasn't Kansas Kate.

"Some gangs... every one wears a red scarf.  Some gangs... everyone wears a little metal star.  And that's the most dangerous gang of them all, they done convinced everyone they ain't a gang, much like the  Devil convinced everyone he ain't real."

A quick hand retrieved an empty bottle left behind, spun it even, despite the imbalance.  She used it as a pointer to tap the Ranger's star.  It made a little clink.  "That puts you in the same gang as th' local sheriff."

The tone was measured, very carefully measured.  Kate assumed nothing, trusted no one, or at least tried to do both of those things (in reality no one can do both of those things or they'd never do anything).  It was a question, despite lacking the articulation of a question.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:50, Fri 06 Apr 2018.

He had been about to respond to Thornton, when he had been cut short by Kate's...'speech.' He listened to it quietly, unperturbed by her manner, and clearly unafraid by her gestures which were obviously designed to physically intimidate. It probably worked with most people, so he didn't blame her for trying to get a rise out of him.

Instead of giving her a reaction, he continued his response to the barkeep.

"Ma'am, My name is Bryan Lee, of the Texas Rangers. I was sent here by the Governor to look into local troubles that were brought to his attention by some private citizens, and have found more amiss here than I thought to initially," he said. "I was recommended your establishment by the local schoolmarm just down the way. I'm staying at Renata Montano's place just down the way. She's been incredibly helpful in informing me as to local happenings."

"I shared a stagecoach here with Kansas Kate over here, who by her words, may not be all that much brighter than the wolves that attacked us on the way into town, but she's good enough with that iron that I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt until she's proven herself to be absolutely without hope," he said, adding to Thornton in a conspiratorial stage whisper, "I think she'll surprise me."

Turning to Kate, he disdainfully eyed the bottle that she had used to tap his badge, but chuckled. "Kansas Kate, if you think every person that wears a bit o' metal is the same, then I'm guessin' you ain't seen that much o' the world. There's all kindsa people in the role of lawmen. Some act out of a sense of duty and obligation, and others merely used the presumption of that position and authority to seek out their own benefit. If all you've learned is to suspect lawmen on general principle, no words I can say will be able to convince you otherwise."

He drank the whiskey he had been poured finally.

"But take this into consideration. I've come to you to seek to join in our mutual endeavors because I witnessed the formidable skills you displayed on that stagecoach ride. My evaluation of the situation on the ground here in Lincoln tells me that I'm going to end up with quite an intense amount of local opposition. Given that we're both looking into the same thing, it wouldn't make a lick o sense for me to have come to you, instead of going to the local constabulary. But I ask you this: give me the benefit of the doubt, and I promise I'll prove your dumbass theories about lawmen wrong - at least as far as I'm concerned."

"As fer me," Jake says placidly, "I'm in whichever gang aims to stop the already powerful from takin' what ain't theirs to take an pushin' decent folk off their land with threats and devil weeds." he shrugs. "I'm also hopin' we can bring some sort o' justice for Tunstall before his boys decide to take it out in hot lead in the streets and things get really messy. Had enough o' that runnin' the rails." He takes a seat and looks to the barkeep. "A beer, if you please, instead o' whiskey. Watered down. I ain't lookin' for more than a buzz right now."

"Here's to that," he said, taking the whiskey that Jake had declined, and drinking it.

"A much more succinct way of puttin' it. I did come here to look after rumors of local outlawry and the Tunstall murder, but I'm placing the devil weeds as you call 'em at the top of my priority list."

Jake nods. "I was hopin' to persuade you to take a look in to it when I found you, but sounds to me like you already been pokin' about it. I ain't sure o' what all you heard, but I can tell you a few things." He sets his bag down and digs out his notes. "I got my hands on a sample and ran a few tests. The stuff's almost like livin' barb wire. It don't burn like it should, it don't have any moisture like it ought, and it ain't stiff or brittle, but it also ain't like any other damn plant I ever seen. It ain't any more natural than them dead wolves. Can't help but wonder if there's a connection there."

Bryan listened, nodding as he spoked, but took a moment to look out across the tavern before returning his gaze to McGraw.

"Mighty strange, indeed. Very helpful to know, Jake. Does it break easily? What methods can we use to destroy it if that's what we need to do?" he asked.

OOC:

He's looking to see who else is in the tavern. He doesn't want them to be overheard too widely out of his presumed circle of trust, so he's looking for ears.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Fri 06 Apr 2018.

"No, it ain't. It's like cuttin' barb wire, and from what I heard the farmers have been doin' everythin' they can think of to kill it, only for it to keep comin' back. I might figure somethin' out if I dig up some and take a look at the roots, but I'm of the opinion we might want to try...less orthodox means, if'n you take my meanin'. Maybe get a Holy Roller to do an exorcism." Jake shrugs.

Kate smiled.  The Ranger had given an acceptable answer.  He had some strange ideas about lawmen but all lawmen had strange ideas about themselves, and right now she needed the strangest people she could find.

She was quiet and listened after that.  Her words would be sparse, her mind was on business now.

"Ya'll done talked to th' school marm?"  She looked up at the others, not wanting to repeat what they probably already knew.  But the way they spoke, she wasn't sure.

"I hadn't. I heard somethin' about what went down at the school, but what I heard only made me want to know more." Jake says.

"Short path to a long trail: th' sheriff here needs a bullet put in 'im.  His posse was tryin' to shake down th' proprietor here.  Ah managed to get out to th' Baxter place.  Kid named Lyle Baxter said he were in school when some roughnecks, vile sorts like yers truly, rode by th' schoolhouse on their way to gettin' deputized.  Little feller wanted to see, went out ta look."

She took a drink.

"This kid is either gonna be President or dead by twenty."  She added, and took another drink.

"Anyway, he come back in an' th' whole schoolhouse were a passle of weeds.  Yeah?  That sound familiar?  Full of them.  Him an' one little girl managed to smash a winder an' get out.  Brave kid.  Hope he becomes a farmer though, for his sake."

She shook her head.  She'd tried to dissuade him, but God only knew what a kid like that was going to do.

"But before he run, he seen somethin' in the weeds.  Like a man, but bigger.  It were reaching for him, coming out of the brambles.  Reckon I need to shoot that too, but I'mma need a bigger iron.  Real damn big.  Don't think a Sharp's Fifty will do 'er this time."

Kate finished the glass.

"There's more.  I been pokin' around myself.  Seems those that has a problem with th' Sheriff is th' ones gettin' them weeds.  Ain't that a tragedy."

Jake nods. "Sheriff ain't the only one. That girl you mentioned? Her dad, and a few other fellas, had been complainin' about The House tryin' to move in on their land. Some o' their kids went missin' when that weed thing appeared...and some o' Jesse Evens' crew approached their parents, claimin' they'd get their kids back safe and sound...long as folk stuck a cork in their complaints."

Thornton fills a glass with beer, watering it enough to cut some of its strength without ruining the brew’s taste. She slides it to McGraw, then speaks, keeping her voice low, ”The Sheriff...he may make a threat or two here and there to keep certain people out of Mr. Murphy and Mr. Dolan’s business, but on the whole, he’s honestly a rather weak man. Content to collect his pay, keep outsiders convinced that all is well here in Lincoln County, and occasionally use his powers to push those that are especially stubborn into line.”

“Violence? That’s left to Murphy’s men. Mostly Jesse Evans and his gang. Señor Segovia, who Kate here had the pleasure of seeing me speak with, is one of Evans’ riders.”

Lee takes in the saloon and its patrons as the conversation continues, but sees no one that seems particularly interested in the conversation between himself and the others at the bar. At one table, he notes a pair of cowboys speaking to a well dressed man in spectacles, but the three seem to be concentrating entirely on their own discussion, oblivious to other happenings in the barroom.

The only customer that leaves the Ranger with a feeling of uncertainty is the young man out on the porch who he passed when he entered.  The range hand who appeared to be keeping watch on the nearby courthouse.

Another moment passes and the saloon’s batwing doors swing open. Albert Cooper steps inside.

Albert paused after he entered the bar to look around. He wasn't particularly surprised to find some of the folk with which he rode in the carriage. He closed the distance to the bar in a relaxed way, and forced a smile as he approached those speaking with Desiree Thornton. Sadness and pain were both apparent in his eyes as he politely nodded at those gathered. "Howdy, folks, nice ta see y'all again."

He slowly sat down on a nearby stool, his bulk causing the wood to creak a little. He then tapped the bar. "Desiree, I need somethin' strong. I just been talkin' ta Mike. He sent me yer way."

Lee listened as the others talked, nodding along and mentally recording the particulars of the conversation.

"It isn't uncommon for local power players to run affairs in small town like this, but the ones who do it most successfully usually do their best to avoid attracting attention from higher outside authorities by keeping things generally fair and safe, maintaining some kind of order and some manner of justice. The very fact that I'm here in town represents an abject failure on behalf of the House. They've drawn the eye of the Governor as well as the Rangers," he said.

"I've sorted out corrupt sheriffs before, but this is a whole new ball game. What, with the devil weeds and those wolves, closed schools, disappeared children, and the usual campaign of murder and violence to boot, well...this is gonna be harder than my usual assignment."

He paused briefly when the saloon doors came open, but relaxed a fraction when he saw it was Cooper. After their conversation in the stagecoach, Lee was comfortable hangin' with Mr. Cooper, but he couldn't ignore the man's pained expression. In truth, he was of a mind to take the man up on his offer of aid, but it didn't seem quite the moment.

"Good to see you too, Mr. Cooper. It don't look like your drinkin' to glad tidings, though for that matter, I suppose neither are most folk in Lincoln right about now."

"No, General, ain't been any good tidin's since we got back here. Ain't my kid what been stole, but that sorta thing...hits me pretty hard." He looked over at the others, the doleful look still on his face. His fingers itched to touch that glass, though he knew it wouldn't be anything that would be a cure.

"I understand. It's all tied up in what I came here for, but this thing with the kids has moved up to the top of my agenda. When we were in the stagecoach, you mentioned that I could call on your assistance at need. I was hopeful that it wouldn't be needed, but the more I learn, the more certain I am that I'll need to do that very thing. Is that offer still on the table?" he asked Albert.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:06, Mon 09 Apr 2018.

Jake nods at Albert, and listens to the Ranger speak.

"I'd be doin' somethin' about this with or without leave anyhow." Jake says. "But I'd rather work with you than at cross-purposes. So count me in."

Albert nodded at the Ranger's request without apparently even thinking about it. "If it's gotta do with findin' them kids and then takin' care of those what done this...I will help in any way I possibly can, General."

"I'm going to have to pay a visit to the Sheriff sooner or later. Best sooner than later, I think. I have to get a sense of what's happening in the local constabulary so that I can report back on it. But I saw a couple of men hanging around Wilson's Saloon watching me. If I was watched moving from Montano's place to the Church to this here watering hole, it wouldn't be too hard to paint a picture of what trail I'm chasin'," he said.

"My plan is to see if I can offer my assistance to the Sheriff in his efforts to find the missing children, and during that conversation, innocently drop a sincere promise to get the full backing of the Texas Rangers to help if the kids aren't found soon," he said, with a wolfish smile.

"See, he's going to see this in his minds eye: a town flooded with Rangers rootin' out all the bad shit they've been doing and might soil himself right there. I figure that more Texas Rangers in his business is the last thing he wants, and that after he carries that message back to his masters those kids will find their way back home fast. That don't solve the larger problem, but it just might get those kids back in a jiffy."

Albert nodded at what Bryan had to say, and liked every bit of it. "Sounds like a good plan. Only thing ta worry 'bout is if the sheriff ain't parta the House - mebbe he's just too scared ta do anythin'. Either way, I 'spect yer message'll be heard, and mebbe that'll free them kids right quick without no bloodshed." Not that Albert would mind shedding blood in this case. But someone he cared about might get hurt in that case.

Albert frowned for a moment. "You checked in with Austin or yer local leadership at all since ya arrived here?"

In reply to Bryan Lee (msg # 91):

"What if he gets scared enough o' that thought that he sends someone to make sure you don't make any reports?" Jake asks.

Kate looked at Lee like he was proposing to turn west and cross the world in 80 days when he could just turn east and walk for an hour instead.

"I was just gonna shoot the son of a bitch."

Albert furrowed his brow and looked over at Katie. "Okay, which son-of-a-bitch are you plannin' on shootin'? And no matter who, how is that goin' ta git those kids back ta their parents alive?"

He did generally like the way she thought, of course. His first impulse when he heard about what had happened was to go shoot somebody. He did have a bit of experience with raising a child, however, so his perspective had changed a bit in the last few years.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Tue 10 Apr 2018.

Jake nods with Cooper. "I think we oughta wait on the shootin' 'till we know who needs the bullet. Kids need to be found first." He looked over at the group. "I only heard o' one kid for sure that they were ransomin'. How many total are missin'?"

"Well, I don't have much confidence in the sheriff, but it's a thought of mine that this plan could get the kids out quick. If it comes down to a fight over them, so be it, but it's an opening salvo. The sons of bitches can let the kids go, and pick on folks their own size. Even if the Sheriff is just a pawn, I don't suppose he'll hold back on informing his betters," he said to Jake.

"As far as reportin' back, haven't had the chance yet. Is there a local telegraph, Miss Thornton?" he asked the saloon keeper.

To Jake's question, he nodded. "That thought did cross my mind. I suppose it's all in how I convey the idea. If I present the notion that the resolution of kidnappings is the mission I was on, then killing me doesn't do a lot of good to that cause," he said.

He shook his head at Kate's proposed solution. "Brady has a poor reputation among many locally for his inaction, but widely he is known for having served honorably in the Confederate Army and was cited for heroism in the Battle of Glorieta Pass. Shooting him would empower the House by costing us support among other powers at the territorial level. The House would lose one puppet, but have a host of replacement puppets to put in his place and the situation would continue unchanged. The Governor would be less likely to believe stories against his character, and the House would have a freer hand to operate here and consolidate control of the area at the expense of honest men, women, and children. Meanwhile, you would be on the run from the law, having committed murder. Think with your mind, rather than your gun, or you risk bringing ruin to the good people and unintentionally providing aid to the villains."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Tue 10 Apr 2018.

Thornton refills any empty glasses, providing a mug of fresh coffee for Cooper. ”Eight, all told,” she says in answer to McGraw.

”I’m afraid there’s no telegraph line in Lincoln proper. It’s rarely discussed openly, but I’ve always suspected that its absence is by design. However, there is a telegraph in San Patricio, a little over half a day’s ride south.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. ”Mister Lee, we’ve only just met, so I don’t want to speak out of turn. But...something I feel you should be aware of. You are not the first Ranger to come to Lincoln, or to look into the affairs of Lawrence Murphy.”

“David Storms was the man’s name. He came after one of the longtime residents here sent a letter to Roswell about a group of farmers being bushwhacked for their land. This was right around the time that Lawrence Murphy had begun to expand his cattle operations, so I’m sure you can guess who absorbed the dead men’s property. Ranger Storms captured three outlaws involved in the killings...alive. Took them north up to Fort Sumner for safe keeping. Swore he’d return and bring those that paid them to do the deed to justice.”

“He did return. But he cleared Murphy of any wrongdoing. Assured everyone here that the outlaws had done what they had just to commit some simple robberies. And made certain that we all knew that the Territorial Government was watching after us. Making sure we stayed safe.”

“Storms still rides through here from time to time. He was here a couple of months ago.”

She raises one eyebrow. ”Forgive me for saying so, but that’s why I never wrote to Governor Mosby, I didn’t see any point in it. Rentana Montaño obviously didn’t share my views on the matter.”

Bryan had seemed to handle everything with an even tempered disposition since his arrival, even on the stagecoach ride, but he seemed momentarily rocked by the information that Thornton provided.

"It's not out of turn at all. Quite frankly, I'm glad of the information. Honestly, Storms has never come up in any of my briefings and I don't know the man. The Governor made no mention of him, and he seemed quite sincere in his intentions of looking into the happenings locally. If he didn't sending me here would have served no purpose. There are a dozen other assignments I could have been put to. Murphy has powerful interests in Santa Fe, who might have gotten to this Storms. In the meantime, all I can do is continue to conduct my investigation and hope for the best."

Inwardly, the information made him doubt everything he had been told by Mosby about the situation. Why had this information not been included in the briefing?

Kate shrugged.  "The only cure for the evils in this world is lead, and I shall shall give account for the quick and the dead."

If there was ever an oath which showed a certain darkness of character... that was it.

"But if we can get them chitlins first it can wait.  He'll keep."

She looked at Cooper, wondering if she should say any more.

Albert nodded at Bryan's response to the question of his own safety. "Ain't nothin' that'll get more Rangers here faster'n the death of one o' their own. The General is prolly safe enough, though the warnin' is still important. That sorta play'll be dangerous, so we all gotta watch each others' backs."

He looked over at Kate and she could see a bit of pain pulled at his features for a moment, though he recovered quickly enough.

"Step one has gotta be gettin' the...chitlins...back. Step two is prolly findin' out who's behind this all. Step three will involve a lot of lead, I think."

”I wouldn’t try to speak for the Governor, of course, Ranger Lee, but I can’t help but wonder if him avoiding any mention of Ranger Storms might have been motivated by a desire for you to come to your own conclusions about Lincoln, free of his influence,” Thornton says. ”It’s been my understanding that Ranger Storms and Sheriff Brady got along quite well.”

She takes a sip from her own glass. ”Father Narvaez has been entrusted with the key to the schoolhouse. I have it on good authority that the Father saw that the vines had torn a hole in the floor and there was...a tunnel underneath the building.”

"Well, my conclusions so far don't seem very favorable to the Sheriff, I'll say that much. I can't see how anyone actually attempting to solve a problem could end up with a situation of this magnitude on their hands, which leaves only the conclusion that the problem isn't really being worked on," he said.

"That said, I don't see how this Storms fella could take moves against children kindly, even if he is on the take."

He perked up a bit at talk of the vines. "Did the vines pull children under the ground?"

Albert took a drink out of the mug he had been given, and smacked his lips with appreciation. "That's mighty fine, Desiree. I can hardly taste the whiskey you mixed in with the coffee."

He listened to Bryan's question and frowned. "One way ta find out, General. I think that hole's beggin' fer an...expedition. What say we go take a look-see?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Wed 11 Apr 2018.

In reply to Albert Cooper (msg # 104):

"Sounds good to me." Jake says.

"Count me in. It's late enough that I can reasonably beg off official visits for the day and postpone my trip to see Brady until morning. In any case, this will probably give me a better measure of things before that meeting," he said.

Kate just sighed, signaled for one more drink, and figured she better go keep the yocals from getting killed.  Or go shoot someone.  Or get killed herself.  Either way good times would be had.

Albert nodded at the others. "Just give me a little bit ta take the stuff I brought back from Roswell up ta my aunt and uncle's place. And do we need ta borra a few lanterns fer proper spelunkin'? Given where we're headed, Mike Kibbee ought to be willin' ta lend some light. And I'll see what I can scrounge from the ranch."

Albert took another drink of the coffee, then raised his bulk from the seat he had briefly inhabited. He waited to see if anyone else had anything to say before he headed off to fetch his horse for the ride out to the Cooper ranch.

”Be careful, please,” Thornton entreats the group. ”If you need anything, I’ll be right here. Just send word.”