"You think perhaps you might want to stay around a few days?" Jake asks. "We can look into this more. If nothing else, we can at least get their attention turned away from you and yours for a while." He looks at the wheel. "With this here done, you'll still be able to leave if'n this go wrong."

Paul considers, then nods. ”I’ll do that. I’m obliged to you both for trying.”

“Just...be careful. Judge Wilson....he’s already set Murphy, Dolan, and all their people on edge by deputizing those cowhands of Tunstall’s. Those boys are supposed to be bringing in the people suspected in John’s murder, but I think they may just be out for blood. Doc Wood, he seems to think that those boys being given badges is what may have led to what happened at the schoolhouse. But who’s to say?”

“Regardless, I’ll stay here as long as it seems safe. If there’s anything I can do for either of you, just ask.”

The repair done, Micah ventures into the house, returning with a tin box, which Paul opens. Withdrawing some Confederate script from it, he asks, ”What do I owe you, Mr. McGraw?”

((OOC: Hmm...what is the going rate for a handyman's services? The book lists a Doctor's House Call as $5...is that a reasonable price for a mechanic in the 1880's?))

OOC: Parts, labor, and all...that sounds fair.

"My asking price for a job like this is around five dollars." Jake says. "Your boy mentioned you were willing to pay extra, but I reckon my regular rate is fine. I'll get back to you on anything I find out."

((OOC: Unless Jacinta has anything else she wants to do here, I don't have any objection to skipping back to town.))

Paul counts out ten and hands it to McGraw. ”I’m a man of my word,” he says, ”If me and my family have to leave in a hurry, you’ll be the reason we’re able to.”

“But we’ll stay put for now. Probably won’t venture into town. But we’ll be here if you need us.”

---

Lincoln’s Main Street remains as subdued as it was when the stage rolled into the town earlier that day. The cool rain continues to fill the air with mist, keeping the nearby mountains hidden behind a curtain of gray.

McGraw’s shop is just as he left it. Nearby, he can see Ike Ellis leading a pair of horses out of the stable to his fenced in pasture, while one of his hands adds fresh hay to their stalls.

Jake waves at Ike. "Howdy!" he says as he unlocks his shop. He thinks a moment. "Hey, Ike? You know the name of that herbalist that sometimes comes by from San Patricio?"

Jacinta was pleased that they'd gotten back to town without any trouble and that she didn't have to shoot anyone.  Though it did make her feel a bit useless when she was trying to earn her keep.  She didn't think McGraw would begrudge her a few dollars, but Jacinta wasn't the sort to take money that wasn't earned.  Rifle propped on her shoulder, she took a lean against Jake's shop and looked to Ike for the answer.

Ellis looks over at McGraw’s question. ”You must be talkin’ about Mrs. Winter. Ava Winter,” he answers. ”She patches people up, what can’t come into town to see Doc Wood. Knows her trade. Saved a few lives up and down the valley.”

He nods in the direction of the street. ”Saw her earlier today, visitin’ with Mrs. Montaño at the store. Far as I know, she’s still there.”

Jake tips his hat. "Much obliged." He heads into the shop, holding the door for Jacinta.

Once they're inside, he pulls out a few of the bills he'd just received. "A deal's a deal. Glad to have an extra gun around and not need it than have a need and it not bein' there." Next, he pulls out the clipping he'd taken.

"I reckon I'm going to give this weed her a look-see to see what all I can determine about it. You want to hang around? If not, I reckon Ranger Lee will want to know what we heard up at the farm, and you said somethin' about your friend who could look at this. If she ain't available, Mrs. Winters still might be." He gets an idea, puts his duffelbag on a work bench, then pulls out the sheers. He sets the jar on the bench, works out the clipping without touching it, then sheers it in half. Then he uses some tongs to put half of the clipping back in the jar and screws the lid shut. "I ain't for sure on how long I'll be." he says, holding the jar out to Jacinta.

Jacinta took the bills with a nod of thanks and stuffed them into one pocket.  She watched him work and took the jar when offered, holding it up and giving it a shake to watch the weed rattle about.  "Yea, I'll go see if Tam is around.  She was headed to the school house last I saw, so she might have already had a look at this thing.  I'll see what she's been up to.  The ranger, too, if I can find him.  Small place.  I'm sure they couldn't have gone too far.  If you get an answer from the herbalist, let me know what she said, eh?  I'd like to know why these things are choking out the local food sources."

"They're doin' that 'cause some asshole wanted 'em to." Jake growls. "Specifics are good, but at the end o' the day, this is about people tryin' to run other people into the ground. Whatever mojo these things have, it's someone human pullin' the strings at the end o' the day. Someone chose to plant these things in vegetable patches to make folk starve. Someone chose to bring 'em to the school house. Someone is responsible, and that someone ought to pay."

"Somebody will," Jacinta said quietly, still staring into the jar.  She finally tucked it away in her bag and holstered her rifle across her back.  "See you in a bit," she said to Jake before exiting his shop.  On the street, she began her search for Tam and the Marshal.

Castillo departs, leaving McGraw alone with his workshop.

OOC: If Jake is going to conduct any tests on the vine, go ahead and give me both a Weird Science and a Knowledge (Physics) roll.

Once Jacinta's gone, Jake takes the clipping to his work bench, and begins some tests. He carefully sketches the vine structure before he begins, in case his tests don't leave much left for the herbalist to identify.

((OOC: 09:52, Today: Jake McGraw rolled 16,10 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (10+6)16,(6+4)10.  Weird Science.

09:53, Today: Jake McGraw rolled 4,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3.  Knowledge (Physics).))

Although the resistance that he had encountered in obtaining a clip of the vine had already clued him in, a few tests of the plant’s strength inform McGraw that it is considerably strong, much stouter than any weed he is familiar with. Although with enough force, it can be cut through, McGraw estimates that it is approximately as tough as a strand of steel wire. But for the thorns, a length of the vine could be utilized as a serviceable rope.

To McGraw’s eyes, the vine most closely resembles a flowering, thorny plant that he has heard referred to as bugambilia in Mexico and bougainvillea back East, only this vine shows no evidence of flowers and the leaves are somewhat differently shaped. It is darker in color as well and, unlike bugambilia, handling it doesn’t seem to cause any irritation of the skin.

Taking one of the leaves and a portion of the vine itself apart, and subjecting it to a few chemical tests, leaves McGraw with a baffling conclusion. Despite the plant being supple, it does not appear to have any moisture stored within it anywhere. Every part of it is completely dry. Although McGraw is no botanist, he’s paged his way through enough of Schleiden’s Principles Of Scientific Botany to know that any plant, especially those in this part of the world, has to hold water somewhere. Of course, McGraw doesn’t have a sample of the weed’s roots, but based on what he observes, no moisture has been circulating through it at all. Yet, it isn’t stiff or brittle. When subjected to fire, it burns, but nowhere as quickly as a parched twig would.

The engineer is left with one question as he considers the strange plant. Without the presence of water, can the vine be truly considered alive?

Jake pondered this. He'd seen a lot of odd things on the railroad. Once, he'd been on a train passing a cow pasture. A bunch of tumbleweeds had collected against the fence, but had rolled out toward a calf that had wandered by...Jake wasn't sure, but he didn't think there was much of a breeze that day. The calf had gotten tangled in the weeds, which scratched it up something fierce. Jake's last sight of the calf had been it covered in bloody weeds, lowing in pain. The tumbleweeds seemed to have lost their dryness, and had had a more healthy, damp look to them.

On a hunch, he took a needle, poked his finger tip, then smeared a little of his blood on a tin plate. He stuck a swab of cotton on his finger, then used some pliers to grab the remains of the vine. He tipped one of the thorns to the dab of blood on the plate and watched for a reaction.

((OOC: Hmmm...sounds like Bloodwire to me...I GM too much))
This message was last edited by the player at 07:16, Thu 29 Mar 2018.

McGraw watches closely, but observes no change in the vine from its exposure to the blood.

Jake was faintly disappointed, but since this clipping wasn't connected to the roots, he wasn't terribly surprised. he wiped up the blood and put the remains of the vine into another jar. This was probably as far as he was going to get without expert help, so he cleaned up his work station, and then gathered up jar, notes, and sketches. He pondered.

He wanted to check out the schoolhouse, but he didn't want to go poking around there alone. That was all manner of stupid. He decided to go seeking out Ranger Lee. The Ranger ought to be told about this, if he hadn't heard already. Besides, Jake had offered to help collect the poor stageman's body, and time had gotten a bit away from him. He didn't want to keep the clipping around the shop...he didn't think it would take rook here, but better safe than sorry. So he stuffed the jar and his noted into his duffelbag, slung it on his shoulder, and headed out. He figured he'd try the stage service first, the Montano store next, then work from there.

Emerging onto Lincoln’s Main Street, McGraw finds that the occasional drops of rainfall have begun to mingle with the persistent mist, keeping the mountain range hidden behind a veil of light gray and bringing an early dusk to the valley. The street itself remains quiet, with few passerby traveling between its buildings. Across the street, warm lantern light spills from the windows of the Patron House and the Montaño Store.

Glancing over at Ike Ellis’ Livery, McGraw notices Ellis and the stage driver, Quinn Murdock, speaking in front of the entrance to the stables. Ellis is crouched beside a horse, the one that was apparently injured by one of the wolves, cleaning its wounds and applying some kind of paste to them.

"Howdy!" Jake says as he approaches Ike and Quinn. "You think the rain's cleared up enough that you're thinkin' o' goin' out to look fer poor Ramirez?"

”We were just discussin’ that actually,” Murdock answers. ”A couple of the Montaños are willing to go, as well as one of Susan McSween’s cattle hands.”

He glances up at the sky. ”I’m less concerned about the rain at this point then about still being out there after dark. I’m wonderin’ if it might be smarter to go at first light.”

"You talked to Ranger Lee yet?" Jake asks. "I don't disagree that we maybe oughta wait until light, much as I don't like the idea o' leavin' him out there. But if we're waitin', someone oughta tell him. Know where I can find him?"

”I know he went across the street to the Montaño Store, to inquire about lodgings at the boarding house,” Ellis offers, ”but just a bit ago, when I was rubbing down one of the horses, I thought I caught sight of him going into the San Juan Church.”

At La Iglesia de San Juan Bautista, Father Narvaez confirms that Ranger Lee was at the church only a short time ago, speaking with Valentina Perez, the schoolmistress. The priest explains that Lee had indicated that he was going to pay a visit to the Thornton-Curry Saloon, in hopes of finding a woman that Señorita Perez had spoken to earlier in the day, who seemed interested in helping find the missing children.

Passing by Wilson’s Saloon on his way down the quiet street, McGraw sees a pair of men he recognizes as Lawrence Murphy’s hands lingering near the entrance, watching the street with expressions that border on contemptuous.

Soon, the imposing sight of the two story courthouse comes into view, lantern light burning within a few of its second floor windows. Across the street from it is a well kept clapboard building with a tin roof, trimmed in bright red, a place already familiar to the engineer. A sign hanging over the batwing doors reads simply, ”Thornton-Curry”.

A young man stands on the front porch, leaning against one of the posts that support the overhang. 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 appears fixed on the nearby courthouse, but he breaks his watch long enough to politely nod to McGraw as he approaches.

Inside, McGraw finds a well apportioned barroom just as it has been since his first visit. 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.

Several of the tables are occupied. At the bar, McGraw sees a woman he immediately recognizes as Kansas Kate conversing with Desiree Thornton, the saloon keeper. A few steps ahead of him, apparently having arrived only a few moments before, is Ranger Bryan Lee.

OOC: I’m going to shift you over to Kansas Kate’s current thread to continue this scene.