It had been explained to Jake McGraw, when he purchased the building that would serve as his shop, that the structure had served as Lincoln County’s original jail. As a result, the adobe covered walls had been fashioned from the thickest beams that could be located in the nearby forest, making them exceptionally sturdy. McGraw had been able to obtain the place relatively cheaply, as the owner had been unable to rent it for almost a year and the last tenant, an itinerant blacksmith, had failed to pay him for three months prior to disappearing from the area. In the end, the man had been pleased to make a small profit from the property.

The rainfall has lessened to a soft drizzle, becoming a gray mist that settles over the valley, concealing the adjacent mountains in a light gray fog. The scent of pine and moisture sits heavy in the cool, afternoon air.

The shop is precisely as McGraw left it as he and Castillo carry the bulky crate to the front door. A moment after the two set the container down on the damp earth, a voice calls out, ”Mr. McGraw?”

Looking behind them, McGraw and Castillo see a young man with dark hair, no older than seventeen, wave and approach them, his expression anxious.

OOC: Jake, as it’s your shop, I’ve been deliberately light on the details of its appearance, so you can fill those in as you choose.

"Howdy!" Jake says at the approaching youth. He takes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door. "Mr. Ellis said you'd be by. Let's get in out o' the damp, and you can tell me what's on your mind." He opened the door, picked up his end of the crate, and nodded to Jacinta.

The young man nods, readily following McGraw and Castillo inside. The anxious expression remains fixed on his features however, and after pausing to take in the interior of the shop, he clears his throat and says, ”Mr. McGraw, my name’s Micah Gehrig. My folks own a farm southwest of town. Mrs. Jessen’s our neighbor. You fixed up her broken plow last week.”

The young man removes his hat, fingering the brim nervously. ”I know you just got off the stagecoach and all, sir. But my Pa, he sent me to ask if you’d fix his wagon. One of the wheels is broken off and we haven’t got the tools to get it back on.”

“Pa asked if you’d come today. He wants to get us moved out of Lincoln quick. We’re going to live with my uncle up in Santa Fe. Pa says we’ve got to keep my sis...that we need to get on our way as soon as we can get all our things loaded.”

“He said he’d make it worth your while, sir. Whatever you’d normally change for the job, my Pa said he’d pay you double.”

Jake had made the most out of the converted jail. The blacksmith who'd had the place before him had set up a decent forge in the rear, though it hadn't been made with Ghost Rock burning in mind (which was sort of a pain when he needed to work with the stuff). Still, it served for most of the repair work he'd done since coming to town. He'd made a mechanical pump to work the bellows, which gave him a more even and predictable airflow than manual pumping, and which made things much less tiring for him to operate.

Jake had converted one of the cells into his bedroom, with lantern, a wardrobe, a nightstand, and shelves for his collection of Sears & Robards catalogs and back-issues of New Science magazine and the Tombstone Epitaph. He also had a desk he used for drafting blueprints and making sketches of devices that he'd gotten inspiration for.

The rest of the space was an assembly room and workshop, filled with tools on the walls, supplies in barrels and buckets, and half-completed devices on the workbench. On one wall was a dart board he used for target practice, with a shredded scrap of newspaper on it that no longer resembled a picture of Ulysses Grant unless you really squinted at it.

Jake maneuvered the crate he'd brought to an open section of floor, then considered the young man. "Awful big hurry your Pa's in, considerin' the weather." he says.

((OOC: Anything of note about that repair job Micah mentioned? Is it one of those suspicious jobs he's had lately?))

Micah nods and shifts his feet, his gaze on the floor. ”Yessir, he is. We were up late last night, gettin’ our things ready to load. There’ll be some of it we leave behind, but Pa says we’ll make do. Ma says that Santa Fe’s a real nice place. Better than here.”

The young man looks up, his eyes traveling over the forge and the wide assortment of tools on the walls. Returning his attention to the engineer, he says, ”I promised I’d run back home once I’d found you. Do you think you’d be able to come today, sir?”

OOC: Mrs. Jessen’s plow, unfortunately, had the appearance of something that had been deliberately broken. To McGraw’s trained eye, the damage did not appear accidental.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Tue 27 Feb 2018.

Jacinta dropped the crate where Jake indicated and straightened to have a look about.  Her eyes drifted over the various tools and implements, half constructed gizmos and whatnot, but she didn't touch anything.  It was almost as if she knew better than to go fooling around with ghost-rock powered do-dads.

Turning her attention back to the kid, she pushed the brim of her hat back a trifle.  "Sounds like you're running from trouble, eh?  Something happen to scare off your Pa?  Someone running you out of town, kid?"

Jake, who had been thinking along the same lines, nodded. "If'n it's some sort o' trouble, I might be able to help with more than just a wheel."

Micah blinks, surprised by the frankness of both Castillo and McGraw. He looks back and forth between the two, his expression uncertain. ”My Pa...he just wants to leave to make sure my little sister stays safe. Ya’ll can understand that can’t you?”

He looks back down at the ground and shakes his head. ”Mr. McGraw, even if you really wanted to help like you say, I’m not sure that you could.”

"You'll never know if you don't speak up, mijo.  Some of us ain't the sort to stand by and watch good folk get rolled over by bad people." She hooked her thumb in her belt and leaned against the counter.

Jake nods. "You want your little sister safe. I can understand that. But I can't begin to help you if'n I don't know what the real problem is, and trouble has a habit o' followin' folk if it ain't confronted. I can fix your wheel, like I fixed Mrs. Jessen's plow, but I've been doin' an awful lot o' fixin' lately, and the stuff that's been broke didn't get that way through normal wear and tear. I might feel different once I seen the damage, but somethin' broke your wheel, and I reckon it was done on purpose. Might start breakin' people next. And I'll be the judge o' what I can and can't fix."

Micah’s frown deepens. ”Look, I don’t want to get in any trouble for talkin’ out of turn, but there’s a reason that the schoolhouse is shut down now. My sister goes there. And some of those kid she knows...well, they’ve disappeared.”

“No one’s talking about it too much, but I know some people think it has to do with those who have spoken out against Mr. Murphy and Mr. Dolan. That it’s their young ‘uns that have gone missing.”

“My Pa...he’s said some things about ‘The House’. About what happened to John Tunstall. My Ma, too. And...well, Miss Perez, the school mistress, she’s started holding classes over at the Catholic Church. Thinks it’s safer for the kids. But my parents...they figure the best thing to do is just get out. Leave the farm behind and head to Santa Fe. At least we know Ella will be safe there.”

Jancta threw Jake a look and one brow inched upward.  "Missing kids?  That's no small matter.  One gone?  Maybe an accident.  Multiple children snatched up?  That's a conspiracy."

"Your papa is right to want to run, mijo, especially to protect your baby sister.  Some fights can't be fought alone.  Luckily, I've got friends that'd want to help."

Jake nods. "Well, we'll certainly be headin' over. Whereabouts is your place? I ain't quite that familiar with the lay o' the land yet."

Micah explains that the Gehrig farm sits southwest of Lincoln, a little east of the Cooper Ranch. He describes the house and barn and the small stand of cottonwood trees that screens them. ”I’ll go back over there now, let my folks know you’ll be along.”

He smiles with a mixture of gratitude and relief. ”Thank you. Thank you both.”

Buttoning his coat and pulling his hat down low, he exits the shop, walking at a fast pace.

Jake watches the young man go, then turns to Jacinta. "I didn't want to speak fer ya, but you sound about as interested in gettin' to the bottom o' this as I am. Somethin' gone wrong here in a way I don't rightly like. First them death wolves, now children goin' missin'." he went over to the wall, where he'd hung his revolving shotgun. he pulled it down, checked it over, then brought it over to his beat-up duffel-bag and put it inside. Then he went over to the tool crate the pair had brought in, took a crowbar, and opened it as well. He fished about for a few minutes, pulling out some scrap metal, some gear assembly, a few wires, and some mechanisms that looked like they'd been stripped from a variety of firearms. These, too, he put in his bag. "Were you wantin' to come with me to the Gehrig place? It sounds like I have my work cut out fer me, and won't have as much time to ask around as I'd like. If not, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I wasn't going to let you go alone, gringo.  Missin' kids is something I won't abide.  I hate bodysnatchers more than anything."  She scowled at a memory as her gaze turned to the street.  "I say that we get this family on their way, out of danger, and then go stickin' our noses in other people's business.  I don't normally go out of my way to do that, but this here is a special case."

Her easy smile returned as she turned back.  "Tell you what.  You get their wagon fixed, and I'll make sure nobody puts a bullet in your back while you're workin'.  Then you can pay me for lugging that crate in and bein' your bodyguard.  Sound good?"

Jake nods. "Sounds good. I reckon I got everythin' I need here." He lifts the duffelbag for emphasis, then starts heading for the door.

The Gehrig farm proves easy for McGraw and Castillo to locate, even within the thickening mist. Although humble, the house and barn appear to have been built with great care. Looking about, the engineer and the scout have the sense that the family is diligent about maintaining all of their animals and possessions, the mark of hard working people that have become accustomed to forging a life out of very little.

Micah is standing alongside a tall man with iron gray hair and a full beard, who is tending to a work horse. A short distance from the pair, sitting beside the low fence that surrounds the house, is a wagon which leans precariously to one side, one of its front wheels broken free and loaded into the back of the cart. From the window beside the front door of the single story home, Castillo and McGraw catch a glimpse of a young girl’s face, curiously watching the newcomers’ approach.

The bearded man steps away from the horse and approaches. ”Mr. McGraw? Paul Gehrig. I’m obliged to you for coming out here today.”

OOC: Could I have a Notice roll from each of you, please?

Jacinta surveyed the farm with interest.  Catching sight of the girl in the window, she gave her a little wave and a smile.  Her attention shifted to the farmer as he spoke, then to the wagon.  Looked like a major repair job to her.  She hoped McGraw was up to the task.


22:03, Today: Jacinta Castillo rolled 8,4 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,2.  Notice.

"Howdy, sir." Jake offers his hand out to Paul to shake. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He looks over at the cart. "What can you tell me about this here problem? Were you loadin' the cart when it broke, or did it happen some time durin' the night?"

((OOC: 17:11, Today: Jake McGraw rolled 3,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,3.  Notice.

Ugh.))

The young girl in the window grins and returns Castillo’s wave.

Paul glances over his shoulder at the damaged wagon, then back at McGraw. ”I hadn’t had call to use it in several weeks, but when Micah and I rolled it out of the barn a couple of nights ago, that wheel fell clean off.” He looks down at the ground and shakes his head. ”Looks like it was broken to me. Wasn’t a thing wrong with it last time we took it to town.”

"Yeah, I've been gettin' a lot o' things like that since I set up shop." Jake nods. He heads over to the wagon to take a closer inspection of the damage. He looks back at Paul. "Any notion o' who might be goin' around wrecking things? We had a Ranger come on the stage today who might be interested in hearin' any thoughts you have afore you leave."

The damage isn’t difficult to find. To McGraw’s trained eye, it appears as though someone smashed the braces on the wagon’s left side with a blunt instrument, like a sledgehammer, leaving the wheel and axle on that side without support. The repair might take some time, but should prove relatively straightforward. McGraw guesses that the damage to the vehicle had to have been done while the family was away in town, given that it would’ve almost certainly made a fair amount of noise.

OOC: This kind of fix isn’t a challenge for McGraw. I won’t need a Repair roll for him to accomplish it, unless you want to see if you get a raise and are able to complete it in minimal time.

”At a guess? Jesse Evans and those other boys that work for Jimmy Dolan.” Paul answers, keeping his voice low despite no one else being in the vicinity. ”Dolan and his boss, Mr. Murphy, are the ones that have been trying to run people off their land. No idea why. My brother up in Santa Fe has talked to some people Murphy’s done business with. He’s already got more money than he could spend in a lifetime.”

Jacinta rested her rifle on her shoulder, ambling with an ease that she didn't have to feign.  Her gaze skirted the property again, searching for problem areas.  While Jake surveyed the wagon, she took a tour of the yard, pausing the study the overgrown garden.  She wasn't a gardener, nor an herbalist, but it seemed odd to her that they'd just let their vegetables go to waste.  She rejoined the men, though gave her attention to the boy rather than the father.  "Nice farm.  Sad to be leaving it behind?"

Jake scowled. "I reckon that at some point, it stops bein' about what you can do with yer money, and starts bein' a way o' keepin' score against other rich folk. I saw a lot o' that workin' for the railroads -- things done not to make the line better, but just to get one over on the other lines." he started taking some tools out of his bag. "You ever read a fella named Marx? German guy, writes a lot about about how money and labor work. His theory is that all o' history is a push and pull between the rich and folks like us, just tryin' to get by." he starts stripping the damaged parts off. "Now, I reckon this place took you a long time to build up. I can't fault you for wantin' to protect your kids, but if you're right, if it's Murphy tryin' to seize what he didn't earn just to feather his own nest, well that don't sit right with me. It seems to me we just ended a war where the Yankees thought the same -- that they were gonna tell us all to do what they wanted because they had all the power. I didn't fight the Yanks just so some rich asshole who thinks he's Abe Lincoln could do the same to the hard-workin' folk 'round here." he looked up at Paul. "He ain't gonna stop, you know. Folks like him don't know the meaning of 'enough'. The only thing that's gonna stop him is folk puttin' their foot down. The more folks in his way, the less he'll be able to do as he pleases...all it would take is some organization." he picks up a stick. "See this? This ain't much." He snaps the stick in half, then gathers up half a dozen other sticks. "But when you get 'em all in a bunch..." He bends the collection of sticks, but this time, they don't break. "See what I mean?" He shrugs. "But I guess I'm ramblin'. Let me get back to the job here." he continues working on the wheel.

((OOC: Hee...That's quite a mish-mash of ideas there...))

Micah nods at Castillo’s question. ”It’s the only home I’ve ever known, ma’am,” he answers, kicking idly at a dirt clod. ”I’d kind of expected to stay here in Lincoln a long time. I was thinkin’ about goin’ in the Army for a time, like my Pa had done, but then coming back, starting a farm of my own, or helping out here.” He shrugs. ”Ma says Santa Fe’s real nice. I just don’t know how much I’ll care for living in a big town like that.”

Paul listens to McGraw intently as he works, remaining silent for a moment after the engineer gives his full focus to the wagon. ”I’m not inclined to argue with you, Mr. McGraw. People do need to stand up to the House, to the wrongdoing that’s going on in Lincoln. And it’s going to take a lot of them. Not one or two.”

“But...you’ve got to understand. There’s nothing more important to me than the safety of my family. My daughter...I wouldn’t know what to do if she was taken from us.”

He pauses, looking back at the farmhouse. ”Maybe I am a coward, but I don’t know any other way to make sure Ella isn’t harmed. If...you’d heard what she’d told us about what happened at the school...it might be easier for you to grasp why I think it best to leave. It’s not just Murphy and his gunhands. It’s...”

He sighs. ”I’m sorry, Mr. McGraw. I should leave you to your work. Let me know when you’re done and I’ll get you paid.”

"Well, why don't you tell me what she seen, then?" Jake says as he works. "I worked on the railroads for nigh on to ten years, and let me tell you the Tombstone Epitaph don't sound near half as crazy as some o' the things I've seen with my own eyes. I ain't gonna dismiss somethin' just 'cause it sounds a bit out there. What happened at the school?"

Paul considers McGraw’s response, then nods. ”Well I...I appreciate that consideration, Mr. McGraw.”

He points to the nearby vegetable garden. Glancing at it, McGraw notices that it is overgrown with dark colored vines, studded with thorns and spear shaped leaves. ”After John Tunstall was killed, there were a few of us that gathered at the courthouse, spoke our peace about the matter to Sheriff Brady. There’d been some talk about who might’ve actually pulled the trigger, but for me, and the others there, there wasn’t any doubt about who had ordered it done. It was Lawrence Murphy. And we told Brady as much.”

“A few days after, those weeds sprung up. My whole family’s cut the things back, pulled ‘em up, time and time again. But they just come back, usually overnight. Last couple of times I’ve stopped in at the Assay Office to talk to Mike Kibbee, or had a drink at the Thornton-Curry, I’ve heard that most everyone that spoke up at the courthouse that day has been contending with the same problem. Nobody who’s from around here’s ever seen their like before.”

He looks over his shoulder at the house, where Ella still peers curiously from one of the windows. “The day the children disappeared, Miss Perez was trying to chase several of them back into the schoolhouse for the afternoon lesson. You know how it is. Some of ‘em just didn’t want to stop playin’. Several, Ella included, went on in ahead of the teacher.”

“Ella said that the whole back end of the classroom, where Miss Perez sits, was covered with those weeds. Floor to ceiling. The kids all got frightened, as you could guess and...well, suddenly the door got pulled closed. And then Ella said something came out of that mess of vines after the kids.”

“Reed Baxter’s boy thought quick, broke out one of the windows. Ella followed him out and they both ran like lightning. By the time some folks from the Tunstall Store got the door open, there wasn’t anything in there but the weeds. No sign of the children at all.”

He sighs. ”Lorne Shaw, whose place isn’t too far from here...his son’s one of those that vanished. He told me that yesterday morning, one of Jesse Evans’ boys rode over, let him know that if he saw his way to quiet down about John Tunstall’s killing and The House that he’d get his son back, safe and sound.”

"Hmmm." Jake muses. Leaving the wheel for a moment, he reaches into his duffelbag and produces a mason jar, a pair of sheers, and some work gloves. He heads over to the vegetable patch and looks at the vines, then slips the work gloves on, takes the shears and snips off a sample, catching it in the mason jar. He screws the lid closed and heads back to his work. He wasn't a botanist, didn't really know much about plants, but this didn't strike him as anything nature had intended. "I'll look into this. Did Ella say what that somthin' that came out o' the weeds looked like? Knowin' more might help me."

((OOC: What sort of a roll would I need to make to identify this thing?))

McGraw notices that clipping a sample of the vine with his shears requires a fair amount of pressure, reminding the engineer more of cutting through a length of barbed wire than a plant. As he frees the clipping, McGraws also sees that no moisture of any kind escapes the vine where it was wounded. It is seemingly bone dry.

"All she described was a tall, dark figure," Paul answers, "She couldn't give very much detail. The minute she saw something stirring in all those vines, she ran."

OOC: McGraw could probably identify some of the plant's properties with a Weird Science roll, once he performed some tests on it at his workshop. For a proper identification, he might have to involve an expert. He's heard rumors of an herbalist from nearby San Patricio who patronizes the Montaño store when in Lincoln.

((OOC: Neat. I have more questions/suggestions for Paul, but I fear I might have buried Micah's response to Jacinta, so I'll let her get a word in before I continue.))

Jacinta stared at the sample that Jake took with a raised eyebrow.  "You should get that to Tam.  She's good at that sort of stuff.  Got me running to all sorts of places looking for plants for her concoctions.  If she doesn't know what it is, she might have a book or something."

She turned her gaze back to Paul.  "You ever seen anything come out the weeds in your patch?  Ever seen them move?"    The tracker didn't seem at all bothered by plants that come alive.  She'd seen much stranger things while out on the trail.  "Seems to me they'd be there for some reason, if not just intimidation.  Connected, maybe?"

Jake nods. "Sounds good. I also heard of an herbalist from San Patricio who's in town sometimes." He looks at Paul. "What else you done to these weeds? When you say they come back, is it always the same place? Have you tried saltin' them? Burnin' them? Wrappin' a tarp around them to choke off the sun?"

Paul shakes his head at Castillo’s question. ”No, ma’am. Me, my wife, and Micah have all kept careful watch. But it’s just been the vines. Nothin’ else.”

He nods at McGraw. ”Once we figured the winter vegetables were lost, we salted the ground. Covered ‘em with waxed canvas. Neither one solved the problem, as you can see. Lorne’s tried burning ‘em at his place, but they’ve grown back in a day or so.”

“They’ve only ever grown here, where we raise our food. Nowhere else. They haven’t spread beyond where we cultivated.”

He looks out at the empty field. ”’Course, it’s planting season. I don’t know what might happen once we tried to raise a crop. But I’m not planning to stay to find out.”

"Huh.  So, it is a punishment, then.  They're punishing you for speaking out -- taking away your food source.  Maybe if you can't grow your own, you'll have to buy it from town.  And who benefits from that?  Or maybe they're just trying to run you off."   She looked back at the patch of vines and shook her head.  "I hate bullies." 

Jake nods as his questions are answered, and nods again at Jacinta's comment. "Yup. I can't stand 'em, either. Would you stick around if someone managed to put a stop to all this?"

”The Tunstall Store and Señora Montaño, they do their best to keep goods available at a fair price,” Paul tells Castillo, ”But Mr. Murphy...he’s got steadier suppliers. But if you have to go to his store for something, you end up paying for it. Especially if you’re not on his good side.”

He considers McGraw’s question silently. Nodding finally, he says, ”I love this valley. Have since I first saw it. Before, this was a peaceful place. The kind of spot where you’d want to leave your mark, raise a family.”

“If it could be that way again, I’d stay put.”

"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.