The smoke from the heavyset deputy’s shot clears. He paces forward, Lena Bauer close behind him. The pair stop as the survey the trees.

“Son of a...” the man mutters. Shaking his head, he adds, ”I thought for sure I’d seen her.”

Bauer sighs and holsters her pistol. ”Not your fault, Bob. I was the one that saw her. That was right after her. I’m the one who should’ve caught her.” She gives him a rueful smile. ”I’ll be the one to talk it out with Brady. I heard Quinn Murdock might be looking for stage guards. If not, I know the garrison over in Roswell’s still recruiting.”

Bob looks crestfallen. ”Aw, come on, now. He ain’t gonna...”

”Whatever he does, I’ll live with,” she says, managing a smile. She looks up at Cooper. ”Thanks for trying to help, Mr. Cooper. I’m obliged to you.”

She motions back toward the Main Street. ”We’d best get back.”

Albert spun his horse about as the deputies discussed things, looking through the trees. Though eventually he made his way back to Bauer after putting his lariat back into place. "Sorry I couldn't grab her. She's damned lucky ta make it ta the trees - only thing that kept me from gettin' her roped up."

Albert frowned at the commentary from the pair and nodded at the thanks. "Yer welcome, ma'am. If ya don't mind, I'd speak on yer behalf ta the Sheriff. An then I wouldn't mind speakin' more of the matter we were discussin' earlier."

Bauer considers Cooper’s offer. ”You know, Mr. Cooper, I think it best if I go tell the Sheriff what happened by myself. It’s mine to take responsibility for.”

“The Sheriff’s a quiet man. Kinda thoughtful. Hard to know what he’ll think. But I’ll live with whatever decision he makes. However, if you were to go by his office on your own later today and put in a good word for me, I’d be grateful to you.”

She comes to a halt as the trio near the Courthouse. ”If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll meet you back at Ramsey’s as soon as I’ve spoken to Sheriff Brady. I’ll be glad to tell you everything that I can about Reverend Benson.”

Albert frowned briefly, but nodded after a pause. "Sounds good, ma'am. I will see you there."

True to his word, Albert urged Brandy into motion and headed back toward Ramsey's and some coffee.

When Cooper returns to Ramsey’s he finds the modest dining room abuzz with talk. Several tables are occupied by shopkeepers and residents that live close to Lincoln’s Main Street, all talking about the shooting at the saloon. Cooper doesn’t have to hear much to recognize that rumors have already begun to overtake facts among the townsfolk, most fueled by fears of further violence visiting itself upon the county.

Claire Ramsey escorts Cooper to a corner table and pours him a cup of coffee, inquiring if he was hurt with an expression of genuine concern. Once she is assured that he is well, she departs. A few moments later, Patrick Garrett, still seated at the table he was occupying earlier in the morning, stands, puts on his hat, and walks to the exit, seemingly unfazed by the anxious patrons. He nods at Cooper as he leaves.

Ramsey returns to freshen Cooper’s cup when Lena Bauer enters the restaurant. She spies Cooper and joins him. Tapping the star on her vest, she says. ”Seems Brady has even more faith in me than I expected.”

“Still, before the day’s done, I’m going to take a ride south. Have another look at where that shootist disappeared. I’ve got a couple of suspicions about her. Where she might turn up.”

Albert smiled as Bauer entered, and stood respectfully as she approached. He let her take a seat before he retook his own. "I think like many folk ya don't have as much appreciation fer yer own skills as others do, ma'am. Brady knows chasin' outlaws ain't a sure thing."

He nodded at her plan to try to find the hidden shooter. "Do ya wanna backup rider if yer headin' out again? Ain't got no more chores today if ya want me ta come with."

Bauer cocks an eyebrow as she takes a seat. ”You’re sure eager to help out the local law. Don’t misunderstand, I’d be grateful for your help. It’s just...well, you seem a real smart man, Mr. Cooper. You’ve got to know that being seen in the company of deputy isn’t going to win you any friends in some circles around here.”

Claire deposits a fresh cup of coffee in front of Bauer with a smile. The deputy takes a sip and sighs. ”I’m a fair tracker. Not the best, by any stretch. But I can manage to find something more often than not. So it’ll probably be worth lookin’. That’s actually what led me to think somethin’ else went on with Reverend Benton.”

“See, that day I went out to his house. The parsonage. After I took a few circles around the place, I happened upon a few tracks, but...they were odd. They were fresh enough to have been made around the last time anyone had seen the preacher, at least by my estimate. And they were boot prints, kind you see most who ride or work the range wearin’. But they were faint. Real light. Like the person who made ‘em didn’t weigh hardly anything.”

Albert nodded at Bauer's commentary. "Folk that don't like deputies...ain't the sorta circles in which I'd like ta make friends, ma'am. Not that I'm keen on makin' enemies either. But I'd like ta help make things better round here. And avoidin' helpin' good folk ain't no way ta do that."

Albert's brow creased in thought as he considered the mystery surrounding the last preacher. "When ya say - didn't weight hardly nuthin' - do ya mean a slender gal like yerself? A child wearin' boots too big? Or somethin' even lighter'n that?"

”Boot prints were the size you’d expect to find on a grown man,” Bauer explains, taking another sip of her coffee, ”But whoever was in ‘em might’ve weighed as much one of young ‘uns in Señorita Perez’ classroom. Steps that just made a dent in the dirt.”

“The footing was too sure for it to’ve actually been a little one wearing boots that were too large. Whoever it was, it looked to me like they were trying to approach Reverend Benton’s house without being seen.”

Albert looked perplexed at that bit of information. "Hm. That's a might peculiar, ma'am."

He arched an eyebrow. "An' when ya followed them light bootprints? Where'd they lead?"

”North. Up to the Rio Bonito, where I lost the trail.”

“About halfway there, northwest of town, I came across...I don’t know what you’d call it. A trench, I reckon? A spot in the ground where it looked like somethin’ large had dug itself out of the dirt, then tore hell out of the grass for a good piece. Until, like the footprints, it hit the river, where it stopped.”

Albert frowned at this news. "Well, damn. That's more'n just peculiar - bit frightenin' as well. What sorta track did, uh, the thing that emerged leave behind?"

Buaer chews on her lower lip. ”I’m not sure you’d call it a track, but...wherever it had traveled, it tore the soil up. Turned up rocks and pulled the grass free as it went. The marks in the dirt were...jagged. Like you’d see made by a plough blade, only several of ‘em. Not just one.”

She drains her cup. ”I promise you, I hadn’t been drinkin’”

Albert shook his head as he thought. "No, I'm sure it's just like ya tell it. But that's mighty mysterious. Ain't sure what that means, zactly. You got any hunches?"

Bauer’s demeanor shifts slightly. She looks at Cooper uncertainly, then down at her cup. ”I...had a thought or two. Asked a few questions. But...well, it’s not anything that’s gonna get anyone in locked up in the county jail.”

“It’s more like...local superstition.”

Albert nodded slowly at Lana's response. "What sorta local superstition? I gotta say that I've seen a lotta supposed superstition that turned out ta be not so much. Lately. If that makes any sense."

Her brow wrinkles. ”You’re talking about the little ones. And all that strange business with the schoolhouse.”

She lets out a soft sigh, turning her empty cup. ”The Mescalero Apache...they’ve got quite a few legends about this valley and the Capitan Mountains. Especially the mountains.”

“There’s an old story about a brave who murdered a squaw’s husband and her family, because he couldn’t have her in marriage. Ended up being hunted down, killed. He wasn’t given a proper burial because of his actions. The terror he’d brought to his tribe.”

“The tale says he came back. Gathered his scattered bones together, but he didn’t stop there. He kept collecting all the fragments of the dead he could find. Became some sort of monster that tore up the land wherever he passed. Tried to wipe out the people that had survived him. Was only destroyed when one of the Apache warriors was able to reach his black heart and crush it.”

Claire Ramsey refills Cooper and Bauer’s cups.

”It sounds like a fairy tale, I know. But that business about the dirt bein’ torn up. It just...made me wonder.”

Albert tipped his head side-to-side. "Ain't the only thing like that I've seen...but that's a fine example. What if that Apache fellow's been called back? Or mebbe someone else had the same fate? Don't s'pose there's any more details ta how it was beaten?"

”I haven’t heard nothin’ else about how it was killed. But the fella that told me the legend...he’s made himself scarce around here. I’ve been meanin’ to ask Renata Montaño about it, just haven’t had the chance to go by her store lately. I’ve been out on the range a bit, keepin’ watch on other things.”

She is silent for a moment, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. Finally, she asks, “If I show you somethin’, you think you could keep it a secret for the time bein’? Not tell anyone?”

That was another reason for Albert to visit with Montaño. It was on his list, but hadn't risen to the top yet.

Albert nodded. "Sure am capable of keepin' a secret, ma'am. No one will hear it from me."

Bauer reaches into the pocket of her vest and draws out a small, clothbound blood, its dark cover well worn. She slides it across the table to Cooper.

”Reverend Benton...he kept a journal. Lot of what’s in there is what you’d expect. Talk about some of the difficulties he was havin’, leadin’ the church here. Thoughts about the Good Book. But...toward the end, right before he disappeared, he came across some trouble. Couple or three folks dug up in the cemetery.”

Albert took a deep breath, then sighed. "I've seen things like that before. Heard bout even more. Folk dug up in the cemetery always seem ta lead ta bad things. Seems like mebbe he got snatched cuz he saw somethin' someone didn't want seen, eh?"

The puzzle pieces were fitting into place, but Albert didn't like what the end product was looking like.

She nods. ”It’s what I’m thinkin’.” She taps the cover of the book. ”Right near the end of this journal, the Reverend made reference to takin’ a ride out toward Angus, southwest of here. Seems like somethin’ led him to believe whoever was diggin’ folks up might be hidin’ out there.”

Albert raised both eyebrows slowly as more pieces fit into place. "Hm. Mebbe after seeing if we c'n track down that ruffian, we mebbe take a ride out toward Angus? I might be able ta get a few other folk ta help out."

She leans back in her chair, regarding him for a moment. ”I ain’t gonna lie. I’d be beholden to you if you’d consider doin’ that. Just how serious some of my fellow deputies take their duties...well, it varies quite a bit. I need some help if I’m gonna keep on the Reverend’s trail.”

“But...these friends of yours. Don’t take this the wrong way...are they level headed sorts? It’s just, we’ve had our share of problems around here with folks who think they know best where the law’s concerned. Billy the Kid’s people...the Regulators...they believe they’re in the right of things, and maybe in some ways they are, but I’m afraid they’re gonna end up makin’ everything worse for all of us.”

“Your people aren’t cut from that kind of cloth are they?”