Before all had departed the Patron House on the night prior, Ava Winter had told Tamsin that she would be watching the Montaño Store at sunrise for Renata Montaño, who anticipated having several things to attend to. She asked that Tamsin meet her there, assuring her fellow herbalist that she would have breakfast there for them both.

When Tamsin enters the Montaño Store, she finds a plate filled with tortillas, beans, eggs, and salsa awaiting her. Winter, who is moving some sacks of dry goods, greets her warmly. ”You were very courageous last night,” Winter tells her, ”You and your friends are to be commended for bringing those little ones home safely.”

“Now, I know you’d mentioned collecting some things over at that accursed farmhouse. Let’s have a look at what you found.”

 “Thanks, but it was nothing,” Tamsin says with a shrug between bites, one hand for eating, the other to make a shoo gesture.. “What do I owe you?”, she says as she points at her breakfast.

When she finishes eating, Tamsin pulls out the jars she had collected the night before. “I grabbed everything I could fit.”

Winter studies the captured vines silently for several minutes. Sighing softly, she asks, ”Tamsin, tell me about what was there in the farmhouse. What was holding those children captive?”

“A scarecrow. Supposedly it was... no, is Old Man Blair. One of ‘em, at any rate. There was another, smaller one dead in a back room. And a ranch hand. Guess he got too close to the house.”

Tamsin pauses for a moment. He shouldn’t have died, but there was nothing she could have done about it. Strangulation was one of those things that was hard to come back from.

“They were made of vines. Hands ended in thorns made like claws, at least the small one. Pumpkins for heads.”

Winter folds her hands on the table. ”You may not know this, but some of the stories about Elliot Blair don’t paint him as a bad man. At least not in the beginning. He had ambitions of making the Rio Bonito Valley full of rich farmland, where all manner of crops grew easily. And he believed he could use folk magic, brought over from England and Ireland, to accomplish it.”

She shakes her head. ”Something went terribly wrong for him along the way. His ambitions took him down a dark path.”

“What I don’t understand is why he would help these outlaws kidnap innocent children. Even if he was a monster.”

She falls silent a moment. ”Although...Señora Montaño has told me that one of the first people that Mr. Blair reached out to for support when he settled here in the valley was L.G. Murphy.”

“I don’t doubt it. And that might explain some of what I found- someone was trying to combine plants.”

Tamsin glances around the store to make sure no one is around. “We were told that the children kidnapped were from families causin’ problems for Mr. Murphy. One of the men who works for him was ordered by Jesse Evans to take care of them.”

She paused for a moment, brow furrowing. “He also said that one of the only times he saw Old Man Blair was when Blair was watchin’ the children. Maybe he was watchin’ over ‘em.”

Scarecrows were supposed to scare things off, after all.

“Maybe there was something worse in store for them or him if he didn’t?”

”One thing I have always appreciated about you, Tamsin, is how you consistently try to find the good in others,” Winters says with a warm smile.

She scoops up her poncho from the chair beside her. ”One of Renata’s daughters should be along any minute now to watch the store. Would you object to taking a ride with me this morning? Just a little way north of town?”

“Very rarely have I seen someone with no good in ‘em,” Tamsin says, wiping her hands off on her skirt. “I would be happy to come along with you. What are we off to do?”

”Have a history lesson. Of sorts,” Winter says, rising from her seat, ”You’ve already seen some of the strange things this valley can produce. I think it’s a good time to acquaint you with a few more.”

“I’m going to step over to the boarding house in a moment, gather a few items to take along. If you wouldn’t mind, could you collect our horses from Mr. Ellis? I’ll be along momentarily.”

Lincoln’s Main Street is still largely empty, save for a few people loitering on the porch of Wilson’s Saloon, and shopkeepers opening their stores for the day’s business. Venturing across to the Ellis Store and Livery, Tamsin finds Ike Ellis carrying two pails of water over to the stables. He smiles and nods when he sees her. ”Morning, Miss River. What brings you over so early?”

“Good morning, Mr. Ellis,” Tamsin replies. “I’m here to grab Lydia as well as Miss Winters’ horse. Off for a ride,” she says with a gesture to the North, shrugging as she finishes with a single word, “Plants.”

Ellis leads Tamsin over to the stables, pulling open the door to allow her inside. ”You know, ma’am, what you and Miz Winter manage to do with those plants is nothin’ short of miraculous sometimes. I think the two of you manage to outdo Doc Wood, with all his book learnin’, on many an occasion.”

He opens Lydia’s stall. The horse nickers softly, recognizing Tamsin. ”Course, the Doc ain’t jealous. He’s told me we have to be open to anything that can help bring comfort and help to folks. You might not know this, ma’am, but he went and lived with some of the Navajo over in the Arizona territory some time back. Learned about some of their cures from one of their medicine men.”

Tamsin chuckles and shakes her head at the comparison to the doctor. “Sometimes you need a doctor. Sometimes you need a healer.”

She runs her hand down the horse’s neck as Ellis continues. “Did he really? Perhaps I should have a chat with him, then, too. He still lives by the McSweens, doesn’t he?”

”He does, indeed,” Ellis says as he assists Tamsin in saddling Lydia, ”You’ll find him right personable, ma’am. I think pretty highly of him, myself. One of the kindest souls to settle here in the valley in the last several years.”

Apparently eager for a run at the open country, Lydia nudges Tamsin on the shoulder with her nose.

Ellis sets to work saddling up Winter’s paint mare as the herbalist appears in the door of the stable, a burlap sack tied on one shoulder. ”Good morning, Mr. Ellis,” she says cheerfully. ”If you have a spare shawl, you might want to keep it handy,” she tells Tamsin, ”It will probably be a touch cool where we’re headed.”

Once Winter’s mount is prepared, she climbs into the saddle, leading Tamsin and Lydia out of the back doors of the stable northward. The horses’ hooves splash as they cross a low point of the Rio Bonito, then Winter urges her mare to a steady gallop as the pair move toward the pine spotted foothills of the Capitan Mountains.

OOC: Tamsin, kindly give me a Notice roll.

03:37, Today: Tamsin River rolled 11,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max (((6+5)11,1)).

Tamsin Pats her horse’s nose, murmuring to her to be patient before turning back to Ellis.

“Good to hear. I’ll stop in with him when I come back, then. Thank you, Mr. Ellis, you have a good day now!”

She turns to look at Ava. “All right. Shall we?”

As the pair enter the foothills, a sense of unease settles over Tamsin, though at first, she cannot see any reason for her feelings. Daylight has overtaken the Rio Bonito Valley, the sky a bright blue, feathery clouds drifting across its expanse. A cool breeze drifts along with her and Ava Winter as they ride, prompting a whisper from the leaves of the nearby trees, the scent of pine and wildflowers lingering as it passes.

But then, looking about Tamsin notices it. The grass, despite having plenty of sunlight, is thin and stunted. The wild plants are few, and those that are present are not thriving. Only a small number of flowers bloom. The nearby pine trees show signs of ill health, their trunks thin, many of their needles brown.

The area is quiet. Too quiet. Only a handful of birds and insects can be heard in the vicinity. Where wildlife should be thriving, there are few living things present.

Winter slows her mare to a walk. Noticing Tamsin taking in her surroundings, the older herbalist asks, ”What is it? What do you see?”

A shiver goes down her spine, and it’s not from the cold. Something is wrong. Today, in the light of day, she can see everything clearly. ”It’s dying,” Tamsin says, gesturing to the land before them. ”You and I both know that this isn’t what it should look like this time of year. The grass is barely grown more than seedlings, things aren’t flowering that should, even the pine trees.”

”You’re absolutely right,” Winter replies, ”This valley...it never lacks for sun or rain. It’s not perfect ground for everything, but native herbs and grasses should have an easy time thriving here.”

“But they don’t. This struggle you’re seeing. It isn’t new. There are patches here and there in the mountains where everything does well. And on the other side of the range, it looks like Springtime most of the year. But when we go up further, you’ll see, more and more, sections where nothing grows at all. Not because it can’t. The soil’s fine. It just doesn’t. It hasn’t for decades.”

“Why?” Tamsin asks. “Well, I suppose that’s the history lesson you’re planning on today.”

Her brow furrows, trying to wrap her mind around it all.

Winter smiles and nods. ”It is, but I have to confess in advance that I’m woefully bereft of some answers. There is much about these mountains that we don’t know.”

She circles her mount, guiding the horse toward a clear path that leads further up the slope. ”Come along. Just a little further up. I don’t want us to go too far, but there’s a bit more that I want you to see. Then I can share with you all that I’ve heard over the years.”

OOC: Kindly provide me with another Notice roll.

03:39, Today: Tamsin River rolled 11,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+5)11,5.  Notice.

“I suppose someone will eventually figure it out,” Tamsin muses as she follows. What more is there to see?

The path leads up a slope that, in spots, becomes steep, often veering into deeply shadowed trails that wind among tall piñon and pine trees, their needled branches blocking all but the faintest of light from the morning sky above. River can hear faint bird calls in the vicinity, along with the rustle of wildlife, jackrabbits and squirrels, moving through the brush as they go about their errands. Here and there, an insect buzzes past.

As the two women continue to ascend, the warmth recedes, the cool mountain air giving way to a chill that is more akin to the feeling of winter. Tamsin feels the tingle of numbness make itself felt in her fingertips, the end of her nose, and her ears. Just as she has begun to steel herself to the shift in temperature, she realizes that all is silent. The air is unmoving, The insects, birds, and animals have all declined to follow she and Ava into the area they have ventured into.

River’s mare nickers nervously as she and Ava emerge into a partial clearing. Tamsin can see that they have reached a clear, if somewhat narrow, trail that appears to lead well into the heights of the mountain. But it is what surrounds the trail that seizes her attention.

All is dead. The tall trees continue to stand in their places, their trunks blackened by the absence of life, their branches skeletal and bare. The mountain grasses and flowers are present, but frozen in a state of ruin; gray, brittle, and lifeless, all hints of color drained from them. Even the sky above seems somehow muted, the warm reach of the sun limited somehow by the inertia of the place they find themselves in.

The air is dry, free of moisture. Lydia’s hooves bring puffs of dust with every step. Ava halts her mount. She remains silent, allowing Tamsin time to absorb what she is witnessing.

“Shhh. It’s all right, Lydia.”

Tamsin brings her horse to a stop so she can take it all in. Everything here is just... she looks up to the sky and somehow even the sun seems dulled where she is standing. Her fingers reach out to graze one of the dead leaves- could something be unusually dead

Perhaps it could, Tamsin realizes as she brushes the leaf with her fingers. Unlike plants left to the ravages of winter, it is not brittle. It does not threaten to crumble immediately beneath her touch. Rather, it is almost as though it is preserved. Frozen in the instant that the last vestiges of life left it. A gray shadow of what it once once, somehow still whole, and without a trace of warmth.

Tamsin rubs the leaf between her fingers. “So what...” Tamsin isn’t even sure what she wants to know any more. “What is happening?”

Winter shakes her head. ”The Mescalero call this a place of emptiness. They say that death, not life rules here, and it has since before their people ever came to the mountain.”

She looks at Tamsin. ”I don’t know what you believe, Tamsin. But I’m inclined to think they’re telling the truth. The few times that I have heard of where people insisted on crossing through this...blight ended in tragedy. And regardless of what the seasons bring...wind to carry more seedlings, rain to feed the earth...this part of the mountain is always the same.”

“I think that something is here. Something that is best left alone. Alone to its place.”

”Do you know what that something is?” Tamsin muses,  not expecting an answer. I’d like to find out.

”I don’t. But, like you I would like to learn its name,” Winter answers, reaching down to pat her horse’s neck reassuringly. ”I think that if we could discover the true nature of what makes its home here, put it to rest somehow, the fortunes of this valley would change. For the better.”

She turns her mount about. ”I think you’ve seen enough. We shouldn’t linger. Let’s ride back to the store.”

OOC: Go ahead and give me one last Notice roll.

8:42, Today: Tamsin River rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  Red chip. Add to Notice.
17:37, Today: Tamsin River rolled 3,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1.  Notice

Tamsin nods in agreement.  “Yes, back to the store. And then I need to go see Doc Woods.”

”Oh, really? What business do you have with Doctor Wood?” Winter asks.

In the distance, Tamsin perceives the faint, but undeniable sounds of gunfire, coming from the direction of Lincoln.

“I heard he learned a thing or two when he went off to Arizona. If not, I’m sure he’ll be good for conversation.”

Tamsin twists her head to listen. “Sounds like we might be needed in short order.

Winter’s brow creases in concern at the sound of the distant gunshots. ”I fear you’re right. Let’s hurry.”

A steady breeze picks up during the two women’s ride south into Lincoln, the air picking up the sharp chill from the upper reaches of the mountains and carrying it below. The wind whistles through the stands of spruce and pines as Tamsin and Ava reenter the valley, a journey that feels to Tamsin eerily like reentering the land of the living.

As the pair sight Lincoln, they can see a large group of people departing Ike Ellis’ store. As they draw closer they can see that one individual, a younger man in a dark colored duster, has remained behind to speak with the liveryman. Ellis listens to him intently, nodding in agreement more than once.

When the riders reach the stables, the young man moves to take his leave. Ellis looks to the two women, his expression friendly, but somber. ”You ladies run into any trouble on your ride?”

Tamsin shakes her head. Bizarre as it was- she’s still trying to wrap her head around it- there was no trouble up in the mountains, exactly. ”Well, we didn’t. But we did hear gunshots.” Her eyes glance to the departing group before flickering back to Ellis. ”Anyone hurt?”

”Killed actually,” Ellis answers, ”Young fella. Just twenty years old. Name of Tom O’Folliard. Lived here all his life.”

“I’ve got to put together a coffin for him this afternoon. Get everything ready so Father Narvaez can have his service tomorrow afternoon.” He glances out at the street, then back at the stables, as though to confirm their conversation is private. ”I’ve got him laid out in my cellar. I wonder...would the two of you object to having a look at him?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tamsin says, face neutral. Best not to agitate anyone any more. Her eyes follow Ellis’, and she nods. I wouldn’t object at all. Will you take us to him or shall we take ourselves?

”No, no,” the stable owner answers, ”I’ll take y’all over.”

Leading the pair past the stables, Ellis walks around the back of his store, approaching the closed door of a storm cellar. Opening them, he proceeds down a set of wooden steps into a cellar that is cool in temperature, dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Stretched out on a long table is a young man with hair the color of sand, his face clean shaven, his eyes closed. His arms rest at his sides. ”Tom,” Ellis explains simply.

At a cursory glance, Tamsin notes that she cannot see any immediately identifiable injuries on the young man’s person.

OOC: Give me a Healing roll. Don’t forget that you’re entitled to a +2 bonus on the roll.

Tamsin frowns as she looks at the man on the table. “Doesn’t look like he was shot, so what did happen?” she asks, going in to examine him with her hands

16:21, Today: Tamsin River rolled 3,5 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max ((1,3)).

Ellis moves to pull the doors of the storm cellar closed. Placing her fingers on Tom O’Folliard’s wrist, Tamsin detects a faint, but steady, pulse.

The stable owner shoves his hands into his pockets, his expression pensive. ”Can you ladies keep a secret?” he asks.

"Sometimes an open ear and a closed mouth are all someone needs to heal," Tamsin says simply in reply. "What was the shooting about?"

Ellis licks his lips and swallowed. ”There’s a bad fella here, name of Jesse Evans. He and his gang were causin’ trouble around this part of New Mexico before all this fighting over the range here in Lincoln started up.”

“Jesse works for Lawrence Murphy. The official word is that he and his friends tend Mr. Murphy’s range. But everyone knows better. They’re there to enforce Mr. Murphy’s wishes. Way I heard it told, it was some of Evans’ crew that went around, talkin’ to the parents of the little ones that disappeared, tellin’ ‘em to cut out their talk against Mr. Murphy and his outfit.”

“This young woman, goes by Kansas Kate, she’s tryin’ to work her way into Evans’ gang, so she can find out about what their plans are. Pass what she learns on to others who can put a stop to it. Evans told her to shoot Tom here dead. Tom used to be one John Tunstall’s hands. Now he’s part of that group they call the Regulators...young people that Judge Wilson deputized to hunt down John’s murderers.”

“One of Tom’s fellow Regulators, man who goes by Doc, has this...trick. He can touch someone, make ‘em fall asleep for a time. Unless you look real close, it seems they’re dead. That’s what he did to Tom. So it appeared like Kate had done what Evans had asked.”

He glances at the two healers. ”I need you ladies’ help. Doc told me when Tom here comes to, he’s not gonna be feelin’ too well. Shakin’ all over, like a fever. And also...well I need to see if you can help me hide him somewhere. Keep him out of sight until it’s safe again.”

Jesse Evans. Murphy. Good ole Kansas Kate...

Tamsin doesn’t say anything about knowing or knowing of them, of course. ”Of course we’ll help. Do you have a somewhere in mind?”

Ellis shakes his head. ”Been a long time since I helped anyone hide out,” he admits. ”I thought as well as you two ladies know the land, you might know of an out of the way place he could hunker down.”

”I might,” Winter volunteers. ”There’s a cave northeast of town, right on the edge of the foothills. Deep in some spruce, so not too easy to find, but close enough to the river to make getting water easy.”

She looks over at Tamsin. ”I’ve used it previously when I was on an extended hunt for herbs. Mind helping me move Thomas over there?”

”Sounds like we have a plan then,” Tamsin says. ”We’ll move Thomas to this cave of yours, Ava. We just need to make sure Jesse Evans doesn’t find out we’re doing it.”

”I’ve got a cart you could use,” Ellis offers. “I’ll hitch it up to one of my horses, load up Tom and put a tarp over him. That should get you out of town without any questions. Course, if someone’s real curious, you ladies can say you’re off to gather some plants.”

“You want some company, in case of trouble? I can’t leave the shop, but I’m sure I can rustle someone up to go along with you.”

”Well, now we really have a plan. We probably should have someone come along,” Tamsin says with a nod.

Ellis nods and departs, leaving the two healers in the company of the inert form of O’Folliard. Winter places her hand on his chest, feeling for the almost indetectible beat of his heart. She looks to Tamsin. ”The people that you went with to find the children. Do you think any of them could be trusted with this secret?”

Ellis returns with a young, red haired woman. ”This here’s Miss Kearney. She’s a mustanger. Good people. Has family in San Patricio. She’s helped out a time or two when things have taken a bad turn here in town.”

”We’ve all met,” Kearney says with a friendly smile. ”I understand we’re takin’ Tom here to a hidin’ spot east of town. If you two would be willin’ to drive the cart, I can ride ahead, make sure no one sees us. Handle any trouble that might crop up.”

”We can do that,” Tamsin says with a nod to Aileen before turning back to Ellis. She softened her voice. ”Does anyone else know he’s still alive? And when should we expect him to wake?”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Sat 20 Oct 2018.

”I think Miss Thornton was in on the secret,” Ellis says, ”But outside of her, Kate, and those of us here, I don’t think anyone else is aware.”

He glances over at O’Folliard. ”Way Doc explained it, he should wake up in a couple of hours or so. I kinda figured it wise if we moved him out of Lincoln before then. I just didn’t want to risk anyone catching sight of him walkin’ around. But he’ll need someone there when he comes to. I reckon he’ll be mighty confused.”

“I’ll do my best to keep it that way,” Tamsin says. “Yes, best to clear Lincoln before then. I don’t want to have to explain to anyone why our cart is making human noises, either.”

The three women and Ellis move Tom O'Folliard's still form into the cart. Ellis covers it with a canvas tarp, then places a handful of empty burlap sacks atop it, the sort that might be used to collect gathered plants.

Kearney discusses the destination with Ava Winter, then collects her mount, leading the group east. Tamsin finds that Mr. Ellis' cart is sturdily constructed, but provides for an occasionally jolting ride on the uneven road. The air remains cool, the tall pines flanking the path providing plentiful shade.

Just as Winter tells Kearney that they are nearing the point where they will need to turn northward, a rider appears on the trail, traveling west toward Lincoln. He is tall and lean, his features partially obscured beneath the wide brimmed hat he wears.

"Afternoon!" he calls in greeting.

”Good afternoon,” Tamsin calls in reply. ”Off to Lincoln?”

The rider draws closer. Peeking out from beneath his duster, River spies a silver star pinned to his shirt, identifying him as one of the deputies serving under the Lincoln County Sheriff. His tan face is covered with several days worth of stubble. He regards the group with curious frown.

Nodding he says, ”I am headed into town, matter of fact. Comin’ back in from helpin’ a farmer that lives out east a piece find one of his horses. He thought the thing had been stolen.”

His gaze falls on the cart. ”And what takes you ladies out this way?”

OOC: Tamsin, give me a Notice roll, please.

03:18, Today: Tamsin River rolled 5,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5.  Notice.

“Stolen? I’m sorry to hear that,” Tamsin says. ”We’re the herbalists. Miss Winter is showing me where to go when I need to get some of the more wild herbs we use. Some of them don’t grow well outside of their particular field.”

River notices Aileen Kearney visibly tense when she recognizes the rider. The mustanger manages a smile as he draws nearer and says, "I'm just along to make sure they don't run across any trouble. With the problems we've had with the wolves lately, it seemed the smart thing to do."

"Sure. That's sensible," the deputy agrees. Peering at the cart again, he asks, "You lookin' for anything in particular?"

That was not a good sign. But Tamsin had dealt with worse, hadn’t she?

”Anything I can use, but no particular herbs, no. Although if you do know where I can find anything in particular, my ears are always open.”

The deputy looks back to River, considering. ”Well, I admit I’m in the habit of picking spearmint out on the trail. I’m fond of chewin’ the leaves. I saw quite a few patches of it a little ways east. I think I saw some goldenseal, too. But I’m no expert.”

His curiosity seeming to lessen, he adds. ”Well, you ladies be careful. Make sure you’re back in before dark. You know what night it is.” He tips his hat to the group.

”We’ll take a look sometime. Both are useful, so if we can keep conditions optimal for them, all the better.” Tamsin gives him a wave in farewell. ”Of course. Thank you.”

She waits for him to leave, stealing a glance at Aileen.

The deputy urges his horse forward at a slow trot. After a few moments, he is out of view.

Kearney lets out a slow breath. "That was Wrias Raines," she explains to River and Winter, "Almost everyone around here suspects that he's in Lawrence Murphy's pocket. That he's not to be trusted."

"Rumor is, he's been prety brutal with some of the prisoners at the jail."

Tamsin frowns. “Better get moving before he thinks up any more questions. He seemed awfully interested in our cart.”

"I agree. The quicker we're on our way...and away from him, the better," Winter says.

For the remainder of the journey, the only company the three women have is the whisper of the cool wind as it travels through the pines and the occasional buzz of a passing hummingbird. Kearney manages to locate the cave, largely screened by a grouping of blue spruce. It is empty, as expected, the dark aperture continuing back into the earth for almost twenty feet. A shelf of rock on the left of the small cavern provides what could serve as a reasonable bunk. From nearby, the women can hear the sound of the Rio Bonito's flowing waters.

Glancing back into the cart, River notices a few slow movements from beneath the canvas tarp, suggesting that Tom O'Folliard is beginning to awaken.

Tamsin is uneasy for the rest of the trip, the arrival at the cave bringing relief- nothing else had happened. The cave certainly did look like a good place to keep him safe; tucked far enough away, and in a hidden enough space that no one was likely to find it, water nearby just like Ava had said.

Tamsin’s head quirks at the noise. ”We got here at the right time,” she says, dismounting to go to the cart. ”Tom? It’s Tamsin River, the flower girl. We’re going to take care of you,” she said gently, moving to slowly uncover his face as she did so. Once one person got you in the face during a fever you knew to be careful.

O’Folliard groans, one hand settling on his forehead. He blinks up at River, then glances around at his surroundings. ”Miss River? I heard of you. You’re...you’re the lady what fixes folks up with plants. I...”

“Ma’am where am I? And how is it you’re takin’ care of me?”

“We’re on a cave far enough out of town that no one should find us,” Tamsin says. ”Well..
 do you remember what happened?

”There was a lady. Never seen her before. But she’d been hired out to do me in. Only, rather than do the deed, she just wanted to make it look like it had happened. I was mighty thankful for that. Seems she’s tryin’ to get in good with Jesse Evans. Find out what he and his people are plannin’.”

He sits up, rolling his shoulders stiffly. ”Then, I think Doc put me to sleep. He can do that. But I don’t rightly know how. And that’s the last I recall.”

He frowns at River. ”I’m sure appreciative for you takin’ me to a safe place, ma’am. But...if I might ask, why’d you do it? Why risk your neck for someone like me?”

Tamsin listens, nodding along with the story. “That’s the same story I heard. That’s good,” she says. She pauses at his question, almost startled by it. “Like you said, I fix folks with plants. Never turned away anyone who’s asked, and I was asked to take care of you “

O’Folliard nods, his expression one of earnest gratitude. ”Well I’m obliged to you, ma’am. Later on, when some of this trouble’s at an end, if there’s anything this cowhand can do for you or your friends, you just have to ask.”

The three women are able to arrange a modest shelter for O’Folliard in a short space of time. Ava Winter makes certain that the young man understands where he is in relation to the river, so he can fetch water as the need arises. Tamsin River schools the ranch worker on the two types of berries that grow nearby that are safe to eat, along with the other variety that isn’t. Aileen Kearney gathers some pine needles and leaves to line the stone shelf of the cave, transforming it into a serviceable bed. The mustanger also supplies O’Folliard with a bag of jerked beef and hardtack.

Winter and River are able to gather goldenseal, yarrow, and amaranth. They place the plants in the cart in plain view, in case they encounter another curious soul on their return trip to Lincoln. Kearney indicates that the cave is along one of the routes she takes to seek horses and that she will check on O’Folliard the following day. O’Folliard asks if the mustanger can bring him a bottle of whiskey.

Kearney leads the group back along the trail to Lincoln. Above, the sky has begun to grow dark with the coming of evening. ”We get back to town, we need to get indoors. The wagon train rolls through tonight.”

“Miss Thornton lets some folks she trusts hole up in her saloon for the evening. It’s a good place to the pass the time. And it’s safe.”

Within a short time, Lincoln’s Main Street, shadowed with dusk, rolls into view.