Albert was a little surprised at what greeted them. Only he wasn't too surprised. He'd seen some weird stuff in his life. This was up there, though. He waved at the pair. "Howdy, folks. We, uh, came from thataway." Albert tossed his thumb over his shoulder as if that explained everything. "Y'all havin' a good day?"

"Whut in th' blue hell."  Kansas Kate wondered, trying to decide if these two were going to turn into devils or something else and attack them.  She let some of the more... palatable individuals handle the initial discussion however.

The man steps over to the footbridge, his expression one of amazement. ”That’s...well that’s really somethin’. Nobody’s come here from that direction in...well, in a long, long time.”

He looks over the gathered riders. ”Ya’ll look like you’ve just come from some kind of ruckus. Any of you hurt? Need a place to rest or some food? If you want to follow me just a little piece...”

His voice trails off and his complexion pales. When he finds his voice again, he speaks hesitantly. ”Andrew? Andrew Roberts? Is that you?”

Roberts takes a few steps forward, studying the man with narrowed eyes. After a moment, he blinks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Tate Bridges? That you under that beard?”

“Tate how...how are you here? How are you alive? I thought you and your whole family were...lost.”

”We thought the same of you, Andrew. Figured you for dead.”

He looks uncertainly at the rest of the riders. ”As to how we came to be here...well, that’s somethin’ of a story. One I’m not certain you and your friends might believe.”

Dr. Wayland suddenly relaxed a bit at the sight of it all.  The lightning gun is tilted back against his shoulder as though he just had no need of it here.  It also freed a hand to fish around in his pockets for his small bag of lemon drop candies.  Which he finds with a rumpling crumple of brown paper.  He let his attention wander, taking the lovely sight in to remember it by.  Certainly the nicest of the traps he has found himself in and not a bad place to go out really. At the assertion that they might not believe the old man's story, the doctor gave a wan grin, "Ah find myself believing awl sorts of things these days, sah."

"This is a time for unbelievable stories. If you don't mind sharing, I think some of us would be most interested in your tale."

"I think all of us could do with a rest and some water for the horses," Jacinta added to the sentiment of the others.  "And we probably have a few unbelievable stories that we could tell in exchange.  It's taken a toll getting to this place."

"Ain't nothin' ya could say that would be beyond ennything ah could tell ya."  Kansas Kate piled on, not letting on any more than that.

"Does anyone else need tending to or should I focus on Ms. Bauer while the story is told?" Tamsin asks. "I'm sure whatever story you have to tell, we've seen stranger."

Bridges seems comforted by the riders’ willingness to believe him. When Castillo mentions the need for rest, he says, ”Your horses could water here at the stream. As to a place to rest...if you want to follow me, I can offer you a spot. And show you what I’m tryin’ to explain.”

He looks back to Roberts. ”Truth is Andrew, I’m still not entirely sure how my family and I were saved. In the moments where those...things, the shadows tore through the wagons...I thought it was over. That all was lost. That the next time I opened my eyes it would be to meet my Maker. Thankfully, I was mistaken.”

“But me and my family, we weren’t the only ones were rescued. Not everyone in the wagon train was saved, but a lot of us were.”

He points to the trail behind him. ”We made a home here. The wife and I, our house isn’t large...but we’ve got a big barn with a loft. It’s clean and warm.”

Kansas Kate wasn't sure what that meant.  That could either be good, or horrible.

But it didn't matter, Kansas Kate wanted to see what was in there regardless.  She put one foot out toward the destination, then the other.

You get steppin' ya two-bit whore!

Kansas Kate is Stubborn!

Jacinta nodded her thanks and started forward again, continuing down the path that led to the stream.  She left the horse untethered as it bent to drink deeply and gave the beast a pat on the flank.  Her mare was smart enough not to drink herself sick and loyal enough not to bolt unless her life was threatened.  As they seemed they might be staying for a bit, she removed her saddle and bags to give the mustang a little break.  The journey up the mountain had been taxing for them all.

Saddle on the grass and blanket spread out to dry, she carried her bags over her shoulder as she moved back to the trail, intent on following the stranger wherever he wished to lead so she could hear his story.

At the friendliness of their new acquaintances, Albert finally slid his gun back in its holster. He dismounted and followed Jacinta's lead, caring for Brandy in a similar way.

Satisfied that Brandy would be fine getting water and taking a rest, he made to follow along with the rest of the posse.

Dr. Wayland had no particular attachment to the borrowed horse he had been riding, other than having a horse out in the wilderness is probably handy.  But it seemed safe enough now with the other horses.  Besides, once he had resigned himself to the idea that this would be his final resting place, there was very little to worry about.  Not that he /wanted/ to die...but the trees really are quite lovely...

The Doctor's internal train of thought continued to clickety clack down his mental tracks to his own doom, belied by his relaxed grin.  As he followed the others, he offered out the bag of lemon drops to the Ranger.

Bridges’ son loads the last of the full buckets into the wagon. Patting the horse on the neck, he leads it to the trail which continues beyond the footbridge. Tate Bridges motions for the posse to follow him.

The pathway continues down a gentle slope, clusters of pine trees shading the trail on either side. From a nearby branch, a yellow breasted kingbird chatters its high pitched song.

“My family, and a bunch of others, we traveled up here on a wagon train. The train was the idea of a fella that was once in the Army, name of Lawrence Murphy. He told everyone that he’d scouted the Capitan Pass. That if we took a wagon train up through it, it was a fast route into the Arizona Territory, then California. We’d all heard the stories about California. Rich land that was free for the taking. Wild steer waiting to be caught. Gold. Ghost rock. Seemed like an easy path to a better life.”

He looks back at the riders following him, shaking his head in regret. ”We shouldn’t have gone. Not a one of us. Those promises of an easy life...they were just talk. Every one of us let Murphy talk us into leaving something that was better behind. Most of us had homes, farms down there in the valley. We had something real. Or at least the beginning of something. It would’ve taken work. Always does, but...it would’ve led to a good life. Sometimes, I guess it’s just real easy to lose sight of what you already have.”

“Mr. Murphy...he was after something up here. Something...bad. I’ve had a lot of years to think about it and I recall seeing Murphy struggle to get up on his horse. How he walked like a fella twice his age. He’d been hurt real bad. Maybe in the war, or some other time. I’ve wondered if he thought this darkness that lived up here could make him whole again.”

He pauses, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder. ”Whatever it was, he was willing to give us up to it to get what he was after. All of us.”

“When we drew close to High Lonesome, Murphy said he was going to ride ahead a piece. Told us there was tricky country up ahead. When we caught up to him, we found him standin’ in the middle of an old burial ground. The sort where Indian folk bury their kin. The graves, they were up on poles, and Murphy was cutting down some of things that were tied to them. Beads and such. And he’d smeared blood all over the place. He was singing...or chanting. I don’t really know what you’d call it. But it’s plain to me now that he was waking the darkness up.”

“All of a sudden, it was like nighttime. And all these things came for us. Out of the dark.”

“I tried to turn my wagon around. Thought maybe I could outrun it all. But the horses spooked and the wagon slid into a ditch. All I could do was pull my wife and my boy to me and...just wait.”

The trail winds around a group of ancient boulders, each one turned almost white by the elements and the passage of time. Past the massive stones, the pathway levels and the riders find themselves gazing at a wide clearing. Much of it is covered in knee high grana grass, but here and there, ruts have formed in the earth where feet and animals have frequently trod. Scattered throughout the plain are homes, more than a dozen, most having been built from raw timbers, giving them the appearance of large trapper’s cabins. Smoke rises from the chimneys of a few of them. The group can also spot a few stables and barns paired with several of the houses. Here and there, rectangular sections of land have been plowed and cultivated, and various vegetables and fruit grow there.

The homes form a very rough circle. At its center is an area that appears to be an approximation of a town square. Several cut logs have been placed for seating and flowers grow in neatly planted circles. A short distance from the square, a lone structure stands, built from adobe. Unlike the homes that are its neighbors, the square building is clearly very old, its walls and timbers deeply weathered.

”I closed my eyes tight, and then there came a noise, like a windstorm,” Bridges says, ”When I opened them again, I was here. Along with my family, and a lot of the others we traveled with. Of course, most of this wasn’t here yet.” He points to the adobe hut. ”Except for her home.”

With a nod of thanks, he accepted a lemon drop from Dr. Wayland, letting the sweet, citrus notes melt away while they followed on where they were being taken. There was a lot that he was thinking, perhaps wanted to say, but he had learned the better part of patience and taking the time to find the right words. At the moment, he didn't have them, so listening was best.

"Who would she be?" he asked. Obvious questions sometimes needed asking, or sometimes were meant to be asked.

Kansas Kate looked at these figures with some pity.  They weren't here.  Well, not in the sense the others were here anyway.

Echoes and shadows, is this all there is any more?

She stared at Bridges a moment, but her gaze soon went to the adobe.  She wished she had dynamite.

”Sara Gallardo...she and her family live there,” Bridges says, pointing out one of the homes on the western side. ”She was raised around the Mescalero. She used to translate for the garrison at Roswell.”

“Sara said that her name means something like ”Owl Mother”, but the language she speaks isn’t precisely like that of the Apaches. It’s...older, Sara thinks.”

“Most of us, we can understand her when she speaks to us. Not because of her words, but because you get...feelings, pictures in your head when she talks. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but I promise, it’s so.”

Roving Wolf approaches Bridges and places a hand on the man’s shoulder, gazing at him piercingly for a long, silent moment.

When he finally speaks, it is slowly, with great deliberation. ”Her power. It restored you to life. You and all those here. Being in this place, the winters have passed more slowly. She has...protected each of you.”

Bridges nods. ”If it had been up to Murphy, we all would have died. That was his plan, best I can grasp it. We were like some kind of sacrifice. For whatever created all those shadows. The fact that she kept us alive...it slowed his plan down. Kept him from gainin’ all the power he was after.”

“The Owl Mother...she's more than just a medicine woman. She’s, well, part of the mountain itself. It’s like...she is the mountain. But she’s not the only one up here. There’s something else. Like her sister. And that other thing, it don’t mean good for anybody.”

“It’s sort of like rain. You don’t have it, the streams dry up and the crops die. It gives life. But some storms, they just tear up everything in their path. Like a twister touching down in the middle of a town. Those bad storms...that’s the Owl Mother’s sister.”

A man and woman emerge from one of the nearby homes, each carrying empty wooden boxes. They see Bridges and wave, but pause as they notice the newcomers.

”Sometimes, the wrong kind of people can wake her up. Happened a long time ago, between some of the tribes that first lived here. Young men that wanted to take over, do away with their chiefs. They carried the sister’s power..the witch’s power with them into battle. But they failed. And the witch...the storm sister...she and her shadows went to sleep.”

“Murphy woke her. But more than that...he found her essence, her heart, and stole it. Took it down from the mountain. He doesn’t want her help. He wants her power for his own.”

As Bridges continues to speak, Bauer frowns, reaching up to touch her chest, the spot where she was shot. Checking the wound, she sees that it has somehow healed, only the ghost of a mark left on her skin.

Bridges gestures to the adobe hut. “The Owl Mother’s kept us here, hidden. She knew if Murphy knew we were still living, he’d come for us. But..”

He looks back at the riders. ”Her power...it’s fading. A lot of us...we think she’s dying. She and her sister are a balance. You can’t have one without the other. You can’t have rain clouds without lightning. They keep each other in check..but they also keep each other alive. Murphy taking the witch’s heart, it’s damaged everything. The mountains. The valley. Before long, I imagine it’ll all be dead. Dead and empty. I’m not sure Murphy knows that. Or if he would care if he did. But eventually, our home here will be gone. And he’ll find us.”

Albert nodded throughout the story, his attention fully on the man as he told the tale of the mountain. He kept hoping the answer at some point would be 'and then you need to shoot it with a magic bullet' but that never came up, unfortunately.

"So....sounds like we gotta find this storm witch's heart and return it ta put all back in balance?"

"How do we find it and take it away from Murphy?"  Kansas Kate, as usual, cut to the quick in the matter.  She didn't particularly care about this village, but she wasn't going to bother to blow it up either after listening to Bridges.