Jacinta gestured to the woman's house.  "Will she speak with us?  We wish to help restore this balance and put down Murphy in the process, if we can."

Tamsin, of course, had to touch every live plant she came across. ”If we can? After everything else we’ve had to deal with, wolves, pumpkins, spiders, this,“ she said, making a circle gesture, ”Murphy shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

Two other couples, one with three children, emerge from their homes, all regarding the newly arrived riders with open curiosity.

"I think that's the way of it," Bridges tells Cooper, "If ya'll were able to bring the heart back up here, bury it near the old cemetery, I think it would bring things back to the way they were meant to be. It would put the witch back to sleep. Put her under the care of her sister again."

Bridges frowns thoughtfully at Kate's question. "I can tell you this much. Wherever the witch's heart is, the land will be changed. It might not be drastic, but you'll be able to see the signs. Some of the plants and trees will probably be gray as charcoal, the soil hard as stone. It'll feel...different. It'll feel dead."

"Obviously, I haven't set foot in Lincoln since joining the wagon train. Back then, Mr. Murphy lived in town. Had an office in one of the front rooms of his house. But I'd be surprised if he kept it there. Lincoln would change too much. People would know something was wrong. Maybe he's got a second home somewhere? Or even a hideout? That's where I'd guess it would be."

"How about a ranch house? About half a days ride, southwest of town?" Roberts asks.

Bridges nods. "That sure sounds like a possibility to me." He shakes his head. "So, I guess Mr. Murphy went and made himself a cattle baron, after he got rid of all of us."

Looking to Castillo, he says, "I'm sure she'd be pleased to speak to any of you that wants to talk, ma'am. I reckon she knows you're here. Knows why you came." He grins. "You don't have to worry about introducing yourself or being real polite. She doesn't concern herself with such things. If you were raised out in the country...it's a little like talking with your grandmother."

"One thing...if you're expecting to see some sort of magic, or a big display of power, you might be a little disappointed."

Kansas Kate kept asking the important questions.  "Can th' heart be damaged by ennythin' ordinary?  Like'n if'n ah shot it wit' good ol' lead, would it suffer enny?"

She would need that dynamite.  Just not here.

Bridges blinks at Kansas Kate as though he does not understand her question. Then, comprehension dawning, he shakes his head. ”No, ma’am, I don’t figure it would. It’s kind of akin to trying to shoot the wind dead. Or thunder. I don’t imagine it would accomplish too much.”

Dr. Wayland had been simply enjoying the pleasant walk towards his certain doom.  Likely another lemon drop or two.  Just to pass the time before the inevitable destruction, you know.  He had little to add to the commentary, content to observe and listen for the time being.  Only occasionally muttering some odd comment or question to himself.

It really was a lovely day.

But something in Mr. Bridges answer to Kate drew him out of the doomed -but-content reverie and he suggested, "Well, cehtainly one cannot shoot the wind, but one can counteract the fohces at play.  Wind, being the movement of aiah due to tempahture change, could be made to "suffah", as she said, by denying the tempahture changes that cause it...   Or by countahacting it with a greatah movement of aiah.  Thundah is produced by aiah rushing back in to the vacuum created by the passage of a bolt of lightning through the medium of aiah.  Ah am uncertain how one might countahact that foahce, but I suppose one could, instead, focus on countahacting the pressah wave, which is really all the "sound" of thundah is.  Much like with the wind, you countahact the fohces with equal, but opposite fohces...."  The Doctor trailed off a bit, glancing around at those nearby, somewhat sheepishly, "Ah apologize... That may not have been helpful in the current circumstance...  Please, do go on."

Kansas Kate certainly did not look amused or educated by any of the discussion, but she seemed to tolerate it for as long as it went (who knows for how much longer though).

She put it curtly.  "Ah need somethin' that'll level that house an' destroy everythin' an' every 'un inside.  Destroy it good, ya hear me."

"You wanna blow up Murphy's ranch house, then go back and get the heart after the fact? I mean, I suppose it would work - but I don't know that Murphy's gonna let us get close enough that easy. If we make it back down, he'll know we know, and I'm guessin' he'll be tellin' his people to tool up."

He looked over at the old house nearby.

"I suppose I'm gonna wanna talk to this Owl Mother, if anyone wants to come with."

The Ranger took off his hat as he approached the house and knocked.

"Hello there," he said. He didn't know how exactly he was supposed to greet someone without introducing himself or being polite, but he figured just saying hello wouldn't do no harm.

Albert listened to the thoughts of some of the others, though hadn't really come to any conclusions himself. The cowboy nodded at Bryan as he asked if anyone wanted to join in the chatting.

Dr. Wayland actually smiled a bit at Kate's curt response.  He waited patiently for the Ranger to offer his take on it, before answering himself, "Oh theah ah a numbah of ways to destroy a house or other structcha.  Fiah is easy enough and, if applied correctly, would turn the house and its contents to ash.  Time may be a factah though....  You also might need to barricade and set up a perimetah to ensure that no one escaped before the fiah had completed the task.  An explosive would be quickah, but there would be quite a bit of uncertainty in precisely how much damage would be done...  That uncertainty would be lessened by the application of more explosives, but the size of the bomb would increase and thus slow your ability to set it..."  The Doctor does not seem all that bothered by the notion of firebombing or regular bombing of a residence with people inside it.  Probably just caught up in the details of the thought experiment....  Probably...

"Ranger's right on both counts.  Gotta be somethin' small where it could be run up on it easy.  Needs to be handy, small, but mighty pow'r'ful.  Needs ta make that house go 'way.  Ken ya do it?  Pack some ghostrock innit?"

Kansas Kate paced slowly.  She did think they should talk to that Owl Mother, it just occurred to her there may be an opportunity here.  If you have this tinkering fop with his two dollar words and (probably) a chemistry set tucked into his petticoats, why not take advantage of him?  But for now, as usual, she'd let less... horrible people break the ice.

Kearney watches Lee approach the adobe hut with a frown. Turning her attention back to the conversation between Kansas Kate and Dr. Wayland, she says, ”If the Doc here isn’t able to put together something that suits, I know of a group of prospectors that work the foothills and lower Capitan Mountains, north of Lincoln. They’re still convinced there’s gold to be found there. Came across ‘em while I was mustanging. They do some blasting up there. Might be willing to sell us some dynamite.”

She shrugs. ”So far as I know, in Lincoln, the only place to buy the stuff is at Murphy’s store.”

The door to the adobe home is built from rough cut boards, the uneven slats not providing a complete barrier against the elements. It swings open at Lee’s polite knock, revealing a single room beyond.

The room’s furnishings are homemade, each piece crafted from what the mountain has been able to provide. Against one wall are a set of crudely constructed shelves which hold a number of earthen containers and several colorful, hand woven blankets. Beside the shelves sits a small bed, its mattress filled with straw. A few chairs and stools are arranged around a hearth, in which a bright fire crackles. To the right of the fireplace sits a short table and two chairs. Light streams into the room through open windows in the eastern and western walls.

Seated at the table, weaving a piece of cloth which is bright blue, is a short, plump woman with silver hair tied in a braid. She is wearing a simple, clay colored dress, her dark eyes fixated on the task before her.

”Come in, Bryan,” she tells the Ranger, though the lawman is uncertain whether he heard her voice, or felt the words within his thoughts.

He walked in as he was bidden to do. It seemed like what she was doing here for these people was good, but it was no less unsettling, though it matched up with what the man had said.

"Well, seems like you already know the score here, so there's no point in me telling you what we're about here. You've done good for these people. I'd like to do the same for the area. What do we need to do to make that happen?" he asked.

Albert heard Bryan being called forth but stayed put as he wasn't asked to join. This was one of those times when the cowboy felt that the invitation or lack thereof was rather important. He kept his eye on the ranger though didn't join his advance choosing instead to linger by the door.

Jacinta had joined the Ranger as she wanted to see the Owl Mother for herself.  With her rifle hanging loosely in one hand, she took off her hat as she followed Bryan inside and threw a glance about the room.

Tamsin followed to the house. How could she not- the Owl Mother, right in front of her?

Fascinated as she is, Tamsin is still polite and that means to be quiet when others were speaking. She looks around the room, and ends up watching the woman’s hands as they weave.

"Hello, Jacinta. Hello, Tamsin." Both women perceive the words, warm with genuine welcome, as they enter the humble dwelling, but, like Lee, each is uncertain whether they have heard them, or if they somehow blossomed within their thoughts.

Outside, Cooper experiences the same sensation. "Please come inside, Albert. It is important that I speak with you before you depart."

The Owl Mother continues to work on her weaving, her hands seemingly working through each of the careful motions of their own, long practiced, accord. Tamsin can see, in the center of the blue fabric, an design taking shape, something like a tangle of vines, or roots.

"Bryan, the warrior way that you have chosen...you can sense when your movements are in harmony with the realm of spirit. Just as Jacinta can find the safe path through the wilderness, even in country she has never traveled before. Or as Tamsin can know which bloom among her beloved plants will carry the strongest dose of healing medicine."

"Each of us is able to sense, to know, what is right. What will protect life and enable it to thrive. Many times, the correct course is actually very easy to find."

She pauses in her weaving, regarding each of the riders that have joined her. "My sister is not the kind portion of nature. She is the storm that sweeps away what is old to make way for what is new. The quaking in the earth that swallows up what is not needed any longer. The lightning that claims the dead trees so that new growth may arise in their place."

"She is death, the passing that comes to make way for new life."

She resumes her weaving. "Her power, it only becomes twisted when it is seized upon by those that would use it to further their own aims. Those, like Lawrence Murphy, who believe they can control her for their own ends."

"Murphy, in the end, will only bring destruction upon himself and all he touches. But he is too proud, too arrogant, to see the truth. He chooses to be blind. And because of this, it falls to such as you to bring a halt to his folly."

Her expression becomes somber. "Murphy had willingly become something else, something less than human, even before he stole my sister's heart from its place."

"Murphy keeps the heart with him, so its power is never far from his grasp. Part of what you must do, to return the mountains and the valley to what they were meant to be, is to retrieve the heart and bring it here. To the hard plain marked with the graves. Returning it to the earth there will restore much of what was lost."

"But Murphy...he is truly a monster. One beyond saving. For there to be lasting peace, he cannot remain."

Dr. Wayland had gone oddly quiet for an uncomfortable moment while Kate waited for his confirmation and Aileen suggested a way to get dynamite.  He looked like he was listening to something...or someone...else during the pause.  Then, he snapped back to the conversation at hand as though nothing at all had happened, "Yes.  Ah can absolutely put something togethah...  Need a few things from around town.  Nothing that should raise any suspicions...  Of coahse, the dynamite wouldn't hurt eitha.  Sometimes, a thing worth doing is worth ovahdoin'.  This ceahtainly seems like one of those times."  Wayland glanced around, noting the absence of the others.

"Ah saved they boy."  Kansas Kate replied in a low growl.  She used a different voice almost.  She heightened her inflection and pronounced her words a little more clearly when under the supervision of the others, but the ones she masqueraded for were indulging right now.  She did have one question for this enigmatic figure, but Kansas Kate could be patient when it suited her, after all she still had a question for Buckshot.  "They may be 'fraid o' Murphy if'n they got half th' wits God gave a spider, but they see where his men used they boy fer an okie doke."

She spat, though no moisture was in it.  "Am-tures.  What kind of country is this gettin' ta be we got sech chickenshit outlaws?  No matter we'll get the dinny-mite.  Only thin' ah'm 'fraid of is th' monster got wise an' packed his house wit' chitlins.  But we'll still need it ennyhow, ah ain't leavin' that place a standin'."

Jacinta nodded in response and dipped her head in recognition.  "We intend to send him from this world, Abuelita, but if he is more than human, ordinary bullets will not stop him.  Will you tell us how we can end his rule of terror?  Does he ignore some weakness that we may exploit?"

Albert nodded at the request and moved into the room with the others.

He watched and listened as the woman did her weaving and spoke to them. He nodded along to what she had to say, having his own thoughts about death and how it had touched his life. He had known too many people that were old tree stumps, the dead remnants of grass, or the flower petals that had fallen to the ground of their own accord. Those sorts of things did need to be cleaned up. Of course he wouldn't necessarily label those as death, either.

But he could understand the twisting of the power that was to seep aside the old and diseased to allow for new growth. "Well, if Murphy's fallen to somethin' less'n human, s'pose it's only right we sweep him out like them things yer sister cleans away."

He waited to hear how the woman responded to Jacinta, sending up a small prayer that the answer to her question would be magic bullets.

”Murphy...he took the name of a dead man. An army officer he murdered not long after he came here. Before, he was called William Longley. He was a murderer and a thief, who did many of his terrible deeds in the place you call Tejas. He was fleeing those who pursued him when he came here. He took shelter with a woman in a small town. And it was there he learned of the legends of the mountains.”

“He had long sought a way to escape death. Tried to trick such secrets from the manitou. After he learned of my sister, he and the men who escaped Tejas with him rode up here to find her. They were foolish. It was the edge of winter. My sister destroyed most of them. Longley and two others survived, alone, lost, and without food.”

“Longley...Murphy killed his friends and fed on them to survive. It made him a monster. A wendigo. A creature that must consume the flesh of men in order to satiate its terrible hunger.”

She pauses to examine her weaving, the resumes it. ”Murphy was able to find his way back down the mountain. The magic he had learned before enabled him to disguise his true nature. But he has always preferred to show himself at night. His kind need the cold to thrive.”

“He robbed a stagecoach delivering money to soldiers, then came to your town, your Lincoln, pretending to be a man of business. Seeking a way to California. When the wagon train traveled up here, Murphy rode ahead and did his best to enrage my sister. The others stumbled into her wrath. And as her fury was let loose, Murphy found where her heart was hidden.”

She lays her weaving in her lap. ”Part of the leavings of the animals that surrender their lives so that men and women may survive and grow strong is tallow. For a very long time, people have used tallow to make candles, to bring light into darkness. Were you to pour heated tallow down a wendigo’s throat, it is like filling them with light. It will destroy them from the inside out, killing them forever.

She smiles. ”But this is no easy task. He must be weakened first. Any weapon can harm them, though wendigo are very strong.” She turns her attention to Cooper. ”You, Albert. You can fill your weapons with power. Carve blessings on them. I can give you something that will help.”