The last to exit the office, Garrett shuts the door behind him. Horn leans against the closed door, cutting a piece from his plug of tobacco, then slipping it into his mouth. ”No one comes in, star or no star,” Garrett tells the stage guard. ”Anyone has questions, they can ask them when I return. Anyone who doesn’t like no for an answer...feel free to let ‘em wait in one of the cells.”

”See you soon. Good luck,” the sheriff tells the other riders with a nod before climbing into the saddle of his black mare and riding east at a gallop.

Henry Cooper listens attentively to his nephew, never questioning any part of Albert’s account, his trust in the younger man complete. ”I’m mighty proud of you, Albert. You’ve sure shown a lot of courage,,” he says quietly as he absorbs all that he has been told. ”You all have,” he adds, addressing Albert’s friends.

He sighs. ”I reckon you know what I’m gonna say,” he tells his nephew, ”Fightin’ to protect your home, your family, your neighbors...it’s the right thing to do. Folks should be able to ride through this valley without bein’ afraid.”

“I’ll step over to the bunkhouse in just a bit. Have a talk with the hands. I won’t force anyone to come with me, but I imagine most of ‘em will. I’m blessed to have some good sorts tendin’ my herd. We’ll meet you over at Ike’s. Just...make sure to be careful in the meantime.”

Even at a distance, the riders can see the tall frame of Jim French near the front door of the Tunstall-McSween ranch house. The lanky cowhand is polishing rope on one of the porch rails, but stops as soon as he hears the approaching horses. Shielding his eyes from the mid morning sun, he regards the visitors for a moment, then steps inside the house, returning moments before the riders arrive with Susan McSween.

McSween is in jeans and a work shirt, her hair damp from exertion. She nods in greeting as the riders draw close. ”Ranger. Deputy. Mr. Cooper. Señorita Castillo. What brings you all out this way? Need to pick up one of your prisoners? None of them seem to be too appreciative of our hospitality.”

Albert was glad to see his family again. He had wondered more than once if he'd ever do so again, so it was with a broad smile that he greeted his aunt and uncle. As expected, they took great interest in the fate of the town and the surrounding lands. Albert didn't really need to convince anyone of anything, nor did he try. He just told it like it was and let folk choose their own path. He expected his uncle would do the exact same thing when passing things along to the other cowhands.

Before leaving, he embraced both his aunt and uncle before making his way back to Brandy. Her name struck him for a moment - he hadn't had a drop of liquor since returning.

---

When Albert approached the Tunstall-McSween ranch house, he touched his right forefinger to the brim of his hat in greeting. "Nice ta see you again, ma'am. I am surprised they ain't takin' well ta hospitality given the alternative." The cowhand smirked, then looked over at Bryan.

Bryan took off his hat, respectful as always as he approached the residence.

"Well, Mrs. McSween, I want to thank you for accommodating these unwelcome guests on your property on my account, and while I will be relieving you of them soon, it won't be just yet. There's a new sheriff in town who has come to understand how things are playing out here in Lincoln, and we'll be making an attempt to bring Murphy into custody shortly for his various crimes in the region," he said.

"On that account, I was hoping to speak to Mr. Bonney and his associates if they happen to be in just about now."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

”They are,” McSween answers, ”Though, I’d caution you that they’re a bit stirred up. Fighting the urge to go on the warpath, if you will.”

She frowns, looking at the ground. ”I almost feel it’s partially my fault. Some of the Regulators told me what happened at Blazer’s Mill. After it was over, they’d all ridden in different directions, to ensure they, and the prisoners, Dolan and Baker, weren’t found.”

“Billy...by chance he came across one of my hands. William McCloskey. McCloskey had met up with some of Lawrence Murphy’s men at an arroyo west of Lincoln. Billy got close enough to hear them without being seen. McCloskey was giving them information on the ranch here. How many cowhands I had. Who was a fair shot and who wasn’t. Times when the workers were most spread apart. Knowledge they could use for an ambush.”

“Billy killed the three Murphy men. Shot McCloskey in the shoulder. They’ve locked him up like the other prisoners, in one of the line shacks. Billy wanted to see if they could get more information out of him somehow. I think that’s the only reason he didn’t kill McCloskey too.”

She sighs. ”McCloskey had ridden for John Tunstall. I had him go into town sometimes for supplies, almost every week. He was a hard worker. Personable, too. I would’ve never suspected him of anything underhanded.”

She points to a dry creek several yards east of the house. ”If you follow that creek bed for about a mile, you’ll come to a small bunkhouse. John built it as a proper dwelling for hands that had to winter here. That’s where you’ll find them.”

The bunkhouse proves easy to find with McSween’s instructions. As it comes into view, the riders can see a lone man in a dark colored duster standing on the building’s small porch, watching their approach down the barrel of a rifle. He gives out a whistle when he first sees the posse, but lowers his weapon once he recognizes them. Drawing nearer, the group readily identifies the figure as Josiah Scurlock.

By the time the riders have reached the bunkhouse, Jose Chavez y Chavez has joined Scurlock on the porch. Both nod in greeting. ”Morning,” Josiah says, ”What brings you folks so far out of the way?”

"Howdy, Mr. Scurlock...Señor Chavez y Chavez. I was hoping to have a word with Mr. Bonney if he's available," he said.

"Long story short, we're moving to apprehend Murphy, and wanted to discuss that operation with him."

Albert touched the brim of his well worn hat with his right index finger as a greeting to the men on the porch. He nodded at Bryan's brief summary and added his own pleasantries. "Mornin', fellas."

Chavez y Chavez gives Cooper a nod in greeting.

Scurlock steps over to the bunkhouse door and pushes it open. Smirking, he calls out, ”Hey, Billy! The law’s here! They’ve finally come for ya!”

Bonney emerges a moment later, frowning warily until he recognizes those who have arrived. Punching Scurlock’s arm, he steps to the edge of the porch.

”Mornin’,” he says, his thumbs hitched in his gun belt, ”It’s good to see ya’ll again. Seemed like after Blazer’s Mill, you disappeared for a few days. Glad you’re well.”

His eyebrows raise in curiosity. ”So..to what do I owe the pleasure?”

"I'm glad to see that things seem well with you as well, Mr. Bonney," he said.

"There's a new sheriff in town by the name of Patrick Garrett. In his short time as sheriff, he's come to the same conclusion that I did shortly after arriving - that Murphy and his associates are responsible for many of the terrible deeds that have taken place in the area," he said.

"And unlike the previous sheriff, he thinks its high time that something is done about it. Tonight, we're going to be moving to apprehend him. The only thing is, we don't expect that Murphy will go quietly. So when I say 'we,' I mean that the Sheriff and I are putting together a posse. I am referring to the Sheriff, a couple of the deputies that he can trust, Buckshot Roberts and his Apache friends, myself, Mr. Cooper here, the Señorita of course, and a few of the other folks who were with us at Blazer's Mill. I came to ask if the Regulators might join us on this initiative."

A grin creeps over Bonney’s face. He glances over his shoulder at Scurlock and Chavez y Chavez, who both smile and nod.

Returning his attention to Lee, he says, ”I gotta say, Ranger, I’m real honored you’d think of us. I think you know that Lawrence Murphy doesn’t have any friends around here. Every one of us would like to see him suffer for what he did to Mr. Tunstall.”

“We’d be proud to ride with you. And we’ll fight til our last bullet or breath...on a couple of conditions.”

His expression turns grim. ”The first is, before we skin out for Lincoln, we need to have a talk about this posse you’ve put together. A serious one. And I need your word that you’ll listen to what I have to say. I mean, really listen.”

Bryan seemed fairly satisfied with the conversation until the talk of conditions came up. Now he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You've got my word that I'll listen best I know how," he said expectantly.

"So go on ahead. Anything you've got to say to me you can say in front of Coop and Señorita Castillo."

Jacinta pushed her hat up with one finger, leaning on the horn of her saddle.  Though she usually kept her rifle out and on her knee, she'd wisely sheathed it on their journey to find the Regulators, not wishing to be misunderstood.  Her brow quirked at Bonney's condition, but she said nothing.  Curious about what he had to say, and who he was going to say it about, she merely listened.

“Well, this is what I heard,” Bonney answers.

”Supposedly, Ranger, you and several friends, including Albert, Señorita Castillo, and Deputy Bauer, took a ride over to a ghost town not too far from Lincoln. A place that used to be called Angus. Way the story went, you were tryin’ to find out about some of Lawrence Murphy’s history, specifically about that wagon train he took up Capitan Pass.”

“While you were there, supposedly the good people of Angus got up out of their graves and tried to kill you all. And it was said that the dead folk were followin’ orders from one of Murphy’s henchmen, Jim McDaniels, who wasn’t a man at all as it turned out, but a demon straight outta hell.”

“Now, the way the story went, you all ended up takin’ shelter in an old church.” He pauses and frowns. ”And it was said that you found Reverend Benton inside. That he’d died out there, lookin’ for answers the same as ya’ll were.”

“Anyway, apparently you had some magic kinda bullets that you shared amongst each other, and then you dipped a bunch of others in the holy water there in the church. McDaniels had sprouted wings and was on the church roof, goin’ on about how he was gonna kill you all. Then that oddball bounty hunter you’re friends with used this lightning shooting contraption to blast a hole in the roof, which caused McDaniels to fall down inside the building, where you all shot him full of holy lead.”

“Soon as McDaniels died, all the dead people wanderin’ around Angus dropped back in the grave.” He smiles. ”But not before you, Ranger, jumped in the middle of a bunch of ‘em and killed a whole mess of ‘em with nothing but your bare hands.”

He crosses his arms. ”Now that story...that’s just a load of malarkey, isn’t it? There’s no way that’s what actually happened in that little ghost town...right?”
This message was last edited by the player at 14:53, Fri 07 Aug 2020.

"Mr. Bonney, it's official Ranger policy not to comment on active investigations, some of which are being conducted under the directive of the Governor of this territory. What I can say is that as a part of our ongoing investigation into Lawrence Murphy and his organization, I assembled a posse and we did venture out to Angus, wherein we did find Jim McDaniels and in an attempt to apprehend him, a fight ensued in which he and his supporters were dispatched as they attempted to take our lives. I do believe that Lawrence Murphy and other members of his organization, McDaniels included, are or were involved in activities which most folks would describe as unholy, but more on that note I cannot say," he said.

He had in his time in Lincoln, turned a rather obvious blind eye to certain things that were going on, but he wasn't about to openly admit it in his capacity as a Ranger. He would probably get in trouble for that.

"Now, in any good dime novel type story there are elements of truth. I do have a bounty hunter that rides with me, and he is a scientist, and he does have a contraption with him capable of firing electrical charges that some might take for lightning. With all this talk of magic bullets, I don't know if you've heard of all the new stuff that is coming out these days from Smith & Robards, the Collegium in Gomorra, or Hellstromme Industries, but they sell armor piercing rounds, incendiary rounds, and all kinds of good stuff. And for my part, I do fight with my hands. I am not a braggart, but I have trained many years in Shan Fan, and I am rather capable with them. I've a gun in my holster if you want a look-see; I take good care of it, but it's never been fired."

"I'd also like to add on an unrelated note that if a man wants to have some ancient Scandinavian symbols carved on his weapon, that's his business, and not mine." He was taking a blind stab at what Bonney's concerns might be. Rangers were known to 'shoot 'em or recruit 'em'; after all, that was how Lee himself had joined the outfit.

On the other hand, some folks had a capacity for many types of denial. He would have to learn what these folks were capable of before he rode out with them. If they had concerns about what his people could do, he'd need to know and decide whether they would be a bigger risk than they already were.

"Now you, Mr. Scurlock, and Mr. Chavez y Chavez here, you were all in the Courthouse with myself, Mr. Cooper, Sheriff Brady and Deputy Bauer the night Brady was mortally wounded. How would y'all describe the events of that night?"

Bonney smiles and shakes his head. ”Ranger, I think you might have it wrong. I’m not concerned about what you, or the folks who are riding with you can and can’t do. That night you refer to in Lincoln...you and Albert stood up and fought against some things that would’ve had most people making a run for Roswell. And I respect you for it.”

He looks out at the open rangeland and the mountains in the distance. “I really love this country. I’ve never felt freer than when I found my way to New Mexico. I reckon I’ll die here, if it’s left up to me.” He looks back at Lee. ”But I don’t need to be convinced that there’s some pretty terrifying stuff hiding in shadows out there. The frontier’s got plenty of things we would all wish weren’t real.”

He holds up a hand. “I understand you can’t tell someone like me what happened out in Angus. But let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that everything I said was true.”

“My concern is where I heard the story. A few days back, I caught one of Mrs. McSween’s hands, a fella by the name of William McCloskey, meeting up with a couple of Murphy’s people. He was givin’ the two of ‘em information about the ranch, information Murphy could use to hit this place at a time when it wasn’t well guarded.”

“Jose...well he helped loosen up McCloskey’s tongue a little. And pretty soon he was singing like a songbird. And one of the things he told us was that story.”

“See, McCloskey heard that story from Lawrence Murphy, who told it to him and a few other people on his payroll, as a way to warn them about what you and your posse were capable of, Ranger. Mr. Murphy told McCloskey and the others that he’d gotten the tale from a spy. Someone who was keepin’ a watch on you and your friends. And now here you are, gathering up folks to take a run at Murphy himself.”

“So, I guess my real question is this: Do you know where all your people are, Ranger? Did any of them happen to go skinnin’ off all by their lonesome this morning?”

Albert had been about to ask that very question when Billy offered up the only answer he likely had. To Albert, the story wasn't important. Where he'd heard it, on the other hand, was very important. There just weren't that many folks that were eyewitness to that particular spectacle.

And then there was the warning that Albert had received. The cowboy did shake his head. "Far as we know, half our posse's here, half're together elsewhere. An we all rode back inta town together."

He smiled wryly at Bonney's reply. "Well, to be sure, the story you told has a particular quality to it. Someone would've had to have been there with us to know just about the sum of how things unfolded," he said.

"Only person that went up top to High Lonesome with us that I can't presently account for is the mustanger, Aileen Kearney. When we all split up after leaving Garrett's she the only one who went off by herself. The very journey of it took some courage and grit, so I don't reckon that she's the type that'd be a spy for Murphy, though I can't rule it out for certain. It's possible that Murphy somehow got to her though."

He looked over to Jacinta. "I think you may have had more interaction with her on the trail, Señorita. What are your thoughts on the matter?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:14, Sun 09 Aug 2020.

Jacinta frowned at the name and suggestion behind it.  She shook her head, braids swinging.  "I wouldn't stake my life on it, but Kearney seemed on the level.  She threw in with us more than once, and put her life on the line in the process.  Though, she was in Angus, and saw it all." She left the rest unsaid.  With the amount of detail that Bonney provided, the spy had to be someone that had fought with them.

Leaning back in her saddle, she glanced between Bryan and Albert.  "She doesn't seem the type to go blabbing for no reason.  Maybe they got something over her?" Still, she wracked her brain trying to think if she'd seen any sign of the woman's dishonesty during their time together.  "Can't really think of anyone else it might be, though."

”I know some folks think she’s a loner,” Bauer says, her expression troubled, ”but she told me she has family in the valley. Not in Lincoln, but south, in San Patricio.”

“She always struck me as honest. Sheriff Brady bought mounts for some the newer deputies from her once. They were good horses. All of ‘em.”

”William...he was ridin’ for John before I ever set foot on this ranch. He was a hard worker. Taught quite a few of us how to use a lasso proper,” Bonney says.

”He was an orphan. Left on the steps of a church in San Antone. Never knew who his kin were. Murphy told him he knew how to track down his folks. That he’d get him to his real family if he’d give up some information on Mrs. McSween’s ranch.”

He looks down and shakes his head regretfully. ”Obviously, I can’t tell you what’s best to do about Miz Kearney. My first condition was that you hear me out, and take what I said seriously, and you have. So I’m obliged.”

"It's hard to know what to make of it all. Kearney, I had it on pretty good faith that she was after Murphy, whose real name is Longley, for reasons other than our own, but generally owin' to the fact that he's always been a no good murderin' sonuvabitch even before he set foot in Lincoln County," he said.

"Deputy Bauer, how long has Kearney been living in Lincoln County that you know of?" He wanted to see whether her earlier story about being a Union operative seeking Longley's life had any truth to them. Then again, she had been the first to confirm his identity as Longley, which had been corroborated by the Owl Mother.

"In any case, I'm not sure how much time we'll have to deal with Kearney before we hit Murphy where it hurts. The best thing we can do for sure is get back early before the rendezvous and try to prevent any traps from being sprung on us before we can ride on Murphy, and if we can do that, to inform those with us that Murphy may have some foreknowledge of our plans and capabilities. If we find Kearney, maybe best to have Garrett detain her temporarily until it's all over - though perhaps we could use her to feed Murphy false information."

Bauer frowns. ”I can’t give you an exact accounting, but I believe she turned up in town for the first time two or three months before you did, Ranger. In that first week, I recall that she paid a visit to Sheriff Brady and they supposedly had a long talk. But, I wasn’t there. I don’t know exactly what they spoke of.”